Jack stood from the table, pacing away from her. Audra followed him with her eyes. Would he tell her to leave or ask her to stay? Did she have the right to ask him to share his biggest secret?
His voice came low and tight. “Sixteen months ago, my daughter died.”
Shock chilled Audra. Her words poured on a breath. “I’m so sorry. What was her name?”
“Zoey. She was six years old when she was diagnosed with leukemia. She died before her ninth birthday . . .” Jack’s voice drifted away.
“So young.” Audra’s eyes stung with unshed tears.
“The chemotherapy treatment was as bad as the disease.” Jack rubbed his face with his right hand. “She grew weaker right before my eyes. She was already so little. She died less than two years later.”
That explained so much about Jack: his isolation, his previously unkempt appearance, the pain in his poet’s eyes.
Audra dashed tears from her cheeks. “What happened to Zoey’s mother?”
“She left before Zoey died.” Jack faced Audra. “Don’t feel sorry for me. I don’t need anyone’s pity.”
Audra blinked at his angry words. “I’m sorry Zoey died, but I don’t pity you. I admire you.”
“Why?” Jack’s question was thick with suspicion.
“A lot of people would have crumbled. Your daughter died. You lost your wife—”
“I didn’t lose her. She left.”
“But you’re still standing.”
“Barely.” Jack massaged the back of his neck as he moved restlessly across the room.
“You’ve had some setbacks. That’s understandable.”
“‘Setbacks’ imply I’ll return to fight another day. I don’t know that I will.”
Audra gestured toward him. “Have you looked in a mirror lately? You already have.”
“Thanks to you.” His expression shifted from stubborn resistance to surprised confusion.
Audra shook her head. “This isn’t about me. It’s all about you.”
“Or us.” When he spoke, his voice was deep, warm, and compelling.
“Can there be an ‘us,’ Jack?” Audra ignored the thrill of excitement that burst through her at the thought of being with this man. “I’ve just broken up with someone, and you’re mourning your daughter.”
“So?”
“Is a casual relationship between us a good idea?”
“Why not?”
Audra shook her head, pulling her fingers through her hair. “For you, sex is a physical act. For me, it’s a lot more.”
Jack returned to the dining table, looking into Audra’s eyes. “You’re a dangerous woman, Audra Lane.”
She frowned. “Why?”
“Because you make me want things I shouldn’t want. You make me want to feel again.”
“You’ve been in Trinity Falls for almost a week. Have you left your cabin yet?” Audra’s manager asked the question Thursday morning in lieu of the traditional cell phone greeting.