I gave a nervous laugh. "I know it probably wasn't blood, but it just made me wonder." I bit my lip. "So was it?"
He looked at me for a long moment. And then, he answered with a single word. "Yes."
Chapter 48
Against all reason, his answer caught me off guard. Over the last few weeks, I'd been telling myself that those little droplets surely had been something else.
What specifically, I wasn't sure.
Wine? Brandy? Cherry soda?
Apparently not.
And now, I didn't know what to say. I reached for my wine glass and took a little sip, followed by another. Maybe if I sipped long enough, he'd expand on the single-word answer.
But he didn't. And soon, my glass was half empty.
Slowly, I set it down. "Well, whose was it? I mean, it couldn't have been yours, because you looked fine, unless..." I gave him a hopeful look. "You cut yourself shaving?"
Yes, the idea was ridiculous. Still, stranger things had happened, right?
But already, Jax was shaking his head.
And that's when I knew. "The blood wasn't yours, was it?"
"No."
I swallowed. "So whose was it?"
"My brother's."
Finally, my shoulders relaxed. "Oh."
Maybe it shouldn't've been such a relief, but it was. After all, this was a lot better than hearing he'd tussled with a random stranger. Plus, Jaden was infinitely annoying. It was pretty easy to imagine them fighting. On that first night, I'd almost wanted to hit Jaden myself, not that I ever would.
I said, "So you and Jaden got in a fight?"
"No."
Okay, now I was really confused. "But you just said—"
His gaze remained on mine. "It wasn't Jaden."
"Oh." Of course. He had more than one brother. Allie had mentioned such a thing. I tried to recall the specifics. Were there five brothers? Or was it six?
I asked, "How many brothers do you have?"
"Four." He paused as if thinking. "And a half."
Rounding up, that meant there were six brothers total. I couldn't even imagine so many of them. Just the two I'd met personally were overwhelming enough.
I asked, "So, which one did you fight with?"
He smiled. "Who says I fought anyone?"
I gave him a look. "Well, there was blood involved."
"That?" He gave something like a laugh. "You haven't seen real blood 'til you bust a guy's nose."
I almost recoiled. "No thanks."
Jax grinned. "Don't like blood, huh?"
"Heck no." I paused. "Do you?"
"Eh, I don't mind it – not that I love it. But sometimes, stuff happens."
"What kind of stuff?"
"It depends."
"On what?"
He shrugged. "Whatever."
I just had to ask, "Do you guys fight a lot?"
He paused as if thinking. Finally, he replied, "No."
I studied his face. "I feel like I'm missing something."
Looking almost amused now, he said, "Wanna know what I think?"
"What?"
"I think it's your turn to talk."
"Huh?"
"You're supposed to be telling me your story, not the other way around."
I gave a sheepish laugh. Busted.
This time, I didn't bother protesting that I didn't have a story. After all, he'd been a pretty good sport about the blood thing. So instead, I said, "What do you want to know?"
"Everything."
I studied his face. He looked like he meant it. And the funny thing was, I wanted to tell him.
How strange was that?
Chapter 49
A half-hour later, I was still talking. And to my surprise, Jax was still listening.
"And so," I finished with a half-hearted laugh, "my mom got stuck with me anyway."
On the other side of the table, Jax wasn't laughing. "Stuck with you."
"Well, yeah," I said. "It's just a figure of speech. And really, it's kind of funny, don’t you think?"
From the look on his face, he didn't agree, not that I could blame him. I'd just told him the reason I'd been born.
Twenty-some years earlier, my mom had gotten pregnant after a month-long fling with Roland Cassidy, one of the biggest rock stars on the planet. Thinking she'd just hit the jackpot, she'd begun planning for the baby – and the huge windfall that would surely follow. Money. Marriage. Possibly both.
Unlike me, my mom tended to think big.
Unfortunately for her, multiple paternity tests proved that I wasn't Roland Cassidy's child at all, which put a serious kink in her plans.
Across from me, Jax said, "But you were still named after him?"
"Well, yeah," I said. "She named me right after I was born – just the first name, not the last. Good thing, huh? Can you imagine how silly that would sound?" I rolled my eyes. "'Hi. I'm Cassidy Cassidy.'"
Jax still wasn't smiling.
Under the weight of his gaze, I started babbling. "Still, I'm almost surprised she didn’t change it – the first name, I mean. After the tests came back negative, she was so mad." I paused. "Or at least that's what I hear."
Now, Jax was frowning. "You heard it from who? Her?"
"Well, her and Tabitha."
"The chick who's not your aunt."
"Right." Already, I'd explained how my mom and Tabitha had been groupies together and how they'd both loved the idea of my mom being Mrs. Roland Cassidy.
Decades later, they probably still blamed me for not being the kid of some famous guy I'd never met. The whole story was hilarious and horrible all at the same time. And now, I'd shared it with Jax.
Had that been a mistake?
Maybe.
But he'd known from the beginning that my life wasn't all sweetness and apple pie. Plus, telling him what happened seemed important somehow, and not only because he'd asked.
