20. Dominguez Hills
DOMINGUEZ HILLS
Jamie
My longing for Jordyn transcended the physical realm. Why was it so easy for me to fall into the trap where I correlated feeding her mind, her heart, and her soul with stolen touches and kisses?
My shirt was off by the time she lifted her legs around me. Not sure how that happened because our lips never left their locked and loaded position. It was like we were trying to speak to each other through the heat of our mouths to solve the ache with contact.
I planted Jordyn onto the office desk, swiping the table calendar, a glass jar, and a telephone handset to the floor.
The jar shattered on the cement. The pens clattered like a warning.
My hands gripped her thighs like they were the last solid thing anchoring me to earth.
Jordyn reached down to pull off her hoodie. I stepped back for much-needed air.
Head bowed, I dragged a hand through my hair, trying to steady my breathing. Steady my heart.
And there it was. A faint splotch. Blood. Perfectly inlaid in a Fourth of July rug. Mam came to the office every season and spruced up the place. She never must’ve gotten around to swapping the firework holiday rug with something more festive for Christmas. Heck, for Halloween and Thanksgiving.
You did this to your mam, Jamie.
I shook the truth from my mind. Mam had a knack for finding colors that would conceal a smidge of blood, even after slapping her sons and nephews who left said blood.
My weak spot had just removed her hoodie. Hands stopped at the hem of the shirt she hadn’t pulled up. A look that could turn my heart into glass and shatter it flashed over her face. Shame . She murmured, “Is it … me, Jamie?”
Her insecurities gutted me. “What? No.”
“I stink?”
I roughed a hand over my face. “No. Well, we both do. That industrial soap in the bathrooms before dinner helped a little. After years in close quarters with Marine Raiders, my sense of smell is scorched. One time, I sat in a pigsty with an MK18 carbine mounted with a holographic sight for hours. Didn’t take a breath. ”
She chuckled, despite herself, the sound pulling at something tight in my chest. I needed to fully explain why I stopped so she’d never have to be insecure around me. Never have to wonder. Two reasons. One—“We sort of stepped on a crime scene.”
“What?” She rushed off the table.
I crouched down, pointing to the familiar splotch on Mam’s festive rug on the white portion of a USA flag. “Blood.”
“That’s … something recent? Maybe someone had a papercut or a nosebleed.”
Standing, I approached a set of built-in cabinets and opened them. I waved a hand. “Exhibit A. More of the same rug. The matriarch of Clan MacKenzie always buys extra to swap them out when?—”
“Your mam.” She took on the accent. What a hell of a job .
“I don’t talk like that.”
“You do.” Jordyn folded her arms. “You?—”
“ I hold no grudges against them.” I had to get to point two and eliminate her insecurities, but Jordyn put her hand on her hip. And you didn’t cut off a woman when she did that.
“You’re gonna refer to her as Mom , Mam , Momma , bruh. I don’t care. Put some respect on her name. She pushed you into this world, sweating, bleeding, and hollering. No matter how horrible this place is, she gave you a chance.”
I stared at Jordyn for a beat. Man, she had that mouth.
For the first time, I wondered if she was using it wisely.
Wriggling my jaw, I continued, “ Mom purchases more than one rug when updating the office each season and tells the family—” My family ?
Crap , Jordyn had a way of making me feel petty at the moment.
“Tells ‘em to swap out the rug if necessary.” I reached down, moved a portion of the rug, and gestured to the trap door, mostly hidden by the desk. “Maybe if I tell you what goes on down there, you’ll be on my side.”
I didn’t believe that how far a man fell away from God dictated much.
They all had a chance at forgiveness. The second a searing pain struck a Clan MacKenzie enemy as they lay on that cold slab down there, they’d remember their Maker.
But what of my clan? Would they stop playing judge?
That answer resounded in my mind. A big fat nae .
Here, I wanted to discuss us, but my family kept coming up. After all those years away, they’d pushed their way into my life. My mind. The only relationship I cared about.
Jordyn took my hand. “Based on the look in your eyes, I get the similarities between their actions and our ordeal. Just a different approach—physical strength instead of sexual subjugation. I know without a doubt that they haven’t crossed that line.
Maybe I’m biased. It’s easier for me to hate someone who dominates to capture another’s innocence.
To dehumanize them with slaps, and choking, and …
” Her voice broke. “All the other things I’ve gone through. ”
Her truth wasn’t easy. But it was honest, and in all honesty, I wanted to expire every man who’d ever touched her.
