Pieces in Chance

by Juli Valenti

  “Drew?” he asked, stepping back, her forehead scrunched in confusion.

  “Jensen?”

  “You didn’t…” he trailed off, unsure how to phrase his thoughts. “Were you a virgin? I mean, when we made love? You didn’t…”

  Drew’s eyes moved downcast once more and when she looked back up him, shame or something deeper covered her expression. Jensen hated the look, fucking despised it, but he needed to know what was going on. Backing up, he found his stool once more and sat, blanking his face of any emotion as he waited for her to answer.

  “No.” The one-word utterance from her came with the weight of the heaviest chain imaginable. She gazed at him, her eyes dulling, no longer sparkling.

  “I’m listening,” he said, though he knew she hadn’t caught his words. She wasn’t seeing him, lost in her thoughts as a tear slowly rolled down her cheek. The man in him who loved her wanted to sweep her off her stool, to tell her it was all okay and she didn’t have to talk to him. The man in him who needed to know, however, kept him rooted where he was. He couldn’t even offer her a hand to hold – if he touched her, the former would win out over the latter.

  “I told you,” she whispered, shaking her head. “In the hospital. Th-the reason I was so desperate to escape … Yes, the beatings were part of it. But … but when he … when he unbuckled his belt again…”

  Fuck. Vaguely he remembered the story she had shared with he and Carrigan during their questioning; in his zeal to know what happened, the cause of the fire and to get answers, he’d completely forgotten. Drew had told them he’d beaten her, screamed at her; but when he went for his belt, trying to pin her down, was when she ran to her room – then set the fire, hoping to die. At the time he must’ve blocked it out. But … she said again.

  Anger boiled through him and Jensen stood, flinging the stool to the ground, ignoring the clattering of metal against the kitchen tile. Images filled his mind, a beaten, bruised woman, dressed in a torn burka, crying. Another pleading for him to save her, to shelter her from her husband who had a gun and demanded things she wasn’t willing to give. Their voices blended together until the roar was all he could hear, their faces all he could see.

  Jensen paced, his hands at his temples, trying to get a control over the sights that had been triggered. So often he’d seen the damage done to women, things he couldn’t change – he was there to fight, to follow orders, not to rescue. Sure, he hadn’t done the unnamable things, but he hadn’t stepped in either; it was a reason he’d joined the police force once discharged. He wanted to help.

  Now, things he hadn’t realized haunted him were overtaking him, except now their faces were morphing, their skin tone changing. Flaming red hair and big eyes took place of dark, torn tank tops and jeans rather than long black sacks.

  “Son of a bitch!” he shouted, wishing he could take his anger out, wishing he could pummel the hell out of Drew’s father. She was pure and good, and for the man to have taken his taint out on her, more than what he’d already done, was devastating. It had been hard enough for Jensen to accept the beatings – Drew had already embraced them, knowing they were over and she’d endured them. But this, this wasn’t something he could swallow. He just couldn’t.

  What had he been thinking, taking her to his bed, making love to her? Worse, what had she been thinking? That it was something else required of her, to avoid being abused? That thought was like a knife to his gut, ripping his vitals out. God. What if she truly felt that way? She’d seemed to enjoy it, had begged him for more, but he knew all too well from victim testimony that the mind and body weren’t always on the same page.

  “God forgive me,” he whispered, praying he hadn’t hurt the woman he so adored. He looked up to apologize to her, tell her how sorry he was for taking advantage of her, if he had, but she was no longer on the stool where she had been. Their plates remained on the bar countertop, as they’d left them, but Drew wasn’t there.

  “Drew?” Jensen knew calling out was useless, she wouldn’t be able to hear him, but he couldn’t help it. He made his way to the bathroom, thinking perhaps she’d locked herself inside, but it was dark, empty. The bedroom was the same. Where was she?

  He came up short by the front door, noticing the door knob was locked. He hadn’t locked it, they never did. A note on the corkboard hanging above the hook for his belt and holster caught his attention, and he snatched it off, his heart beating frantically.

