Forever Yours

by Addison Fox

  So Jasmine had assumed it was normal and moved on.

  What had taken her far longer to understand was just how special it all was. While she’d been fortunate to grow up in a good home with loving parents, the Shane family didn’t have a bevy of extended relatives who numbered close to a hundred when all assembled together. Instead, she’d been fortunate to become one of the many, embraced into the Rossi family like one of their own.

  Daphne had once referred to it as the Borg but Jasmine had just known how special it was to have not one family, but two.

  With all this history—and two of the five Rossi siblings managing her evening—it was only natural they’d all end up at the Rossi kitchen table. It didn’t matter they’d arrived at close to midnight, nor did it matter there were seven of them with an eighth on the way as soon as Nick could escape the bar.

  Giavanna Rossi had a pot of coffee on, a coffee cake already on the table, dispatched from where it had cooled earlier on the counter, and a big bowl of unshelled nuts taking up a place of prominence in the center of the checkered tablecloth.

  “Your mother and I just had lunch on Monday. She didn’t mention any of these troubles.” Giavanna had pulled Jasmine aside the moment they’d walked in, distracting her from the din at the table while the cake was cut and passed around.

  “There wasn’t any trouble. Or none that I knew of. It all started tonight when he showed up.”

  “And no one told you he was out.”

  “No.”

  Jasmine had kept it together. Through their hasty departure at the bar, to the warm welcome when they’d walked in. Even when Giavanna had pulled her aside into the family room she’d maintained her composure.

  But it was that look—the one of disgust and frustration that pulled Giavanna’s generous mouth into a tight line—that had the tears spilling forth.

  If Giavanna Rossi was upset, it was time to worry.

  Jasmine had kept it at bay for so long. She’d pushed aside the nightmares, forced herself back to her studio, and thrown herself into work. She would not be beaten by this, nor would she give petty, small-minded, violent Paul Barrow the satisfaction of cowing her.

  But here. In the warmth of what had always been her second home, filled to the brim with cops, she finally opened the door and let the fear in. Dark and raw, it scraped at her and made her feel small and scared.

  The words she’d fought so hard to ignore opened up in her mind, as vivid now as they were that cold night in December.

  Can’t keep to your place.

  Uppity black bitch, thinking you can teach my white little girl how to dance.

  Cheap whore.

  He’d said them all and so many more, searing them into her memory with all the pain of a brand as his hands had roamed over her body. Touching her breasts. Her waist. Dropping between her legs. Evil ugly words paired with evil ugly gestures that seethed with hate and a malevolence she’d never encountered before.

  And then tonight, he’d stood across the bar, that same hate filling his eyes, a small, triumphant smile playing about his lips.

  He’d sworn he’d get her that night. Had screamed it even as the police carted him away.

  But she’d believed it couldn’t happen. That he was locked up and wouldn’t be able to get to her. God, how stupid she’d been. Why hadn’t she thrown in the towel after Cade had dropped her home, and just stayed in?

  Why had she believed her night would get better?

  Worse, now that she knew Barrow was out, why had she believed her life would get better? That it would go back to normal and allow her to, once again, be one of the oblivious lucky ones, unsoiled by crime.

  Giavanna pulled her close, the gentle crooning and soft words comforting, even as Jasmine knew them for their emptiness. She didn’t live in a bubble, and there wasn’t anyone who could fix this. She was vulnerable, and she was a target. And now she had to accept that the one who had her in his sights hadn’t changed his mind. He was coming after her.

  Hot tears raced down Jasmine’s face, and she closed her eyes and took the sweet comfort offered by Mama Rossi. Although Jasmine towered over the woman by at least five inches, what Giavanna lacked in size she made up for in grip. Her hugs were tight—fierce, even—and full of the message that no one had better touch her family.

  Jasmine welcomed the warmth—knew she’d repeat the experience the next day with her own mother when she told her everything—and was determined to hang on just a bit longer, reveling in the comfort.

  Without even knowing he was there, Cade moved in. Large hands covered her own, opening her arms and pulling her close into his embrace. Giavanna slipped away effortlessly, leaving Cade in her place.

  “I’m sorry, Jaz. Sorry I didn’t get the bastard.”

  While she’d never argue with the strength of a mother’s love, the warmth and sheer power of Cade’s hold vanquished the demons in her mind like nothing else could. He held her close, his voice soft as he whispered against her ear. “I’m sorry.”

  For a moment she thought to slip away—to keep that shield of distance that was the only way she could survive around him. But something stopped her. Need? Want?

  Or the very real fear that her life had been upended once again.

  Whatever the reason, as his arms and that warm, wonderful, masculine scent of him wrapped around her, Jasmine gave in and accepted the comfort only Cade could give.

  “I didn’t know he was out.”

  “Neither did I, which is a problem.” Cade’s arms were as tight as his mother’s, only there was something else layered beneath. Solid strength, yes, but a tenderness that surprised her.

  A tenderness she didn’t dare allow herself to take.

  Pulling away, she forced a few steps between them, brushing away the tears that still lingered on her cheeks. “Thanks for your concern.”

