My insides knotted at the thought of that happening to my Jasmine. It didn’t change the way I felt about her—not for one second. It just made me want to pull her into my arms and hold her against me, stroking her hair and telling her that it was okay, now. That I was never, ever going to let anything like that happen to her again.
And, when I found out who did it to her—
“I’ll kill him,” I said out loud.
On that, said Hux, you have my blessing.
Chapter 36
Jasmine
I stared down at my sneakers as I laced them up. “What’s wrong with them?” I asked.
Clarissa gave a little sigh. She was lacing up her own sneakers next to me. Hers were blinding white. Mine used to be white...once. Hers had an exciting, sporty design picked out in blue and silver. Mine had cracks in the leather and threads hanging out.
“Those are sneakers,” she told me. “You need running shoes, like this.” She elegantly lifted one foot and showed me the high-tech underside. It looked as if it might transform into a robot. “You have no support. You’ll over-pronate.”
“I’ll what? Look, it’ll be fine.” I stood up. I was wearing an old Curious Weasels t-shirt that was a little too small and a pair of tracksuit pants that were a little too big. It was the closest thing to running gear I had. Clarissa was wearing black jogging tights and a black bra top, edged in pink. She had her blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail and looked as if she’d just stepped out of a Nike commercial. She looked very...serious. “You are going to go easy on me, right?” I asked, my voice quavering just a little.
“Oh yes,” said Clarissa. “We’ll just do one circuit.”
One circuit. That didn’t sound too bad.
Clarissa had been on at me to go jogging with her for years. After seeing how fit Ryan needed to be as a cop, I figured I’d better get in shape. Also, I needed an ear. Normally, I would have gone to Karen but she was in the studio with Connor all week.
Clarissa led the way out of her apartment. It was still weird to be there and not see Natasha. She was probably sitting with Darrell in their breakfast kitchen, cuddled up together drinking coffee while they read the papers—
And something weird happened, as I thought that. I wasn’t jealous. For the first time since Nat had gotten together with Darrell and Clarissa had hooked up with Neil, there wasn’t even the tiniest stab of why can’t that be me? Because, for the first time, maybe it could be. The thought of Ryan was like a warm glow inside me, lighting up the dark, aching cavern that had been there before.
I’d kissed him.
I’d told him how I felt.
It still seemed unreal. We’d carried on filming, afterward, and then we’d gone our separate ways. I think neither of us knew how to make the next move. One of us was going to have to call the other one. Probably me, since he’d done all the pursuing so far.
But first, I needed to process. I still wasn’t sure exactly what had happened. Emma had just pushed her way up through the fragile remains of Jasmine, still barely repaired after my freak-out in the gym. It had been her that had told Ryan how I felt….
But it was Jasmine he loved. He thought we were one and the same, that it was Jasmine who’d been hurt, who needed healing. If only it was that simple. He didn’t know there was a whole other me hiding inside.
We reached the bottom of the stairwell—Clarissa had said taking the stairs would be a good warm up—and stepped out into the dim lobby and then into the blinding, late-summer sunshine. I stood there blinking. My clothes suddenly felt ridiculous, now that I was outside in them.
“Come on,” said Clarissa, bouncing from foot to foot. “We’ll start off slow.”
And she was off, her feet slapping the sidewalk, her long legs eating up the yards. She looked like the goddess of jogging.
I took a deep breath and hurried after her. For the first few minutes, it was actually quite pleasant. The sun was shining, I was with my friend, we were jogging. I started to smile at passers-by. Look at us! Healthy women, jogging! I can do this, I thought. I can actually do this. Maybe I’d sign up for the New York marathon and run for charity, or—
We jogged on. By the end of the block, I was starting to gasp for breath. Oh yeah. This is why I don’t jog. I also became aware of how much things were bouncing. Clarissa, whose breasts must be just delicate little mouthfuls for Neil, was barely moving. In front of me, though, things were going everywhere. How can one go up while the other one goes down?!