  Jensen,

  I’m so sorry. I should have told you before, I was just ashamed. I understand why you are disgusted by me.

  Thank you for letting me stay. I’ll be seeing you.

  Drew

  Disgusted by Drew? Jensen’s fingers failed him and the note drifted to the ground. Is that truly what she thought? She hadn’t done anything wrong! He was angry, and hurting for her, afraid he’d made it worse.

  Where would she go? It’s fucking snowing out, damn it! Without a second though, he pulled his boots on and stormed out onto the porch, not stopping to dress in more than his sport shorts. He had to find her. Spotting footprints in the snow, he took off, sprinting. It was so cold out and she couldn’t have had time to dress warmly, any more than he had.

  A glimpse of red amongst white had him running faster. Drew was on her knees in the snow, one of his robes wrapped around her slight body, her head in her hands. As he neared her, he could see her shoulders were trembling. Behind her, he stopped, unsure how to get her attention. He didn’t want to startle her, but he wanted to reach for her, to pull her into his arms, to kiss her and tell her she was stupid for running into the snow.

  He wanted to tell her it wasn’t her fault, that she’d been just a child, regardless of when the sexual abuse had started. He wanted to apologize for making her feel that way, and for pressuring her to sleep with him. The latter he wasn’t sure of, but all he could do was apologize.

  Unable to think of a better way, he threw himself down into the snow beside her, the cold seeping into his skin quickly. Even with his heart beating fast, adrenaline rushing through him, it didn’t take long for his muscles to groan in discomfort. Jensen couldn’t imagine how her knees were, not knowing how long she’d been kneeling, unmoving. Gently, he placed his hands on her shoulders and squeezed.

  Drew jumped and turned, revealing red eyes and pink cheeks, tears an unending stream. Sniffling, she tried to push him away, but he ignored her, instead pulling her to him. He held her, there in the cold, the wind blowing flurries around them. He held her while she cried for an innocence lost, of misplaced guilt felt for far too long. He held her as tears of his own welled and escaped his lashes, though he refused to let them fall. Her pain cut him to the quick, but it was not his experience to cry over.

  Eventually she allowed him to draw her up into his arms, cradling her as he walked them slowly back to the house. Once he got them into the house, he wordlessly started a bath, letting the water run as warm as possible without scalding. Drew stood in front of him as he kissed her tear-streaked face and gingerly pushed her robe to the floor. She still wore only his boxers and the plum bra, the cold that had seeped into her body making her nipples press wantonly into the thin fabric that restrained them. Jensen shifted, trying to hide his hard-on; it wasn’t something he could help, she merely had that effect on him, all the time.

  Turning her around, he unclasped her bra before pulling down the thin shorts. He cleared his throat, for once grateful she couldn’t hear. Drew’s creamy, flawless skin, the smooth lines of her back merging with her ass, was hard to resist. He wanted to touch her, to soothe her, but he didn’t want to push her. Hell, he still didn’t know if she’s come to him willingly before.

  Get it together, Marks. Jesus Christ, you’re like a fifteen-year-old boy.

  Jensen placed a hand at the small of her back, careful not to let his fingers caress her skin, and guided her to the bathwater, holding an arm out to allow her to balance on. She turned, remaining standing rather than sinking into the steaming wat
er. Raising her eyes to meet his gaze, she stared. A myriad of statements passed through them, questions without answers, emotions, and he was frozen in place. He knew he should leave, give her time, but her expression was begging him not to.

  Steeling himself, Jensen turned to leave the room. Until Drew’s hand shot out and snatched his, tugging him back around.

  “Please, don’t be disgusted by me.”

  His heart sank. “Oh, baby, never,” he mouthed slowly, determined she understand that was never even a possibility.

  “Then why are you leaving?”

  “I refuse to force you into anything. I’m sorry I did before –”

  Jensen’s words were cut short as grabbed his jacket and kissed him. Her tongue traced his bottom lip, pulling it into her mouth before softly biting down on it. A moan escaped him as his hands remained at his sides, his mind and body at war with what to do. Drew continued her assault on his mouth, her hands snaking under his coat and all but tearing it off his body, the coolness of her fingers on his chest forcing a gasp from him.