  “Thanks?” The subtle confusion that stamped his gaze faded as ire quickly rose up. “Thanks? Like I’m Officer Friendly, come to give you some news?”

  “What are you getting upset about?”

  He shook his head. “I really don’t believe you.”

  The noise from the kitchen was hushed, in deference to the late hour, and Jasmine had no interest in being overheard. With a nod in that direction, she added, “Again, what are you getting upset about? Barrow’s out. I’ll figure it out and deal with it. He shouldn’t have showed up tonight. It won’t bode well for him and whatever probation he managed to get himself.”

  “You’ll deal with it?” Cade’s shoulders hunched, spots of red creeping into his cheeks. It was a trait Daphne had often laughed at, but seeing him now, in full fluster, wasn’t funny at all.

  “Yes, I will. Just like I’ve been dealing with it since the bastard stormed into my dance studio and called me a whore.” Checking the anger that forced the rise in her tone, she stilled, her voice quiet when she spoke again. “I’ll manage.”

  “And in the meantime?”

  “What meantime? I’ll start the process tomorrow. It’s not like I don’t know a few people to contact.”

  “Tomorrow? You think he doesn’t know where you live? He made it his business to know where you’d be tonight.”

  The fear that had kept her steady company since Paul Barrow’s arrival at the End Zone spiked, raking her stomach with sharp claws. “You think he was watching me?”

  “You have a better idea? The man shows up out of the blue, deliberately taunting you, and then runs? Looks pretty planned to me.”

  How had she missed this?

  Even as she asked herself the question, Jasmine knew. The shock of seeing him again had clouded her ability to think clearly. Of course Barrow had followed her. He simply happened to know she’d be out with friends tonight? Especially when that hadn’t been her evening plan at all?

  No way.

  “I’ve got security.”

  “Two locks on the door.” Cade snorted. “I’m impressed.”

  The tears had vanished, a good stre
ak of stubbornness rising in their place. “It’ll keep someone out until help can arrive.”

  “I’ll stay with you. We’ll handle the rest in the morning.”

  “You can’t stay with me.”

  He nodded. “You’re right. That’s exactly where he’ll go to look for you. You’ll come to my place.”

  “I can’t—” The protest died on her lips when Cade crossed the room, his long strides bringing him to the kitchen in moments. She heard his announcement to the assembled group that they were leaving.

  And in a matter of moments, that’s exactly what they did.

  Chapter Five

  Whatever focus or train of thought had carried Cade through the tense words at his parent’s house and the subsequent idea to bring Jaz home—actually bringing her home was another matter entirely.

  Now that she was here, Cade had to do something with her. Or at least make her comfortable so she could go to bed, safe in the knowledge nothing would happen to her here.

  Only that meant he had to bunk on his couch and imagine her in his bed.

  He’d do it a million times over if it meant keeping her safe, but that couldn’t erase the sudden awareness he had of the woman in his apartment. While he’d always felt his one-bedroom apartment was plenty big, the space now felt cramped and awkward.

  Jaz was here.

  Which was also dumb because she’d been here before. She and Daphne had stopped by several times, and Jasmine had even come over for the Super Bowl party he’d thrown a few years back. She was his friend. He knew her.

  Which, for reasons he couldn’t fully define, was shaping up to be the problem.

  The fight at his parents had been worse than their usual sniping, yet typical of their exchanges over the past few years. He never went into a conversation trying to fight with her, yet that’s how things seemed to end up. The two of them doing battle. The subject changed, but the tone and tenor never did. And no matter how many times he promised himself he wouldn’t rise to the bait, he always ended up doing just that.

  Daphne had the nerve to suggest recently it was a type of foreplay, which was ridiculous. Absurd. Nonsensical.

  But the thought had stuck.

  Cade swiped a pillow and the light blanket that lay at the foot of his bed and walked back to the living room. Jasmine was where he’d left her—still standing next to the couch—her arms folded and her gaze distracted. He gave himself another moment to simply watch her.

  The tank top and jeans he’d observed earlier still wrapped her long, lithe form. She had a dancer’s body—graceful, slender, strong—yet for the first time in a long time, he worried she might break.

  How had they all missed the fact that Barrow had been let out?

  And the fact that the man had been let out meant Cade had no business thinking about foreplay or any other kind of play with Jasmine Shane. He needed to protect her, and in order to do that, he needed his full focus.

  “Bed’s yours.”

  “Thanks.”

  When Jasmine didn’t move, Cade added, “There are towels under the sink.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Jaz?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “Why don’t you go to bed now?”

  “Right. Sure.” Her attention shifted to him and off of whatever she’d seen in her mind’s eye, but she made no move to leave. “I have a question, and I need an honest answer.”

  “Like you need to ask me for one of those.”

  His attempt to lighten the mood fell flat, evidenced by the lack of humor in her dark gaze. The room was warm, his window air conditioner unit not fully kicked in yet, but the look in her eyes was as bleak as a night in January.

  “Come on, Jaz. You can ask me anything.”

  “Do you think he would have killed me if you hadn’t shown up?”