As if she sensed that I’d always protect her, Jordyn smiled reluctantly. “But the way I see it, Jamie, your parents judge wrongs. Just like you.”
My anger spiked. “Why are you giving them a pass, Jordyn? What’s wrong is wrong! I give people a choice. To do better. To change.”
She tilted her head, no judgment passed over her face, just factual assessment. “I get it. You feel remorse for the gardener, Hector. That was a mistake. PTSD. But now … if someone doesn’t do better? They die, huh?”
Okay, maybe not facts, then.
“ They— ” Aye, I was gonna steer us right back to the real problem: Those MacKenzies she loved to bring up. “ They initiate gun deals! Drugs!” I snapped, using more force behind my words than I intended. “I assure you; their sole pursuit is their own agenda!”
Jordyn flinched, and I instantly hated myself for it. “I’m sor?—”
“No. It’s okay, Jamie. You’ve been on the other end of my rants.”
“Hey.” I cupped her face with my hands, anchoring her with my touch. “You don’t deserve me yelling at you. But you do deserve to understand me better, Jordyn. The look I saw on your face after we stopped kissing just now … it wrecked me.”
Arms crossed, Jordyn looked away. Her lip trembled before she caught it between her teeth. That same wall she’d torn down so many times—the one fortified by shame, by survival—re-erected itself. Insecurity signed itself all over her face.
My eyes scanned CCTV monitors that flitted through live sequences. Parking lot. Garage. Front gate. No threats. But the threat in this room? The girl losing her trust in me.
“Jordyn,” I said, voice low, deep, firm. “I am attracted to you. You make my heart race. My hands shake. My thoughts blur. You. Undo. Me.”
Her eyes snapped toward mine—frustration, fire, pain. “Then why does it feel like I’m the only one falling? Like I’ve thrown myself at someone who doesn’t know what to do with me?”
I maintained a respectful distance since Jordyn’s arms walled her off. “Just because I’m asexual doesn’t mean I’m cold. Broken. Or incapable of love.”
“I know that, Jamie.” Her voice cracked. “You told me already. Still … I’m trying to wrap my mind around that.”
“No.” I groaned. “You’re still coming from a place where touches equal love.
For the past five months, I’ve tried to show you—really show you—that physical desires aren’t the starting line for me.
Doesn’t mean that never shows up. God knows, when you kiss me …
” I paused. “I feel it with every part of my being.”
“I thought I was the only one who feels—” Jordyn cut herself off, head lifted to the ceiling, she pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry. You say you feel. It’s just …”
“It’s just not the way you’ve been loved in the past.”
She glanced at me, eyes glassy, chest rising.
“I want you to want me, Jamie. All of me. Not just the trauma—because, hell, that just makes me feel like a project. Like I’m a broken bird, and you’re nursing me back to health.
But love on this body. The very body I fought to love again—after how much I hated myself for what others have done to me. ”
“Okay, I get that. We will get to that. You’re frustrated. I’m frustrated. And somewhere along the way tonight, I started confusing feeding your heart, your mind, and your soul with stolen touches and kisses.”
She lightly pounded the sides of her fists against my chest. “I want that! Stolen. Offered. I don’t give a damn, Jamie. Touch me.”
I grabbed her hands, gently, firmly, stopping the tiny blows. They weren’t violent. But desperate. Raw. Anguished. Tortured as if every hit she’d issued to my chest hurt her more.
“That is how I know you’re attracted to me,” she whispered.
I held her wrist, careful not to cage her in. “I am attracted to you. But I’m also honoring you. And myself. That’s why I stopped when it went too far. I’ve decided. I think … I want to wait for marriage. Our marriage.”
I couldn’t tell if she fully believed me, but she stepped back, shoes crunching glass. Her gaze dropped to a shattered photo frame on the floor. Carefully, she picked up the golden frame. Shards of glass fell.
Camdyn had texted me the same portrait last Christmas.
He wore a tuxedo, the collar concealing all the tattoos—unnecessary depictions of violence—on his neck.
Willow was in a ball gown, and they sat on really nice-looking chairs.
Camryn, the eldest, had his hand on his mother’s shoulder.
Her hand reached back naturally and clasped the top of his while he stood at her side.
The boy who’d grown up so much over the years resembled a man.
A horde of kids sat around them. That right there was the reason I asked Leith for his help.
I couldn’t pull Camdyn into this. My brother, no longer tortured by the guilt of not getting taken too, had stopped snorting coke.
He’d made a life for himself and honored Willow the way she deserved.
I could do that for Jor?—