Raven sat in the back of a long black car with Grace while the driver stared straight ahead at the empty road that turned out to be Jax’s mansion’s driveway. Without trying to gawk, Raven took in the acres and acres of land Jax’s home sat on. It would take her all day to make it to the city on foot.

By the time they reached the city and the large shopping center, Raven’s skin prickled with sweat from motion sickness and the faint scent of a perfume she couldn’t name still clinging to the cream and gray parka Jax had set aside for her to wear.

“You’re free to do as you like,” Grace told Justin, twisting in her seat, a boot resting on the sidewalk outside Bloomingdale’s. “We’ll be a while.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, with a small smile.

Raven wondered what the driver would do with his free day. It would be boring to be a driver, just sitting there, waiting on people’s whims. But it wasn’t any different, really, than being homeless. On the streets, Raven always had somewhere to wait. Waiting in line for a bed at the shelter, and then waiting for a shower if she was lucky. Waiting in line for clothes, or food, or some other handout. The only time she felt free was at the club with Axel if she already secured a place to sleep for the night, or when she popped her head into Elle’s salon.

“Raven.”

She opened the car door, and sucked in the fresh wet air to calm her nerves. Snowflakes the size of cotton balls floated from the sky.

Grace led her inside the shiny department store. “This way. Spa first. Jax gave me carte blanche.”

Raven twisted her hands. It sounded so ominous; Grace could do whatever she liked, but this was what Raven wanted.

Five minutes later, Raven was being pushed down into a stylist’s chair, and a slim man with a stubby ponytail trailed his fingers through her snarls.

Elle usually did her hair. Raven liked the pitch black and the colored streaks Elle experimented with.

“Too dark,” he declared. “It washes out her face.” He spoke to Grace, knowing who was in charge.

Grace nodded, her coat draped over her arm, her purse hanging from the crook of her elbow. “I agree. Her skin is pallid, but that will change with regular meals.”

The stylist gave Grace a look out of the corner of his eye but didn’t comment.

Raven knew what he was thinking. Who didn’t have regular meals? Not anyone this stylist met.

“I like the black,” she said.

The stylist shoved his hands onto his hips. “This is not your natural color.”

Raven flushed.

“Dark brown.” He glared at Raven. “Highlights around her face.”

“Then a wax job, everywhere, but be careful, she has some scrapes that are still healing. Mani, pedi. Give her a massage. This poor girl has probably never had one. No alcohol. Perrier, coffee, or tea.”

The stylist secured a plastic sheet around her. “She’s in good hands. Don’t worry about a thing.”

Grace treated him to a dazzling smile. “I won’t.”

Grace didn’t come back for nearly four hours.

Raven’s hair was now the color it had been in high school. Dark, but not black, and that subtle difference made a significant one to her complexion.

The stylist had also cut off many inches, giving her a sleek angular lob, but, dismayed at the loss of length, Raven hadn’t been in any position to complain. After the cut and dye, she sat under a hair dryer with conditioner in her hair.

Her muscles felt like jelly after an hour-long full-body massage, and her legs, and the area between them, burned from the wax job. She hadn’t been given a razor in the bathtub yesterday, and now she knew why. At first, she thought it was to keep her from inflicting self-harm, but other plans had been made for her, even then.

The woman who’d done her wax job had waxed her eyebrows, too, though she’d left them full and beautifully arched.

The makeup artist had highlighted her cheekbones, and lipliner made her lips just a bit fuller.

Her feet were smooth after a pedicure, and as the woman painted her toenails a demure pink, Raven thought back with regret to the mother/daughter days she’d spent with her mom.

While she’d been getting made over, Grace had been hard at work with a personal shopper choosing every piece of clothing Raven would need for any occasion.

Now, trying on clothes, her thin frame worked with her—fashionably thin. Not sickly thin.

Funny how that worked.

“For the tutors, for the classes, parties,” Grace announced, shoving her into a fitting area that couldn’t accurately be called a stall. Damien’s whole apartment could fit into the space that held a mini dais in front of a three-sided mirror.