  * * *

  The question had haunted her for months, swirling in her mind, desperate for an answer. Was it simple coincidence that Cade had arrived at her dance studio while out on a holiday errand, or had there been something else at work? Some deeper force, ensuring he was the one who found her.

  Who saved her.

  Barrow had kept up his torrent of words, his intent to rape her clear in his tight hold and the disgusting groping she’d fought with all her strength, but Cade had arrived in time. He’d thrown Barrow off of her and physically dealt with him while Jasmine had scrambled to call for help.

  But if he hadn’t showed up . . .

  “In my line of work I learned a long time ago not to ask what-ifs.”

  “Because?”

  “Because they’re a waste of time. I did show up and you’re here. And you were doing a damn fine job protecting yourself and fighting him off when I did show up. The questions are just that. Questions. They can’t erase the fact that you’re here and whole and well.”

  He was right. His comments even matched something her mother had said, on one of the few occasions they’d discussed what had happened. One of the few times Jasmine had acknowledged there was even something to talk about. The absence of conversation wasn’t lack of support—she’d sensed her mother wanted to discuss the situation further—but Jasmine had found it easier just to set it aside.

  She’d survived. Violent asshole went to jail. Life went on, and she was determined to put it all behind her with work, and her classes, and the general busy schedule that was her life.

  Which made the words that tripped out that much more puzzling. “Black and white. The definitive Cade Rossi approach to any and all problems.”

  “And there we go again.” Heat sparked, arcing across the room as frustration and anger set his shoulders in a hard, unyielding line. “I’m the bad guy for stating the truth. Just like I was the bad guy for giving you a lift home earlier. And I’m the jerk who interrupted your date. What the hell have I done?”

  She wasn’t a nasty person. Nor was she someone who liked to find a weakness and exploit it. So why did those fundamental personality traits vanish each time they were together?

  Was it jealousy? Was she truly that small and petty that she couldn’t wish him happiness?

  He wasn’t in love with her. As a friend and member of the extended Rossi family, yes, she knew he loved her. As a life partner he didn’t, and her endless need to question why was her shortcoming, not his.

  When had she lost sight of that?

  “You haven’t done anything.”

  “You sure about that? Because every time we’re together you can’t wait to get away from me.”

  “It’s not—” She stopped when he threw the pillow and blanket he still held on the end of the couch, where they landed with a dull, puffy thud. “Do you think I can’t see it? Or that I haven’t noticed? The cool disdain or the subtle jabs? I see it and I don’t fucking deserve it.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “So what did I do?”

  “Nothing. You did nothing.”

  Where she thought her answer might bank some of that anger, it only served to add fuel. He stepped closer, and the heat of his body and his warm, lush scent shot off rockets in her brain, tripping her pulse.

  What was that scent? It was elusive and so hard to describe, yet so completely Cade. She’d noticed it as a teenager, this sense of him that seemed to fill her from the inside. She’d thought to mention it to Daphne once, but held back. A discussion of how her best friend’s brother smelled was sure to prompt eye rolls and disbelief.

  Yet it was the first thing she noticed every time she was in his company. The scent was masculine and musky, sensual without being offensive. He smelled like a man. Strong. Powerful. Sexy.

  In a word: Cade.

  He didn’t move, but she gave herself a moment to look at him—really look at him—taking in the hard lines of his jaw, his evening stubble growing in. He was so capable. So strong. And even if she remained perpetually irritated by his dating choices, she couldn’t ignore his innate kindness or fundamental need to protect.

  “You di
dn’t do anything,” she finally said. “You’ve just been a handy punching bag.”

  “That’s all?”

  “What else would it be?”

  His gaze remained steady on hers, as if he sought the truth of her words. She fought the urge to squirm or to embellish her statement further. She did act different with him, and he’d finally taken the opportunity to call her on it.

  There was no way she could give in. She needed to stay strong and not allow the quiet intimacy of the moment to lull her into saying something she’d regret. She couldn’t give up the mantle of control she fought so hard for each and every time they were together.

  But it was exhausting.

  Hiding her feelings. Getting angry and frustrated with herself because she continued to pant after him like a puppy, even as he continued his personal conquests through half of Brooklyn. Riding the roller coaster of hope and loss as month after month passed, nothing changing between the two of them.

  Would it ever change?

  She knew this idiotic state of being was keeping her from taking things further with Gardner. Even as she well knew Gardner deserved better than a woman who was only in a relationship with him halfway.

  Or maybe that was the problem. . . .

  The angst that had dogged her since beginning the relationship faded, a fresh idea falling into place.

  A fresh, tempting idea.

  Perhaps it would be easier to move forward with Gardner if she put her curiosity to bed. What would it hurt if she simply reached out and took what she’d always wanted? It had been a bad day, and no one would argue with her need for comfort. She could kiss Cade, assuage her curiosity, and chalk it up to an anxious night.

  Get in, get out, no harm, no foul.

  Surely women threw themselves at him every day. Hell, she’d seen women throw themselves at Cade. Adding herself to that number would hardly phase him.