  “Touch me, Jensen,” she breathed against him, and he was helpless to stop himself. His hands moved to trail her naked hips, her stomach, her breasts. She was absolutely flawless to him, something to worship. The idea that anyone could have stolen something so precious from her, the dignity over her body, appalled him and he shoved the thought from his mind.

  Drew’s hands trailed down his chest once more, going farther, and when she reached the waistband of his shorts, she pushed at them. Smiling, Jensen broke the kiss and stepped out of them, allowing her to lead him into the steaming bath. He knew she wanted more, possibly to even take the sting out of memories he’d inadvertently brought to the surface. He wanted more, too, but as they sank into the soothing heat of the water, he pulled her against him, holding her once more.

  Even as her hand trailed down his happy trail, her small fingers reaching to grasp his erection, he stopped her. There would be plenty of time for that. The next time he slept with her, he’d erase every bad memory, but not yet. That moment, he needed to hold her, skin on skin. She needed to know he wasn’t upset with her, that he didn’t hold the bad that happened to her against her – how could he? She was a child, forced to do unspeakable things out of fear. But he knew she still felt guilty, as if she could have done something, or she wouldn’t have jumped to the conclusion she did.

  So, instead, they lay together in the bathtub, allowing the warmth to fill their muscles. They stayed that way until the water began to cool and, when they got out, he wrapped her in a towel and carried her to his bed.

  Chapter Eleven

  Drew

  Sighing, Drew tossed her Kindle beside her on the couch. She still couldn’t believe the reaction she’d had the previous night, her complete meltdown – she’d thought she was over what her father had done, that she’d somehow managed to block it out like a bad dream. But seeing the look on Jensen’s face when she told him had been entirely too much to bear. Shame had filled her at the disgust she found in his eyes, followed by eons of silence and pacing on his end.

  Overwhelmed and wishing nothing more than to change her past, she’d run – stopping long enough to grab the large fluffy robe she’d adopted while living with him. The idea of shoes hadn’t even crossed her mind as she wrote him a note, letting him know she understood. She was disgusted with herself that she hadn’t stopped him either.

  When she’d been in the cold snow, she suddenly realized what a bad idea the whole ‘running’ idea had been. Her feet were frozen, she couldn’t feel her lower body, and her heart hurt to the point of freezing, offering no warmth or salvation. So when Jensen had found her, merely holding her – and undressed as well – she’d cried even harder for what seemed like forever.

  He’d taken her to a hot bath, continuing to hold her, even though she’d wanted him – through her self-loathing, she still wanted him. When Jensen touched her, memories seemed so far away, like another lifetime ago. He was having none of it though, insisting on comforting her; even when he carried her into the bed, both of them flushed from the water and naked, still he didn’t touch her sexually.

  At first, she was upset by that fact, feeling that he was truly too disgusted to see her in the same light. That was until he kissed her and mouthed ‘later,’ before holding her the remainder of the night. They’d stayed an entangled mass of bodies and limbs, skin on skin and entwined with each other, until morning dawned and Jensen had to get up to go to work. He’d been reluctant to leave, trying to remain attached to her, but she’d eventually had to scold him and make him go. She wouldn’t be responsible for him losing his job, or worse, him not being there when needed and inadvertently someone else being hurt.

  Drew’s breath caught as she remembered the way he looked at her that morning, his eyes alight with fire. His compassionate side, the one that so adamantly consoled her before, was nowhere to be seen. Instead his expression was hungry, his gaze roaming her unabashed nakedness before he cupped her face. He kissed her, so softly, before releasing her chin and trailing his palm down her neck, in between her breasts, and to her stomach. It had been erotic, and had taken every ounce of willpower she possessed to tell him to stop and go to work.

  Thinking back, she wished she had encouraged him to stay. But, as he’d told her before shutting the door behind him, they would have plenty of time. Plenty of time, indeed.

