Fever (Breathless 2)

“I don’t know,” she whispered, unable to look at him any longer.

She dropped her gaze, closing her eyes. She felt so . . . unworthy, and she hated that feeling. Hated it with a passion. She’d spent a lifetime feeling unworthy, unlovable. Not good enough.

“Look at me,” he said firmly.

When she hesitated, he lifted her chin with his hand until her face was directed toward him. But her eyes were still shut.

“Open your eyes, baby.”

When she did, her vision was obscured by the sheen of tears that threatened.

“Don’t cry,” he said huskily. “What it says is that it doesn’t matter to me. I knew that about you, and I still went to the shelter. I’ve been looking for you for two goddamn weeks. I’ve scoured every fucking shelter I could find, hoping like hell to find you in one of them. And when I didn’t come up with you anywhere, it made me livid because I knew you were out there on the goddamn streets, cold, hungry and alone. Where I couldn’t protect you. Where I couldn’t make sure you had enough to eat. Where you didn’t even have a fucking coat to keep you warm.”

Despite his command for her not to cry, a tear slipped down her cheek and collided with his hand. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her face and then he kissed his way upward, removing the damp trail.

“Now, tell me who did this to you,” he said, anger vibrating in his voice. “I want to know everything. I’m going to take care of you, Bethany, but I have to know what I’m getting into here.”

She shook her head adamantly. “You can’t. Jace, I can’t move into your sister’s apartment. You can’t just sweep in and take over. Life doesn’t work that way. It never has.”

Impatience glittered in those dark eyes. “Life works however the hell you make it work. And the hell I can’t take over. Not to hurt your feelings, baby, but you haven’t done such a great job taking care of yourself. I’m going to change all that.”

“But why?” she burst out. “I don’t get it. I was a one-night stand for you and Ash. I can’t do that again. You were my relapse. I can’t go back down that road. I won’t. I’ve worked too hard to get to this place.”

She was shaking by the end of her outburst. And deeply shamed that she’d just blurted all that out. Wasn’t it bad enough that he knew about her arrest? Now he’d think she was a whore on top of being a drug addict.

“What place?” Jace demanded. “A place where you have no home? Nothing to eat?”

“To a place where I could gain back my self-respect,” she said quietly.

She edged backward on the couch, ready to bolt toward the door. Jace seemed to know exactly what she was contemplating. He moved fast, before she could even blink. He was right up next to her again, arm wrapped around her waist. Trapped. She wasn’t going anywhere.

“Start talking. Everything, Bethany. Tell me what you mean by ‘relapse.’ And then you’re going to stop avoiding the question I’ve asked you four times already. I want to know who the fuck put their hands on you,” he said menacingly.

Not knowing what else to do, she leaned into his chest, burying her head on his shoulder. He seemed surprised but then he wrapped both arms solidly around her, surrounding her with his strength and warmth. He rubbed a hand up and down her back and he pressed kisses to her hair.

And he waited. He sat there with her firmly in his embrace, and he remained quiet, almost as if he could see her struggling to work up the courage to tell him what he wanted to know.

There was no way he’d want her after she told him everything. No way in hell. One part of her was relieved. It solved the issue of him taking over and butting into her life. But a huge part of her was devastated.

Jace was pure temptation. He did and said all the right things. Things that went straight to her heart, and worse, they inspired the one thing that she’d given up long ago. Hope.

“It’s a really long story,” she said against his shirt.

“I’m not going anywhere, baby. We have all night. I’m here. I’m listening.”

God, he was too good to be true. She closed her eyes and inhaled sharply, sucking in the smell of him. And then finally she drew away.

“Why don’t you let me get a blanket. We’ll get comfortable on the couch and sit in front of the fire. You talk and I’ll listen. Deal?”

She took a deep breath and then took the plunge. “Deal.”

Chapter eleven

Jace pulled her into his arms and she snuggled against his side, curving her body into the hollow of his shoulder. He arranged the blanket around them and tucked the ends securely over her body. When he was done, he kissed the top of her head and she knew it was time.

Time to lay bare her soul. To tell him all her shameful secrets. The things that haunted her sleep to this day. He simmered with impatience—had been all evening—and yet he’d displayed remarkable restraint. He was likely ready to strangle her, but this wasn’t easy for her and perhaps he knew it.

“For as long as I can remember, it’s always been Jack and me,” she said quietly.

Jace tensed against her. “Who the fuck is Jack?”

“My brother,” she said truthfully. It wasn’t a lie because he was her brother. It didn’t matter that they didn’t share a parent. Jack was her guardian angel. And now she was his.

His grip around her loosened the tiniest bit and he went back to smoothing his palm up and down her arm.

“Nobody wanted us when we were young, and so we were in and out of foster homes. Sometimes we got split up. Other times we were together. Mostly in group homes of some sort. As we got older, we rebelled, especially if we were going to be placed apart. We got into trouble. A lot.”

Jace kissed her temple and left his lips there a long moment, offering her silent support.

She pondered a moment the best way to get the nuts and bolts of her past out without spending a lot of time on details. The story wasn’t pretty. It definitely wasn’t all hearts and flowers. The very last thing she wanted was for Jace to feel sorry for her. But he needed to know enough to understand what he was getting into. Just like he wanted. She knew he wouldn’t want her after finding out the mess she was. But at least she had one more night where she could pretend that things were very different for her.

Sadness gripped her and she knew it showed in her expression. Jace brushed his knuckles down her cheek and she could see his frown from the corner of her eye.

