Chapter 33 #2
“You suffered a lot, but I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.” I can’t help but shake my head, because the thing about promises is they always get broken. No one can save me from my past trauma; only I can conquer the terrors that keep me up at night.
“Don’t. Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” As soon as the words fall from my lips, his lips touch my wet cheeks, forcing my eyes to meet his.
“I intend on keeping every promise I make. I will spend the rest of my life proving myself to you, owning every promise. Come on, let's get you changed.”
After getting changed, I slide back into bed.
Jace lies on his back on a new gray fitted sheet.
“Sorry about the sheet and waking you up.” Pulling up the covers, Jace rolls onto his side, now facing me.
I take in his sweetness and the way his soft voice brought me back, the way he made me feel at ease with only a few words.
His eyes scan over me, watching me as my mind reminds me why I wanted him all those years ago.
“Let me hold you. Let me make it go away, as I did then.” He opens his arms, making a spot just for me.
Just like he did when I was seventeen, my body molds into his frame, closing off every gap and crevice that was once between us—like two pieces of a puzzle, fitting perfectly together, erasing the line between them, and creating one piece.
I knew he was my other half, the one my heart and soul longed for.
I tried to hate him, I lied to myself for months, pleading for the memory of the way his fingers felt draped around my torso would fade.
Or the way his heart beat with mine, easing all the pain I had ever felt, replacing it with peace.
I prayed that my forced hatred would destroy all the ways I wanted him.
I remember asking him to take it away, the pain, the thoughts, the night.
I wanted him to bleed it from my memory, to make me forget.
I slide into his warm embrace, lying on my side, with a pillow supporting my leg.
Jace’s soft voice vibrates my back, “I have to work tomorrow night. I’ve asked if Mr. Wilder would sit with you while Hay and I work.
I turn my head back, “I don’t need a babysitter, I’ll be okay, I promise.”
His finger runs circles along my arm, “I know you don’t need one, but it will make me feel better knowing someone is here with you, in case you need something. Let me help you.”
I take a deep breath, “I don’t know how.
It’s not that I mean to sound ungrateful.
It’s just that I always do things on my own.
I figure it out, it’s what I’ve always done.
Don’t misunderstand me being here. I am here because I want to be, not because I need to be.
Trust me, I’ve been in worse conditions and alone, and I made it.
But, I do appreciate everything you’re doing for me; it’s just going to take me a while to learn how to let someone in. ”
His strong arm wraps around me, pulling me into him.
His whisper is soft, as he leans just above my ear, “You can stay here as long as you want to. I know exactly who you are, Lilla Lane; I knew before you did. You are strong and resilient, and I know you are the last person who thinks you need anyone. But if there ever comes a time when you find yourself needing someone, need me.” With a soft kiss, he rests his head on the pillow, and I fall into a vortex of memories, of all the times he saved me from myself.
The morning comes, and I surprisingly feel well rested.
Jace is already awake, and the smell of coffee pulls me from bed.
Walking to the kitchen, I spot Jace standing behind the island, making eggs and bacon.
“Good morning.” He is shirtless, in his sweatpants, with wet hair, and a smile that makes me weak in the knees.
“Morning.” He pours a cup of coffee and holds it out for me. “Coffee and breakfast are on the way.” He kisses my cheek and passes me quickly, and heads to the bedroom.
My eyes follow his every move as they trace over every tattoo that lines his body.
When he comes back, a black shirt hugs his once-bare skin.
“Why won’t you let me look at them?” I take a sip of coffee and sit in the chair.
He shakes his head as his hand runs through his hair.
“It’s her, isn’t it? The girl from the pictures on your dresser.
” He looks up from cooking, with desperation in his eyes.
“Absolutely not. The picture on my desk is of my old co-worker, Shay. We worked together, but we lost her during a call. I put her picture there to remind myself why we do this. To fight for people who need us, to save people, because at the end of the day, that’s all she wanted to do.
” He advances over to me, “I’ve never lied to you.
I won’t start now. I’ll make you a deal.
You be a good girl, and let Mr. Wilder babysit you, and once that cast is off, you can inspect my body, inch by inch.
” With that, he turns back to the stove and begins plating our food.
“Deal.” I give him a soft smile and dig into breakfast.