I couldn't deny that I was falling for him. Probably, I'd begun falling on that very first night. And tonight, he'd been showing some serious interest – the kind of interest I never imagined even a couple of weeks ago.
If – heaven forbid – my family history was going to make him turn tail and run, I wanted him to do it now, and not later, when I'd be risking a broken heart.
Or maybe, the risk was already there.
After a long silence, he asked the question I'd been dreading. "So, who was the dad?"
"The real dad?" I bit my lip. "I don't know."
Again, he frowned. "She never told you?"
"Oh, she told me." I shrugged. "What she knew, anyway."
I went on to tell Jax that, as best my mom could recall, my real dad was some hot roadie who'd charmed the pants off her, literally.
Jax said, "This roadie? You ever get a name?"
I shook my head. "Nope."
"Why not?"
"Well, um…" I cleared my throat "…because my mom didn't ask."
Yup, that's me, the product of a quick coupling in the back of some semi.
But I wouldn’t be sharing that detail with Jax. In fact, I was kind of sorry I'd heard it myself.
He gave me a serious look. "And your mom kept you?"
"As opposed to what?" I said. "Leaving me on the side of the road?"
"No," he said. "As opposed to adopting you out to a regular family."
I couldn't even imagine a regular family. My mom was an only child, and her parents were long dead. Apparently, my grandmother had been pretty wild herself. And as far as my grandfather, he hadn't been the kind to stick around.
I sighed. "Yeah, well, there were complications with the birth."
"So?"
"So my mom can't have any more kids, meaning it was me or nothing."
"Yeah?" His voice hardened. "Well maybe it should've been nothing."
I drew back. "What?"
"I'm just saying, she should've found you a better family."
"Hey, it wasn't that bad."
Jax gave me a look, but said n
othing.
I so wanted him to understand. "I'm not saying it was all wonderful, but there were times she was really fun, and besides, even adoption is a crapshoot, right? I mean, there's no guarantee of happiness with that either."
As I spoke, I studied his face, searching for clues as to how he was taking this.
He wasn't happy. That much was obvious.
But I couldn’t decide if he was unhappy because he felt sorry for me or because the whole story made him want to run for the hills.
When I couldn’t stand the suspense any longer, I said, "So, are you horrified or what?"
He was still frowning. "I've heard worse."
"Really?"
He nodded. "Hell, I've seen worse. But that doesn't mean I like it."
"Oh." My shoulders slumped. "Yeah. Who would, right?"
With his gaze glued to mine, he leaned forward and said in a low voice, "You wanna know why I don't like it?"
"Why?"
"Because you deserve better." He reached out and covered my hand with his own. "And, I wanna make sure you get it."
I didn't know what to say. But as it turned out, I didn't need to say anything. After his surprising statement, he deliberately changed the subject, as if he were determined to put all of the ugliness behind us.
And yet, his words haunted me all the way through dessert, even as we discussed things that were a lot less intense – like our favorite foods, local landmarks, and places we'd like to visit.
When I asked him to tell me his story in return, he gave me the briefest rundown of details that I already knew.
Maybe that's all there was. Or maybe – and this was my best theory – he'd decided that we'd already had enough serious talk for one evening.
Thinking about it, I actually agreed. And yet, I made a mental note to ask him for more details the next time I saw him, which looked likely to be soon.
After dinner, we spent a couple of hours strolling along the nearby pier, listening to the waves lapping at the shoreline below.
That's when he kissed me for the very first time.
He was a great kisser, and I practically fell into him, savoring the feel of his arms around my back, and later, the sensation of his hands in my hair as his mouth moved against my own.
Yes, it was only a kiss, but it was enough to make my breath hitch and my knees turn to jelly.
All in all, our date was pure perfection, until the moment we pulled up to my apartment.
That's when things went seriously south.
Chapter 50
The car had barely rolled to a stop when I noticed a taxi parked out front. But that wasn't the thing that made me frown. It was the sight of my mom, leaning against the taxi, with a giant suitcase at her side.
I gave Jax a nervous glance. Sitting in the driver's seat, he was looking straight ahead, watching my mom with cold, unforgiving eyes.
I returned my attention to the taxi and was horrified to see that my mom was already hustling toward us, lugging the giant suitcase behind her.
Quickly, I turned to Jax and said, "Would you mind waiting while I talk to her?"
Technically, our date was finished, well, unless I invited him inside, that is. I was seriously tempted, in spite of the fact that I wasn't quite ready to get naked with him, as delicious as that sounded.
For the last hour, I'd had to remind myself repeatedly to take it slow, because I fully understood – mostly from watching the mistakes of my mom – how dangerous it could be to jump in the sack too soon.
But that didn't rule out hot chocolate or a nightcap, did it?
I didn't know. And now, I didn't have time to think – not with a crazy woman rushing toward us.
And she did look crazy.
Oh sure, she was still dressed to the nines in a short red dress and matching high heels. But her hair was a lot messier than I'd ever seen it, and she was yanking at the suitcase like it had done her a personal wrong.
I zoomed in on her face, and felt my eyebrows furrow. Had she been crying? It sure looked like it.
