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.

"No, Jax. They need to know. He can't work with teens. How he ever got this far, I—"

"Grace!" I said more forcefully, bringing her attention back to me.

"I'm sorry. I don't know what to do, what to say."

"Grace, listen to me. It wasn't Gene."

"I don't understand..."

I blew out a long breath and squeezed her hands. "It wasn't Gene." My voice sounded as if I was being choked, which in a way I was. My throat was tight from sharing my past. "Gene didn’t hurt either of us. It was my stepsister. Mallory...molested me." I choked on the word. It was one that rattled around in my nightmares, but I never said it out loud.

Her fidgeting stilled. "Mallory." It was a statement, not a question. "I…I don't understand. How could she...why..."

I watched her eyes flicker between me and the floor as she tried to process everything I'd told her. She started to say something a couple of times but shook her head and closed her mouth.

I was resolved to tell her anything she wanted to know but was grateful when she didn't ask for details. She didn't need to know how Mallory started off telling me she could make me feel good, the same way adults did when they did the same things the dolls did. How she taught a young boy just starting puberty to masturbate, and later how she came to his room and forced him to touch her while she stroked him to orgasm. How even when he didn't want it and tried to fight it, basic biology still responded to her touch. I'd spent months in counseling to convince me Mallory had taken advantage of me, that I wasn't a sicko who liked to have sex with his stepsister. That she had, in reality, raped me. And subsequently, developed a lifelong issue with trust when it came to women.

"Oh, dear God. Jax. I don't know what to say." She curled into a ball on my lap and wrapped her arms around me, squeezing hard while burying her face against my chest so tight I couldn't see how she could breathe. I leaned back against the couch, bringing her with me. We could have sat like that for minutes or hours. Time lost meaning. I knew she was grieving for the little boy I used to be and offering comfort; and me soaking it up like a dry sponge on behalf of the boy who couldn't.

Without lifting her head, she finally spoke. "I'm sorry, Jax. It makes me sick and sad all that happened to you as a child."

"I survived."

She lifted her head. "But childhood isn't meant to be survived. It's meant to be cherished and to have fun and feel safe in exploring the world around you. It makes me realize how good I had it, and how I haven't appreciated it."

I held her face in my hands. "I'm glad you didn't know any different, sweetheart. And despite everything, I'm luckier than many. I had a mom who sacrificed everything to keep me safe once she found out the truth, even though it broke her heart in many ways."

"Of course, she did. She's your mom. How did she find out? Did you tell her?"

"No." I tucked her face back into my neck. I trusted her, but I couldn't quite look at her while the other half of my confession came out. "I was too scared. Mallory convinced me my mom would be angry at me if I ruined her new marriage, how I'd be such a bad son if I made her unhappy. Mallory convinced me that if I really loved her and loved my family, I wouldn’t say anything. And I believed her. My mom was the happiest I'd seen in years. My last words to my father were that I'd take care of her. It sounds so twisted as an adult, but back then I was trying to protect her."

"Oh, Jax." Her fingers flexed, clasping the material of my shirt. "That's so brave and sad at the same time."

"I knew what we were doing wasn't right. But understand, Mallory was beautiful, and she was a huge flirt. She'd act like a shy and innocent girl at home, but as soon as our parents weren't looking, she was flirty, and I don't know, provocative, even for a teenager. Boys and even grown men noticed her. I heard all the time from other guys that if they had a stepsister like that, they'd be trying to tap into it. And in my own mind, I couldn't help but think that I wouldn't respond to her if I didn't actually like it."

Grace sat up. "No. That's not how that works. You were a hormonal teenager that she took advantage of. She threatened you."

I smirked. "Yes, counselor. Send me your bill."

She smacked me lightly on the chest.

"Too soon for jokes?"

She sat up, frowning. "It's not a joke at all."

"No, it's not," I conceded.

We sat quietly again, lost in our thoughts. My thoughts mostly centered on what she was thinking, and where we went from here.

She broke the ice first. "Why now?"

"Hmm?"

"Why tell me this now? Why not sooner, or why at all?" She started playing with a button on my shirt. At least she wasn't pulling away. I hoped that was a good sign.

I sighed and dropped my head back on the couch. "I didn't tell you sooner for the obvious reason that I don't like to talk about it. And how do you bring something like that up? I hid it as a child. It's even easier to hide it as an adult."

"That makes sense." Her voice was quiet. Gently, she pushed against me to sit up. I lifted my head to look at her. The anger had left her eyes, but they still didn't have the warm sparkle I'd grown addicted to. Pain and doubt clouded them. "But why tell me now?"

I cupped her cheek in my palm. "Because I've broken all the other rules I had in place to protect myself. Because you're more. Because I had to try to explain why I'm an ass so much of the time. There are so many other becauses, Grace, but mostly because I need you to understand why it was hard to admit how much I love you."

I had to give in to the longing to have my lips touch her in some way, but I managed to keep them to her forehead. I didn't feel like I had the right for more after I'd pushed her away.

I pressed my head against hers. "I know this doesn't fix everything. I can't sit here and tell you I'm not still hurt that you weren't honest with me, but that doesn't excuse my reaction. I know your heart, Grace, and I know you'd never deliberately hurt anyone. I'm sorry I hurt you, more than you know. I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, but because I'm a selfish ass, I'm asking for it anyway. Again."

Her head rolled against mine, and I panicked that she was telling me "no."

"You're not an ass all of the time."

I lifted my head slightly to see her smiling. It didn't fill her eyes as usual, but it was closer.

"I'm sorry, too," she said, her voice quiet with remorse. "I let you down. I let my issues get in the way of my decisions, too. You should have been my priority. I should have trusted that we'd figure out a way to make everything work out."

I started to interrupt, but she shook her head.

"Thank you for telling me. I know that wasn't easy. And I do forgive you. Not because of your background, but because I love you. And I hope you forgive me, too. I'm not sure exactly where we go from here."

"I love you, too, Grace. And as from here? The answer is still forward. We keep moving forward if you'll have me."

This time, her eyes lit like the sun shined from within her. "I'm here, Jax. I'm here."