“Why are you doing this?” Raven asked, standing in front of the mirror dressed in tights and a sweater dress colored a deep purple.

She barely recognized herself.

Grace hadn’t accurately been able to guess her size with some things, and she sent the personal shopper to replace a few clothing items, leaving them alone.

There had to be another way for Jax to force her hand, rather than spend thousands of dollars on her. People divorced all the time—whether they wanted to or not.

Jax possessed all the power in the world. If he wanted a divorce without her cooperation, he could have one. Yet he chose to go along, and even ask his mother for help.

Grace stood from the plush loveseat she’d been sitting on while Raven tried on clothes, drinking a frothy cappuccino. She set the huge porcelain cup onto the matching saucer and lowered herself onto the top step of the dais.

“Jax told me what happened.”

Grace changed into a completely different person. Her shoulders sagged, and all the sparkle left the woman’s demeanor. Suddenly, the overhead lights were not kind to the middle-aged woman, and her glow turned to sallowness in an instant.

“What did he say?” Raven asked, wanting to know the lies he told his mother.

“All of it,” Grace said, squeezing the bridge of her nose between her eyes. “Gwen. The church. Looking for you and the time it took.”

“Oh,” Raven murmured, surprised. He’d told her the truth. “I wondered how Jax pulled off the wedding.”

Grace looked up at Raven, and the woman’s position unsettled her. Grace should be looking down on her, not the other way around. For so long, Raven had been looked down upon by other people for being homeless. But no one asked her why. Not until Jax had yesterday. Most people thought she was lazy, or stupid, or bipolar, schizo. Mentally unstable. Jax hadn’t called her that, exactly, not like it was something that defined her. He’d said it like she was afflicted with it. Or suffered from it. Like there was a reason she was the way she was.

And now his mother was looking up at her.

She didn’t like it.

Raven sat on a step lower than Grace, and though it didn’t make Raven that much shorter than the elegant lady who’d taken her under her wing at her son’s request, it put Raven in a more comfortable position.

“We knew you weren’t Gwen. Me. Jax’s father. Even Pastor Clark. Erik let us know. You resemble her—your height, your coloring. It was quite easy, in fact, for Jax to do what he did. You wouldn’t have fooled anyone at the reception, of course, but Jax took care of that.”

“Why are you here now? Why go along with this? Jax has the money and power to make me do anything he wants.”

Grace ran her hands along the sides of her French twist, then fiddled with a diamond stud. “I feel I can be honest with you, Raven. Can I?”

“Of course.” The better for her to know what was really in store for her if she stayed. And that was a big if. Raven was getting a small taste of what it would be like in Jax’s world, and she didn’t like it.

Sitting up straighter, Grace said, “When Jax explained what was going on, what lengths he’d gone to find you, there was something, Raven. Something in his eyes I haven’t seen for a very, very long time. It gave me hope.”

Raven wanted to scoff, but held her tongue. There would never be anything between her and Jax besides revulsion and hate on his part, and disdain and loathing on hers.

“There’s nothing between Jax and me,” she said, as the personal shopper came back, her arms laden with garments.

“I’d never spend the day with Lucia; I don’t like her. She’s a greedy shrew. He’s marrying the wrong woman this time,” Grace said.

Raven smiled a little. She liked Grace, but she doubted Grace’s opinion mattered to Jax.

“Let’s find a late lunch,” Grace suggested after Raven changed into new boots, skinny jeans, and a dark chestnut-colored turtleneck sweater.

“But what about—”

“We’ll have everything delivered,” Grace said, rising from the step and picking up her purse. “A Brooks pays for convenience.”

Raven stood in front of the mirror and took in the woman standing on the dais. Her parents would let this woman into their home. This stylish woman, standing in leather boots and jeans that cost more than what Jax had thrown at her after dumping her on the sidewalk, would be welcome. She was the picture of sophistication and grace. But was she a convenience to the Brooks’ family? Or an inconvenience?

Lifting her chin and gathering her courage, Raven decided to find out.

As promised, Mariah greeted her when Grace brought her back to Jax’s house. It seemed silly to call it a house, because the size demanded a more proper description, but it sounded stupid to keep calling it a mansion.

