“Did you?” His question cuts through the air, though there is no malice in his tone. “Did you tell me everything about them? About your relationship? About the things that were said to you? Or just what you were comfortable sharing?” He tugs on the curls at the nape of his neck. “I told you things, Sadie. Things I haven’t shared with anyone else.”

He’s right. And the worst part is I know he’s right. The slivers Jack and I have revealed to each other have come in slow pieces, little bits of memories and experiences and small shards of our souls. But I haven’t told him everything. Not even close. I certainly haven’t told him how I do my best to push all the good things in my life away, before they can hurt me.

And so, I push. “I’m going to go inside now, but I think you should go. I can’t deal with all of this, not tonight.” I walk back toward the door, giving Jack a wide berth so I don’t take his proffered hand.

“Don’t walk away from me because you don’t think you deserve to be happy, Sade.”

I spin around, his condescending tone just enough to push my buttons. “How dare you put this on me. I’m walking away because tonight is huge for me, and I’m not going to let you ruin it. And you don’t get to tell me how to react when you’re the one who fucked up. You fucked up, Jack. Not me. And trust me, no one is more surprised by that fact than I am. I spent all this time thinking how much I don’t deserve you, and turns out, you’re the one lying to my face.” A small river of relief trickles through me. He’s presented me with something I never thought I would get from him: a justifiable reason to leave.

“That’s a cop-out and you know it.” He crosses over to me, backing me up against the door. “Maybe I did fuck up, and I’m sorry I hurt you, but you don’t get to tell me how I manage my grief.”

“Wow, you’re really going to hide behind your dead parents?”

Jack jerks away from me as violently as if I’d slapped him.

I hate myself the second the words are out of my mouth, wanting to take them back and beg for his forgiveness, the look of absolute pain in his eyes a knife in my heart.

But I don’t get a chance. Because Jack turns and walks away without another word.

Nineteen

Harley takes one look at me when I walk back into the shop and gives Nick and Gemma the time-to-wrap-it-up signal. I duck into my office, unable to even say my goodbyes as everyone leaves, shouting congrats and promising to share their photos and tell their friends.