Chapter Fifteen
“Do you want me to file the workman’s compensation form for Dean’s claim?” It was usually something Matt did, but I was running out of work to do. If I didn’t keep busy, I would probably fall asleep. That was the hardest part about the floor waxing days—staying awake. They were scheduled quarterly and could only be done when the club was closed. The team that came in took around four hours to do all the floors, and two managers had to be there for safety reasons since the cleaners were contracted laborers. It was now just after nine in the morning, and they’d been there since six. Since Matt and I had closed the night before, we were the two sticking around.
“Hmm?” Matt seemed to be paying more attention to the radio than to me. He’d had it on all morning, tuned to an all-news station. The current report was about an arrest made in a four-year-old murder of a local woman.
It gave me a chill. I hated the news. Any of it. All of it. I had enough drama in my own life. I couldn’t deal with listening to tales of murders and rapes and kidnappings and drug busts. They were all really the same story—pain, pain, pain. I’d had enough pain. I didn’t need more. All it did was make me dwell on my abusive past and on my father who had been released from jail only the week before. I hadn’t seen him, and I didn’t want to. I didn’t even want to think about him.
“Matt, why don’t you go on home?” Then I could turn on something with a beat. Something not depressing. And daydream about JC without anyone in the room to question what I was thinking about while I stared absently into space.
It was what I did with much of my free time lately—relived my nights with JC. It had been six weeks since he’d asked me to keep our agreement going. After that, our relationship had maintained a status quo. He was never again as cold as he had been the night I’d woken to an empty bed and never again as open as the day we’d spent together in the real world. I took it as an acceptable compromise. Really, I didn’t have another choice. I was sure that he felt something for me and I didn’t want to give up on that. Besides, whether he did or didn’t, every night we spent together I fell deeper into love with him. Ending things was no longer an option. I wanted to be with him, whatever his terms.
Still, I dreamed of more. If I’m patient, I’d tell myself, maybe it could be more than just a dream.
A monotone voice reporting the “current speculation that bail will be denied” was not a part of my JC daydreams. Since Matt had yet to answer me about going home, I got up from my desk and went to stand in front of his.
I snapped my fingers in front of his glassy stare. “Hey, Matt. I think you’re dozing over here. Why don’t you go home?”
He blinked a few times then seemed to wake up from his stupor. “I’m sorry. I guess I am in a bit of a daze.” He looked at his watch. “I’ll make it. Paco should be done soon.”
“Exactly. Paco should be done soon, so there’s no reason for us both to hang around.”
He smiled. “You know I can’t leave you here alone.”
We always followed the two manager rule. I didn’t think this one time would be too much of a problem.
“I won’t be alone. I’ll be with Paco. And you and I both know that sweet old man isn’t going to do anything to me. So go on. Get out of here. I don’t usually go to bed until noon so I’m still wide awake.” Or I would be as soon as I could get some Sia playing.
Matt didn’t seem convinced.
“I’ll walk you out, and we can see exactly how much more he has to do. Come on.” I nodded for him to follow as I headed to the door. When he didn’t, I went back to him and grabbed his arm and tugged. “Come on, you stubborn oaf.”
He groaned. But he stood up with a smile. “I’m not agreeing. We’ll check on Paco and then decide.”
“Okay. But bring your things because if he’s almost done, you’re leaving.”
He muttered something about me being bossy and reminding him of someone else he used to know while he grabbed his keys and wallet from the safe where he kept them while he worked. As soon as we walked out of the office, we heard the whir of the wax machine and found Paco just starting on the main level. He always worked top to bottom.
“See? He’s almost done. Out you go.” I walked Matt to the employee entrance to be sure he actually left and to grab a bottle of water from the extra fridge designated for the staff. As I was about to start back to the office, there was a knock on the door.
Protocol was to check the security cameras before letting anyone in, but Matt had just left. It had to be him. “Did you forget something?” I asked, as I pulled the door open.
It wasn’t Matt.
“Daddy,” I stepped back automatically, a reaction from years of training to cower in his presence. It was a mistake. I should have shut the door in his face. Now it was too late because the man who’d threatened me for as long as I could remember was already crossing the threshold.
