"I..." I had no words. I hadn't considered it that way. But it didn't erase my anger.
"You've been waiting for her to mess up. In the meantime, you've put her up on such a pedestal, that when she fell, she had farther to fall so you'd feel justified in detaching yourself from her."
His words stung. And when did this become about me? Grace is the one who created this situation by not being honest in the first place. Wasn't she? Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was a dawning of how bad I'd screwed up. I felt petty and hostile. "I don't need the hassle of a permanent relationship anyway."
Noah snorted. "Yeah, okay. I believed that shit in the past because you weren't with anyone who I could see you settling down with. But Grace? She was different. You were different with her. Better."
I slammed my feet down. "Well, maybe that's the problem. I don't like who I am with her." I strode to the railing and leaned on it, gazing out over the green pastures and paddocks. Now I was lying to myself. And of course, Noah knew it.
"And what's that? Someone who can love someone other than himself?"
I rounded on Noah. "What the fuck does that mean?" I was breathing hard, almost looking for an excuse to hit him, even if he was my best friend. Those were fighting words. It was too close to what Gene had said, and I didn’t want either of them to be right.
"It means, you're in love with her, yet you're up here running scared."
"I'm not in love with her."
"Oh, don't give me that shit, Jax. Your brain might be telling you you're not in love, but your heart knows better, and there's not a damn thing your head can do about it except maybe do something stupid. Like pushing her away. Like sitting here and denying your real feelings."
"Fine. Let's say I do love her. I'm too fucked up to have a future with someone. She deserves better than that. I've told her that countless times."
"You're right. She does."
What the actual fuck? I turned my back on him. It was hypocritical, but that wasn't what I expected him to say.
"You're right. She should move on, find some guy who will take care of her, make her laugh, have fun getting her pregnant with his babies." My grip tightened on the wood. I felt sick at the thought of another guy getting to caress her silky skin, capture her gasps as she came in his mouth, and hold her tight while she shuddered with pleasure. Someone who got to enjoy her tender touches, the way she appreciated simple things like movies at home, family dinners, and cuddles on the couch.
Oblivious to my mental torture, Noah continued. "Meanwhile, you can go on with your less meaningful relationships, but with the knowledge that you're free to come and go as you please. No one who cares whether or not you ate or to share your successes with. I mean, that's what you want, right? You get the building you want. You can carry through with all your grand plans that keep you up at night. You can even rest easy knowing you don’t have to deal with Mallory or Gene anymore." His frustration was unmistakable.
Silence fell. I wished the dark of night would swallow me up. I grabbed the bottle of Scotch to help it along, but Noah's next words pulled me back. "Do you know why I even invited your sorry ass up here tonight? Not because I was bored and thought how much fun it would be to babysit a sulky friend. I called you because the woman who loves you is worried about you and wanted to make sure someone checked on you."
"She called you?"
"Yep. Don't get me wrong. I enjoy having your sorry ass come up here to drink all my liquor. But I do have other things to do rather than try to save you from making a huge mistake."
I shook my head. "I don't know what to do."
"Well first, I'm going to let you drown your sorrows in liquor like any good friend would do. Then, tomorrow, when your head is splitting, I'm going to kick you out and tell you how stupid you are, also because I'm a good friend."
I looked at the label on the bottle in my hands. It took me a few seconds to bring it into focus. "Cheap bastard. You could have at least given me the good stuff I know you've got."
He snorted. "If you're so torn up you can't even tell the difference, that ought to tell you something. You can have the good stuff when you get your girl back."
"I don't know how."
Noah snickered. "One word. Wallow. Like a clean pig who found his first mudhole."
38
Jax
I didn't care that it was late at night. I didn't care that I was running on two hours of shitty sleep, or that I'd spend the day nursing a hangover while reflecting on the words of a man I never wanted to see again who’d been thrust front and center back into my life. I only cared about seeing Grace.
I negotiated multi-million dollar deals frequently. I wasn't afraid of conflict and had taken on more than one ornery construction site manager or cocky lawyer. I never wavered. I never backed down from a fight. I’d been a boy the last time I’d made myself deliberately vulnerable. But if I’d learned anything lately, I knew yielding to my feelings for Grace wasn’t a sacrifice; it was the way to gaining everything.
So here I was with my hand poised mid-air, ready to knock on Grace's apartment door, frozen. This was the most important negotiation of my life. Everything I owned, every resource I had, I would sacrifice if I thought it would help. But knowing they wouldn't had my stomach tied in knots. The old saying about not knowing how much you loved something until you didn't have it anymore was true.
Fucking-A. I hadn't left the peace of the farm to drive down here to cower out now. What was the point of having balls if you didn't use them? If my mission here failed, she might as well keep them anyway. I knew I'd never want another woman the way I wanted Grace.
The irony of the moment wasn’t lost on me. I’d met Grace at a wedding where I thought my cousin was handing his balls over. Now here I was, with far few guarantees than Derek had with Maggie.
My knuckles rapped on her front door. A second time. I raised my hand ready to try again when the door flung open. Grace stood there in a short silky robe, her face flushed, eyes confused and a little red, and strands of tousled hair falling across her face.