“You should have worn a sports bra,” said Clarissa.
“This is with a sports bra!”
Clarissa slowed down a little in sympathy and I pulled alongside her. And then she asked the question I’d been dreading. “How’s it going with the co-star?” She talked as if we were sitting in a cafe sipping lattes.
I could easily have lied, but I didn’t want to. I wanted advice. I wanted to know what the hell I should do. “I kissed him,” I panted.
Clarissa glanced sideways at me and then looked again, more carefully, picking up on my expression. “Screen kissed or kissed kissed?” she asked.
I bit my lip.
“Oh my God! Really?!” She grinned. “That’s fantastic! So you do like him?”
“Yeah,” I panted. “But—”
She waited. “What? What’s the ‘but’?”
And now we hit the problem. How could I explain without telling her everything about my past? I didn’t want her to know about Emma. “I just feel that...maybe he’s got a false impression of me.” I was getting seriously out of breath, now, but in a way I was grateful we were running. Looking at the street ahead meant I didn’t have to meet Clarissa’s eyes and that made the half-truths easier. “Like...what do you do if the guy thinks you’re one thing...but really you’re not?”
Clarissa frowned at me. “What the hell are you talking about?”
We turned a corner and pounded down a long, tree-lined street while I tried to come up with an answer. I couldn’t say that I was broken and dark inside. That the woman Ryan knew was just a brightly-painted shell. “I’m worried he won’t like me, once he gets to know me.” Understatement. He’d hate me.
And yet, knowing that, I’d still kissed him. I’d still thrown myself into his arms.
I’d thought that I’d locked Emma safely away, deep inside. I’d hoped, maybe, that she’d eventually just wither away and die and that the Jasmine shell would be all that remained—hollow, yes, but free from pain. Instead, Emma had grown louder and louder, rattling the bars of her cage, until she’d finally broken free in front of him. It hadn’t been by chance. She’d groped upward out of the darkness like a flower seeking the light, heading for him. He’d brought her out of me.
Emma was in love with Ryan. And Ryan was in love with Emma. And the combination was too strong, for me as Jasmine, to keep them apart. My heart needed him. The Emma part of me needed him. That’s why I’d finally slipped, after years on my own. And now I had to figure out whether I could really have a relationship with Ryan. I wasn’t even sure who he’d be having the relationship with. Jasmine? Emma? Me? Which one was I, now?
My face was red and my t-shirt was soaked with sweat, now, but I barely noticed. I was too caught up in what was going on inside. Clarissa was still glancing at me, worried, now. “What’s got into you?” she asked. “You’re...you. Why would you worry he wouldn’t like you? You’re every guy’s wet dream.”
“I don’t want to be just a wet dream,” I managed between pants. “I want to be—” I broke off. What? In love? Puppy dogs and rainbows?
Real. I wanted it to be real, and nothing since Chicago had been. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed that. Of course, there were the girls. My friends were real….
And then, with a gut-wrenching twist, I realized that they weren’t, in a way. They didn’t know what had happened in Chicago. They didn’t know me as Emma, or what I was like inside. If I wanted them to be real, if I wanted them to love me back as I loved eac
h and every one of them, I had to tell them the truth.
Sweat was trickling into my eyes, which neatly hid the fact a few hot tears were escaping as well. My lungs were burning but I wanted to keep running because it would distract Clarissa from asking too many questions. I should never have said anything to her.
Clarissa suddenly slowed to a halt. “Okay, stop!” she ordered.
I staggered to a halt. My chest felt like it was about to explode so part of me was grateful, but I knew that now I’d get the full inquisition.
“What’s with you?” asked Clarissa. “You’re never like this. What do you care what some guy thinks?” She frowned at me, her perfect nose wrinkling. God, she looked like a Disney princess when she did that. “Do you....” She gripped my shoulder. “Jasmine, do you...really like this guy?”
