Denise Hunter Quote

What’s wrong? Jake’s voice, deep as thunder, unsettled her. Why did he have to be so handsome? She wanted to fall right inside those brown eyes. I saw you in the living room with Ben . . . earlier. His lips pulled upward, no doubt remembering Ben’s belly laughs. He’s a fun kid. She hated to wipe the smile from his face. I know you mean well, Jake, but I think it’s best if you avoid spending time with the children. The smile slid south. We were just playing around. The children are getting attached to you. I don’t think it’s healthy. His jaw flexed, his shoulders squared. They need relationships now more than ever. Not from someone who’ll soon exit their lives. He flinched. She hated to hurt his feelings, had a physical ache from wounding him. It doesn’t have to be that way, he said finally. I don’t want to exit their lives. I don’t want to exit your life. Maybe he thought they could be some happy family or something. It was time to tell him everything. I’m selling Summer Place. We’ll be leaving the island soon. The Goldmans—our guests over the daffodil weekend—made an offer, and I accepted. I haven’t told the children yet, so I’d appreciate if you wouldn’t mention it. We’ll stay through closing in late June. Jake’s lips parted. A second later they pressed together. He walked to the end of the porch and back. He reminded her of a caged tiger, constricted by the boundary of the porch. She hadn’t expected him to be so upset. When he passed, she set her hand on his bare arm, stopping him. The muscles flexed beneath her palm. He was so strong. She had the sudden image of him hitting Sean, using those muscles to protect her. She pulled her hand away as if his skin burned her. They’ve had enough loss. They’ve already become attached to you, and that’s only going to hurt them more when we leave. His face softened as he stared, his lips slackening, his eyes growing tender. His face had already darkened under the sun. Faint lines fanned the corner of his eyes. He reached toward her and ran his finger down the side of her face. Don’t leave. His touch left a trail of fire. She pressed her spine to the column. How could she want to dive into his arms and run away at the same time? Inside a riot kicked up. She was back in the apartment on Warren Street, coming home from school, slipping in the door, unsure if she’d find her mom racing around the kitchen, slumped on the bathroom tile, or just gone. The same uncertainty roiled in her now. I have to. This is their home. Your engagement is over, he said gently. Is what you’re going back to as important as what you’re leaving? He didn’t have to say he meant them. Us. She shook her head, dislodging his hand. How had he turned this all around? She