by Kelly Moran
She nodded, but the gesture appeared involuntary. “The, um…” She closed her eyes. Shook her head. “The accident that killed my parents was a house fire.”
He flinched, straightening in his seat. Of all the things he’d expected, that hadn’t even made the list. In his career, he’d saved a few families from that very thing. Pets, mostly, since they were always the last to get out and couldn’t on their own. Blessedly, he’d never lost a human on one of his calls. Not for a fire, anyhow. Car wrecks or medical emergencies, sure.
Leaning forward, he set his hand on top of hers in her lap. “I’m sorry. That must’ve been awful.” He could relate. He’d lost his own dad while the old man had been on duty.
“It happened at night. We were sleeping.” She chewed on her lip, her pause a heinous one. “My bedroom was upstairs. By the time I woke, my room was engulfed. I climbed out of bed, terrified, but then I was too afraid to move.”
No. Ah, Christ. No, no, no. The hairs on his arms rose. He hated, despised, where this story was headed. His fingers clenched around hers, and he nearly begged her not to finish.
“I have scars as a result.”
Shit. A cold fist squeezed his windpipe and seized his breath. “How…?” His voice cracked. He shut his eyes and tried again. “How bad?”
“Third degree burns on my calves below the knee and fourth degree on my feet.”
He choked. Outright choked as his eyes grew hot and his stomach bottomed out and his lungs quit. Mary Mother, he wouldn’t wish that on his worst enemy, never mind her. Third degree meant grafting and surgeries and excruciating pain. Fourth degree meant…
“All my toes were amputated.”
He grated a sound of duress, foreign to even his ears. He lowered his head, fought for composure as visions of a younger version of her caught in a nightmare pummeled his brain. He’d seen plenty of horrible, ugly scenes in his day, but nothing compared to a burn. The sickly smell, the pain. As if the wounds themselves weren’t bad enough, the treatments were worse. And she’d been just a girl.
She sighed. “I spent months in the hospital. Even more time in rehab. I had to learn how to walk again. They put me through a lot of therapy, occupational and psychological. Coping with the loss was especially hard because I couldn’t attend the funeral due to my injuries. No real closure. Added to that, I missed almost two years of classroom studies while I was privately tutored from treatment facilities. By the time I was ready to return, I’d lost what little social skills I had. I was shy before. It was crippling afterward. I wound up homeschooling until high school.”
In the wake of her silence, she met his gaze, and he wanted to die. Right on her couch with a movie in the background. Just die. In her pretty golden depths was a world of hurt he couldn’t begin to imagine. One would never guess she had all that turmoil inside her, lying in wait. She was such an innocent, endearing, sweet soul. Happy with the smallest things most took for granted.
And he hadn’t given her enough credit. Because it took one hell of a strong person to survive what she had, to come out the other side unjaded.
What was he supposed to say? How did anyone properly respond to something so gutting? And that was assuming he could speak.
“That’s why I haven’t dated much, why I’m awkward, and why there’s only been one lover.” She squeezed his fingers. “I have stockings I wear that cover my injuries. You can’t tell I have the scars until I take them off. No one’s seen my legs since I healed. Only my family and medical personnel. I kept the stockings on when…” She shrugged. “You know. When I was with him. I was insanely nervous. He said I was too chaste for him. We broke up that same night.”
Son of a bitch. Now, that? That he could offer a reply. “Where can I find the prick?”
She looked up in thought. “I think he moved to Nevada. He’s an accountant at…” She jerked her wide gaze to his. “Oh. You meant, um, to like beat him up?”
Beat, pummel, maim. Semantics.
“Yep.” One call to Parker, and they’d never find the douche bag’s body. Jason would see to it.
She breathed a laugh. “It’s okay. I wasn’t all that into him.” She watched him a moment as if dissecting his expression. “I’m sorry about my reaction. The scars don’t hurt anymore, but I guess the act of touching them sets me off.”
