Jagged Edge

Everything a man looks for in a partner.

Crazier still the fact I’m asking myself the question. As if there’s a chance this might work out.

He takes his own plate and a wooden board with sliced bread and sets them on the table. “Coffee?”

I nod, then turn to look for the coffee maker, only to find the coffee already brewed. Fuck, I don’t know how to make myself useful. Plus, I feel oddly naked without my clothes and makeup on.

I go to grab two mugs, telling myself that tomorrow morning I’ll come in here first to get breakfast ready—and then freeze with the mugs in my hands when I realize the implications of that.

I’m planning on being here tomorrow. And the day after that.

Holy shit.

I return to the table as if sleepwalking, set the mugs down and sink into my chair. Then I catch Raine’s gaze on my pierced nipple, and I feel the odds even out a little. At least there’s no doubt he wants me. I’m on solid ground there. I feel like I’m on a raft in the sea, and I cling to this tiny bit of certainty as everything else I’ve ever known tumbles past, vanishing in the waves.

“Not hungry?” He’s adding milk to his coffee, and I stare down into the murky depths of mine.

I put the mug down and dig into my breakfast. It’s damn good, and I wonder why I’m not wolfing it down like always, until I remember the injection yesterday. Normally after I come down from a high, I’m not hungry.

My mind keeps churning. Faint images from the dream, memories, the hellish hours at the Club yesterday haunt my mind. The cuts on my leg and my side itch. My bruises ache. I’m bone tired, and yet restless.

He puts his fork down, tucks a strand of shiny dark hair behind his ear. I want to do that for him, brush his hair off his forehead, feel it slide between my fingers. Is it normal to want this? Would it be something a boyfriend would do?

“I have to go to Collateral today,” he says. “We have this two-day event with Soul Stain, a tattoo shop from Chicago. Come with me?”

I shake my head. “Nah. Your brother and Jesse Lee think I use their money for drugs and booze. I doubt they want to see me there.”

“Jase.” His hand sneaks over the table and grabs mine. “No. They never thought that. Those doubts… they were mine.”

What the hell… “I thought…” All this time I thought they didn’t trust me. I try to pull my hand away, but he won’t let me. “Shit.”

“Don’t.” His hand is crushing mine, but I barely feel it. “This is my fault. I should have made sure it was clear they never said anything like that. I was going to, then with everything going on I forgot. I screwed up, Jase, and what I said back then? I did lots of things I’m not proud of, and I hurt you. I’m sorry.”

His eyes are wide, honest. Tinged with remorse.

He did hurt me. Weird how I can feel the pain now. Anger made me numb before, but now that anger is fading away and I feel it. I feel everything.

“Jase.” He gets up and drags me to my feet. He puts his arms around me. “Say something.”

I’m still in his hold as thoughts crash through my head, one on top of the other, and I realize something very important.

He’s not perfect. He’s not some flawless guy who knows everything, who knows what he’s doing. He’s fumbling, just like me. Hell, he’s younger than me. I keep forgetting that. Younger both in age and exper

ience with the world.

And as for his anger… it’s not his privilege, this rage against the unfair world. We share it. We’re much more alike than I ever thought. I like his anger, since it’s my anger, too. And if I caught the brunt of it before, I saw it turn to affection, and so I know it’s possible.

It’s possible to turn the anger into something else. Something better.

“It’s okay,” I whisper and realize I really mean it. I summon my last shreds of irritation, struggle with them. “But please don’t ever fucking do it again.”

There.

Or not? I’ve no fucking clue what to say anymore, who to be. If I let him help me, if I don’t go back to working the streets, then…

Then what will I do?

He pulls back and kisses me. “I promise. No more anger and misunderstandings.” He kisses me again, and I melt against him, losing the thread of the conversation. “You sure you don’t want to come to the event with me?”