33. Can I Touch You? #2
I blink at him, throat tight. “If that’s okay?”
He squeezes gently. “It’s more than okay, Melina.” A beat. “Tell me. Tell me everything.”
I draw in a shaky breath, steadying myself enough to get the words out.
“I had worked late that night. Got home maybe… two in the morning. Dead on my feet. All I wanted was a shower and sleep.”
The swing groans as I shift, eyes locked on the dark yard, but I’m not here. I’m there.
“As soon as I walked in, something felt… wrong. Heavy. Like the air itself knew before I did. I shoved it down. Told myself I was just being paranoid.”
My grasp tightens on the blanket.
I set my bag on the counter, heated up leftovers. Routine. Normal. Until I stepped into my bedroom.
I look at Jax. His expression is already grim, braced.
“They were on the bed. Roses. Laid out like some kind of gift.”
His jaw ticks, a muscle jumping, but he says nothing.
“Roses were never love. They were never romance. They were apologies. Every bruise. Every lie. Every time he broke me down. That night was no different.” My throat burns. “I barely had a chance to scream before his hand was over my mouth.”
The memory slams into me so violently my chest heaves.
“I dropped the bowl. Food splattered everywhere. I fought. God, I fought. I clawed at his arms so hard I drew blood. Bit him. Hit him. But he was high—out of his mind. He didn’t feel a thing.”
Jax’s hands flex against his knees, fists curling tight, before he forces them open.
“He threw me into the nightstand, and my head cracked the wall. Everything went black.”
My voice falters, dropping to a whisper. “When I came to… I was naked. Handcuffed to the bed.”
Jax shuts his eyes like the image itself is a blade.
“That’s when he raped me for the first time.”
A strangled sound escapes before he swallows it down, his throat working hard.
“When he finished, he beat me. Screamed about how I’d left him. Said if he couldn’t have me, no one could. And then it started again. Over and over. All through the night. I begged him to stop. Begged him to think of our kids. But all he cared about was taking what he thought belonged to him.”
My hands tremble in my lap.
“He choked me until I passed out. I’d wake up with him inside me, brutalizing me all over again. I lost track of time. It felt endless. Like he was stripping me of my humanity until there was nothing left.”
Jax exhales sharply through his nose, fury thrumming beneath the surface. His entire body is shaking with effort not to explode.
“He took everything. My dignity. My safety. My soul.”
My voice cracks. “And then—he was gone. I don’t know if he heard someone or thought I was dead. But I woke up alone. Still cuffed to the bed.”
The swing groans as I lean forward, speech ragged.
“I tore at the restraints until my wrists were raw, fingers slick with blood. I screamed until the sound was only hoarse air. No one came.”
I take in a shuddering breath.
“Not until the next morning. I missed my shift, and a coworker came looking. She heard me from the hall. Called the police. They broke the door down.”
I blink hard, fighting the tears.
“They took me to the hospital. I gave my statement. Darren was arrested. Between the drugs and the assault, he was looking at serious time. He accepted a plea bargain, so I didn’t have to testify.”
The silence stretches.
“So I buried it. Never spoke of it again.” Finally, I look up at him. “Until now.”
Jax swipes a tear from his cheek, eyes wet with fury and heartbreak. The words scrape low. “How did you explain your injuries to your family?”
“Car accident.” My mouth twists. “My parents were on vacation with the kids. Thank God. If they’d been there…”
I shake my head, willing the thought away.
“When they returned, the bruises had faded enough. They didn’t ask questions.”
His gaze locks on mine. “And your friend—the one who found you?”
“She knew enough. But we never talked about it. I left that job soon after. Couldn’t stay in that apartment. Packed up. Moved to a new city. Tried to start over.”
His gaze sharpens, steady but raw. “Can I touch you?”
Something in me loosens at the question—at the way he asks. I give him a slight, trembling nod.
His palms cradle my face, calloused but impossibly gentle, holding me still. His pin me in place, like he’s trying to anchor me to this moment.