“Tell me, Bethany. It won’t make a damn bit of difference.”

But she knew it would. It always did. It always would.

She sucked in a deep breath and plunged forward. Better to have done with it quickly. Like ripping off a bandage instead of peeling it slowly. “When I was eighteen, I was in a bad car accident. I was in the hospital for months. Broke both legs. It really sucked. I had to basically learn to walk again. Lots of therapy. The pain was overwhelming. I got hooked on painkillers. In the beginning, my using them was absolutely a legitimate medical necessity. When I took them, everything was better. No pain. They made me confident, able to face the world. They made everything seem not so bad and hopeless. I began to need them, not for physical pain, but for emotional well-being. When I tried to go off them, it was horrible.”

A low growl escaped Jace’s throat and she blinked back tears. Of course he’d disapprove. He was probably disgusted with her weakness. Jace didn’t strike her as a person who ever needed anything or anyone. He was strong. She wasn’t. She never had been.

“That was what the drug possession charge was for,” she mumbled. “I was no longer able to get the prescription from my doctor and the pain and psychological effects were so horrible. I just couldn’t cope. So I did something stupid and I bought them . . . illegally. What’s bad is that I didn’t even use them. I got caught in a sweep. Didn’t have a prescription. Got arrested for having a schedule-three controlled substance. I got off with a slap on the wrist, but it was a hard lesson to learn. Even though I got off pretty light, it fucked up a lot for me. It’s hard to get a job when you have that arrest on your record. No one wants to hire an addict.”

Jace squeezed her to him and she felt him tremble against her. Anger? She couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t bear to see the censure in his eyes. She’d beat herself up enough over the years. She wasn’t going to let someone else do it for her.

“You said Ash and I were a relapse. You said that night that you’d had a threesome before. Where does that fit in?” Jace asked quietly.

More shame crawled over her shoulders until they slumped downward and her lips drooped in dejection.

“Baby,” Jace said in an aching voice. “Everything. You tell me everything, we’ll never talk about it again unless you want to. But you need to get that shit out. It’s like poison. And until you realize that it doesn’t change a goddamn thing for me, it’ll eat at you. You’ll always worry. So we get it out, put it to rest and then we move forward. Okay?”

She nodded, a roar in her ears. She couldn’t possibly believe what he was saying. He didn’t know everything. He was trying to be noble, but he wouldn’t feel that way when she finished.

“When I was trying to get off the meds, I went through a really bad time when I tried a lot of bad things to cope with withdrawal and the psychological dependence on the drugs. I used sex as a balm, only it never worked. It only made me feel worse about myself. I had several partners during that time,” she said painfully. “Threesomes. One on one. It didn’t really matter to me. I was just looking for something to ease the pain. Just needed a way to escape for a little while. I wanted to be . . . wanted. Loved.”

Jace hugged her even tighter to him, holding her against his chest so she couldn’t even move.

“I wasn’t so stupid that I didn’t use condoms. The guys were probably worried they’d catch something from me. I had a reputation, Jace,” she whispered. “It wasn’t a good one.”

She nearly choked on the words. Hated admitting that. Hated putting it out there that way. But she wasn’t going to lie. Jace deserved to know everything. He was a good guy. Too good to be true. He didn’t deserve to be saddled with someone like her.

“What the fuck is going on in your head right now?” Jace demanded, his voice cutting through her morose thoughts.

“You deserve better.”

Jace swore viciously. “You’re honest. Blunt. Normally I’d like that. Hell, I’d love it. I appreciate honesty and someone who speaks the truth without regard to consequences. But goddamn it, Bethany. I deserve better? What the ever-loving fuck is that about? What about what you deserve? Have you ever given thought to that?”

She didn’t have an answer to that question.

Jace shook his head and squeezed her harder. “I don’t care how long it takes, baby. You’re going to see you like I see you. You’re going to get it through your head that you deserve better. And I’m going to make damn sure you get it.”

She swallowed and breathed back the tears. How could he see her as anything? He didn’t know her.

“What else?” Jace asked. “Give it all to me. Get me to where you are right now.”

“There’s not much else to tell,” she mumbled. “After the drug possession charge and the string of meaningless sex partners, things just disintegrated. It was my fault. I could have done better. I could have been more responsible. But I wasn’t and I paid the price. No one would hire me and I didn’t have the money to go to school and make a better life by getting an education. The accident took so many months out of my life. And I was tired and beaten down. I couldn’t even think beyond the next day, much less look ahead a few years to see what life could be like down the road.”

“Jesus,” Jace muttered. “How old are you now?”

Her brows scrunched together. “Your investigation didn’t tell you that?”

“I said I knew a lot. I didn’t say I knew everything,” he said dryly. “I hit the important points. Your age doesn’t mean jack shit to me, unless you tell me you’re still a minor.”

The attempt at a joke heartened her, injecting just a tiny bit of lightness into her chest.

“I’m twenty-three,” she said, wincing even as she said it. Way too old not to have her shit together. Way too old to be homeless, uneducated and jobless.

“Still a babe,” he murmured.

She glanced sharply at him. “How old are you?”

“Thirty-eight.”

Her eyes widened. There was fifteen years’ difference between them. Fifteen!

“And Ash?” she choked out.

“Same.” Suddenly his voice was clipped and he didn’t look happy that she’d mentioned Ash.

“Wow,” she mumbled. “I would have never guessed you were thirty-eight. You’re fifteen years older than I am.”