Authors: Ayden K. Morgen
This trip is so different than our last ride together… I can't help the smile on my face. There's no tension here, no misery. Everything is good. The sky is clear blue. There's no traffic. Jared hums quietly along with the radio, his fingers laced together with mine.
I want to break out in song.
"You look happy."
"I am."
Jared laughs, his lips turned up at the corners. "Don't sound so surprised, beautiful girl."
"I think I am," I admit. "Surprised, I mean."
"Yeah?" He glances at me again, his eyebrow arched in question though that soft smile still lingers on his lips.
"I'd forgotten how this feels." My confession is quiet, but honest. I truthfully can't remember the last time I felt so good. Like I can breathe a little easier for once. There are complications all around us, but I have my feet beneath me for the first time since I landed at the airport.
Jared lifts my hand to his lips and presses a kiss to my knuckles. "Happy looks good on you, Savannah."
I smile at him again, blushing, and we both lapse into companionable silence once more.
"Can I ask you a question?" he asks eventually.
Nodding, I shift in my seat a little so I can see him better.
"Did he hit you?" The question is faint, but intense. So is the way he avoids my gaze.
My heart beats a little faster, anxiety shooting through me. I take a deep breath and manage to push the swell of fear back down. "No," I whisper. "He never…" I stop myself before I can say that Toby never abused me, because it'd be a lie. He never hit me, but he didn't have to hit me to make me hurt. "He was more insidious than that."
Jared squeezes my hand, his shoulders slumping. I'm not sure if relief or anger fuels that move, and I choose not to question it before I hurry on, wanting to get this conversation over with as quickly and painlessly as possible.
"He was very demanding sexually. Very harsh. I never did anything right. I was never good enough. The things he wanted me to do for him… they hurt," I whisper, keeping my eyes wide open against the memories threatening to bowl me over. I take another breath and hurry on. "He threw things – at me or across the room. He yelled and cursed and called me a hundred different names, and hurt me in a thousand different ways. But no, he never hit me. I guess I got lucky in that respect."
Jared's quiet for a minute, processing this information. And then he glances at me again, repressed fury burning in jade depths. It's so intense it pins me to my seat. "He was a fucking idiot, Savannah," he whispers, heat in his voice. "Any man who doesn't appreciate you for the gift you are doesn't deserve to touch you."
I don't know what else to do or say, so I nod.
We lapse into silence again.
Jared speeds toward an off-ramp on the south side of the city, and then weaves confidently through the mid-day traffic. The silence between us is tense this time as I try to shove Toby back down into the place he belongs: my past. He's controlled enough of my life. I don't want to give him any more.
"I'm adopted, you know," Jared says while we wait at a red light.
I glance up in surprise and find him focused on me again.
His expression is shuttered, careful.
"I didn't know," I murmur.
"My biological father was abusive." His eyes dart toward the traffic light and then back to me. "I was only seven when the Corbits adopted me, but I still remember being terrified when my father would start hitting my mom."
My heart breaks a little for him. "Jared, I'm so sorry. Is that… is that why you're adopted?"
He shakes his head.
The light changes.
"No. He and my mom were killed in a car accident." Jared pulls carefully through the intersection. "He was drinking and wrapped the car around a light pole. They died instantly."
Oh, God.
My heart breaks for him a little more.
"I'm so sorry," I whisper. It seems completely inadequate, of course. "My father was killed when I was eighteen months old. He rear-ended someone's truck one morning. The guy got out and shot him right there." I don't even remember my father, but his death still makes me sad. It still makes me wonder… If he'd survived, would my mom still be here?
I'm honestly not sure if she'd have been different. She never really wanted a kid. She never wanted that responsibility, but he did. He wanted me, and I never got to know him. That fact will never stop hurting.
I clear my throat, pushing the heartache away. "What are your adopted parents like?"
"They're great." Jared's face lights up, that same soft smile from before tugging at the corners of his lips. "My dad is Chief of Neonatology at Benioff and my mom is… my mom." He laughs. It's one of those indulgent laughs, like he doesn't quite know what to make of her, but can't hide his adoration. "Her parents owned shipping ventures, vineyards, and a myriad of smaller companies abroad. They left it all to her, so she does a little of everything when the necessity strikes. She's a silent figurehead for the most part, but she takes great pleasure in laying down the law on occasion. She's frighteningly good at it."
"Wow," I manage to say. "Is that where your interest in business came from? Watching her?"
"Mmm," he murmurs, and then, "Are you okay with Greek?"
"Greek is good." I swallow back the urge to sigh at his evasion, reminding myself that this was my choice. I decided not to push. Still…is it too soon to regret that decision a little?
"Good." He flips on the blinker and whips into a parking lot. Pulling into a spot, he turns the car off before looking at me, his expression serious again. "Business bores me, but it's a necessary evil."
"Oh." I have no idea at all what to say to that. I'm fairly certain any questions will end in the same C word again. Already, I dislike that word.
Complicated.
And bound to get even more so.
"I'm asking too much of you, aren't I?" Jared's expression twists, turning hard and bitter.
"Huh?" I blink, confused.
"I'm asking too much, expecting you to just accept all of this with no real explanation." He sighs and closes his eyes, leaning his head back against his seat. "After everything you've been through, why would you just accept it? How could you?" He shakes his head. "You deserve more than for me to ask you to wait for the truth, but I'm asking anyway. Give me time," he pleads softly. "Just please give me time to figure this shit out, love."