“Gwenyth.” His grin was lopsided and dark. “Look at you. You grew up all pretty.” He was thinner than when I’d last seen him. More wrinkled. Harder. His eyes had never had any light in them, but somehow they’d now lost their color, leaving two pools of black. His dark hair was peppered with gray. He had scars. There were several on his face and neck, remnants of prison fights, I assumed. There was a particularly angry line under his right eye that extended to his jaw. I couldn’t help but cringe at it, the pain it must have inflicted obvious from its ugliness.
Serves him right.
He threw the door closed behind him but didn’t use enough force for it to latch.
I took another step back into the kitchen. My heart raced, pounding against my chest so strongly I was sure it was audible to him as well. I told myself not to panic. Not yet. Maybe he just wanted to see me. He’d be stupid to hurt me when he’d just gotten out of jail.
Not that my father had ever been very smart…
Somehow, I found my voice. “What are you doing here?”
“Now is that any way to greet your father?” He put a fist on his hip and looked around the room. “A kitchen, huh? I thought this was some sort of a music club.”
“It’s a nightclub with food service.” I wasn’t sure why I was explaining. I was trembling, my thoughts shaking as much as my body. “You aren’t supposed to be here. It’s employees only. You need to leave.”
My eyes darted everywhere. Over his shoulder at the door not quite closed—could I make it past him if I ran? Over my shoulder toward the room where Paco was—could he hear me over his equipment if I screamed?
This is all learned response, I told myself. He hasn’t threatened you. He won’t threaten you.
“Don’t worry. I won’t stay long. I only came to give you the news.”
He wasn’t the sort of person who could calm me with a “don’t worry.” I swallowed. “What news?”
“I got out!” He threw his hands up in the air in ta da pose. I jumped at the sudden gesture, which only seemed to make him grin wider.
He was playing games. Of course, he’d gotten out. He was standing in front of me, wasn’t he? It was a statement meant to throw me off-guard and make me lose my wits. It did both.
I gaped, not knowing what to say. Not knowing what he wanted me to say.
He squinted one eye and tapped a finger to his chin. “Oh, yeah, that’s right. You knew that. You told my lawyer you didn’t want to have anything to do with me when I was released. I couldn’t believe that when he told me. I had to check it out for myself.”
My gut twisted with the old familiar feeling of being in trouble. “I didn’t say that.” My voice sounded thin and unsure. I took a breath and steadied myself. “Norma just told the lawyer that we didn’t have any place for you to stay. And we don’t. It’s only a two-bedroom apartment.” That was a lie. It was three bedrooms—Ben had stayed in the third room when he’d lived with us. Now it was Norma’s office/storage room.
My father glowered. “I could have stayed on the couch. I can pretty much sleep anywhere after ten years of a prison cot.”
I bit my lip, looking for excuses. “That wouldn’t work. We have odd schedules. You’d never get any sleep out there with us going in and out. Don’t you have to be in a halfway house or something, anyway?”
He shrugged. “Only for a little while. When they let me out of there, I’ll need a place. Surely you could find a spot for me in that posh high-rise of yours.”
“It’s Norma’s apartment, Daddy. She said it wouldn’t work. You’ll have to ask her if you want her to reconsider.” I didn’t feel too bad throwing Norma under the bus. He hadn’t gotten abusive toward us kids until our mother had died, and since Norma was older then, she’d received little of it. She wasn’t under his thumb the way Ben and I were. She’d stand up just fine in a confrontation with him, unlike me.
Problem was, Daddy knew that.
“Cute. I ain’t gonna go talk to Norma. She’s never been fond of me. Did you know that bitch didn’t even send me a Christmas card once while I was in jail?”
His last comment was actually a dig at me. I’d sent one the first couple of years, when I still believed I might have love for him. I’d since realized that all I ever had for him was fear. Funny how those emotions could be mixed up so easily when they were nothing alike.
I dug back into my repertoire of ways to calm him. Apologize. He always liked to hear that. “I’m sorry I didn’t contact you more. It seemed like it would be easier—for both of us—to keep our distance.”
“Easier. You really believe that or are you talking shit to protect your ass?”
I wanted to say that I was trying to be nice. That I wasn’t worried about protecting my ass because I hadn’t done anything wrong.