She’d never been in a house of this size, and Raven had gotten turned around more than once while Mariah gave her the tour.

Thick, heavy curtains blocked out most of the natural light, and as the tour went on, Raven felt like she was being led through a dark, stuffy museum.

Mariah showed her the library as promised, and she waited patiently while Raven chose enough books to keep her occupied in her room for quite some time. Watching TV was not her usual hobby. Even before her parents kicked her out, reading had been her preferred form of entertainment. Sometimes, just to have somewhere to go, something to do, Raven would go see a movie at a little rundown theater near Z Avenue, but she wouldn’t use the TV in her room alone.

Mariah brought up a dinner tray a short time later, and Raven dug in, famished. Halfway through the meal she wondered if she hadn’t been invited to dinner, or if Jax wasn’t home. She didn’t see Erik much anymore, but she couldn’t expect him to visit all the time, and she hoped Jax hadn’t told him to stop spending time with her. Erik didn’t seem the type to listen to what Jax said, though. Work must be keeping him busy, and Raven winced when she had to admit she hadn’t asked him what he did for a living.

She didn’t know what Jax did, either. All she knew was he had money to burn, and she should be thankful for it.

Raven had just turned out her light and burrowed into her bed when someone knocked lightly on her door. She slipped out of bed wearing the same nightgown she’d worn the night before. Grace had chosen numerous nightgowns and sleep sets for her at Bloomingdale’s, but nothing had been delivered.

When she opened the door, she was surprised to find Jax on the other side, leaning against the wall, waiting for her. “Hi,” she said, her heart pounding. The sight of him would never fail to intimidate her. His short blond hair held in place with product, the hard glint in his eyes. The stubble along his jaw. The impressive width of his shoulders tapering into narrow hips. Jax wore a tux, the bowtie untied and hanging around his neck. That answered her question—he hadn’t been home for dinner.

“My mother said shopping went well.”

“She okayed a lot of clothing,” Raven admitted.

“I wouldn’t have expected anything less,” Jax said, pushing away from the wall. “Your lessons begin tomorrow at one. You’ll meet your tutor in the library. Don’t be late. He charges by the hour, and any minute you waste is a minute I have to pay for. Tomorrow night we’re going to dinner.”

“We?” Raven asked.

“Yes. You and me. You will have the clothing to dress for an evening out in the city, and you need to start learning social graces—at least, I’m assuming that was part of your plan?” he asked.

Raven wanted an education, at least her GED. Finding classes to attend while she lived on the streets was next to impossible. There were several places that offered GED classes, some of them free if she didn’t have access to a voucher or scholarship, but looking how she usually did, well, places didn’t always care to help her. But manners? Etiquette? Even if she could completely turn her life around, she’d never be able to afford to eat at the kind of place Jax would take her, so what did it matter if she knew how to behave in a restaurant of that caliber? Still, if he was willing to teach her which fork to use when, she should let him.

“Okay.”

“You’ll need a cocktail dress. I’m sure my mother bought you several and explained the difference between a cocktail dress and an evening gown. Dress appropriately and do your makeup. I’d bet a paycheck my mother bought you plenty of that, too. Actually, it probably did cost me a paycheck.” He scowled. “I’ll meet you downstairs at eight o’clock. I have dinner reservations for eight-thirty.”

“Okay,” she said again, but a pit formed in her stomach. She didn’t have any clothing but for the new outfit she’d worn home. Gwen’s clothing disappeared, and in the middle of shopping, Raven forgot all about the other woman’s clothes. But this didn’t seem like a thing to mention to Jax, and she let him walk away from her.

“Oh, by the way,” he said, flicking a glance at her over his shoulder, “I like your hair. It suits.”

It was the kindest thing he’d said to her, and even after she’d fallen back into bed, her mouth hung open from shock.

Jax waited in the foyer, pacing back and forth, occasionally looking at his watch. She wasn’t late, he was early, just to get away from Lucia who was angry he was taking Raven to dinner.

“Let your brother do it,” she’d suggested, which made him bristle.

