Chapter Twenty Three #2
And because I’ve well and truly lost the fuckin’ plot, I charge forward, stepping over clothes, boots sinking into a plush cream rug like a man possessed, halting less than an inch from her.
My hand comes up, and she jerks back, but I palm her hip, keeping her still.
“What… what are you…” she says, words thick and stuttering.
I slide my fingers through her hair, brushing it back as I murmur, “Why are you crying?”
“I’m fine.” Her throat bobs and she glances away, dragging her face from my touch, but I don’t let go, keeping her soft curls in my gentle grip.
My gaze collides with a bruise on her temple. Everything in me goes still, but the pounding of my heart threatens to bust through my ribcage.
“What the fuck?” The words are garbled, like they’ve been dragged over rocks. “Who the hell hit you?”
Anger like I’ve never known rages through my system until I’m practically fucking vibrating with it.
I’ve never felt such a raw, feral need to defend someone, to lash out at whoever dared to touch her.
It’s irrational, but I’m quickly learning that sense is the last thing I possess where she’s concerned.
Georgia’s brows furrow, eyes meeting mine. “What are you talking about?”
“This.” My thumb ghosts the mottled purple and red bruise. “Who did this? Is that why you’re crying?”
She licks her lip, shifting in my arms, but she doesn’t pull away. “No.”
Teeth gritted, I tighten my hand on her waist, then force myself to soften, remembering she hurt herself in the accident last week.
I flick my eyes back to the bruise. Did she hit her head when she went off road?
But the coloring’s all wrong. It’s fresh, ’bout the size of a lemon, and looks painful as hell.
“Georgia. What the fuck happened?”
“I’m fine, Kade,” she whispers, blinking back more tears that threaten to send me to my knees. “Don’t worry—”
“Don’t,” I bark, making her jump. It takes work, but I lower my voice and smooth my hand through her hair. She melts into me, so I keep doing it. “Don’t lie to me, and don’t tell me not to worry. It’s too damn late for that.”
The surprise in her expression twists something inside me. “You’re worried about me?”
Brows furrowed, I nod. “Of course, I am. You’re cryin’ in a nursery when a whole party’s happening just outside, and you’re hurt. Why the fuck wouldn’t I be worried?”
“Because…” She trails off, red-tipped nose scrunching in confusion. “Because you don’t like me.”
Rearing back, I huff. “I don’t?”
“It’s obvious.” She rolls her eyes, shuffling back a step, bumping into the dresser and trapping herself.
I follow her, not letting her get away that damn quickly, but I do drop my hand from her hair, much as it pains me. I can tell she’s pulling away—not just physically.
Same way she has every time we’ve gotten too close, or things too heavy.
Georgia keeps shit close to the chest—something I understand far too well, but with her, it’s different. Every time we’re together, I find myself wanting to open up, find my walls crumbling whether I want them to or not.
But hers only seem to get taller, thicker—damn near impossible to climb.
Won’t stop me from trying.
“Would I be touchin’ you like this if I didn’t like you?
” I rasp, brushing my thumb across her hip.
She drops her eyes, following my movements as I slip under her sweater, finding soft, warm skin that makes my cock throb between us.
“Would I have kissed you like I did—stolen the breath right from your lungs, if I didn’t like you? ”
A shiver races through her. “That’s called attraction. Doesn't mean you like me. You can hate a person and still want to fuck them.”
I choke on my next breath. Christ, this woman doesn’t pull punches, does she?
“You’re right,” I agree and she scoffs, expression pinched like I’ve hurt her feelings.
That thought makes me unjustly ill. “You can hate a person and still wanna fuck them. Can hate fuck, ’em right through a mattress.
Sometimes, hating someone can light a fire under your skin, burn you straight to your core, and fucking another person with passion like that burning through your veins? Can’t be that damn bad.”
I step forward another inch, towering over her. My palm travels higher, pausing on her ribs, and I slip my free hand under her top, surrounding her in every way. The heat from the swell of her breasts burns against my flesh, but I ignore it, not wanting to push, knowing she’ll run.
She sucks in a breath and trembles beneath my touch, hands coming up to brace on my forearms, fingertips digging into my bare skin.
“So what you’re saying is,” she whispers, arching her neck to look up at me. “You want to fuck me because you have a thing for hate sex?”
Chuckling, I shake my head and lean in, drawn to her pain, her fight and fire.
“You’re trying to distract me, freckles,” I mutter, memorizing every single starburst etched into her skin. “Tell me what happened.”
“I’ll tell you the truth,” she starts, eyes flicking to my lips for a beat before finding my eyes again, “if you do.”
“Truth for a truth?”
A nod, a breath, another shiver.
“Deal.”
Without pausing, I lift her onto the dresser, smiling at the adorable squeal that fills my ears. Her long skirt has a ruffled slit like the one she wore to the grocery store, and I use it to my advantage, stepping between her thighs.
“I can’t think like this,” she whispers. “When you’re touching me. I…” Her tongue slides across that damn lip again, making my whole body thrum. “I can’t think when you’re this close. I lost my mind the last time you… we… I can’t do that again.”
“Don’t think then, just tell me what happened.”