“You don’t need to apologize to me, sweetheart. To be honest, I’m-sorry-for-what-you went-through doesn’t encompass it. I’m leveled just hearing you tell me. But, listen.” He took her hands in his, met her in the eye. “I know the scars are a constant reminder, and you haven’t shown them to anybody, but if we’re going to continue, at some point we will get undressed.”
Her shoulders sank. “They’re ugly, Jason. I don’t want you seeing them.”
“Nothing about you is ugly.”
Since she seemed hesitant, not quite believing him, he kept going, offering assurances.
“We’ll go as slow as you wish. And if you don’t want me to touch your legs, I won’t. You’re going to have to trust me.”
He blinked and looked away. He’d just asked a woman to trust him. As in, what people in a relationship did. What the actual hell? Yeah, he’d told her he’d try, but—
“There’s more.”
He turned his head, confused. “More what?”
“More to tell you about what happened.”
What? She wasn’t done? Please, God, don’t tell him that was only the beginning.
No. Not tonight. He couldn’t handle any more. Call him selfish or evasive, but seriously. One step at a time.
“Later.” He adamantly shook his head when she opened her mouth. Nuh-uh. “Save it for later and tell me then. Okay? Okay.”
“Jason—”
“Please,” he begged. Actually begged, but whatever. He was at the end of his rope. “Later.”
Chapter 14
“You need to tell him, chica.”
Ella leaned forward on the couch, elbows on her knees, head in one hand, phone in the other. The knots in her stomach were tying more knots. Her cousin wasn’t saying anything Ella didn’t already know. Or think about every hour on the hour.
“I’m trying to figure out how. Every time I try to bring it up, he shuts me down.”
Two weeks they’d been doing the dating thing, and every moment her guilt peaked. Jason had an inability to discuss serious topics. At least, for long anyway. They did have conversations, brushed on the difficult moments from their pasts, but if the matter went too deep, his switch flipped and he was done.
“That’s not an excuse. You’re a big girl. He deserves the truth.” Greta sighed one of her infamous drama-laced exhales. “I understand it’s hard, but the longer you wait, the more upset he’ll be.”
“I know.” Gosh, did she ever know.
Part of her, a very small part, was grateful for his avoidance. It had allowed her to live in fantasy land where someone liked her just for being herself. She didn’t have to bite her tongue or wonder what to do next or question her every move. He listened, made her laugh, paid attention, and always asked about her day like the answer mattered to him. Most of all, he knew about her scars, hadn’t run after learning about them, and seemed as attracted to her as he’d been when they’d first met.
To tell him would be a slap back into reality where she’d be alone again. And worse off than before because now she knew what having someone care for her felt like. Aside from family, she couldn’t recall an instance where that had occurred.
He’d called himself selfish once. Every person, in one way or another, had selfish tendencies. He couldn’t hold a candle to her right now. This house of cards she’d allowed them to build was going to crash with the slightest breeze, and that was assuming he didn’t bolt after they finally made it to the bedroom.
“Maybe he’ll understand, Ella.”
Maybe. Or maybe he’d hate her and she’d hate herself more for hurting him.
“We’ll see. I have to go. I’m meeting him
and Parker at Shooters.”
It was the first time he’d asked her to do something in public. Up until now, they’d only swapped apartments for dinner and movie nights. Which was fine. She’d enjoyed them immensely, but she’d begun to think he was embarrassed to be seen with her.
And didn’t it figure? They were going out in front of townsfolk, but Parker would be there. Chaperone? To make it look like friends hanging out, not a date?
“Have fun, chica. Put your big girl panties on first. Tell him tonight.”
Ella closed her eyes. “I’ll try. I love you. Thanks, Greta.”
“You’re welcome and I love you, too.”
She stared at her phone while her belly cramped. Spilling her guts to her cousin last week about Jason had been the right thing. It forced someone else to hold her accountable. Still, the regret was getting so heavy, she could barely move. She’d asked him to try, to go above and beyond his comfort zone to be with her. And he had. The man who’d never slept with a woman twice, never tried commitment on for size, or made plans beyond the next hour had tossed aside his instincts and stuck with her.