She was absolutely beautiful.
And pissed. Gloriously, beautifully, pissed off. I could work with anger.
She crossed her arms. "What are you doing here?"
I pushed my way inside her apartment. I whirled around to face her.
"Jax? Wh—"
Her voice broke off as I pulled her flush against me and fused my lips to hers. The groan that I felt rumble against my chest never saw the light as I clasped her hips and lifted her, pressing her back against the door she'd just closed. When I felt her legs encompass my waist and her fingernails scrape my head, I lifted my head, panting. "Don't ever think I don't want you." Then I closed the distance between our mouths again. It fueled my hope that I wasn't too late.
Until she ripped her mouth away and started smacking me on the shoulders to let her down.
Reluctantly, I set her back on her feet. Her eyes blazed at me with such fury I started to believe spontaneous combustion might be the cause of my demise. Her swollen lips opened then closed. When she finally spoke, her voice came out more like a squeak. A trembling hand pointed a finger at me.
"You. You don't get to come here in the middle of the night and kiss me like that. You lost that right when you kicked me to the curb like I never meant anything to you."
I shook my head. "I was wrong, and I'm sorry. You mean everything to me." I took a step toward her, but she darted around me and put more distance between us. "Let me explain. Please, just listen."
"You want to explain? You want me to listen? I was more than willing to try to talk and explain things to you days ago, but you wouldn't give me the opportunity. So, what's changed now, Jax? Because of what happened yesterday? Because you got the building you wanted? Well, congratulations, because you got the contract, but you don’t have the girl."
"No!" I was panicking. "No, that's not why I'm here. I mean, yes, I wanted to thank you for your help, but I would have
been here anyway."
"Well, I'll never know since you've had days to talk to me, to work through this. I feel used, Jax. And I told you from the beginning that was a big issue for me. You didn't want me when things got tough, but now things have smoothed out for you, and you want me back? How is that not using me? You should go. I'm sure it won't be long before you're able to find someone else to warm your bed."
She opened the front door and stood next to it, trembling and with tears running down her cheeks. My heart was a stone weight around my feet as I slowly walked to the door. She turned her head away from me and focused on the floor when I stopped in front of her. "There will be no one else, Grace. I know you don't want to hear it. I know I'm late in saying it, but I love you."
I dragged my finger gently over her cheek. She trembled even harder, but she didn't push me away. "I always have, from the moment I saw you at the wedding, I sensed my world was about to change. I was scared. Yes, you kept something from me, but I've kept something bigger from you, including being honest about the depth of my feelings for you. I'm so sorry."
Eyes that looked like glistening sapphires slowly raised to look at me. "You're not fighting fair." Another tear spilled over one lid.
"I'll use whatever means necessary if it means you'll give me a chance to explain. I need to tell you about my past." I continued to caress her cheek while I reached for her hand with my free one. I kissed her wrist and then held her hand to my chest over my heart. "Please."
She nodded, and I shut the door and led her to the couch. She kept her body as far away as she could, stretching out our arms. But I didn’t let go of her hand. I needed that contact, needed the strength she gave me even when she didn't know it. Maybe she sensed it, because she didn’t fight the connection. I rubbed the back of her hand with my thumb. This was harder than I thought, but I meant it when I said I'd do anything.
"I told you that Gene was my stepfather." She nodded. "And I told you my mother divorced him a little over a year later. But I didn't tell you why."
"I assumed it was adult stuff."
"No. I was the reason."
Grace's brow furrowed. "You were a child. How could it have been your fault?"
"I didn't say it was my fault, just I was the reason."
Narrowed eyes pinned me to my spot. "Look, Jax, if you're going to talk in circles, then we're wasting our time here."
"No. I'm sorry, it's not easy to talk about."
"What happened, Jax? Tell me. You're scaring me a little bit."
I focused on our hands and plunged forward. Other than a counselor, I’d never had to tell the story from beginning to end. Or, at least what I thought was the end. I realized now it was something that I still lived with. That I’d always live with.
"My parents were young when I was born. But even as a little boy, I knew how much they loved each other. Our lives were simple, but happy. My dad was part of the Army reserves when he was called up for active duty. You already know how that turned out.”
I dared to glance at Grace. She was sensitive enough that even without knowing my dad, she was blinking hard. I squeezed her hand and kept going before I lost my courage.
“Life got hard after my dad was killed. Money was tight. Even though we had some income coming in from insurance policies and other death benefits, it wasn't enough to keep up with the bills. She was determined we'd keep our house, but it meant she had to find more than the part-time work she had. She'd been so young when she had me, only twenty, so job opportunities were limited for her, and not many people were hiring. A friend helped her get a job working at a diner. She took every shift they'd give her. The owner had a soft spot for her, and he let Mom bring me with her when I wasn't in school. It's where we got most of our meals, which also saved a bunch of money."
"That's where you learned Spanish?"
I nodded, pleased she remembered. "I even was allowed to bus some tables when I was a little older to help earn money."
"You learned your work ethic from a young age."