Without waiting for Jax's reply, I jumped out of the car and slammed the door behind me. I rushed forward, meeting my mom just a few paces away, where I asked, "What's wrong?"
She gave a loud sniffle. "You know what's wrong."
I shook my head. "No. I don't."
She looked at me like I was the crazy one. And then, she practically wailed, "Dominic's in the hospital!"
Oh. Right. Over the last few hours, I'd hardly given the guy a moment's thought. Worse, I didn't even feel guilty.
I barely knew him, and what I did know, I didn't like.
Still, for the sake of my mom, I said, "Yeah. I was really sorry to hear that."
"So," she said, "why didn't you come?"
"To where? The hospital?" I didn't get it. What was I supposed to do? Bring the guy flowers or something?
My mom was saying, "You were supposed to pick me up."
I was? "You mean from the hospital?"
She made a sound of frustration. "Forget the hospital."
Funny, I already had – well, until she showed up to remind me, that is.
I held up a hand. "Okay, back up. Where was I supposed to pick you up?"
"From my place." She gave another sniffle. "So I could stay with you."
"You do know, I don't have a car—" And then, I froze as the rest of her statement caught up with me. "Wait, what? You wanna stay with me?"
"Well, I can't stay at my place."
I had no idea what she meant. Beyond confused, I glanced at her suitcase. It was very big. That wasn't a good sign. Still, hoping for the best, I said, "You mean just overnight?"
"No," she said. "I mean 'til I find a new place."
Obviously, I was missing something. "But what's wrong with your place?"
"I already told you, it's not safe." Her voice rose. "I was robbed, remember?"
Oh. Finally, I understood.
I almost laughed with relief. "You weren't robbed. I just came by to get my things. You did see the note, right?"
She gave a hard sigh. "I don't mean that robbery. I mean what happened outside."
Stupidly, I said, "Outside where?"
"The penthouse. Didn't you get my message?"
"What message?"
"The one I left with your roommate. I talked to her and everything."
"You mean Allie?" As if I had another roommate.
"Yes, I mean Allie," she snapped. "What, she didn't tell you?"
I recalled Allie's cheerful little conversation with my mom. "How many times did you talk to her?"
"Just once."
And now, I understood. Damn it. I should've known.
Obviously, Allie's side of the conversation had been a lot more cheerful than my mom's. Still, I felt compelled to double-check. "Just the one time? Are you sure? I mean, you didn't talk to her again later?"
"How could I?" she demanded. "When I called back, you didn't even answer."
Right. Because I'd turned off my phone – at Allie's suggestion, no less.
And now, my mom was saying, "I waited at the penthouse, but you never came."
Again with the penthouse?
I was tempted to inform her that the place was just an apartment, but at the moment, I had bigger problems than annoying terminology. I pointed vaguely toward the taxi. "Well, obviously, you weren't waiting at your place the whole time."
"No kidding," she said. "I finally remembered that you don't have a car – I still don't know what that's about – so I called a cab, and here I am."
Yes. Here she was.
And she was the reason I didn't have a car, but that was beside the point.
She was still complaining. "And just so you know, we've been waiting here for two hours."
I gave her a confused look. "We?"
"Yes. Me and the driver."
I winced. "Two whole hours? Are you sure?"
I'd only taken a taxi like five times in my whole life, but even I knew, they di
dn't wait for free.
"Maybe even longer," she said. "And I'll need money for the fare."
Of course, she would.
She'd pulled a similar stunt when I'd moved down here. I'd barely unpacked the first box when she'd informed me that she needed money for last month's electric bill, the pool membership, and something called a parking allowance.
I didn't even know what that was. But like a dumb-ass, I'd actually given her the funds, which partly explained why my own finances were so pathetic.
She was still talking. "And I promised the driver a big tip to wait, so I hope you have cash."
I had some cash, but not a lot. I gave the taxi a nervous glance. Somewhere inside that thing, the meter was ticking. And the ticking sounded an awful lot like dollar bills going up in flames.
But that wasn't even my biggest problem. It was the fact I had to tell her something that she wouldn't want to hear.
She couldn’t stay with me.
For starters, I didn't believe that whole robbery story. My mom loved drama and exaggerated like crazy. Plus, I knew firsthand that she lived in a pretty nice neighborhood.
I tried to think. This had to be a ploy. But for what?
And even if she was truly scared, she still couldn’t stay with me. For one thing, Allie might murder her in her sleep.
Now, that was scary.
Crap. I hated drama.
I hated it with a white hot passion.
My mom knew this, which is probably why she was putting on such a show. Anything to get her way, right?
She said, "Well? Aren't you gonna say something?"
"Yes. I am." I looked her straight in the eye and just said it. "You can't stay."
She blinked. "What? Why not?"
"For all kinds of reasons. Just trust me, you can't."
"But why?" she repeated.
"Well, for one thing, because I have a roommate."
"So?"
"So it's her place, too."
"I don't care," she said. "I'm staying."
From behind me, a familiar male voice, low and steady, replied on my behalf. "The hell you are."
It was Jax. Of course.
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