Page 86 of Don’t Go Stealing My Heart

Her chin quivered, but she didn’t take his gift, and his gut bottomed out. Jack had never known love. He understood that now. With Clementine in his life, the lyrics he sang held more meaning, the angst of them—pleasure laced with pain. This was why songs of heartbreak were achingly beautiful and why he couldn’t catch his breath on stage these days, performing affecting him more than usual. Love was everything, and he didn’t want to lose it.

More agitated, he slapped the ticket on the cluttered desk and ripped open the other envelope. A part of his brain rebelled, yelled at him that money wouldn’t lure Clementine to stay, but his heart beat wildly, drowning his sense.

He shoved the check toward her crossed arms. “I sold the Van Gogh. I spoke to my parents about it, after explaining I read an article online about the missing studies. The painting was more important to my granddad than to us. With my work research done, they agreed using the money for charity would be smarter. So this is for you, to continue your work. Help the kids who need you, Clementine.”

She backed up, one step, then two, hands held up like the check was on fire. “You… You can’t do that, Jack.”

“I can and I did.”

“It’s too much.”

“It makes perfect sense. This is who you are, a philanthropist. Put your skills to use.”

“I never dealt with the money.”

“You’ll learn.”

“No.” She shook her head, a whiplashy movement. She covered her mouth, but couldn’t hide the tortured look in her eyes.

He could barely swallow. “You’re happy here, Clementine. Happy with me. I know it. I also know this change can’t be easy, but it’s only been a few days. Please, give yourself time. Give us time.”

She lowered her hand from her face, any trace of distress gone. “I have been happy, but not in the way you think. This has been like a vacation, but vacations get tedious. I got carried away and lost in the moment. And when you told me you loved me, I realized how different we are, how far from that kind of commitment I am. I’m not built like you, Jack. This town has felt smaller each day. Suffocating. I can’t even find work.”

She glared at the check in his hand. “And throwing money at me is the last thing that’ll help. I’m not your charity case. I’m not a broken bird or chameleon you can fix. Which is exactly how that makes me feel. How you make me feel. I’m just…”

Her gaze dropped to the floor between them, and he chucked the check next to the airline ticket. So this was it. Exactly what he knew would happen. Predicting it didn’t stem the pain. He wasn’t sure what would cure this unrelenting ache, and it didn’t fully make sense. It felt sudden and unjustified.

“You said I love you,” he murmured, the memory jarring him.

“Pretty sure I said nothing.”

He stood taller, searched her brown eyes. “While I performed, you whistled. Then you mouthed something from where you were. You said I love you.”

For the first time since this awful conversation began, she looked unsure and a little afraid. Was she lying?

Just as quickly, her face shuttered. “I was singing along, Jack. I know you want to believe I said that, but the audience lights were dim and I was far from the stage. No matter where things stand with us, I was excited to watch you perform.”

Lies. Truth. Lies. Truth. He could no longer tell his head from his ass with her. Maybe he never could. She did excel at falsehoods, after all. It didn’t mean he was ready to give up. “I love you, Clementine. More than I thought possible. And I know you feel it, too. Some of it, at least. Tell me you don’t feel it—right now, right here. Say it to my face, and I’ll let you go.”

If she could look him in the eye and admit that, he’d have no choice. He’d live with this pain…unless he tied her to his bed and forced her to ride out this rough patch like a detoxing junkie. Jesus. He didn’t even dismiss the idea outright. He was that far gone.

She blinked and touched the necklace he’d given her, feeding him a kernel of hope. If she remembered how she’d cried the first time they’d made love, she’d stay. If she recalled how attuned they were to each other, in and out of bed, she’d fall into his arms. He sure as hell remembered. But he couldn’t make her remember or stay if she wanted to run again.

She met his pleading gaze, and said, “I don’t.”

He grabbed the edge of the desk, gripped it until it bit into his palm. “So that’s it? You’re just leaving?”

“I never meant to hurt you. I care more about you than I ever have about anyone, but I’m not built to love you the way you deserve to be loved. You’re busy. I’m at loose ends. I can’t live in a town this small, with everybody knowing everything. But it’s more than that. Little things I can’t describe. In the end, I’m not ready to give up the life I know.”

Her eyes darted to his gifts, desolation eclipsing her face for a beat. Then she swiveled and stepped toward the door.

“Wait.”

She turned at his desperate plea, but the move seemed to pain her. Was he that distasteful to her already? Could she not stand to look at him? The regret on her face just now had likely been pity, the I love you he’d thought she’d mouthed from the crowd wishful thinking. The dismissal was a bitter pill to swallow, but he’d gotten over Ava’s betrayal. He’d move on from this.

Rubbing the twinge in his chest, a twinge he’d never felt with Ava, he said, “You need to be careful.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Why?”