No Two Are Alike

19 | chocolate orange heart

Jack's hands ached from moving things.

He stalked towards the kitchen, flexing his fingers. Bloody hell. He might as well have been moving baby elephants; why on earth were speakers so heavy? Logan could deal with the last ones. Jack was giving up.

Admittedly, moving equipment had bought Jack a convenient excuse to leave Chloe after the kiss, but it had been at least ten minutes. Maybe fifteen. That was enough time to diffuse the tension, right?

He flung open the kitchen door, and then froze.

Crumbs.

Something was wrong.

Chloe was standing near the kitchen table, a sheet of paper clutched in one hand. Slowly, she turned towards him. Jack swallowed as her eyes flicked to his face — his eyebrow? — and then to his jumper.

"What," she said calmly, "is this?"

She waggled the piece of paper. Jack began to sweat. Oh, hell. Did Chloe know about the article? She might not, though. It was best to play dumb.

"What's what?"

She snorted. "Nice try."

"Honestly, I don't—"

"Don't bullshit me, Jack!"

He flinched. Oh, yeah; she definitely knew. Chloe sank into the chair, and even though her expression was even, her hands were shaking. Jack's stomach plunged.

He started towards her. "Chloe..."

"Don't!" Her voice was sharp. "Don't come any closer."

"I'm so sorry."

"You let me kiss you," she whispered. "So many times." She looked down at the paper in her hands. "Why would you do that?"

Jack closed his eyes. He could feel his throat swelling up, and he wanted to punch something. Himself, preferably. In the face. Why the hell had he ever thought this was a good idea? The hurt in her voice killed him.

"I never meant for you to find out like this."

She laughed humorlessly. "Oh, yeah? And how was I meant to find out?"

"I don't know."

"Was I meant to find out at all?"

"Yes, of course," Jack said desperately. "Of course you were. Chloe, look at me." Her eyes were fixed on the paper. Oh, sod it. He rushed forward, seizing her hands. "I'm still me, you know. I'm still Jack."

For god's sake, Jack was still in love with her. He still wanted to drink orange hot chocolate with Chloe on weekends, and to watch "Chalet Girl" every December, even though Jack thought it was horrifically cheesy. He wanted to see her dimple when she smiled. He wanted to sit on the roof and watch the snow fall together until he froze to death.

He loved Chloe Cartwright with every bit of his shattered heart. He would throw himself down a million ski hills for her. In a heartbeat.

Chloe's eyes were dark pools.

"I don't know you," Chloe whispered, searching his face. "Not anymore. All of the lies, all of the things we did together, god, the things I said to you..." She pulled her hands away. "You're a stranger to me, Jack. I don't ever want to speak to you."

His heart stopped. "You don't mean that."

"Yes." She rose to her feet. "I do."

"Chloe, you don't—"