But I was scared, and I was protecting my ass. “I did believe it, Daddy. I do believe it. Anyway, you’re out now. So everything’s good.” Just like when I was younger, I didn’t know what to say or how to say it. It felt like playing Russian roulette with words. Which one would please him? Which one would set him off?
“Yes. Everything’s good. Except now I have to get some income. The more money I make, the sooner I’m out of that place. Do you know how hard it is to find a decent job with a criminal record?”
I shook my head, afraid to speak, praying that Paco would finish up and come find me soon.
“Well, I got something.”
“Good! Congratulations!” I was too eager. My smile was too bright.
He didn’t say anything. He studied me with cold eyes.
A chill ran down my spine as I suddenly realized something. Norma hadn’t bought her condo until after he’d gone to jail. He was well aware of her address since it was the one on file for all of his next-of-kin paperwork. He must have scoped it out after his release. Or else he was guessing because of her location that it was posh, as he’d said.
But there wasn’t anything on file saying where I worked. Norma had always been very good about making sure both Ben and I remained sheltered from him, even when he was behind bars. It was to make us feel safer, she’d said. Now I realized she’d been planning ahead. Been planning for this very situation.
It was never good to question him, but I needed to know. “How did you find me anyway? Who told you I was working here?”
“My lawyer did. A while back. He happened to come in here one night and saw you working. Kudos, Gwen. Managing a big club in the city. Pretty big stuff for a poor Anders kid from Jersey. I didn’t think you had it in ya like your sister. I sure as hell know your faggot brother doesn’t have it in him.”
My jaw clenched at the mention of Ben, and for the first time since he’d moved across the country, I was glad. There wasn’t any way our father could get to him.
“Anyway.” He scratched at the collar of his button-down. “I was taking a chance when I came by today. I’m guessing you usually work at night but I can only be out in the world during daytime hours. Lucky break that I found you.”
“Yeah, lucky.” At a time of day that I was almost never at the club, on an occasion that I was the only employee in the building, on the one fucking time I didn’t look at the cameras before opening the doors. Real lucky.
“Look,” I said, feigning control, “I have to get back to my work. My boss is going to come looking for me soon. So you need to go.”
He ignored my bluff, either not believing me or not caring. “It’s not gonna cut it, Gwen. My job. It will take a long time to get out of that house and into a place of my own with the kind of wage they offered. And I can’t stay there that long. You don’t know what that place is like.”
“I can’t let you stay at our place, Daddy. I told you, it’s—”
“Up to Norma,” he finished with me. “Then let’s see. If that’s not going to work, maybe we can discuss some other ways you can help me.” With eyes half closed, he rubbed his neck, his long hair shaking as he did, reminding me of a dog scratching at an itch. “How about you just give me the cash directly?”
Yes. He was a total dog.
“H-how much?” I stuttered as my fear neared its threshold. He was setting me up to have to say no to him, and I tried never to say no to him.
“Hmm.” He looked at the clothes I was wearing, my shoes. They weren’t Bergdorf Goodman quality, but with Norma paying most of my bills, I was able to splurge on a few nice things. I felt guilty now as I remembered the kind of life we’d had growing up. My shoes could have paid for groceries for a month.
So I shouldn’t have been surprised when he named his amount. “Twenty-five thousand ought to do it.”
“I don’t have that kind of money.” My words came out breathy and thin. He hated any response to a request that wasn’t yes, sir.
“Come on. With that pretty building you girls are living in? I’m betting twenty-five k doesn’t even cover half a year’s rent in that place. You can’t spare six month’s rent to help your old man get out of the hellhole he shares with a bunch of filthy addicts?”
“It’s not me who has the money. I told you. It’s Norma. I barely make enough to contribute to the utilities.” More lies. More pointing at Norma. She’d take care of him, though. She’d know what to say to make him back down, while I…just…didn’t.
He made a clicking sound in the back of his throat that was more menacing than it should have been. “You can get it. I know you can.”
I shook my head fervently. “I can’t.”
“Ask Norma for it.” He came toward me as he spoke. “She’ll give it to you. Do it for your dear old dad. To make up for all that time you didn’t do shit for him.” With each step he took, I took one backwards until I was up against the stainless steel worktable with nowhere else to go.
