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She spread her hands on her thighs, dropping her head for a minute and both of us staring at her hands, her pale skin white on the denim of her skinny jeans. "We told Tess the truth," she said quietly. "About me and Ryan. So you don't need to worry about keeping up the pretense with her." She glanced at me, dropped her eyes again. "Gran doesn't know still."
"Okay," I said. I didn’t want it to, but a little spark of hope ignited at that revelation. If she told Tess it was all an act, then maybe that validated us a little bit? "Thanks for letting me know. I don't think I'll tell the guys. Just let them keep things as they are until we head back."
"Sure," she said. She got to her feet, took a step toward me, and then seemed to think better of it. She stopped in the center of the room. "Have I done something wrong?" Her voice pulled at something inside me, made me want to reach for her, comfort her.
I let out a slow exhale. "No." How could I tell her that every wonderful thing she'd done had been right—but that it all made it impossible for me to look her in the eyes? "The things you've done for my family ..." I swallowed hard and forced myself to look at her. To thank her properly. "I'll never be able to thank you for what you've done. Moving my mom, helping my brother ... I don't have the funds or the words to repay you. I'll never be able to repay you. That place, Hollybrook. I looked at it online, talked to the administrator there." I swallowed some of my humiliation and went on. "It costs more than I made last year, Juliet. I can't ... I don't..."
"You don't have to repay me, Jace." She sounded surprised that I'd brought it up.
"Of course I do. I can't let you—"
"You didn't let me do anything," she interrupted, her voice stronger now. "I did something because I wanted to. Because I care about you, and that means I care about your family. If you saw someone lying in the street, would you help them up, or just walk by, knowing you could have stopped them getting hit by a car?"
I looked up at her. Her cheeks were blazing pink and her eyes were wide as she waited for an answer. "This isn't even close—"
"It's the same thing," she said. "I'm not the kind of person who can just ignore something like that."
"It's tens of thousands of dollars, Juliet."
"Which I can easily afford."
"And I'll never be able to." That was the simple truth of it. I dropped my elbows to my knees and bowed my head.
"What difference does it make?" She asked, stepping closer to me. "Jace, why does it matter?"
It made all the difference in the world. To me, at least. But maybe to her, it really didn’t matter. Could I live with that disparity? When I didn't answer, she went on, dropping a cool hand to the back of my neck, leaving it there.
"I can't even leave my house anymore," she said. "I can't have a relationship without it being put under a magnifying glass. I can't grocery shop, go to a restaurant. My life is not my own. And you know what? That's okay. That's the deal I made. And as annoying as it is to live my life like a hermit, afraid to take a wrong step or give someone the wrong idea, I get paid pretty well for it. Maybe that's ridiculous, but that's how it is. Money is the one thing I do have. And if I can use it to make your life easier, to help the people you love, then why wouldn't I do that?"
I let my head roll back and forth, stretching the muscles of my neck under her hand. She would never understand.
"Jace, let me help."
"I don't have a choice," I muttered, my shame beginning to morph into something closer to anger. I stood, her hand falling from my neck as I turned to face her. "I have to accept your help, no matter how small it makes me feel, because I don't have any other choices."
She stared at me, her shock at my angry tone written in the wide eyes, the little round O of her mouth. "You're angry that I helped?"
"No," I said, rubbing my neck and pacing away from her. "How could I be angry at that? I'm grateful. But ... really, when you offered, what choice did I have?"
"You could have said no," she whispered. I could feel her eyes on me as I paced back and forth next to the bed.
“I think I did.”
“And I didn’t listen. But I couldn’t let you say no, not really. Did you really mean it?”
Those words stopped me. "No, that’s the point. Don't you get that? Saying no would have killed my brother. Maybe my mom too."
"So why are you angry?"
"Because it's made everything impossible between you and me," I told her.
She shook her head, the light hair sliding around her shoulders. I had a sudden vision of myself wrapping all that long hair around my fist, pushing her to her knees and her mouth taking me, me thrusting into her, spurting out all the venom and anger I felt at the world, the universe, in a hot rush of release.
"I can't even look you in the eyes now," I admitted, stopping myself pacing. "I'm supposed to be the one to help them. To save them. But I couldn't do anything, and here you were with all your money, so willing and sweet."
She made a scoffing noise of disbelief. "You're angry because I was willing and able to help."
"I'm angry that I needed you to." The words came out hard and cold. “I’m not angry because you helped. I’m angry that I couldn’t. That I couldn’t save them, I didn’t have the resources. Without you … well, my family would be in a terrible situation.”