How did she repay him? By lying. To his face. Day after day. Night after night. Date after date. Lying. The most gutting part was he trusted her. He only had a handful of people he could say that about, and she’d made the list. To break that bond could mean he’d never allow himself to do it again.
Sea biscuit, she had to find a way to spill the beans, even if it meant just blurting it out in random conversation so he couldn’t stop her.
Rising, she grabbed her purse and left.
Shooters was pretty busy when she arrived. Pool balls clacked and darts thwapped boards and people mingled. In the dim glow, she glanced around and spotted Parker at a scarred pine corner table. He smiled and waved her over.
She made her way through the bodies and grabbed the back of an empty chair at his table. “No Jason yet?”
“He’s running late. We both just got off an emergency call.” He gestured to the chair she was holding. “Have a seat. He’ll be here after he showers. Until then, I can grill you for details.”
Laughing, she parked her butt. “Details about what?”
“The two of you.” He grinned. “He doesn’t tell me anything other than what you guys do together. What witch juju have you used on my buddy? He’s suddenly all domesticated.”
“No juju. We’re just taking it slow. If that’s a bad thing, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Forgive my shock and awe. It’s…well, kind of like an apocalypse. You’ve been seeing each other a couple weeks, right? Matchmaking aside, that’s unheard of for Jason.”
She nodded, gaze on the table. “He says things could change after physical stuff. You might get your old friend back then.” She kept trying to brace herself for that, but feared it was impossible.
Parker choked, coughing violently. “Do you mean to tell me you haven’t…?” He coughed again and lowered his voice. “Don’t answer that. It’s none of my business.”
He was Jason’s best friend and he worried about him. Parker wasn’t a gossipy sort of person. She had to wonder why she and Jason not having sex was such a big deal, though. “We haven’t, no.”
He whipped around in his chair toward the bar. “Emma Jane, another please! Make it a double.” He faced Ella once more. “This is a game changer. I need fortification.”
“I don’t understand.”
He was smiling, shaking his head, but he was behaving like she’d knocked him over the skull with rebar.
Emma Jane brought over two glasses on a tray. “Whiskey double and a kiddie cocktail. Enjoy.”
Ella frowned. “I didn’t order anything.”
“Jason called. He said to give you one of these while you wait for him and to put it on his tab.”
“Er, okay. Thank you.” As she watched the bartender walk away, it struck her why he’d ordered her this particular drink. The night of the charity ball, he’d told her it looked like a mixed beverage, but had no alcohol. He was probably looking out for her so she would feel less awkward with people watching. “That was sweet of him.”
Parker pointed to her glass. “Hard to get drunk off that. Impossible, actually. Sugar comas don’t count.”
She laughed. “Inside joke between me and Jason.” She took a sip, and fruity explosion hit her tongue. “It’s good.” Cradling the glass, she tried to recall where they’d left off. “Why is not having sex a game changer?” Better yet, why did Parker need alcohol to hear the answer?
Down went his glass on the table. Up went his brows to his hairline. “Two weeks, Ella. He’s made it that long. Two hours with anyone else is pushing it. And he’s not getting anything physical from it?” He shrugged. “Hate to say it, but The Battleaxes were onto something here. He’s sunk. I’m taking a metaphorical bow. I didn’t think it could be done, but you’ve got him falling for you.”
Good thing she hadn’t taken another sip. “Be serious.”
“I am.” He gestured to his drink. “Note the single malt.” On a dime, his demeanor shifted from playful to contrite, and he scratched his jaw. “I’m happy for you. He’s got his flaws and a boatload of faults, but Jason’s a good guy. I love him to no end. We’ve been best friends since before I can remember. But he’s been in Neverland too long with a Peter Pan complex when it comes to relationships. I really, really hope he doesn’t do anything to screw it up.”
No, Jason hadn’t done anything wrong. It was her that was going to mess up everything. “Have you ever carried a secret so long that it chipped away at you?”
He stroked his fingertips up and down his glass. “What kind of secret?”
“The kind that might force Peter Pan back to Neverland for good.”