I braced my hands on the hard surface behind me and quickly tried to plan my next move. If I told him that I’d get it, would he go? And then what? Would I have to give him the money? Would I have to go into hiding? He couldn’t be charged with anything. Growing up, we’d had home visits from the cops and social services a couple of times, and my father had made sure we showed them what he wanted them to see—food on the table, toys in the house. He was always able to cover up his crimes. Especially when half of them were merely mental games. Games that didn’t leave marks or bruises.
This was that type of game. If I didn’t give him the money, he’d hurt me. I had no doubt of that. It would be nice to believe he’d changed over the years—I had—but prison never softened anyone. If anything, he was probably harder. I wondered if he hit harder too. If he hit me, if he physically touched me, the law would step in. It was too much to hope it would be enough to put him back behind bars, but was getting smacked around worth it to get a restraining order?
It was. But I didn’t think I could provoke him like that on purpose. It went against a lifetime of training. I obeyed. I tried not to get hit.
Except…
Something triggered in me. Something besides fear. Rage. Because how dare he? How dare he come into my work, my life, and demand compensation for the time he spent in jail because he’d beaten his children? How dare he have beaten us in the first place? It had taken years to let go of the constant ball of worry in my stomach and even longer to gain any sort of confidence. How dare he take it from me now?
“Well?” He took another step toward me. We were less than an arm’s length away now.
Gathering every bit of strength I could muster—more than I knew I had—I straightened my back and said, “No.”
“What did you say?”
“I said no. I’m not going to get you the money. Not because I don’t think Norma will give it to me, but because I don’t want to. It’s not yours. We don’t owe it to you. I don’t owe you anything.”
Smack. The back of his hand across my cheek. I heard the distinct sound of it before I registered the burn, the shrieking pain. I’d half expected it and yet, as his knuckles made contact with my bone, it stunned me, stole my breath, sent green specks across my field of vision.
I gasped, raising my palm to my face, as if that could stop my skin from stinging. As if it could protect me from another strike.
“You fucking bitch. You’ve always been so fucking ungrateful.” He lifted his hand again, and I closed my eyes, bracing myself for the next one.
It never came.
“Don’t you fucking lay a hand on her!”
At the sound of JC’s voice, my eyes flew open. He must have come in the unlatched door. Now he was behind my father and gripping his forearms, pulling him away from me. They were similar in height, but where JC was fit and trim, my father was bulky and buff. It wasn’t a fair fight. My father could crush him.
“What the—?” Dad was as surprised as I was to find we had a guest. “Get your hands off me,” he said, shrugging out of JC’s grasp.
JC rushed to me. “Gwen, are you all right?”
“I think so.” Now that you’re here, yes.
He wrapped an arm around me but didn’t pull me too close, tilting my chin up to examine my face. I could tell by the way he cringed that I was already bruising.
“Jesus, did he do that?” JC’s eyes grew dark and hard even before I nodded. He turned back to my father, his arm pulled back to punch.
That’s when I saw the knife.
“No!” I grabbed JC’s arm, stopping him before he hit. “He has a knife.”
He followed my glance to see the knife in my father’s hand. It was a rusty old pocketknife. Something he’d probably bought on the street. I doubted he was allowed to have weapons in his house. It would just be another thing I’d report to the police later.
JC stepped forward, blocking me. Protecting me. “What do you want from her?” I clutched onto the back of his shirt, and he wrapped an arm behind him to pull me in closer. It made me feel exactly the way I’d always thought a parent should make you feel—the way my father never made me feel. Warm, fiercely guarded, defiantly loved.
The man who’d donated his DNA to my existence looked past JC, his eyes landing directly on mine. “Gwen knows what I want.”
My gaze flicked down to the knife and back to my father’s face. JC tensed further under my hands, and I knew he’d fight for me. I couldn’t let him do it. He was smaller and unarmed. There’s no way he’d win, and the thought of him getting hurt…
My throat tightened.
“I’ll get it,” I said, lying through my teeth. “I’ll get the money for you. Just go.”
