Against the Rules (Harts of Passion Book 1)

by M. E. Montgomery

  "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."

  39

  Grace

  I swore I saw his eyes shimmer with moisture, but I couldn't be sure because his head drew close as he kissed me. Oh, how I'd missed those lips on mine!

  Our kiss was sweet and unhurried, the kind new lovers have when they're discovering each other for the first time. It wasn't our first kiss by any means, but it represented something new between us. There was more certainty, more security in the future.

  "I love you," Jax whispered against my lips. Our foreheads rested together. "I have for a long time, but I fought it. I was afraid it would make me weak, and I swore I'd never be vulnerable again."

  "And now?" I had to ask. I needed the affirmation once again.

  "You make me stronger."

  This time I knew it was tears that stung my eyes as I buried my face against his chest and clung to him. His lips traveled across my jaw until they met mine once again. This time, our kiss was less sweet, more desperate with need.

  His hands pus
hed through my hair, down my back, and dug into my bottom as he lifted me. We never broke as my legs wrapped around his waist. He carried me like that to my bedroom where he paused next to my bed. I let my legs fall to the ground, but I held tight to him, not trusting them to hold me up.

  After a time, our kiss slowed and Jax's hold in my hair lessened to stroke my cheeks. Our gazes held each other's, saying quietly the words our minds and hearts shouted.

  It was going to take some time to process the dramatic turn of events that happened in the past few hours. I loved the man before me, but my heart still broke for the boy he'd been.

  "I'm sorry for everything you've been through in your past, Jax." My voice trembled as I spoke.

  His expression was amazingly calm, peaceful even. "Don't be. It's the past. You've given me something much bigger, the future. Say you're with me, Grace."

  More tears spilled down my cheeks as I heard the raw hope in his voice, the slight pleading. "I'm here, Jax. And I'll be there tomorrow and all the days after, too."

  There were no more words. Jax pulled back the covers of the bed and laid me down on it. He stripped me slowly, pausing to kiss almost every inch of skin he uncovered. And then he made love to me, over and over again.

  The first rays of the sun were coming up as we lay in each other's arms. My fingers drifted lazily over the phoenix on his arm. "Does this have anything to do with what happened to you."

  "More than you know."

  "It's you, isn't it? It's you moving on, starting over. A rebirth of sorts."

  He chuckled. "You sound like a walking thesaurus, but yes, it's symbolic that way. You're very insightful."

  My thumb rubbed over the small ridges that I could barely feel beneath the ink. "Did you scar when you got it? That's not normal, is it?"

  He kissed the top of my head, then rolled over on his side to face me. "They're scars, but not from the tattoo. Part of the reason I got the tattoo was to cover them up, to remind myself I was stronger than what caused them."

  I sat up, the sheet falling to my waist. "Did she hurt you? I mean, more than, you know, the other? God, I'd like to strangle her."

  Jax snorted as he fluffed the pillows and sat up against my headboard. "No, you wouldn't. You'd find a way to help her. She was a messed-up girl who suffered more abuse than any of us know about. It doesn't excuse what she did, but she'd been a victim, too." He pulled me into his arms again.

  "Maybe," I mumbled.

  "You would. But those scars are my doing."

  I rubbed my fingers over them. "So, what happened? A sports accident?"

  His chest rose and fell beneath my cheek. "Nothing quite so innocent, I'm afraid. I did it to myself on purpose. For a very short time, I was a cutter."

  My fingers froze. Jax had so much tragedy in his young life, I shouldn't have been surprised, but I was. Every time I thought I knew the depth of his anguish, he revealed something else. "Tell me?"

  "When things were...happening, I grew angry. I wanted to blurt out everything to my mom, but I'd see her smile at Gene. She wasn't so stressed anymore. I felt trapped. Sometimes I felt like I might explode. I wanted to run away, but I knew that would also break my mom's heart. I just wanted to lash out and hurt someone, anyone."

  "So, you chose yourself instead."

  He nodded. "I found razor blades one day. I don't know what I was even looking for, but I sliced my finger. It hurt. I kept looking at the blood coming from the cut, feeling the throb. A couple of days later I was looking at the cut. It was almost healed, and it didn't hurt anymore. But I remembered that feeling. Before I knew it, I was in the bathroom with the razors. That first cut hurt and I cried, but it was like a release valve.

  "It went on for about a month. I used to carry the blade everywhere, like a security blanket. Knowing I had it helped for a while. I didn't cut every day, but with each time I did, it grew easier, and then more frequent. Then one day the need to use it overcame me at school. I asked for a bathroom pass and did what I did. Only this time, Noah caught me. Not the actual cutting, but when I was cleaning up at the sink. He saw the other cuts. I thought I'd played it off, but Noah is smart. He told my mom, who confronted me. I refused to tell her anything, and I was so pissed at Noah. I wouldn't talk to him.

