by Lauren Dane
“For what? Out of whose way? You speak like you’re important in any sense.” Levi stood next to Jonah, both men keeping Raven and Daisy behind them.
“This is really stupid.” Raven touched Jonah’s arm. “Are you really going to get into a fistfight with your brother over some stupid shit his wife said and did?”
“If my brother doesn’t apologize for the likes of her comment right now, he’s going to find out the answer to that.”
“My god, Gwen, are you really going to let your husband get punched for your lies? Do you care so little about this family you profess to respect so much? What if the papers get wind of this?”
Gwen sighed at Raven’s words, touching Mal’s arm. “It’s not worth it.”
He turned to her. “Did it happen like you said or not?”
“Why would I lie?”
“That’s a good question. This is my family. My brothers and the women they’re with. I need to know the truth.”
“She was out of line in the bathroom.”
Mal scrubbed hands over his face. “Jesus, Gwen. What do you think you’re doing?” He turned back to Jonah. “I apologize for what I said. It was ugly.”
“If your wife comes near Raven ever again, or speaks to her in that manner, there’s going to be a reckoning. Do you understand, Malachi?”
“Same goes with Daisy. Gwen has done enough damage.”
“I understand.” Mal turned and walked away, Gwen hurrying in his wake.
12
They’d gone out to sushi and it actually hadn’t been bad. Levi was growing on her and it was impossible not to like Daisy.
She knew Jonah had been holding back all he wanted to say for hours, so it wasn’t a surprise that when the car pulled up in front of her building he paused, his hand on her arm. “Can I come in?”
“I don’t know. It’s late.”
“I don’t have to be up early. Do you?”
“I . . . I really don’t want to talk about it anymore. I just want to go to sleep.”
He tipped her chin to look into her face. “Baby, I want to talk. Alone. Lots of stuff happened tonight. Please?”
She blew out a breath and nodded. The driver opened the door and Jonah got out first to give her a hand.
She was so tired. Emotionally and physically. She just wanted to pull the covers up over her head and sleep for twelve hours.
He put an arm around her, taking her keys and opening her door when they got to her floor.
“I need to change.”
“No, you don’t. You’re perfect just the way you are.”
She found the energy to roll her eyes as she slid her shoes off and put them into the box before putting the box on a shelf.
“You’re very organized.”
She sighed heavily.
“About tonight . . .”
She unzipped the dress at the side and took it off, careful not to rip it before she got it on the hanger.
“Damn, it’s hard to talk when you look so good.”
She pulled on her pajamas and he followed her into the bathroom where she undid her hair and took her makeup off.
“I love to watch you do this stuff. Get made up, take your makeup off, put lotion on. I don’t know what about it appeals so much, but it’s like a secret woman code. It’s so beautiful.”
Raven had rules. She had rules and she kept people back. But he disarmed all her defenses. He made her break her own rules, and there she was after an evening where she just spilled her fucking truth all over the place.
Worse? It felt . . . all right. She’d probably be sick in the morning. Probably have bad dreams all night. But at the same time her burden was lighter. He hadn’t walked away. God, he’d defended her, all bared teeth and furrowed brow. No one ever had. Not like that.
He stepped up and brushed her hair aside enough to drop a kiss on her shoulder, and tenderness filled her to the point where her eyes swam with unshed tears and she had to close her eyes against them, and against the way he looked standing there.
“I’m sorry. First my mother and then Gwen and my brother. Christ. I’m so embarrassed.”
She shook her head, pulling herself back together. “Your mother was fine. As for Gwen, I had it handled.”
“I want to say something and I don’t want you to take this the wrong way.”
She met his gaze in the mirror, trying to stave off disappointment and panic. But she didn’t see the hey-it-was-nice-but-it’s-over face.
Still, she braced herself as she moved back into the main room to settle on her bed.
“It’s not okay with me for anyone to grab you the way Gwen did. The way she spoke to you was bad enough. But to physically get into your business? No. I’m not having it.”
Oh, well, that was better than breaking up with her. She relaxed a little.
“I didn’t either. I. Handled. It.”
“You wouldn’t have had to if not for me.”
“Which is why I told you I wasn’t benefit material.”
“Fuck that!” He pulled his tux jacket off, having long ago gotten rid of the bow tie. She’d have been lying to herself to deny how much she enjoyed how worked up he was getting. As it happened, he was pretty hot when he got agitated. And it was in defense of her.
“Look, you’re with me. This stuff, dinners and benefits and that jazz, comes with the territory. There is no way I’m going to tolerate any sort of disrespect toward you. Period. Gwen is out of her fucking mind. Jesus. First of all, she’s lucky you showed restraint. You’re a good four inches taller and I’d put money on you ten times out of ten.”
She smiled at him. “You really do give good flattery. Anyway, she’s probably the type to cry at the sight of a bug. She doesn’t matter. She touched me and that was when we had the problem.”
“I’m never sure how you’re going to react to anything I say.” He took his shirt off and she sent him a raised brow. “What? Don’t you want me to be comfortable?”