Dad didn’t even look at JC, as though his presence didn’t faze him in the least. “You see that you do. I’ll be back on Thursday. Same time.” He took a couple of steps backward then added, “You know I trust you, Gwen baby. Don’t let your father down.”
With a final nod, he went out the door.
JC followed to shut it after him, making sure it latched properly this time. I, on the other hand, ran to the sink, where I proceeded to dry heave.
* * *
JC got me a Sprite from the bar and had me sit on the worktable and drink it to try to calm my stomach. He took care of Paco, signing the paperwork that said the floor work was complete, and made sure the door was shut and locked after he left.
I watched him do my job, wondering if he thought I was helpless or if he was just being nice. I wasn’t helpless. I’d picked myself up after many attacks. This, though. This sweet attentiveness and concern—it was nice.
When JC disappeared back into the main part of the club, I called Norma.
“Are you alone now?” my sister asked after I’d told her everything.
“No. JC’s still with me.”
“Perfect. If you don’t stay with him, make sure he takes you home. Our apartment is secured, so you’d be safe there. I’ll talk to some people and see what our best options are from here. We’ll have to talk to the cops later, though. Are you good for now?”
I hadn’t cried, but now I felt like I might. “Mm-hmm,” I said, holding back the sob. “Thank you, sissy.”
JC returned as I clicked END. “I turned off all the lights and locked up the office.”
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
He nodded once in return. Then, taking a towel from the rack of dish linens by the sink, he asked, “Are you sure we shouldn’t have called the police?”
“Yes, I’m sure.” Memories of red and blue lights arriving at our house flashed through my mind. The rare occasions that the neighbors cared enough to call them because of sounds of domestic distress. Each time they were there to rescue us. Each time Dad made his excuses—scared us into making excuses—and they left us to be hit again.
I took another sip of my Sprite and explained. “I’ve never had a good experience with police. I’d prefer to let Norma handle all of it. There are security cameras in this room. I’ll give her the tape, she can take it to whoever. She’ll make sure we do this right so he gets put back behind bars.”
I was still worried. My father had always been violent, but he wasn’t an idiot. He had to know I could report him. Did he think I was still so under his thumb that I wouldn’t?
“I don’t like this,” JC said, dropping a handful of ice from the bin into the towel.
“I know. Thank you for doing it my way.” From the look he gave me, I wasn’t so sure he planned on continuing doing things my way. I wouldn’t have been surprised to find he’d already called them while he was getting my drink.
But then, as he wrapped the towel up to keep the ice from spilling, he sighed. “I’ve been let down by the law before too. I understand doing things your own way.”
I pressed the somewhat cold drink to my aching cheek and stared at him, more grateful than ever for his presence, and only a little bit distracted by the realization that the last time I’d sat on this table, I’d had his cock inside me.
He walked over to me then and took the drink out of my hand. He set it on the table next to me and gently pressed the ice pack against my cheekbone. “This should work better.”
I hissed at the sting. He winced with me. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” I said through gritted teeth. “It will get better as it numbs.” I spoke from experience, but I bit my tongue before saying anything else on the matter, conscious of how much personal information I shared.
We were quiet for a few minutes, JC dabbing at my face while I tried not to wince. Then I realized, “Oh my God, I didn’t even say thank you! I would probably look even worse right now if you hadn’t come along when you did.”
He kept his eyes on his task. “I just wish I’d gotten here sooner. And you could never look anything related to the term worse. You’re breathtaking. As always.”
My stomach squirmed at his compliment. It was weird how he could make me get all shy and flustered from only a few words after all the things he’d seen me do naked. I looked down at my knees, hoping he thought my flush was from the cold of the ice. “How did you know I’d be here, anyway?”
His mouth turned down at the edges. “I didn’t. I was coming to see Matt.”
“Oh. I sent him home.” It was silly to be disappointed. He’d been there for me all the same. It didn’t matter if he’d come for me or not.
JC’s brows drew in. “I can’t believe he’d leave you here alone like that.” His words were terse and barely controlled.
“It’s not Matt’s fault. I shouldn’t have opened the door.” It had been a stupid mistake. My father was only one of the many bad situations that could have met me. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
JC lowered the towel from my cheek and looked me directly in the eyes. “No, you shouldn’t have.” His scolding completed, he returned the pack to my now-frozen face. “But trust me, Matt’s going to get an earful from me as well.”