Her eyes flick between mine, something vulnerable and unsure hidden behind thick lashes and irises a shade of green I’ll never be able to name.
I slip my hands from her ribs to her back, trailing my palms across her skin.
She’s covered in goosebumps, but she leans into the touch, just as starving for the contact as I am.
“I…” She swallows, but doesn’t look away. “Your mom asked me to help her get all this ready. My job was this room.”
“You did all this?” My gaze swivels around the beautiful room, taking it in with new eyes.
“Yeah,” she breathes, smiling a little. “It was fun.”
I stare at the massive rainbow mural painted over Aurora’s new bed, and my mind goes back to our talk on Dusty.
She loves rainbows, and she painted one for my girl.
“Wait, you were the one sending me on wild errands for this room?” I ask, smirking. “Thought it was my mom.”
Georgia's cheeks go bright red, freckles disappearing one by one. “The rainbow and bookshelves are for Aurora. The ridiculous errands were for me.”
I blink, then bark out a laugh. “Secretly getting revenge on me, darlin’?”
Georgia shrugs, a hint of a smile. “I’m resourceful. People say it’s one of my better qualities.”
Cocking a brow, I murmur, “Thought it was your rabid hyena singing voice.”
She pinches my forearms, face scrunched up in anger I find way too damn appealing. “You’re rude.”
“And you’re changing the subject again.”
After a long minute of glaring me down, she sighs, hands dropping with her gaze. They fall to her lap and bundle in the fabric of her skirt. The immediate reaction of needing to have her touch back should alarm me, but the sadness in her eyes reroutes my brain.
“Your family is wonderful,” she finally whispers, the words so low I have to strain to hear them. “They’ve been nothing but nice to me from the very beginning. And they love you, Kade. God, your mom loves you so damn much.”
My hands still on her back for a beat, but I shake it off. Moment’s not about me.
“They wanted to do this big, wonderfully kind thing for you, for Aurora, and they haven’t even met her yet. They’re just so sure already that she’s one of them, an Archer—no questions asked, past and the situation that led you here, be damned.”
“And that makes you sad?” I murmur, heart twisting with every word.
She shrugs and I let out a low breath, bending to catch her eyes.
“Darlin’, you gotta help me out here. I can’t fix a problem I can’t see, and Christ, much as I wish I could get rid of my family sometimes, I’m not sure during a surprise housewarming party they threw me is the right time. ”
Georgia giggles, this soft, sweet sound, but it quickly turns into a sob.
I tug her into me, wrapping her in my arms. She buries herself in my chest, and I do all I can to ignore the way she fits so perfectly against me.
I slip a hand free from her top and cup the back of her head, keeping her right where I want her while she cries.
Her fingers tangle in the front of my shirt, and soon enough, I can feel her tears seeping through the material. I don’t know what the fuck she’s working through, but the sound of it breaks my already confused heart.
“I’m so sorry,” she chokes out, sinking impossibly closer until there’s not an inch of space between us. “I’m sorry I’m a mess.”
“Hey,” I say, rocking her, fingers sifting through her curls. The smell of her shampoo invades my senses, all floral and sweet and addictive as hell. “Stop that. Not a damn thing you need to apologize for. I’ve got you. You can let go.”
“I can’t, though.” Sitting up, she stares at me with so much pain, my breath catches. “Don’t you see that? I can’t let go. Not here, not with you, not in this town.”
Shaking my head, I tighten my grip in her hair and draw our foreheads together, breathing her in. “You can.”
“Kade…”
“Georgia,” I say, voice thick and demanding.
“Breathe, baby. Breathe through the hurt and everything that scares you. Breathe through all the shit in your brain telling you this is wrong or bad. Breathe through it with me, and lay your broken pieces on my shoulders. I swear to God, I can carry ’em. ”
She shudders against me, whole body trembling, and claws at my shirt like she’s begging me to do just that.
“I’ve just… I’ve been alone for so long. I’m so tired.” She inhales through another sob.
“And I thought if I finally just did it—jumped and came to Heart Springs—I could find answers. But all I’ve found are other people, other families, who are willing to do everything for each other, no matter the cost. And I…
I shouldn’t be jealous. It’s so selfish. But fuck, Kade, I’m so jealous of you.”
Of me? What’s she talking about? A humorous laugh slips free.
“What the fuck for? Georgia, I’m a mess. Up until you dropped that bomb into my life, I was barely hanging on. I ignored my family for years—too fucked up, too broken and ashamed of…” God, now I’m the one tearing up, choking on my words. “Of what I did.”
After a long moment, she pulls back and blinks tear-filled eyes up at me. “What are you talking about?”
My fingers tighten in her hair, and I let out a shaky breath. She’s opening up, vulnerable as hell because I practically blackmailed her into it. Least I can do is reciprocate.
But I can’t look her in the eyes when I do it, so I release her, stepping back. She lets out a pained whimper, like the distance hurts her, and I want to rush right back, but I don’t.
Knocking off my hat, I toss it next to her on the dresser and tug on my hair. And with one last breath, I let out the hardest guilt, the deepest pain of all.
“I killed my dad.”