Only when we burn

Chapter 6: The missing pieces

Jesse's eyes crinkled with genuine warmth as he watched me take another long sip of wine. "So, Bella, when Jackson mentioned he was seeing a doctor, I pictured someone much more... intimidating."

I raised an eyebrow. "Sorry to disappoint."

"Oh, I'm not disappointed. Anaesthetics, right? That's got to be stressful—controlling whether people wake up or not."

"I promise I use my drugs for a good purpose." I found myself smiling despite everything, grateful for the distraction from whatever was happening across the garden. "Mostly."

"Mostly?" His grin was infectious. "Now I'm intrigued."

"Let's just say there was this one surgeon who insisted on playing death metal during procedures. His next patient took a little longer to count backward from ten."

Jesse's laugh was genuine and surprised, and for a moment, I felt lighter. "You're much more fun than I expected a doctor to be. Do you actually get time to enjoy yourself, or is it all work and saving lives?"

Before I could answer, a burst of laughter erupted near the garden entrance. Jesse's face lit up as a few musicians began setting up their equipment.

"Perfect timing. The band's here." He stood, straightening his shirt. "That's my cue—I need to make sure they don't electrocute themselves when setting up."

"Your band?"

"Well, I'm the lead singer, so technically yes." He grinned at my surprised expression. "What? You thought I was just some boring guy who throws money at musicians? I've got actual talent hidden under all this charm."

I let out a small laugh, the first genuine one I'd felt since Jackson disappeared. "I don't know what I expected, but it wasn't that. You just seemed so... corporate."

"Corporate?" He clutched his chest in mock offence. "That's the most insulting thing anyone's said to me all evening. I'll have you know I've been playing guitar since I was twelve and writing songs since I was old enough to have my heart broken." His expression grew more animated. "We're actually not terrible—we do a mix of covers and originals. Think somewhere between Kings of Leon and The Strokes, but with better hair."

"Better hair is definitely important in a band," I said, finding myself genuinely charmed by his enthusiasm.

"Exactly. It's all about the hair." He ran a hand through his dark waves with exaggerated vanity, then grew more serious. "Music's always been my real passion. The business stuff just pays the bills and keeps the band equipment in good repair."

I nodded, my smile widening. "Well, good luck tonight."

"Thanks." Jesse hesitated before he turned to go, his expression growing softer, more concerned. "Listen, when we start playing later—promise me you'll get out there and dance. Even if it's just one song."

"Sure." The word came out automatically, though I wasn't sure I'd feel like dancing anytime soon.

"Good. You look like someone who could use a distraction tonight." He gave my shoulder a quick squeeze, the gesture kind and without expectation, then was gone, leaving me with the strange comfort of a new friend's kindness.

I barely had time to process the interaction before Aarti and Nate appeared at my sides like protective bookends, their faces etched with worry.

"Okay, what the hell was that about?" Nate demanded, dropping onto the barstool Jesse had vacated. His eyes were dark with concern and barely contained anger. "Jackson just disappeared with that blonde, like the place was on fire."

I stared into my wine, watching the rosé catch the garden lights. My throat felt tight. "Sarah is not some random stranger."

The admission hung in the air between us, heavy with implications I wasn't ready to explore.

"Who is she then?" Aarti asked gently, her hand finding my arm with that intuitive comfort she'd perfected over years of friendship.

"Someone who knows it's his birthday when his own girlfriend doesn't." The words came out sharper than I intended, tinged with a hurt that made my chest ache. I took another sip of wine, needing the warmth to counter the cold spreading through my stomach.

"Look, I know Jackson," Aarti said firmly, her grip on my arm tightening. "That man is completely gone for you, B. Whatever this is about, it's not him wanting someone else."

"I know he loves me," I said, and I meant it. The certainty of that fact was the only thing keeping me from completely falling apart. "But that doesn't make it okay for him to just... disappear like that. Without a word, without an explanation. Like, I don't deserve to know what's going on."

The wine was making everything feel more immediate, more raw. I could feel the heat of embarrassment creeping up my neck—not just from Jackson's abrupt departure, but from how exposed I felt sitting here while other guests probably wondered where my boyfriend had gone, where he'd chosen to go instead of staying with me.

Nate nodded grimly, his jaw tight with protective fury. "Exactly. That wasn't okay. You don't abandon your girlfriend at a party to chase after some woman from your past, no matter who she is."