“I told you I was feral when we first met. You’re the one who keeps poking around.”
She kept replaying the part about how she was with him and how he wasn’t going to tolerate any disrespect of her. Over and over, like a shiny treasure.
But she wasn’t some society babe. She nearly got into a fistfight in the ladies’ room.
“I can see the look on your face. You stop with this feral crap. You’re not the one who caused a scene in a bathroom at a charity benefit.”
“Well, let’s be real here, Jonah. It’s not like I tried to heal her with the love from my heart when she came in and started getting crazy. I poked her. Plus, I said that stuff to your mother.”
He took her face in his hands. “She needed it. And I did too. When you reveal stuff like that it breaks my heart. Even as I am so amazed by you and your strength.”
“Don’t build me up into something I am not. I shouldn’t have popped off. She’s your mother.”
He snorted. “She was being rude and you slapped her with it. It’s good. She respects that. I know that’s sort of psycho. I can’t make excuses for her. She’s very protective and sometimes it turns her into a total bitch. But you held your own.”
“Look, I’m no stranger to how women relate to each other. It was just a lot in one night.”
“I’m worried about Mal. I have been for some time. This situation between Gwen and Daisy has been simmering for nearly two years. She had avoided Levi because she knew he’d skin her alive if she did another thing. I don’t know what finally pushed her into action. But thank you for defending Daisy. You didn’t have to.”
“Of course I did. Also, she insulted me too. I hate to point out the really totally obvious but how has it escaped your notice that she’s unnaturally obsessed with who Levi is fucking? And you now? Did you? Or did Levi, you know?”
The horrified disgust on his face answered before he said a word. “No. Good god. She’s been with Mal for several years. I was with Charlotte when they first got together. Levi
with Kelsey. Neither of us would have done that to our wives or to Mal for that matter.”
“All I’m saying is that she’s really interested in something that’s really just not her biz. And so why? It is my belief, given the little I’ve seen, that she’s got a hard-on for Levi. And because you and Levi are close, now that I’m around, she just sees it all as one bad thing.”
“I’m thoroughly creeped out now.”
She laughed, pushing him to his back. “You don’t find her the least bit attractive?”
“Fuck no. She’s not my type. Is she yours?”
“No. I never went for dainty women. Or helpless women. Or helpless men either. She’s got a barely leashed sanity thing, not cute. But she’s married to your brother.”
“I saw his face tonight. He looked really sad. I don’t know how this will shake out for him, or for them. Back to my mother for a second.”
“God, why? It’s like you keep throwing cold water on me.”
“The whole auction thing. I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. It’s what people do when they get involved with a charity.” She shrugged. “It’s a good thing. I don’t mind helping out.”
“But you don’t seem to have a lot of positive memories of your experience in foster care.”
She sucked in a breath. “Look, I really don’t do vulnerable well. I’ve said a lot today, more than I have in a really, really long time. I’m raw.” Horrified, she heard the tears in her voice and tried to turn away, but he was there.
“Shh.” He gathered her close, even when she tried to push him back. “Let me. If not for you, for me then.”
She let herself believe the lie that it was for him instead of her. Let herself go still, burying her face in his neck, breathing him in, holding on tight.
“Will you let me sleep over? So I can hold you?”
She tried to get free and once he knew she really wanted it, he let her go and she got some distance.
“I’m not . . . comfortable with it.”
“Why? You’ve shown me the most intimate parts of yourself. Do you think I’d care about morning breath?”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t.”
“Do you think I’d hurt you?”
If he’d asked in a different tone, one absent a thread of hurt, that curiosity that was really about her and wanting to know her, she might have resisted. But she was too tired to hold the words back.
He saw it break over her. The moment she decided to tell him. And he braced himself.
“I don’t sleep over. I don’t couch surf. I don’t let anyone sleep with me. I don’t sleep with anyone in the room with me. Not ever. There are times I might sleep at someone’s house, but I barricade the door from the inside. I have these mini alarms that go off if someone opens the door when I’m asleep.”
He sat up, needing to be near her, but he could see in her body language that he needed to give her some space.
“When you’re asleep you’re vulnerable. People can do stuff. And you don’t know until it’s happening.”
Sick, he clenched his hands into fists.
“So I had enough of that. When I left . . . when I came out to L.A., I made myself many promises. That was one. I don’t think you’d hurt me.” She started to cry and it seemed to startle her as much as it did him. “I don’t. But I don’t know if I can do it. I don’t know. I’m not normal, Jonah. I’m jagged and fucked up and I don’t know if this is going to work between us because you have a normal life and you have people who love you and you can sleep in the same room with someone and not have nightmares about being raped.”
He was up, moving to her before he knew it. He pulled her into his arms and they both went to the floor. He rocked her, her tears on his skin, her entire body trembling as he stroked a hand over her hair and made wordless sounds to comfort what couldn’t ever be comforted.
He held his own emotion back. Just barely. But he knew she needed to get it out. The way she sobbed he bet she hadn’t given in to tears in years. This needed to be about her, and if he let go of the rage simmering in his belly, she’d hold back. And God knew she’d held back more than enough for far too long.