I couldn’t speak, which was probably for the best. I nodded, instead. I was painfully aware of what a mess I was. Sweating and half-crying, my hair in a tangled mess, badly dressed...it was the opposite of how she normally saw me.
“That’s why you’re scared?” she asked gently. “Because normally it’s just one-night stands?”
Like the rest of my friends, she thought I had a lot more of those than I really did. I nodded. It wasn’t completely a lie. I hadn’t done anything romantic since I left Chicago. I’d specifically avoided that kind of stuff. I wasn’t sure I remembered how to date.
“You’ll be fine,” she said gently. And she gave me a huge hug, right there in the street, even though I was a sweaty mess. I relaxed for a second, squeezing her.
She slowly pulled back and looked me in the eye. “Jasmine,” she said, “is there something else?” She looked at me very seriously. “I can tell when something’s bothering you.” She glanced across the street. “There’s a coffee place over there. Do you want to go and talk?”
My breath caught in my throat. I thought about my friends not really knowing me. I thought about not being able to explain about Ryan or ask properly for advice. All I had to do was come clean. I didn’t even have to wrench it out of myself—at this point, all I had to do was say yes and Clarissa would march me over to the coffee shop and damn well yank it out of me, even if it took hours. Just one word and it would be over.
But then the memories rose up inside me, an oily wave of nausea. I’d have to tell her about my dad, and the bar...and the woods.
I shook my head and forced a smile onto my face. “No,” I said. “You nailed it. That’s exactly what it was. I just like him, and I don’t want it to be just another one night stand, and it’s been a while since I was...romantic.”
Clarissa looked doubtful for a second, but I grinned and rode it out and, eventually, she smiled as well. “You’ll be fine,” she said again. “Just take it slow. Maybe leave the full Jasmine experience until the third date.” She didn’t add for once, but we were both thinking it.
And, as we walked back to her apartment to change, I felt a little better. Maybe I could do this. Maybe, if I made sure to keep Emma hidden away, we had a shot at this. As Clarissa had said, I’d just take it really, really slow.
***
By the time I got home, I was wishing I’d opened up to Clarissa. I’d been so close...and I knew that, now, it would take a long time to build up to it again...if I ever could. I’d only even considered telling her the truth because I’d been at such a low point. It had been the same as when I’d let Karen see the real me, that night she intercepted me in the posh hotel as I was about to meet my first client as an escort.
Ironically, the more I stabilized, the more I built back up the shell that was Jasmine, the harder it would be to open up to Clarissa...or anyone. Maybe I’d already missed my chance.
Nick didn’t answer when I called him from the hallway so I assumed he was out. I walked into the living room and jumped back in shock when I saw him stretched out on the couch, dead to the world. I prodded him, but he barely stirred. Probably, he’d rolled in from his bar job in the early hours and would sleep until noon.
I still didn’t know where Nick worked...or, in fact, much about his life in New York at all. But, given how secretive I’d been recently, I didn’t feel I could begrudge him a little privacy. I figured he’d relax and get chattier eventually. I hadn’t seen him for two years—it was going to take a while to get used to being around each other again. I was still beating myself up for taking so long to find him. How could I have shut him out of my life for so long, just because of his links to my dad?
And how could I have been alone for so many years, trapped by my past? My life in New York had felt okay until that moment on the roof. Lonely, sure. Agonizing, at times, but I was surviving. Now, though, now that I knew what I’d been missing out on...surviving wasn’t enough.
I walked through to my room and sat down on my bed, staring at my phone. I knew what I had to do.
Chapter 37
Ryan
I’d pulled over and was eating a sandwich in the car when my phone rang. Jasmine. Immediately, my heart felt like it was going to hammer its way out of my chest.
I took a deep breath before I answered. I already knew she was nervous, that it had taken a lot for her to admit how she felt. What if she said the kiss on the roof had been a mistake? That she wanted to go back to just friends again?
“Hi,” I said cautiously.