He’d seen to it his brother had other things to do. Erik had worked at Titan since Jax opened the doors to his first paying customer, but lately he’d grown soft. In retaliation, he’d given Erik a large project to oversee that had taken him out of state. Erik accused Jax of not wanting him around Raven, and Lucia’s comment grated on his nerves.

“He’s not here. If you were around more, I could have told you I sent him to Seattle to head the Waterson project. I told them they would have to deal with Erik, or no one. They took Erik.”

Lounging in bed, Lucia sniffed.

“I would think you would look more favorably upon the company that keeps you in the lifestyle of which you’d like to stay accustomed,” he said smoothly, choosing a tie from his armoire.

“I don’t like you spending time with her.”

Jax chose a tie and slid it under his collar. He sat on the edge of their bed and ran a hand up Lucia’s bare leg. Having a rare evening with no plans, she wore a satin robe and nothing else. “You don’t have to worry about that.” His hand trailed up her thigh, and musk radiated from between her legs.

She widened her knees, just a millimeter, and Jax grazed her heat, wetting his fingertips before she pushed him away, clamping her legs together.

He met her eyes and licked his fingers.

“You could have me if you kick her out,” Lucia said, shoving a pillow between her legs, preventing him from touching her again.

Her arousal permeated the room, and her flavor . . . she knew what she was doing, cutting him off. He would do anything she asked, except throw Raven out onto the street.

The exchange made him hard, and he escaped their suite. If she wouldn’t fuck him, there wasn’t any reason to hang around. To punish him further for spending time with Raven, Lucia would be gone when he returned from dinner, and most likely, wouldn’t be back until sunrise, another man’s scent covering her skin.

A noise behind him made him turn, and Raven stood before him in a burgundy off-the-shoulder cocktail dress. She’d left her hair down, but she’d added texture, the chunky locks framing a face that had been made up with a light hand.

Jax approved.

Nothing like Lucia’s made up features, Raven had added mascara to her eyelashes, a light sweep of blush, and lipstick. That was all.

But it was all she needed. Already regular sleep and decent meals were filling out the hollows of her face, and the purple bruises that had been so blatant under her eyes were fading.

She wore black pantyhose, her delicate calves accentuated by high heeled pumps. If she wasn’t used to wearing heels, her feet would definitely be sore by the end of the night.

Raven held a small black clutch tightly in her hands. Her knuckles were white.

She looked perfect, and she frowned when he didn’t say anything, simply stared.

“This is all right, isn’t it?”

Jax cleared his throat. “Yes. And you are on time. Thank you. Do you have a coat?”

“Grace said they would be hung downstairs. Wherever that means.”

“She meant in the foyer, with the rest of the coats and jackets for me and Lucia. My parents and Erik also keep a few things here. My mother stopped by?” Jax opened the closet and selected a black cape with fur trim.

He draped it over her shoulders and secured the silver chain.

“Your mother helped me put away all the clothes, going over again with me what was what,” she said.

Justin waited for them, and Jax led her outside saying, “That must have been helpful.”

After a long day at the office and the verbal sparring with Lucia, he wanted a drink and a good meal, and he took the stone stairs at a trot. When he reached the car, he realized Raven wasn’t with him. He looked over his shoulder in irritation.

Raven stood on the top step, his house looming behind her in the dark, the stars bright pinpoints in the pitch black winter sky. Lights that flanked the house’s red double doors illuminated her figure.

She’d stopped to pull the hood over her head.

Jax caught his breath, but it wasn’t from a gust of wind that chose that moment to hit him in the face.

He’d never been struck by a woman that way.

His heart had never stopped mid-beat.

Jax had effectively shut off his emotions, or, thought he had.

Carefully, she stepped down the stairs, her gloved hand gripping the marble handrail covered with snow. “She helped me choose this, when I told her you’d ordered me to dinner.”

That jerked him out of his stunned haze, and his mouth twisted. Pulling the car’s door open he snapped, “You said you wanted to learn. If you hadn’t wanted to learn how to behave in public, you should have told me.”

