Guilty Heart- Chapter Four

After a wonderful dinner at one of Las Vegas's trendiest restaurants Nick and Jamey went for a walk along the strip, taking in the scenery and eating ice cream cones.

Jamey had been surprised, not just by the restaurant, which was very expensive, but by the attentive way that Nick had treated her; Not only did he order their dinner but he also picked out a very classy wine from the list and he also pulled out her chair for her. He treated her like a princess, much like her ex in New York did—the trouble was that the better Nick treated her the more guilty she felt

At times like this Jamey wished that Sigmond Froid were living so she could run into his office and flop down on his couch and pour out her heart. No matter how far away from New York she went, the painful memories followed her, haunted her, and made sure that she was never completely happy.

Most of the time she was resigned to the fact that her past was her own fault, that nothing would ever change it, and that she was destined to live the rest of her life in regret—but sometimes she felt herself slipping and she would dream about what life would be like with Nick Stokes not as her roommate but her lover or her husband. She imagined that he would be a wonderful father but quickly shut down those thoughts, as she had vowed never to think about that subject and what it entailed. Friendship was what was important; A good friendship with someone you could trust, she had decided, making that feminine part of herself take the backseat. Again.

She looked over at him as they walked and grinned. He looked very handsome in his jeans and button down shirt. It was green and it looked great on him. She noticed how every woman they passed looked back to admire the sight of him.

"What?" He smiled over at her as he licked the chocolate off the side of the cone.

"Nothing—or have you not noticed all of the ladies looking your way, cowboy?" She teased.

"Nope." He grinned. "Don't care."

She felt her heart flip flop as he spoke. She got the feeling that he didn't care because he wasn't seriously looking. Maybe he was satisfied with friendship. That thought, the totally platonic one, took the wind from her sails. She didn't want to be his friend but knew that there was no other way.

"Did you see Hodges face today when Greg took that sample in?" Nick asked, changing the topic, shaking his head in wonder.

"I know—I thought that he was going to throw one of his tantrums and have him thrown out." Jamey giggled, remembering how red Hodge's face was.

Around the lab the tension between the two men had become a daily battle in which any and every person who came within five feet of them was dragged into some kind of squabble. No one knew what the problem was but for whatever reason, the two had a nasty rivalry.

"Man, that guy should really take some vallium or something. He needs to take a serious chill pill."

"Nah. He should try Adavan. It works much better."

Nick nudged her shoulder and gave her a mocking grin. "And how would you know? Been a bit crazy yourself?"

Jamey blanched and looked down at the sidewalk. "It's a proven fact that Adavan is very good for tension and anxiety disorders." She said matter of factly.

Nick, seeing the change, knew that he'd stepped on her toes and gone somewhere that she did not want to go. "I'm sorry Jame—I was just kidding." He said softly, not wanting to ruin the night with talk of her past. "I don't care if you were on it–I was just trying to make a joke."

He knew that she was a closed person and he usually understood and respected her wishes—but he was starting to worry about her. She didn't tell anyone anything about her past and he knew that it wasn't healthy for her. Daring to make her angry in the sake of her own well being, he stopped walking and grabbed her hand.

She glanced at him quickly and gave him a small smile.

"Jamey–" He started., then took a deep breath and looked deep into her eyes. "I can respect that you don't talk about your personal life with anyone. But I"m not just anyone–am I?"

She started to pull her hand away but he held it tighter, an expression of concern on his face. "Am I?" He asked again.

She stopped and swallowed hard. Why was he asking her questions? Didn't he know that no one could help her? Forgive her for what she'd allowed to happen? "Nick, you're not just anyone—you're my best friend." She said in a shaky voice that seemed to have come from no where. "And as my best friend you should know better than anyone else that I can't talk about my life."

He shook his head. "It's not healthy for you. Darlin, you're eating yourself up inside. You're gonna make yourself sick. And it doesn't take a fool to see that you're heart broken. Talk to me, Jamey. I—" He stopped himself from saying that he loved her. "I want you to talk to me."

She pulled her hand away. "Well I can't talk about it—ever!" She snapped, eyes flashing. "I swear—what is with everybody today? I don't want to talk about my life in New York—do you get that?" She cried, ignoring the hurt look on his face. "Out of everyone I met in Vegas you were my favorite–and do you know why?"

He didn't respond. In a few short seconds the night that had been going so well had gone down hill and was completely ruined. He watched her face, her green eyes full of water, how her nostrils flared and how her whole body went rigid at the mention of her past. And if he thought that he could ever get through to her, he'd been wrong. He felt stupid for assuming that she would stop being secretive after a year and a half of living together. If she'd of wanted to tell him she would have done it long ago. He felt his heart breaking with every word that came from her delicate lips.

"Do you?" She pursued. "It's because you've always respected my privacy–until tonight. Was this fancy restaurant the reason? Did you think that if you took me out tonight that that would earn you the right to ask about my life?" She felt as if she was a rubber band stretched too far, so far that it had broken. He was getting to close to her, wanting to know too much. To keep him at arms length, even against her better judgement, she opened her mouth again and let loose with her poison tongue.

He opened his mouth to speak and nothing came out. The look of pure bewilderment and hurt in his eyes spoke volumes to her. She shook her head and wiped at the tears that had started to spill over her eyelids. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and sighed.

"I'm never going to talk about my life. Ever. Not with you. Not with anybody. And if you thought that you were going to take me out to dinner and then sleep with me you're wrong about that too."

He looked like she had slapped him in the face, and she might as well have. And even though it hurt like hell, he knew that she was only saying it because she was hurt. Refusing to be goaded into an argument, he swallowed the lump in his throat and pulled his keys out of his jeans pocket and dropped them on the ground at her feet. "Take the car. I'll get a cab home."

"What?"

He cleared his throat and spoke in a gravelly voice. "I need to go for a walk. I'll see you at home." He said as he turned away from her. "And I'm sorry that you think my motive for taking you out tonight wasn't pure. I'll never ask you another word about your life."

She watched him walk away then, as the tears came down harder. She reached down and picked up the keys to the Denali, hating herself for being so unkind. It was the only way she could stop him from finding out what kind of person she was; the things that she had done.

Because she knew that once she opened up to him even with one detail, she'd be like a river undammed.—out of control. And she would have to tell him that she loved him.

And she could never allow that to happen.