The moment felt vulnerable and fragile, and though it might have only been me that was really vulnerable and fragile, it seemed like JC was as well. “You and Matt have a lot more between you than just your rental of The Deck, don’t you?”
His eyes flicked to mine then back to my cheek. “Yes.”
“But you don’t want to talk about it.”
“No.”
So much for vulnerable. All I ever got from him was walls, walls, walls. He’d shown up like my knight in shining armor, and I’d wanted to believe that it meant something. That I was someone he wanted to save. That I was worth fighting for.
But how could he think I was worth anything if he wouldn’t tell me even the simplest of details about himself?
It was impossible. I had to wake up and smell the coffee once and for all—he was never going to open up to me. I was never going to needle my way in. A relationship built on anything more than sex was never going to happen between us.
I wrapped my arms around myself, new tears pricking at my eyes. At least, if he asked, I could pretend they were for my father rather than JC. Though I doubted he’d even care if I said they were for him.
I sat up straighter. “I got this.” I reached to take the ice pack from him, ignoring the buzz that surged through my body as my hand touched his. “Sorry you had to deal with this. I’m sure I can take care of myself now.” Norma had told me to stay with him, but I couldn’t deal with the pain of rejection on top of everything else that had happened that morning.
He chuckled, not relinquishing the pack. “I’m not leaving you.”
“It’s fine. Really. This goes far beyond what we are.” It was bitchy and uncalled for, but I couldn’t help myself. I was hurting in so many ways. Lashing out felt good.
JC put the ice pack down and tilted his head to look at me. “Gwen, don’t.” The two words alone in that serious tone—they bit into me. Made me feel childish. Made me lose some of my bravado.
Some. Not all. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t belittle us.”
I scoffed. “I’m not saying anything you haven’t said.”
He placed his hands on either side of me, leveling his gaze, caging me in. “You’re right. I said it. It was complete bullshit then and it’s complete bullshit now.” He waited a beat. “You know I have feelings for you.”
My breath got caught in my lungs.
“You do?” It came out as a whisper, barely audible over the sound of my heart thump, thump, thumping in my chest. Maybe my father had hit me harder than I thought, and I was imagining this whole scenario.
JC smirked at me tenderly—was that a thing? Could people smirk tenderly? Because that’s what he did. “Don’t act like that surprises you. I know you know that I do.”
My breathing was back now, fast and shallow. I pinched my hip to make sure I wasn’t dreaming, which never works. If I really wanted to be sure, I needed to ask him to pinch me. Since my face was starting to sting again without the ice to keep it numb, I decided that was proof enough of my consciousness.
I played it cool, as if I weren’t completely floored by the conversation. “I’m surprised that you’re admitting it.” That only lasted half a second. “Why are you admitting it?” And why couldn’t you before?
Because he was right—I did know that he had feelings for me. It was the only thing that made it possible to go back to him week after week. He’d had feelings for quite some time, just as I had. So why was he only telling me now, out of the blue?
God, I hoped it wasn’t out of pity.
“Honestly, I don’t know.” JC let go of the table and ran his hand through his hair, his focus somewhere beyond me. “I got some news yesterday that I’ve been wanting for a long time. News that should have made me very happy. And yet all I could think was, I wonder what Gwen’s doing now. And when I walked in and saw that assface about to hit you, I’m going to be honest, I wanted him dead. Even more when I found out who he was. That he was your father. Someone who’d hurt you before.”
He reached a finger out to trace the hem of my skirt across my kneecap, sending a smattering of goose bumps down my skin. “I thought that I could keep anything with you away from the rest of my life.” His voice was quiet now. Raw. “That I could lock it in the space of our hotel room. But you’re everywhere. You’ve permeated everything I do, Gwen. It’s problematic for several reasons. But I think I’m just going to have to figure it out, because I can’t pretend it’s not happening anymore.”
He looked up, his eyes lost and pleading.
My heart lurched. “Christ. You are married, aren’t you?”