  The snow had finally melted, spring flowers about to start blooming. Drew couldn’t believe how quickly time was starting to pass – it seemed like yesterday, yet twenty years ago at the same time, she was in the hospital, scared and alone. At Jensen’s encouragement after the night in the snow, she’d sought counseling with the same therapist she’d met while healing in the hospital. This time, though, she discussed things that had emotionally hurt her, things she hadn’t shared with anyone, not even Dean … except for Jensen.

  There she learned what she’d already known but mentally couldn’t accept. She wasn’t to blame for things she couldn’t change, simple as that. Jensen had been amazing throughout the whole process and beyond. He helped her get her driving permit; she had to wait the required six months to get her license – even though he let her drive alone all the time – as well as supported her in getting her GED. As of three weeks ago, Drew was a high school graduate … even if it came via Internet instead of a walk across a gymnasium floor. Ironically, she’d actually finished school before her twin brother.

  Jensen ensured she wanted for nothing. He’d taken her to get an iPhone, to keep in contact while he was working, though they often used it for ease when neither of them wanted to work at talking. Drew had gotten used to speaking aloud to him, and it was easy to read lips, but when she was tired, there were moments she didn’t want to deal with it. He seemed to understand, and many nights they’d carry out entire conversations digitally, passing a phone back and forth, which always made her smile.

  Drew had also come to a large realization; she was absolutely, head over heels in love with him. She’d almost told him during one of their many ‘plenty of times’ – it had almost blurted from her in a swell of emotion. Jensen had been towering above her, his forehead rested against hers, their bodies still connected and the overwhelming feeling of comfort and happiness had her practically floating. He was the light in the night for her, the missing pieces of her puzzle. Luckily, when she’d opened her mouth to talk, she’d come to her senses. No way was she going to be the one to tell him; she just wouldn’t.

  Are you ready for dinner?

  The vibration of her phone pulled Drew from her reverie, and she smiled as she read Jensen’s message. Stella had pressured Carrigan to finally arrange a get together as she’d promised months ago. According to Jensen, the exchange between the men had been an awkward affair and she wished she could’ve been there; apparently they’d been a step away from a one-worded conversation – using a lot of head nodding, grunting, and short answers.

  She was excited though. Th
eir daughter, Glory, would be there and Stella had been remarkably kind to Drew since she’d been on her own. The woman constantly sent casserole dishes home with Jensen, worried that he wasn’t feeding her properly or something, which always made her chuckle. The two of them had many things they loved doing together, and one of those was eating. They’d tried every restaurant in town, as well as places in the cities surrounding them. It was always exciting to find a new hole-in-the-wall place and truly loving the food. Sure, they weren’t critics with champagne tastes or anything, but neither had issues over eating. Still, Drew wasn’t about to turn down a meal cooked with love.

  You better be dressed. I’ll be home in about 5.

  Drew glanced down before jumping up and running into the bedroom. Yoga pants and a tank top certainly weren’t going to do for any sort of social dinner. Moving to the closet they now shared, she stared at her options on their hangers. The hanging space had been Jensen’s idea – he hated that she’d been keeping her clothes folded in a suitcase by the wall, and had said so on many occasions. Drew always ignored him, not wanting to impose, until one day when she came home from the library her suitcase was missing. Trying not to panic, she’d opened the closet door to find all her things hanging neatly beside his, her other items folded delicately in his dresser. When she asked about it later, he’d smiled and changed the subject.

  Choosing a teal-colored dress she’d gotten at a second-hand shop, she tossed it onto the bed beside her phone, noticing the screen was once again lit up.

  On second thought, you’d better not be dressed.

  Butterflies took flight in her stomach as the light overhead flashed and she spun, finding Jensen standing at the bedroom door, one arm propping himself up. He wore his Chance PD uniform, as usual – something she saw him in more often than not – and still, her mouth went dry.

  Still wearing his utility belt, he looked rugged, strong, and safe all at the same time, not to mention sexy as hell. He’d stopped buzz cutting his hair, allowing it to grow, and the darkness framed his face, seeming to cast more shadows on his face. Secretly she wondered if he’d done it for her, not that she’d asked. She just loved having a handful to grasp when she wanted to.