“I’m so proud of you,” he says, voice breaking.
It hits harder than I expect, pulling an ache from deep inside.
“You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.” His words land heavy, certain. “I know that wasn’t easy. And I’m honored you chose me to share it with.”
His thumb brushes my cheek, slow and reverent. “I promise you, Melina—I will guard this with my heart.”
The tears slip faster now, hot trails down my cheeks.
His tone softens. “Can I hold you?”
I don’t answer with words. I simply climb into his lap, curling into him small and desperate. Childlike. He wraps the blanket around us both and pulls me close, his strong arms caging me against his chest as if nothing in the world could reach me here.
The sobs come in waves, shattering me open. My fists knot in his shirt as if I’ll drown without a lifeline to cling to. He holds me through it all, rubbing slow circles into my spine, pressing his lips to my hair.
“I got you, sweetheart,” he whispers. A vow.
The storm inside me burns itself out, leaving only the sound of his heartbeat beneath my ear. My breathing steadies. The tension seeps away, piece by piece, until all that’s left is exhaustion.
I finally pull back, eyes swollen, throat raw. “Thank you.”
His gaze is steady, unwavering. His reply is simple. “You’re welcome.”
***
Day 28 — Without Matt
It’s five a.m. I’ve been awake for an hour, staring at the ceiling. Slumber won’t take me back, so I slip out of bed and head for the kitchen.
Brooks is at the table, laptop glow illuminating his face. He looks up as I come in and frowns.
“I didn’t wake you, did I?”
“No,” I reply, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. “Couldn’t sleep. Figured I might as well make coffee.” I grab a K-cup and drop it in. “Want one?”
He lifts his mug. “Already beat you to it.”
The Keurig sputters to life as I glance toward the couch.
Jax is sprawled out, shirtless, pajama pants low on his hips. One arm behind his head, the other slack across his chest. He looks… softer. Human.
“He stayed again,” I murmur.
Brooks follows my gaze. “Don’t think he’s going anywhere.”
“You’re starting to see it, aren’t you?” I ask, not taking my eyes off Jax. “The change in him.”
He leans back, studies me for a beat, then nods. “You’ve done something to him.”
I shrug, a small smile ghosting my lips. “I can’t take all the credit. Under the bravado is a man who had to grew up too fast. He’s a good person—just needed reminding.”
Brooks watches me, expression softening. “You’re pretty incredible, Melina.”
I snort. “I try.” I say, sipping my freshly brewed coffee. “He’s become a good friend. Maybe my best friend.”
He meets my gaze. “I’m glad he has you. You might be his only friend.”
That lands harder than I expect. “Well, I hope that changes. Everyone deserves a second chance. Maybe put in a good word with the team?”
He nods slowly. “He’s stepped up this past month. People notice.”
“Good,” I murmur.
A low sound breaks the room—soft but unmistakable.
Jax shifts on the couch, brow knitting. A sharp gasp rips out of him, then a soft, strangled sound. He twists, fighting something in his sleep.
Brooks and I both freeze, eyes snapping to him.
“Nightmare,” Brooks whispers under his breath.
I’m already moving.
“Careful, Melina,” he says behind me. “He might wake up swinging.”
“I know.” My voice is steady. I crouch beside him, close but not touching.
“Jax,” I whisper. “It’s okay. I’m here.”
His breathing is ragged, shallow. Sweat beads at his temple. His lips move without noise.
“It’s Melina,” I say softer. “You’re not alone.”
His eyes snap open—wild and glassy—for a moment, he looks straight through me.
Then suddenly, he’s moving. His arms wrap around me in a desperate, crushing grip, dragging me against his chest like I’m the only thing tethering him to reality.
The air whooshes from my lungs. I freeze for half a second, then let out a small, startled laugh that sounds absurd even to my own ears.
“Easy, sailor,” I mumble, voice muffled against him. “You’re kind of crushing me.”
He doesn’t let go. If anything, he holds on tighter.