I smiled, glad she was at least talking to me. "My mom never complained, so I didn't either. It wasn't easy, but it wasn't bad either. I got a lot of attention from the other ladies who worked there, and the cook liked to teach me some skills. We were like a little eclectic family. But when she met Gene, she was happier than I'd seen her in a long time. He was good to her. And when they got married, she insisted on still working, but she scaled her hours way back. She liked being at home in the evening to help with homework and have family dinners."
"She's a good mom.
"She was. She is. She loved having a girl around the house, too. Gene had a daughter, Mallory. She was older than me, about sixteen to my twelve years."
"Oh. I didn't know Gene had a daughter." I wasn't surprised at her confusion. She wasn't the kind of child a parent bragged about.
"Were you close?"
"We started out that way. They both made my mom happy, so that made me happy."
"So, what happened? Just typical step-parenting stuff?"
I shook my head. "No." The memories were there, but it was so hard to push the words past my mouth.
"Jax? Are you okay? You're a little pale." Her earlier ire seemed to have been forgotten. "Jax, honey? If this is too hard, you don't have to tell me."
"I think it's the only way you'll understand."
Grace leaned in toward me as if she knew something bad was coming and she could shield me from it. "Gene always watched Mallory and me carefully when we were together. It was like he was extra protective of her. He was always hugging her and telling her how special she was to him. And he was good to me, too. Always asked about my day, praised me when I did something well at school. I remember thinking how he was different than my dad, who certainly gave me a lot of attention. But Gene was more touchy-feely—pats on the back or hugs. My mom was always smiling. Life was easier.
"It took a couple of months to adjust, but we did, and things felt more normal. Mom loved having a daughter, even if she was a teenager with typical teen rebellion and smart mouthing. Mom and Gene became involved in a neighborhood group that used to get together once a month to do whatever they did, play cards, drink or some shit. Mallory used to babysit me. At first, it was fun. She'd let me stay up later, gave me extra ice cream. She was nice, you know? I liked hanging out with her. It felt like we were becoming a real family."
I dared to glance at Grace. I could tell she was caught up in my story. But this is where it got hard. "One night, Mallory asked if I wanted to see her doll collection. I didn't, but I was trying to be a good brother, so I said sure. We went into her room. Her doll collection was a bunch Barbies, dozens of them. She pulled a couple out of her pile."
I could visualize them perfectly. The dark-haired, brown-eyed girl dressed in a pink floral print on a white background, and a male doll, dressed like he was headed to the beach. "Mallory asked if I knew what Mommies and Daddies did when they went to bed. I was embarrassed. I had a pretty good idea, but not specifics. She made the dolls kiss, pulled the girl doll’s dress up and the boy’s pants down, and then put the male one on top of the girl. She said that the boy knew how to make the girl feel good. I asked her how she knew, and she just winked."
"Oh, God. She was showing her dolls having sex to her stepbrother?"
I nodded.
"That's just sick! Why would she do that? It sounds like..." Grace's eyes widened. "It sounds like someone who had a lot of experience, and that age…" Her face paled further when I nodded. She was getting the picture. "Who was it?" Her eyes grew wide. "Oh, my God! Are you saying she was sexually abused?"
I nodded.
“Oh, that’s awful! But I’m confused. I don’t understand what that has to do with you, other than it sounds like she might have been a handful. Is that why your mom and Gene got divorced?”
“Partly.”
A myriad of expressions crossed her face: confusion, sympathy, and concern, before finally settling on horror. "Wait. Those
nightmares you have. You're always telling someone 'no,' and it's as if you're fighting someone. Are you saying...were you..."
She couldn't get the words out. I couldn't say them for her either. I closed my eyes and nodded.
“Oh, God!”
She stood, one hand covering her mouth, the other across her stomach as if she was going to be sick. She paced back and forth. I wanted to go to her, to comfort her, but I couldn't. Not until I got the entire story out.
"Oh, Jax, no." Even her whisper sounded horrified. "No, no, no."
The couch sank where she sat next to me. I kept my eyes closed, not wanting to see the disgust in hers. I felt her hands flutter over my face, my chest, my arms, then my legs as if she didn't know what to do with them. Finally, they closed around my hands. I let her move them like a puppeteer until I felt her soft lips press a kiss against them before moving them around her waist as she settled herself on my lap. Her slight weight was all that kept me from bolting.
My head fell against her shoulder as I clung to her, still not opening my eyes until I heard her whisper, "I'm here, Jax."
A shudder rippled through me. I blinked a few times, then finally lifted my head. Worried blue eyes found mine. "I'm here. I've got you."
"I told you I was fucked up. It really screws with my thinking sometimes."
"Oh, Jax. You're not fucked up. But anyone who would hurt someone like that, he's the one who is. I thought I knew Gene. He seems so kind. I would never have imagined him doing that." Her face grew cold. "I can't work with him anymore. I feel like I should report him to the hospital. I need to—"
"Grace," I tried to interrupt, but she was like a dog with a bone, not willing to let go.
Against the Rules (Harts of Passion Book 1) Page 29