“Hi.” She sounded hesitant, too. The normal Jasmine flirtiness wasn’t there. This confident, gorgeous, sexy woman, the one who could turn any man to mush, was scared. Something about the way we’d connected, the way she’d started to open up to me, had shaken her. “Um….”
I waited. I had to dig my nails into my palms to keep from butting in and asking whether we were together or not, but I waited. I let her take her time. I didn’t want to spook her. If she said it had all been a mistake then...well, I’d have to deal with that.
“...I wondered if you wanted to come over, tonight,” she said at last.
I let out a huge sigh of relief. I hadn’t realized I’d been holding my breath. “Yeah,” I said. “Yeah, I’d love to.” Then, “To run lines?”
Silence for a second. I could imagine her twisting her long, auburn hair around her fingers, lips pressed tight together in debate. “No,” she said at last. “Not to run lines.”
I nodded, forgetting she couldn’t see me. “I’d really really like that,” I said.
“I can’t cook,” she said suddenly. “And Nick will be out.”
“I’ll bring takeout,” I said. “What do you like?” I was trying to keep my voice calm. It was difficult because I could barely breathe.
“Anything. Anything at all.”
“Eight?” I asked.
“Eight.” It sounded like she was frantically trying to end the call before one of us messed this up.
“See you at eight.” And, very carefully, I touched the End Call button.
Only then did I yell in victory and pump my fist in the air. I forgot I was in the patrol car and managed to punch the roof so hard that my fist went numb. But I didn’t care. After three years, I finally had a date with Jasmine.
Chapter 38
Jasmine
I couldn’t decide what to wear. And by couldn’t decide, I mean I literally had my entire wardrobe spread across my bed. That was too flouncy, that was too sexy, that wasn’t sexy enough.
The doorbell went at ten to eight. Shit! I was standing there in my bra, panties and stockings. Not the impression I wanted to give.
I pulled on a robe and hurried to the door, then opened it just a crack, craning my head around so that he could only see my face.
Ryan was in jeans and a faded blue t-shirt, its soft fabric outlining his chest. He was carrying a pizza box. “Hi,” he said. “Sorry. I know I’m early. I would have walked around the block a few times, but the pizza would have gotten cold.”
I nodded frantically. “Right. Okay. No problem. Wait there.” And I closed the door in his face and ran for the bedroom. I grabbed a bottle-green dress an
d black heels and put them on, checking myself in the mirror. How was that? Enough? Too much? Should I lose the stockings? I always go for stockings on a date because men go nuts for them, way out of all proportion. Show a man a glimpse of stocking top and his brain stops working for fully three minutes. But this was Ryan. Did I want Ryan going nuts over me?
A deep, hot throb went through my body, finishing between my legs. Yes, I did. I kept the stockings on and ran back to the door, flinging it wide. “Hi!”
He stepped inside and closed the door behind him and then, suddenly, he was very close. Kissing distance. All the tension that had built up between us over the previous weeks was back, as if someone had thrown a switch. I sort of gulped as I looked up at him—God, I’d forgotten how tall he was, even with me in my heels. And I wasn’t trying to pretend that we were just friends anymore, I could just,—We could just—
I’m not sure which one of us moved first, him or me. All I know is, we both went very quiet, and our heads were moving together, our eyes closing….
We both hesitated just as our lips touched. I could feel both of us breathing, the air tickling my lips in soft little gasps. And then we were pressing together, tentatively at first but gradually getting bolder and bolder. I let out a little moan as our lips opened and our tongues touched, pressing myself against him. I could feel the heat of him through his t-shirt and through the thin fabric of my dress, spreading into my skin and waking every cell, making me tingle and throb. I felt as if I was falling, as if both of us were tumbling end over end through space, and I clung onto his arms with both of mine. We were falling, and I didn’t want it to ever stop.
When we finally broke the kiss, I was wide-eyed and breathing hard. He was staring down at me with such intensity that I wanted to melt right through the floor. It wasn’t just the burning gaze of lust...it was need, on a whole other level. He needed me. He’d needed me for a long time, and now he’d finally got me.
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