He laughed. “No. I’m not married.” His expression settled and his gaze went back to my cheek. He picked up the ice pack and was silent for several seconds, dabbing it against my cheek before he said, “I was engaged.”
“When?”
He shook his head once. “Not now. Before you. Several years ago. Her name was Corinne.”
“Was? Is she—?” I didn’t know how to finish my statement without sounding brash.
“Yes,” he said, his voice careful. “She’s dead. And the things I’m dealing with, the things that keep me from being everything I want to be with you, are related to that.”
“And you don’t want to talk about that either.”
He sighed. “I…I can’t. It’s not fair, I know.”
I shrugged, trying not to feel bad. This was progress, wasn’t it? Then why did I still feel so shut out?
“Gwen.” It was the same tone he’d used before. The don’t. I felt him saying it now with his body, with the plea in his voice.
He set the ice pack down again and gently brushed a stray hair off my face. Then he traced his thumb along my jaw, the side that was uninjured. Swept it tenderly across my skin. “I didn’t want to love you, Gwen. Not just because it wasn’t the right time, but because I didn’t want it to be possible to lose that much again.”
My pulse picked up, the hurt from a moment ago already erased with his new words. “But you do? Love me?”
Shit, I sounded eager. And hopeful. And happy.
“I do.” He dropped his hand. “That’s pretty much all I can give you right now. I can’t tell you the things you want to know. I can’t let you in on the rest of my life. Not yet. But I love you. I can give you that. Is that enough?”
It was honest and heartfelt, and for as many walls that he had surrounding him, I could still feel his earnest desire to connect. His sincere want to be with me. His utter and truthful love for me.
Was there anything else I really needed from him?
“It’s enough,” I said, my hands trembling in my lap. “For now, at least. I’ve been sticking around for a lot less. Not that really great sex is anything to scoff at.”
“Really great sex?” His smile was boyish, reaching all the way to his eyes. “Not just great sex but really great sex?”
I kicked him in the thigh then threw his own words back at him. “Don’t act like that surprises you. I know you know it is.”
He laughed, then cupped his hand behind my neck and pulled my face to his. He gave me one gentle, restrained kiss. “I want to kiss you more than this, but I’m worried I’m going to hurt you.”
“My mouth is completely fine.” Even if it weren’t, I would have endured the pain, because I needed to kiss him. Needed to feel his words in action.
“Thank God.” His words became muffled as he crushed his lips to mine. As gentle as he’d been with my face, he was equally rough with his kiss. He bruised me. He marked me, and I let him.
When I threw my arms around his neck and wove my fingers through his hair, I remembered how we’d kissed that day in March. How I’d felt free and light. How that glorious kiss had turned into something sad and empty when he’d turned me away. I’d realized that as liberated as he made me feel, I was now shackled in a new way, bound to JC with all my heart.
Which was only a bad thing if he went cold like he had before.
The thought of it brought a dark cloud over me. I pulled away.
JC didn’t let me go, one hand still at my neck, one around my waist. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” He searched my face.
I tried to shake it off. “Nothing. No. I mean…” I decided to be honest with him. “I’m scared you’ll push me away again.”
He lowered his eyes. “I’m sorry I did that.” He lifted his gaze back to mine and stroked my good cheek with his fingers, so sweetly. With love. With adoration. “I was an asshole. I was falling for you, and I got scared. I didn’t know what I should do.”
Was I an idiot to believe things would be different this time? When I could still taste the pain of his rejection on my tongue?
“I still don’t know what I should do,” I said. But I knew what I would do—anything he wanted. He was my warden. I belonged to him.
“Well,” he fingered the collar of my shirt. “Do you love me?”
“I know that you know that I do.” I grinned a little too widely and gasped as the ache reignited in my face.
JC promptly returned the ice pack to my cheek, concern etched on his features. I covered his hand with mine. Then, because I hadn’t said it yet and I didn’t think it was fair to not let him hear the words, I said, “I do love you. Very much.”
His eyes brightened, but his face remained somber, serious. Desperate, even. “Then come be with me. Stay with me today. Tonight.”
“But it’s Tuesday.”
Now he smiled. Lacing his free hand through mine, he said, “I know what day it is. Be with me every day.”
And so I would.