"Maybe, he didn't know she was coming," Aarti offered, though her voice carried less conviction than usual. "Maybe this caught him off guard, too."

I wanted to grab onto that explanation, to let it soothe the growing knot of anxiety in my chest. But something about Sarah's satisfied expression, the calculated way she'd approached us, made it feel too convenient. "She had a gift for him, Aarti. A birthday gift. That doesn't feel very... spontaneous."

Before anyone could respond, a familiar voice spoke from behind us.

"I'm afraid you deserve to know a little bit about Sarah's history with my son."

We turned to find Jackson's mother, Grace, elegant as ever with a glass of champagne in her manicured hand. But there was something in her eyes—a mixture of sympathy and concern—that made my stomach clench with dread.

"Mrs. Ivory—" I began, but she waved me off with a gentle smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Grace, please. And I couldn't help overhearing..." She paused, choosing her words with the careful precision of someone who understood the weight they carried. "You're right. Sarah wasn't just some casual acquaintance. She was very close to someone who was... significant in Jackson's life."

"Significant?" The word scraped out of me, my throat suddenly dry despite the wine.

"Rosie," Grace continued, and I felt the name hit me like a physical blow. "Jackson's ex-fiancée. Sarah was her best friend."

My glass slipped in my suddenly nerveless fingers, wine sloshing dangerously against the rim. The world seemed to tilt slightly, as if the ground beneath me had shifted. "Fiancée?"

The word felt foreign in my mouth. Jackson had been engaged. Had planned to marry someone, had loved someone enough to promise her forever. And I'd never known. Had never even suspected.

"Yes. They were engaged for nearly a year before they broke up." Grace's voice was gentle but steady, like she was trying to deliver difficult news with as much compassion as possible. "She broke his heart quite thoroughly. It took him a very long time to recover. Sarah has been around Jackson more since Rosie left. I thought she blamed herself for not warning him that Rosie was having doubts. She thought if she'd spoken up sooner, it might have ended differently. But... things did take a different turn."

The pieces clicked together with sickening clarity. Sarah, devoted to Jackson, was watching his heart break over another woman, hoping she could somehow fix it. Waiting in the wings, certain he'd eventually turn to her instead. Playing the long game while Jackson struggled to trust again.

"So Sarah has feelings for him," I said, my voice steady despite the knot of nausea in my stomach. It wasn't a question—the truth was written in Sarah's possessive touches, in the way she'd looked at me like I was an obstacle to overcome.

"I believe so." Grace's expression softened with genuine sympathy. "I'm sure Jackson will explain everything himself once he's sorted out whatever Sarah wanted with him. Trust him, dear."

I nodded, though my chest felt tight with unshed emotion. It explained everything—the proprietary way Sarah had touched him, the little black box that had thrown him into such a tailspin, the way he'd gone rigid at her approach. But understanding didn't dull the sting of being left sitting here without a word of explanation, without even a glance back to let me know he was thinking of me.

"Thank you for telling me," I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Of course, dear." Grace squeezed my shoulder before moving on, leaving me with the weight of her words and the implications they carried.

The silence that followed felt heavy, loaded with everything we weren't saying. I could feel Aarti and Nate watching me, waiting for me to process, to react, to fall apart or hold it together.

"You okay?" Aarti asked quietly, her voice soft with concern.

"I will be," I said, though my throat felt raw and my chest tight with a mixture of hurt and understanding I wasn't ready to untangle. "Once Jackson comes back and actually talks to me about what's going on instead of just disappearing."

Because that was what this was really about—not fear that he'd leave me for someone else, but the deep, aching hurt of being left out. Of being treated like I wasn't worth the truth, like I was too fragile to handle the complexity of his past. We were supposed to be a team, partners who faced things together, and tonight I'd never felt more alone.

Nate reached over and squeezed my free hand. "He'll come back, B. And when he does, he'll have some serious explaining to do."

Aarti nodded firmly. "And until then, we're here. You're not alone in this."

Their support should have made me feel better, but instead it just made the tightness in my chest more pronounced. I needed space to breathe, to think, to process everything I'd just learned without an audience.

"I'm going to find the ladies' room," I said, standing on unsteady legs and smoothing down my dress. "I just need a minute."

"Want us to come with you?" Aarti asked, half-rising from her stool.

"No, I'm okay. Really." I managed what I hoped was a reassuring smile. "I'll be right back."