My heart aches a little at his plea. At how torn he sounds. At that endearment. How can I say no – how can I change my mind? – when I want exactly the same thing? Time. To revel, to be… to not hurt and just be happy?
Time.
I think about the little lopsided flower I pressed inside my book. The one I want to keep forever. The one he plucked for me, not because he had to, but because he wanted to. Because, for some inexplicable reason, he feels that same
something
. For me.
"Please don't break my heart," I whisper, swallowing hard.
His eyes slowly flutter open and focus on me. "Never," he says.
That promise echoes in jade green, searing it into me.
I believe him.
How can I not?
Chapter Nine: Feels Like Home
Jared helps me from the car and then laces his fingers through mine, leading me into a tiny Greek restaurant crammed between a boutique and a nail salon at the back of the parking lot. Neither of us speaks, but the tension from our conversation has dissolved, leaving us wrapped in comfortable silence once more.
The smells coming from the little restaurant are heavenly. My stomach rumbles, hunger shooting through me. My mouth begins to water. I honestly can't remember the last time I was so hungry. Or the last time I ate.
"Let's get you fed, beautiful girl." Jared grins as if he can hear the sounds my stomach makes, pulling the door open for me. I expect him to release my hand after he ushers me inside, but he doesn't. He merely steps up to the hostess booth and shoots her a blinding smile, seemingly unconcerned by anyone seeing us together.
"Table for two, please," he requests.
The middle-aged hostess blinks up at him with her mouth hanging half open and then she bobs her head, scrambling to get menus and silverware together. Her face is bright red and her hands shake. She casts quick, furtive glances at Jared. I understand exactly how she feels.
When he smiles at me with those green eyes shining, I feel exactly the same way – completely overwhelmed.
She trips while leading us up a set of three steps and into the restaurant.
I gasp when Jared's fingers trail up my bare arm before he releases me. His hand is back before I can miss it, wrapping around my waist and gently squeezing my hip. He keeps it there as we follow the hostess toward the back of the restaurant.
She stops in front of a small table and gestures silently toward the booth on the other side. Her face flames a little brighter when Jared grins at her again, winking.
I shoot her a small smile of solidarity.
The man is downright intoxicating when he's happy.
"Perfect. Thank you, sweetheart," he murmurs, waiting for me to slide into the booth.
I do so gracelessly, the skin over my scars stretching. None of them really hurt anymore, but they're uncomfortable. Jared notices my grimace and brushes his fingers across my cheek, instantly soothing me.
I smile up at him.
He shoots me another crooked grin before stepping around the hostess to slide into his seat.
She sets our menus and cutlery down in front of us and mumbles that our server will be right with us. Before either of us can thank her, she's gone, hurrying back the way we came.
The heat of Jared's gaze rests on me.
I turn back to him only to find him staring at me intently, as if he's memorizing every little detail of my face. His eyes are bright green under the dim light, missing nothing. Heat blooms in my cheeks. The urge to hide my face and all the little imperfections behind my hair is strong. I'm not used to such close scrutiny. Especially not from someone like him.
How did I end up here with him?
I'm a mess, inside and out, riddled with scars and wounds and so many insecurities, I sometimes think they're going to swallow me whole. I'm more out of place than the poor hostess, completely adrift in his presence. He's so perfect, and I'm so very not. And yet, I'd rather be here than anywhere else.
It's disconcerting.
"What are you thinking?" Curiosity brims in his quiet question.
He leans forward and traces the line of my blush with one fingertip.
I'm sure that causes my face to flame brighter.
"Um, nothing," I mumble quickly, unwilling to share my thoughts with him. My gaze darts around the restaurant. We're the only two seated in the area and it's surprisingly nice for such an out of the way place. The tabletops gleam with polish. "Do they break dishes here?" I blurt, trying to divert his attention.
Jared drops his hand to the tabletop and cocks a brow at me, his lips twitching with amusement. "Do you need to shatter a few plates?"
"Ah… no?"
He reaches for my hand, lacing our fingers together on top of the table before flashing that crooked smile again. "Then, no," he says. "The dishes are safe here. It's a very relaxed, very restrained place. None of the usual exuberance of a Greek restaurant."
"It's cozy," I murmur.
"Again with the surprise?" He chuckles, grinning. God, he's so lighthearted and happy, it's almost as if he's never been anything other than relaxed around me. As if he'd rather be here with me than anywhere else. "You're killing my ego, beautiful girl."
"I didn't mean it like that," I hurry to explain. "I just meant–" What did I mean? I raise my other hand and gesture at him. "You're so…. And this place is–" I huff and shake my head, halting my miserable attempt at an explanation when his eyebrows climb a little higher.
His eyes shine with amusement though, and I know I haven't offended him.
I apologize anyway. "I'm sorry. I'm just…" Confused.
He's such a mystery to me. He's so
different
than he has been since I stepped off the plane and all but knocked him down. All the frustration is missing. All the tension and anger. It has been almost since the moment he kissed me last night, as if I somehow eased his burden. He's actually laughing, completely at ease for once.
I'm having a little trouble getting used to the change.
"You're so different today," I tell him.
"I'm happy," he murmurs, his expression turning serious. He plays with my fingers, looking at me from beneath those long lashes of his. "I'm here with you and I'm just really fucking happy."
My heart flips in my chest again and all I can say is, "Oh."
"Yeah," he says. "
Oh
." He's still rubbing little designs into the back of my hand with his thumb, but he falls silent. "I really have been an overbearing ass to you, haven't I?"