Why, for the love of God, did Nora’s parents have to show up today, of all days? Why did they feel compelled to sabotage the one sliver of happiness he’d managed to create for himself? He knew the answer implicitly, because a man could never forget something like that, but it hurt all the same. He didn’t deserve happiness.

Just seeing them standing in front of him called up so many unwanted memories, and Jon realized with renewed clarity why he would never be good enough for a woman as good and kind as Patricia Jacobs. He’d been a fool to ever believe he could be.

“Jon, what’s going on here?”

Jon heard his mother’s worry-filled voice call out to him, and a moment later, she was there, standing like the pillar of strength and determination she had proven herself to be. “The Collier’s decided to pay us all a visit,” Jon told her, his voice dipping dangerously low. There was a time when he’d considered them second parents, but now they were nothing but strangers to him.

His mother turned her attention to the couple. “What are you doing here?” she demanded to know, echoing his earlier words. “You need to leave, now, before I call the police and have you escorted off my property.”

“I’m sorry, Stephanie,” Max said calmly. “We just couldn’t allow him to ruin another young woman’s life.”

“How dare you?” his mother said through clenched teeth. “You people just can’t let it rest, can you?”

“What the hell is going on?” his father called out as he stormed up to join them. “What are you two doing here? I thought we told you to stay away from our son.”

Max turned to him, his voice rough with emotion. “We heard that Jonathon had moved on to another woman. We felt it was only right that she be warned, since it was obvious that no one else was going to do it.”

“Don’t you mean you felt it was your duty to try to ruin his life?” his father growled. “Nora’s death was an accident, Max. When are the two of you going to get that through your thick skulls? My son almost died that night, too. Or maybe you don’t recall the months of intensive physical therapy he had to go through just to learn to walk again?” His voice took on a pleading tone. “Don’t you think he’s suffered enough?”

“Suffered?” Cynthia let loose a wobbly laugh. “At least he gets to walk! My daughter is rotting in the ground thanks to him!”

“They were stupid kids, Cynthia!” Stephanie shouted back at her.

Jon tried desperately to tune out the sound of their arguing. The gaping chasm of sadness inside of him had ripped open, and he felt the overwhelming sense of depression pressing down on his shoulders. He dropped his head and rubbed his aching temples. How much longer could he continue on like this, bouncing from one emotion to the other, before he finally broke?

A soft hand touched his arm. “Jon?” Patricia said softly, coming around to stand in front of him. She touched his face next, her warm hand against his skin infusing him with hope and regret all at once. “Are you okay?”

Beside them, both of his parents were now speaking heatedly with Nora’s parents, trying hard to keep their angry voices from carrying to the rest of the neighborhood.

Jon looked down at Patricia, her sweet face angled up at him, her blue eyes filled with nothing but concern for him, and he wept inside at what he knew would have to be done. She was the center of his world, his sun, and yet he knew he had to let her go if he wanted to save her from himself.

Taking the hand she had resting against his cheek in his, he brought it to his lips and pressed a kiss to the center of her palm. “I’m fine,” he grunted, giving her a desolate smile. “Don’t worry about me.”

“You don’t look fine,” Patricia said, calling him on the lie.

She came closer, but he stepped back out of her reach. Unable to look at her any longer, he turned his attention to the warring couples. “Don’t worry about it,” he said directly to Nora’s parents. “You’re right. I didn’t say anything to her, and it was wrong. After today, consider it taken care of.”

Everyone stopped shouting, seemingly speechless, and turned to look at him. “Jon, what are you doing?” his mother asked him.

“What I should have done from the beginning.”

“So you’ll do what’s right?” Max asked him, understanding the meaning of his words.

Jon tipped his head. “I’ll do what’s right.”

Max studied him a moment longer, then, with a nod of acceptance, he took Cynthia’s hand and left.

“I feel like I missed something,” his mother said. “What did you just say to him?”

“Don’t worry about it, Mom,” Jon deadpanned. It felt like all the life had been sucked out of him, and he supposed it had.

“Care to tell us what that was all about?” his father asked, pinning him with determined blue eyes the exact color of his own.

“Not right now,” he said, keeping his answers clipped. “Let’s just finish this sale.”

As he walked away, Jon could feel three sets of eyes boring into his back, but he didn’t dare look back. He spent the rest of the afternoon keeping distance between him and the three of them. He needed time and space to collect his thoughts, and that wasn’t going to work if he had to field questions from any of them. They’d just try to talk him out of doing what needed to be done.

At the end of the day, once they had everything that hadn’t sold safely tucked away in the garage, Jon hugged his mother and father, helped Patricia into the truck, and lifted a hand in goodbye. His father’s words as he’d embraced him echoed in his ears. “I recognize that look in your eyes, son. Don’t do anything stupid.”

His mother’s words quickly followed. “I don’t know what those jerks said to you, but I can see how upset you are. Shrug it off, sweetie. Despite what they might think, you deserve to be happy. You deserve to move on, even if they can’t. Don’t continue punishing yourself because you made a mistake.”

He’d nodded, if only to let her know that her words hadn’t fallen on deaf ears, but he couldn’t agree with them. His mistakes had cost someone their life. There was nothing anyone could say or do to erase that history or to make it better, but at least Jon could sacrifice his happiness to pay for his sins.