“Oh, boy.” He sat back in his chair, arms crossed. “Is it something I can arrest you for?”
“No.” She tried to swallow and couldn’t. “But it broaches a sensitive topic for him, and he doesn’t know I had a part in the outcome.”
His forehead wrinkled. “Jason avoids deep emotion. Doesn’t mean he can’t feel, but he needs a lot of coaxing to reach that point. The only sensitive topic I can think of is his dad.”
She kept mute while everything in her wanted to scream. Cry. Confess.
Her lack of response had Parker on edge, judging by the stiffness of his shoulders and the firm lips in a flat line. His curious gaze darted between her eyes, back and forth, as if trying to drill through her head to uncover the secret.
Finally, he narrowed his eyes. “Sensitive topic for Jason. You said you had a part in the outcome. His dad is the subject.” He inhaled slowly, releasing the breath through puffed cheeks. “Mr. Burkwell died on duty when we were eight.”
“While saving me,” she said quietly, biting her tongue to stave off tears. “Died while rescuing me.”
His eyes widened in a clear no-effing-way.
She nodded.
“Oh, shit.” Snatching his glass, he slammed the whiskey in one swallow and hissed through his teeth. “Oh, holy shit.”
“Lou knows. He was there that night on duty. I don’t think many other people do or have made the connection.” She had no idea why she’d told Parker, other than needing to unload. She hated secrets and lying. It was carving out chunks of her to keep it bottled.
Parker shook his head. “Jason hadn’t wanted many details at the time. He was too upset. He almost never brings up the subject. He probably has no clue there were survivors.”
“I’ve been trying to find a way to tell him, but the Battleaxes started meddling and things escalated. I never in a million years thought I’d have any kind of relationship with Jason, especially dating. We lived across the street from one another for almost three years and only recently just met.”
He barked a laugh. “No one would’ve ever thought he’d enter a relationship. Not willingly.”
“I don’t know what to do. This will hurt him. I know it.”
“All right.” He plac
ed his hand over hers. “Breathe. Here’s my advice.” He dipped his head closer, gaze direct in emphasis. “Wait until the perfect time. Hard to say when that’ll be. He needs to know, yes, but you have to ease him into it. This is not something you can just lay on him. Plus, if you use the term we need to talk, he’ll wig out.”
She nodded, agreeing.
“On the flip side, you are not to blame for what happened. Be prepared for Jason to blow up. But after he calms down, when he thinks about it, really thinks, he’ll realize you aren’t at fault.” He sighed, releasing her hand. “You’re a victim. This happened to you, not because of you.”
It had taken a lot of therapy, but she knew that much. Guilt had a mind of its own, though, and Jason might not see that view. And two burning questions remained…
“Could he get over it and move on? Or would I be a constant reminder of the worst day of his life?”
Sympathy filled Parker’s eyes, curved his mouth into a sad smile. “I don’t know. All you can do is be honest in the kindest way possible.”
“Honest about what?”
They jerked their attention to Jason, standing tableside. Wearing jeans and a black tee, he swiveled his attention from Ella to Parker and back again.
Shoot. How much had he heard? Her heart pounded and nausea rose up her throat. This was definitely not the time or place to explain anything.
“How much of a pain in the ass you are.” Parker grinned and popped a pretzel into his mouth.
“Hilarious. Know what’s a pain? That last call today.” Jason glanced down at her. “Two toddlers trapped in a car while mom was at the bank. Took three seconds for her to realize she’d locked the keys inside. Took five minutes to arrive and ten seconds to open the car for her. Everybody was fine. Did she accept that? Nope. Had to check them out and send the kids to the hospital via squad. Insane. They were laughing and waving from their carseats, thinking it was the coolest thing.”
He leaned over her chair, bracing his hands on the wooden arms. “Glad to see you, though.” He grinned. “How was your day?”
Before she could reply, he kissed her. Head tilt, full tongue, tonsil hockey in front of the whole bar kind of kiss. Guess he wasn’t embarrassed to be seen or have anyone know about them. Good thing, too. The noise level had dimmed to murmurs.