  “Somehow, my mom pieced together what was going on. At first, she thought Gene was hurting me, but I finally confessed what was happening. I was afraid she wouldn't believe me, but she did. She confronted them, and she made Gene and Mallory leave that night. There were a lot of tears. She got me into counseling right away. I think she spent a month never letting me out of her sight, making all my favorite meals, and apologizing to me for not figuring it out sooner. She filed for immediate divorce. I know now that she only agreed not to report Mallory if Gene got her into intensive counseling, which, of course, he did. I honestly don't believe he knew what she was doing, but I blamed him just the same. For months, I heard my mom cry herself to sleep. I heard her beg my father to forgive her for letting it happen. I knew then I needed to be stronger for her. She gave up everything, her new husband, the daughter she wanted, Gene's income, everything to protect me.

  "I still had moments where I wanted to cut. Therapy helped some, but mostly I threw myself into working. Sports weren't my thing because I was too much of a loner at that time, but working with my hands, keeping them occupied with something other than the blade, gave me a new focus. I learned to rebuild my dad's car that my mom held on to after he died. I started working part-time for a construction group when I was sixteen, small things, but I was quick, and I learned a lot from the guys. I worked for them full time when I graduated from high school for a couple of years. I threw myself into learning everything I could about building. I think you know the rest."

  "You invented some gadget, sold it, invested the money and put yourself through college."

  "That about sums it up."

  "And that's when you decided to get the tattoo."

  "I needed to cover up the proof of my weakness."

  "Oh, Jax. There's not a weak thing about you. I thought you were amazing before, but now I...I'm just beyond words."

  "Well, there's a first for everything." He winked and grinned at me.

  I smacked his chest and pouted.

  He laughed and rolled on top of me.

  "How do you laugh after telling that story?"

  "Life goes on. And now mine goes on with you. I'm happy." He shrugged as if it was the simplest explanation there was. And maybe it was. The past forty-eight hours had been some of the worst and longest of my life. The solution was simple—Jax.

  "You're right," I said. "I love you. Everything else is just details."

  "You know the best part?" He asked, rubbing my nose with his.

  "What's that?"

  "We're just getting started."

  Epilogue

  Grace

  "Aw, that's so sweet!"

  "It's…it’s so permanent! "

  "Sounds like a commitment to me."

  It was another GNI, this time at Angie's apartment. I’d asked Angie if she minded if I invited Jade and Maggie because I had something to share with them. Faith texted earlier to say she’d be late, a rare occurrence. I hoped nothing was wrong with Caleb. And we hadn’t heard from Laurel either, but I couldn’t wait any longer. I knew I was going to need their support in the coming days. So, I'd started by telling them about Jax's newest tattoo—my name in script over his phoenix.

  I smiled. "He said the phoenix represents the break from his past and my name is his future that it’s flying toward."

  I'd never shared the details of Jax's past. They knew he'd had a childhood, but I knew they assumed it had something to do with his father's death and his mom's second marriage. Close enough.

  "That sounds like a proposal might be coming," Jade said slyly.

  "Well, funny you should mention that," I hedged.

  "What?" The word was chorused by all of them.

  "Grace, do you have mo
re to tell us?" Angie shrieked.

  "He, um, he’s not overly fond of weddings, but the word “elope” might have come up once or twice."

  Angie pointed a finger at me. "Daddy would kill you!"

  "Not to mention us," Maggie shrieked. "It's my turn to help you plan your special day."

  I was saved from further explanation when the doorbell rang. Seizing the opportunity, I told Angie to stay seated and hopped up and headed for the door. "That must be Faith," I called over my shoulder.

  I swung the door open with a wide smile that quickly fell once I saw Faith's face. Her eyes were red, and her mascara ran down her face.

  "Faith," I gasped, pulling her into my arms. "Honey, come in. Are you okay?"

  Angie joined us. "Sugar, what's wrong?" She looked at me with raised eyebrows. I shrugged in return.

  "Come in and sit. Angie, get her a glass of wine." I kept my arm around Faith as I guided her to the couch. Maggie and Jade both looked at us with alarm.

  Maggie put her arm around my sister. "Is it Caleb? Adam? Is everyone okay?"

  Faith sniffled. "Everyone's fine. I didn't mean to alarm everyone. I thought I'd pulled myself together, but on the ride over here a sappy love song came on, and I started crying all over again."

  Angie pressed a glass into Faith's hands. She downed half a glass without pause and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. I'd never seen such an unladylike gesture from her; she was the epitome of class and elegance.

  She took a deep breath. "I’m pretty sure my marriage is falling apart, and I'm not even sure I care." A tear trickled down her cheek.

  This time, the response was a unified collection of gasps. I grasped her hand. "Faith! Are sure? What makes you say that?"

  She shrugged. "He suddenly has all these after work meetings after hours or extra work to finish at the office. I suspect the extra work is his secretary, but I don't have proof. But more important is the way Caleb is happier when he's not at home. You saw firsthand at dinner how it bad it is at Mama and Daddy's house. The thing is, I don't know if I'm more upset about his possible infidelity or about how much happier I am when he's not around. I mean, how sad is that?"