“I may have come from a shelter, but I’m not a dog,” Raven retorted, stepping inside the car. “I know how to eat soup without letting it dribble down my chin. I don’t know what kind of life you think I’m going to be living once I leave here, anyway.”

“You may be accustomed to the local Olive Garden, but I won’t lower my standards for you. I wanted to take you to dinner. We will go where I want to go.”

He slammed her door shut and circled the trunk of the car. Jax settled into his seat and said, “Go,” to Justin who was used to his temper and did nothing but shift into Drive and pull away from the house.

Jax settled into his seat and stared out the window.

Looking as she did, she wouldn’t fit into an Olive Garden, either.

She shone too bright for the rundown chain.

When Justin parked in front of The Lighthouse, Jax said, “Let me help you.”

“Help me do what?” Raven asked, but he was already stepping out of the car and rounding the back, the bitter wind fighting against his coat.

She clutched the handle of the door, prepared to push it open, and he pursed his lips in annoyance. The woman simply didn’t listen.

He yanked the door open. “Let me help you out of the car.”

“What for? Are my legs broken?”

“If the gentleman you are with doesn’t help you from the car, get rid of him.”

“The gentlemen I see don’t even have cars,” she said, gripping his gloved hand and stepping carefully from the sedan.

Jax kept his mouth shut. He didn’t want to hear about her “gentlemen” such as they were.

Her shoe slipped on a patch of ice, and Jax steadied her, pulling her to his chest. A car pulled up behind them, and the headlights made her eyes glow soft, like the scotch he favored. A puff of white breath escaped her lips.

“That is why you accept help. You would have been down on your ass in three seconds flat. Now hold onto my arm, and I’ll assist you into the building.” He pushed the car door shut and pounded on the side, letting Justin know he was free to pull away.

“I feel like a little kid. I’ve lived on the street for thirteen years, Jax. I can take care of myself.”

Her scent tickled his nose, something light, something that smelled vaguely of cinnamon and apples, and Jax unstuck his tongue from the roof of his mouth. “There will be a day you won’t be alone, Raven.”

“A woman is always alone.”

Jax didn’t have a chance to respond. The hostess recognized him and immediately motioned for the coat check girl to take their heavy winter jackets. She didn’t give Raven a moment to even fluff her hair before she stepped away to lead them to a table. When his assistant called to make the reservation, he’d instructed her to ask for a table in the back, somewhere in a corner, but the hostess, a curious glint in her eye when she looked at Raven, seated them in the center of the room.

He wouldn’t argue. Not tonight. But any other evening, especially with Lucia, he would have asked for the owner—the chef indebted to him. Jax had invested in this restaurant many years ago, and his friend had never forgotten Jax’s support. Tonight’s date with Raven wasn’t important enough to go over the hostess’s head.

Raven was about to take a seat, and Jax growled under his breath, “Don’t you dare.”

People stared.

Jax wasn’t a stranger to the clientele, and his cheeks warmed. “You let me pull your chair out for you.”

“I can’t even sit without help?” Raven whispered, leaning in, her eyes darting every which way. “Are you going to cut my meat, too?”

Deliberately, he walked around the table and pulled out her chair, where she plopped in a cloud of burgundy skirt.

The moment Jax sat, a waiter brought them menus encased in thick leather binding.

Raven opened her menu and ran her finger down the list of entrees. “Where are the prices? How do you know how much everything costs?”

“They bill my company,” he said, perusing the menu.

“That doesn’t answer my question. How do you know you can afford it?”

Jax closed his menu. “Raven,” he said gently, “if you have that worry, you wouldn’t eat here.”

“What’s the cheapest thing?” she insisted.

Raven looked down at her menu, and Jax missed looking into her eyes. He reached across the table and took her hand, and her gaze flew to his face, startled. “Order what you think you’ll enjoy.”

“Well, well, what do we have here?”

Under his breath, Jax groaned, and he casually let go of Raven’s hand. Of course, Margo Brentwood, Lucia’s best friend, would be here. At least he hadn’t lied to Lucia about where he was going—the news would be in Lucia’s ear in five seconds. Providing she wasn’t . . . busy.