She finally quieted down and after a time he pulled back enough to look into her face. Her gaze was down and he kissed her forehead. “Hey.”
“I’m so sorry.” She tried to move but he held her in place.
“I don’t accept your apology. You don’t get to apologize for having emotions. Now. How about some tea?” He stood, bringing her to her feet along with him. He kept an arm around her waist as he moved to the kitchen area.
She said nothing as he deposited her on a stool at the kitchen island and rustled through her cabinets. “Christ, who knew you’d be the type to have ninety types of tea?”
She sighed and he looked back over his shoulder. “You’re going to have to help me. Which?” He waved a hand at the array of tea she had in her cabinet.
“The one with the sleepy bear on it.”
“Ah. Makes sense I guess.”
He put water in her teakettle and teabags in the mugs.
“I don’t know what to say. Other than I’m honored you shared so much with me. And that you’re amazing.”
“I’m not amazing. I’m someone who had some bad shit happen to her. It’s not unique. It doesn’t make me special or amazing. I told you this before.”
“And you were full of shit then too.”
She sighed again, so much emotion in such a simple thing. He knew he had to back off, to let all the stuff she’d said—and the fact that she’d said it—percolate. She needed it, that space. But he wanted so badly to gather her up and take care of her.
“So I have a proposal.”
“Does it involve your cock and any part of my anatomy?”
He grinned at her. “You know me so well. But actually, not this time. Maybe later though. I have several guest rooms. How about you come back to my house. You can use my bathroom to your heart’s content. You can sleep over in one of the spare rooms.”
Wariness warred with exhaustion in her features.
“There are locks. On the doors, I mean. My house has a great security system too. No one can get in without my knowing it. I’ll leave you be. Until the morning anyway. We haven’t had morning sex yet and so, well, when you wake up you can come to me.”
She wanted to say yes. Really badly. Not least of which because she really loved his bathroom and that claw-foot tub looked like heaven on earth.
“I promise to leave you alone.” The kettle whistled and he turned to take care of it and pour the water to steep. “I’ll be there if you want me. But I’ll let you make the choices. Don’t be alone tonight. I’m going to worry about you if you’re not with me. And I know that’s selfish.”
“And manipulative.”
He handed the mug her way. “That too. I want you there. For both of us. But you’re so fucking stubborn you’ll say no, thinking you don’t need it. But you do. And it’s been a hard day and I want you to have it. I want you to sleep tonight knowing I’m just down the hall if you want me. I want you to be in my house when I wake up. I want you to sit at my table and drink coffee with me in the morning. Let me take care of you. Let yourself be taken care of.”
“Why does it matter to you?” She needed to know, though she wasn’t sure how she’d feel when he answered.
“It matters because you matter. I can’t remove your past. I can’t kill anyone to avenge you. I can’t make it better that way. But the thought of you here alone after all the stuff you’ve revealed tonight? After the shit with Gwen and my mother, after what you’ve told me about sleeping alone? It tears me up. Because I care about you and I want you to know you mean something to me. I want you to understand I’d do anything for you, including going back to my house alone if that’s what you need. But I don’t think it is. I think you’ve been alone for so long you think it’s normal. But it’s not. Let someone care about you. Let me fucking help in some way.”
<
br /> She took the bag out of her mug and sipped. Chamomile would soothe her nerves and her stomach too.
“All right,” she said at last.
He sighed, his shoulders relaxing. “Good. Drink your tea and we can get a bag together for you.”
13
He tried to ignore the sound of her in his bathroom. She moved slow, like she’d been in a car accident or something. And he supposed in a sense she had.
He’d brought her to his place. She even let him drive her car. He’d put her bag in the guest room just a few doors down from his. She’d run her fingers over the lock on the back of the door as she’d left the room and his heart broke anew.
He’d urged her to his bathroom, telling her he’d return with a glass of wine in a few minutes, and she’d nodded without saying anything.
For then though, he stood in his hallway, leaning against the wall where pictures of his daughter, of his friends and family hung and felt, in no small amount, like that car had hit him too.
She was damaged and jagged. It was true. No one who lived a life like the one she had could have escaped it without a healthy bit of baggage.
That she was so bold and blunt and brutally honest, even with herself, didn’t make her weak. It made her strong. He wished he knew how to make her see it. But he desperately didn’t want to fuck it up. Didn’t want to make her regret sharing.
She seemed confused—befuddled even—that he hadn’t rejected her. That he wanted to take care of her and hadn’t walked away. The helpless rage of it battered his heart.
Because he loved her.
God help him, he loved her so fucking much it hurt to breathe as he thought about her just on the other side of the door. Holding it together because that’s all she had.
He sucked in a breath and stood taller. He’d be what she never had. He’d love her with the same surety he did everything else. There was nothing but that to be done. He knew he had to be careful not to feel sorry for her, though goddamn, he did in so many ways. But she didn’t want or need pity. His pity would only drive her away, or worse, make her think the reason he wanted her was to fix her.