Burn Into Me (Into Me Series Book Two)

Chapter Twenty Seven - Pretend

A shiver rolls down my spine as the snowflakes fall on my outstretched legs. I let out the deep breath I've been holding in my chest, watching as the cloud of condensation dissipates into the air.

It's quiet out here.

Lately, it feels like this is the only place I can go to really feel out my fucking emotions. I don't have to perform for anyone. I don't have to play the role of the sad husband of the wife who had a miscarriage. No one is telling me to be strong for her. She's not telling me that she's fine and everything is okay when it clearly isn't. There are no sad smiles, no pitiful looks, and no half-honest offers of sympathy. It's just me and the roof and the snowflakes.

I glance down at my hands, picking at my cuticles as another tear falls silently into my lap.

I haven't felt this low in years. I feel empty. I feel numb. I feel exhausted. I feel pissed the fuck off. At the patient who attacked Jet. At Theo for not protecting her when I couldn't. At Avi for ever letting her get onto that elevator. At myself for not being there. At her for not listening to me for once and taking that office job.

I'm so fucking mad at her. I'm so angry at her I could scream it from this rooftop. I'm also incredibly angry at myself for even thinking like this. It's a tangled mess in my head, more so than usual. It feels like I'm strapped into one of those old medieval stretching-board-torture-device things. One voice in my head tells me it's all her fault. Another tells me this is just some sick twist of fate. The next tells me that it's no one's fault. The last blames it on me. The one blaming her is the loudest today.

But I know that isn't fair. If she had known that was going to happen, she would have never gotten into that elevator. None of this would have ever happened. If she would have just listened to me... if she would have stopped being so damn stubborn for once, we would still have our baby. Our baby would still be alive and well. Neither of us would be hurting so bad. But fuck! I am so enraged by her. And I'm enraged by the fact that I'm enraged. But, I know this is just a stage of grieving.

Huh. Grieving.

Can you even call it grieving if the person you're mourning over never truly lived?

The sound of the bathroom window sliding open spooks me just a bit. I switch my glance over to Jet, who climbs through the window and onto the roof with me, only grimacing in pain once this time. I quickly wipe the tears from under my eyes as she walks over to me carefully, opening the quilt she has wrapped around her and settling down next to me. She wraps the quilt around my shoulders and pulls me into her. We settle in, the quilt warm from her body heat. Her head rests on my shoulder. My arm is wrapped around her and resting on the dip in her hip that I love so fucking much. Her arms are around my torso, squeezing me as if I might float away if she lets go.

"Couldn't sleep?" she asks in a weak voice.
"Yeah," I respond, my voice shaking as well.
"Me neither."

There's a tense silence between us. These past couple of weeks have been fucking rough. She won't talk about it. She won't let me touch her. Anytime I start making any headway, Riley or Penny conveniently come home. It's fucking frustrating. All of this is fucking frustrating.

That anger still bubbles within me and I have to focus really hard on keeping my mouth shut. My temper gets me into trouble, that's what Jet always tells me. I have a "good heart but a bad mouth." I was doing really well with it, until everything went to fucking hell in a handbasket. Now I feel like I've just reverted back to the asshole I was before I met Jet. Cold, distant, broody. Everyone has been tiptoeing around me, trying not to set off my hairpin trigger.

"How are you feeling?" I probe hesitantly.
"Really, Jackson? Can't we just sit here and not talk for once?" Jet snaps back, leaning away from me.
"I'm fucking trying here, Jet. Okay?" I gruff in an exhausted tone, looking at her. The anger within me continues to bubble, getting closer and closer to exploding.
"Not everything in our lives has to be about the fucking miscarriage, Jackson!" Jet jeers, shaking her head at me.
"Sorry for being concerned about my wife's well-being," I grumble, looking back up at the sky to watch the snowflakes fall.