Jax stood and gave Raven the eye, warning her not to follow suit, but Raven set aside her menu. Jax, muttering under his breath, quickly stepped around Margo, rested his hand on Raven’s bare shoulder, and held her in place. Men stood. Women did not. With her skin warming his fingertips, and the ends of her hair skimming the back of his hand, small facts that made Margo arch an eyebrow, Jax said, “Margo, this is Raven, Raven, Margo. I’m helping Raven get settled into the city. She’s . . . new to the area. Raven, Margo is a friend of Lucia’s.”

Raven only nodded.

“It’s . . . kind of you to help,” Margo drawled, taking in as much of Raven as she could. “She’s very . . .” Margo tilted her head, “. . . melancholy. I can see it in her eyes. You don’t like the area, Raven?”

Raven stared, unflinching. “It’s very cold.”

Margo’s smile turned smug. “That is a problem.”

“Indeed.”

Jax tried to hide his smile and failed. “Good evening, Margo.”

After he took his seat, he motioned for the waiter. “I need a drink.”

“What was she talking about?”

“That cold bit? She thought you were talking about me. She doesn’t like me much.”

“I was talking about her. She’s not very nice.”

“No, she’s not, but she’s receptive. She could see you’re sad.”

“It’s a lot to take in,” she mumbled.

Jax took a moment to order for them. Salad to start, then mushrooms stuffed with crab and cheese. Filet mignon, twice baked potatoes, and green beans with almond slivers, cheesecake for dessert. Appropriate wines for each plate, espresso with the cheesecake. Jax thought she would appreciate the simple meal.

Not wanting the topic to slip away, the moment the waiter took their menus, he said, “My mother told me you almost changed your mind yesterday. What upset you to the point you would want out of our deal?”

“Grace told you that? Aren’t I going to have any privacy?”

“Do you think I have any?” Jax asked, amused. Of course she wouldn’t have any privacy. If anything, he would continue to watch her like a hawk until the minute she stepped out of his house for the last time.

“You can have whatever you want.”

Jax lowered his eyes. If that’s what she truly thought, she was mistaken.

“No one can have whatever they want. Not even me. Especially me. Things have a way of happening that can ruin any chance at happiness.”

Raven snorted, and Jax wanted to kick her for being rude. Though kicking her wouldn’t have been the best way to demonstrate manners.

“Like I feel sorry for you. Your mansion, your fancy job, whatever it is you do. A family who loves you. Like you have problems.”

“Is that what you see when you look at me?”

Raven leaned closer, shoving her elbows onto the table.

Jax winced.

“What did you see when you first looked at me? Did you see a woman down on her luck, cleaning a church, trying to make ends meet? Did you see a woman, someone’s daughter, someone’s,” her breath hitched, “sister, struggling to pay rent? Keep a roof over her head? What did you see when you looked at me, Jax? You saw a druggie, didn’t you? You saw a strung-out whore. And you used me like one, too. Go ahead and play victim. Whatever happened to you, go see a fancy shrink, and leave the pain and suffering to the people who really know what that is.”

The sommelier presented Jax with a white to accompany their salads and the mushrooms. Jax nodded stiffly in agreement after the first sip.

He stung. There was no doubt about it. He stung. Because never in his life had his words and actions been flung back in his face.

At times, Erik tried to make Jax see reason. Other people had problems. Jax’s accident wasn’t the worst thing someone had gone through. But he was consumed by what he’d done, the family he’d destroyed through a simple act of carelessness, and he couldn’t listen. Guilt ate at his insides like cancer, and the only way to keep his remains intact was to close himself off. Close himself off from love, from friendships. Only this woman sitting in front of him had, in the sixteen years since he’d pulled the trigger, made him feel anything but misery and vehement hate whenever he looked at himself in the mirror.

He’d thawed, in that church, just for a moment, and ashamed he’d felt anything, even for a second, he’d made her pay.

“Then tell me, Raven. Why were you on the streets? What is your pain?”

She sat back when the waiter placed her plate of filet mignon in front of her. The salad and the mushrooms had been taken away untouched and unnoticed.

