before she left. He clearly recognized her, even with twelve years of no communication. Of course, she had recognized him instantly, so she supposed she shouldn't be so amazed that he had done the same.
It brought her back to the night they had broken up. It was raining and cold, a perfect setting for the ending of two bright futures. She had just said goodbye to her parents, buried deep below the earth. He had been her pillar of strength, the one thing holding her up and keeping her strong through it all.
She had wanted to leave, to get out and never look back. But he still had a family, although it was only comprised of his father and his motorcycle club, the Desperados, who were just as good as family to him. When his father had taken ill years before, it was the members of the club that had banded behind him, fed him, clothed him, and had taken care of all the medical bills until his father was healthy enough to work. Jackson could never forget that. He was a loyal until death and would never leave the club.
She had taken his refusal to move away from the town as the ultimate betrayal. She had thought they meant everything to each other. She'd honestly believed he could leave it all behind for her. But that day, he had looked at her with his eyes void of emotion and told her that this was his home, and she could become a part of that or she could leave.
She left and joined up with the first band that heard her sing. They made it big in the matter of just a few years, and now her name was a household name. True, not her name...Sapphire Daly, her alter ego. Sometimes she was more Sapphire than Melody. Sapphire was strong and fearless and confident. She didn't need people to like her or her music. She didn't need to look back.
Over the next few days, it seemed like Jackson was everywhere. If she went to the grocery store, he was leaned up against it, talking to a couple club members. If she went to a restaurant, he was there with his father. If she went to the gym, he was lifting on the machine right next to where she wanted to be.
She figured out that he had ended up buying the house that the two of them should've purchased together. It was blue with a white picket fence and a bright, sunny, yellow door. She had always loved the house. It was just another twist of the knife that he bought it and brought other women there instead of her.
She walked up to the front door and knocked twice. He answered, wearing only a pair of low slung jeans. His feet and chest were bare. She swallowed involuntarily and forced herself to look higher, past his well-defined abs and chest, to his face.
Apparently, he was having a similar problem focusing. He eyes were cast down, directed at the top of her blouse where one of the buttons had popped opened. She refused to shift like a child being punished in class and waited for his eyes to meet hers. They did, and she caught the twinkle in his eye and tried hard not to return it.
"If we're both going to continue living here, we might as well just deal with it," she started, putting her hands on her hips.
He waited a moment, and then nodded and waited for her to continue.
"I don't regret anything I have done. I don't believe in regrets." He watched her struggle for the right words.
"You could've told me you were leaving," he interrupted, his voice low and somber.
"I thought it was easier on both of us if I didn't." She tapped her shoe idly on the side of the door.
He didn't respond, but just kept watching her.
"It's not like it really would've worked anyway, Jackson!" she burst out.
His eyes roamed over her face, searching for...something. "You don't know that."
"But I do! You know how I know for sure? Because you let me leave . If you really cared about me like you always said you did, there's no way you would've let me walk out that door without a fight." She lost her air towards the end, her anger giving way to
Douglas E. Schoen, Melik Kaylan