As he drove toward the city, Jon glanced at Patricia, who sat quietly beside him, her teeth buried in her bottom lip. He couldn’t help feeling bitter and regretful at the knowledge that after tonight, their relationship would be over.

* * *

She was losing him. Patti could feel it with every cell in her body. Ever since the confrontation earlier, Jon had been a steel wall. He’d barely spoken a word to her, aside from a few blunt answers, and every time she looked at him, which was constantly, he’d be looking the other way. She knew he was avoiding her, which made her uneasy.

She understood that there was some terrible secret he was hiding from her, but Stephanie and Walt both seemed to think it was an accident. Jon, however, appeared to be beating himself up over whatever it was. It killed her to see him that way, suffering in silence, but she was afraid to broach the subject for fear of his reaction.

After her talk with Stephanie that afternoon, she had come to accept something that she knew had been building all month. As crazy as it sounded, she was in love with Jon. He made her feel special in a way no other man ever had. Desirable and sexy, when she’d only ever been cheated on in favor of someone taller and prettier.

She couldn’t risk that.

She stared out the window as Jon pulled the truck into her driveway. When he didn’t shut off the engine, it drove home the notion that something was seriously wrong. Yes, Jon had a bad day, but that had never stopped him from coming inside. In fact, he’d always been the first to the door, eager to get inside and close out the rest of the world.

That he didn’t do that this time set off warning bells inside her head.

“Are you coming in,” she asked softly, twisting her hands in her lap.

“I shouldn’t,” Jon said, his deep, tortured voice tearing her up inside. “I have an early day tomorrow.”

“I have an alarm clock,” she shot back, smiling despite herself.

Jon continued to stare blankly out the windshield. “I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Patti snapped. Grimacing, she softened her voice again. “Jon, please. Come inside. We need to talk…and I’m not ready…” She swallowed tightly and Jon’s head swiveled to look at her. She wanted to tell him she wasn’t ready to let him go. She wasn’t ready to end things, not now, possibly not ever. Instead of saying all of that, she simply repeated, “I’m not ready.”

He stared into her eyes, his expression pained beyond her comprehension. Desperate, Patti slid across the bench and took his hand in hers. “Please, Jon,” she whispered. “Come inside.”

He was looking at their joined hands, their fingers woven together, lost deep in thought, when he finally nodded. “Okay.” Turning off the engine, he pulled out the keys and opened the door. Reaching up, he took Patti by the hand and helped her down from the cab, then stood back to let her lead the way.

Deep, unforgiving sadness filled Patti to the point of rupture, but somehow she managed to keep herself from breaking down as she stepped into the living room and felt Jon’s presence at her back. She stepped out of her shoes and busied herself with putting them away. She couldn’t bring herself to face him. Not when she knew what was coming. She felt it all the way to her soul.

“Would you like something to drink? Or eat? I can heat up some soup or something…”

Her voice hitched as Jon came up behind her. She felt the heat of his body sear her back, and she squeezed her eyes shut tight. With firm but gentle hands, Jon turned her around. Patti could feel the sting of tears pricking her eyes, and when she opened them, they spilled down her cheeks. Jon’s thumbs smoothed them away.

“Jon.” His name left her on a shuddering breath.

Without any words, he cupped the back of her head and lowered his mouth to hers. They kissed slowly at first, their lips pressing softly against one another, and then growing in desperation and hunger, until they were both grasping at one another as though their lives depended on it.

Bending down, Jon slipped his arm under her knees and scooped Patti up. Her arms looped around his neck as she returned to his mouth, pouring her love for him into every kiss, hoping he could feel what she felt for him.

She didn’t want to let him go.

As he carried her to the bedroom and laid her out on the bed, her hands grasped frantically at his shirt, dragging him down on top of her.

She didn’t want to let him go.

Even as Jon undressed them both, tearing at their clothes like a man possessed, she never let him out of her reach, out of her sight. She drank him in. His bulging arms, his defined abs, every hard muscle that twitched and flexed, dancing before her eyes. Just thinking about all the things he had done to her body, all the things he was about to do now, made her heart race.

She didn’t want to let him go.

When Jon slid into her, she clutched him tightly, inhaled him deeply, taking every part of him into her and committing him to memory, because she didn’t want to let him go. And after Jon spilled inside of her, his body shuddering, his skin damp with sweat, he lingered at her mouth, stroking her lips with tender, almost reverent kisses that hurt her more than words ever could.

But, then, maybe he knew that.

Rolling on to his side, Jon pulled her against his chest and held her until she drifted off to sleep, and when she awoke, she found herself cold and alone.

He had let her go.

19

He’d hurt plenty of people before, broken plenty of hearts in his time, so why, then, was Jon so bothered this time? Oh, that’s right, because he was in love. Love was a complication he’d never thought he’d have to deal with again, because he’d purposely designed his life to avoid it. A lot of good that did.

The bed felt particularly empty now that he didn’t have anyone to share it with, more so now that he lay there staring at the ceiling with only his thoughts to keep him company. Morning was coming soon, which meant that Patricia would be waking up to find him gone.

It took everything he had in him not to stay, but he’d already screwed up by sleeping with her. Just one more time, he kept telling himself when they’d pulled up to her house last night. He just wanted to hold her in his arms, feel her body against his one more time. The memory would be all that he had left come morning, and he wanted to savor every second.