The people in the dining room faded away, and as Raven’s eyes filled with tears, her beauty struck him. In the dim light, she looked like a painting. Her eyes shimmered with unshed hurt, her skin twinkled with candlelight, her hair sparkled. She could crook her finger at any man, and they would kneel before her and beg. For one brief second, he pictured Erik there, and though his mind rebelled at the idea, thought he should let his brother have her.

She lifted a trembling hand to her lips and took a sip of the red the sommelier had poured to accompany the beef. “I prefer red,” she said, carefully setting the wineglass onto the white tablecloth.

He waited her out.

Raven sighed. “I lost my brother when I was young. Not terribly young, but I was old enough that it hit me hard. We were close, and his death . . . was my fault. If I hadn’t been . . . well, that doesn’t matter, does it?” She met his eyes. “People can say all sorts of things, but that doesn’t absolve you of responsibility.”

Jax nodded. He knew that all too well.

“My parents couldn’t deal with my behavior, and pushed to their limits, they kicked me out. It doesn’t hit you all at once, you know? That you have no where to go. Until it starts to get dark and you realize you’re not welcome at home and you can’t go back.”

“And the makeover, the classes?” Jax asked.

“My parents won’t talk to me unless I’m ‘normal’. That’s what they say. ‘Normal’. Like anyone can be normal after something like that happens. But I’m going to try. I miss them. They lost their son because of me. I feel like I don’t deserve to be loved by them, but when I feel like that, I’m punishing them as well as myself. They don’t blame me. They never have. I’ve taken that burden onto myself.” She raised her hands to encompass the restaurant. “This is my ‘normal’. Learning how to live like this. When Grace took me shopping yesterday, that’s what I thought when I looked at myself for the first time. After the makeover. I thought, ‘this is a woman my parents would let into their house’. After thirteen years, it was a surreal moment.”

“Yet you told my mother you had changed your mind.”

“Asking you for classes, for new clothes . . . that’s just money, and you can spare it.”

Jax’s mouth quirked. “Thanks.”

Raven wiped her cheeks. “I mean, it wasn’t the money you were spending on me. It was everything else. Mariah cooking for me, your mom taking me shopping. Even Erik when he stayed with me while I was sick. I’m taking up everyone’s time, and I don’t deserve it. I didn’t consider that part of things, that’s all.”

“So would you, right now, let me off the hook?” Jax asked, curious. “Sign the papers?”

“Yes.”

He let her answer hang in the air, the murmur of patrons buzzing around them. She didn’t want people to work for her, when that was one of many things Jax took for granted. He paid them, and he would have thought staying at his house would make her feel entitled.

Lucia certainly felt that way and had taken over from the first morning she woke in his bed.

But Raven would give up any chance of finding stability because she felt bad for Mariah cooking her a meal.

“Where would you go?”

“Just drop me on Z Avenue, and I would find somewhere. I’m good at it.” She tried to smile. “I won’t freeze to death.”

“Would you feel better if you worked?”

“Actually, yes. I need to feel like I contribute.”

“That’s admirable. A work ethic is valuable. Some people go through life expecting others to work on their behalf. Do you get along with Mariah? You should eat before that gets cold.” He pointed at her plate with his fork.

She picked up her steak knife. “We get along, I think. I haven’t spoken with her much, but she did warn me to stay away from Lucia.”

Jax nodded, in appreciation for Mariah’s advice, as well as for the piece of beef melting in his mouth. He swallowed and took a sip of wine. “Good. Why don’t we ask her to teach you to cook? You’ll be helping, but you’ll also be learning a skill. We’ll take it from there, okay?”

“Why are you doing this when I just said I would give you what you want?”

Jax didn’t answer, only circled his finger in the air, encouraging her to finish her meal.

Raven fell asleep in the car on the way home, and her head lolled against the seat until it rested on his shoulder.

Why was he giving her this chance?

Because as she was telling her story, he realized just because they looked different on the outside, they were the same on the inside.

The disgust he felt looking at himself in the mirror every morning was exactly how she thought about herself.

They weren’t different at all.

They were exactly the same.