I soften into him. My hand slides up his spine, his heartbeat racing against mine, breath hot against my neck.
“Hello to you too,” I whisper.
He still hasn’t said a word. That’s when I realize—he’s shaking. For a few long seconds, he fights his way back. His grip loosens enough for me to lean away and look at him.
“Hey,” I say, fingers brushing his cheek. “You okay?”
He shakes his head once. It’s a small motion, but it’s everything.
His eyes are red-rimmed and glistening, with tears that cling to his lashes but refuse to fall. The pain in his expression guts me.
“Whatever pulled you back—it’s over now. You’re safe. You’re home.”
He breathes out, gravelly. “It wasn’t combat, Melina.” He swallows. “The dream was about you.”
The words hang between us—heavy with recognition. My nightmare has become his.
“Oh.” I don’t have another word. The room tilts.
I have no idea what to do with the ache, so I reach for the only thing I can give. I pick up my mug, and hand it to him with a quiet, apologetic smile.
“Well then,” I breathe, “you probably need this more than I do.”
He sits up entirely, unsteady, the raw edges of his dream written on his face. But there’s something softer now, too—a slight warmth breaking through the storm.
He holds my gaze, then reaches out and brushes his thumb down my cheek. The touch is light and fleeting, but it roots us both.
“Thanks,” he says, steadier as he takes the cup.
I perch on the arm of the couch and watch him sip slowly.
“I’d say whatever you saw was probably worse than what actually happened…” I start, letting it trail off with a dry laugh. “But then again— I was there, so…”
My smile is small, not entirely convincing. It’s a deflection he sees right through, but if it keeps his heart from breaking open any further, maybe it’s worth it.
Jax exhales and leans forward, elbows on his knees. He shuts his eyes, trying to force the images away. When they open again, his gaze darts to the far wall, anywhere but at me.
I reach up and gently turn his face back to me. “Hey. I was kidding.”
He studies me, really studies me. “No, you weren’t.”
“Listen,” I say, softly. “You don’t have to carry this. You didn’t even know me then.”
I take his hands, curling mine around them. He squeezes, barely.
“I can’t help it, Melina.” His tone is low, lethal. “I want to kill him for what he did to you. I’ve killed men for less.”
He says it without flinching, and I believe him.
I draw in a slow breath, blinking at the sting behind my eyes.
“What happened to me that night…” My speech wavers. “It changed me. Broke my spirit. My faith. My ability to trust myself.”
Jax sets his coffee down, then reaches for my hand, his fingers warm and steady around mine.
“I’ve been fighting like hell to get her back—the girl who was vibrant. Beautiful. Alive.”
“You are all those things, Melina. Even if you don’t see it—I do.” His voice is quiet, fierce.
I look down for a moment, then lift my gaze to his. The words catch in my throat.
“For the first time in years, I think I can be her again. That’s because of you.”
Jax blinks, like he’s not sure he heard right. His brow pulls inward.
“Me?” he says. “Melina, I didn’t—I haven’t done anything.”
“Jax, you’ve given me everything, whether you realize it or not.”
He looks away, voice flat. “I’m the guy who sleeps on your couch. Just to be close to you.”
The next part sits heavy. I glance toward the kitchen—Brooks is pretending to type, but I sense him listening.
When our eyes meet, he closes his laptop, stands without a word, and slips out of the room. The office door clicks shut behind him.
I turn back to Jax, the weight of what I’m about to say pressing against my ribs.
“I love Matt,” I declare, soft and true. “I do.”
Jax is quiet, but I see the tension flare along his jaw. “I know you do.”
I sigh and continue. “When we met, there was instant chemistry. It was intense, overwhelming. We built us on that pull—the attraction first and foremost.”
Jealousy flickers across his face, quick and truthful, before he masks it. I ignore it and go on.
“But the emotional part? That never came. Matt’s built walls so high I’m not sure I’ll ever break through. You can’t be vulnerable with someone who won’t be vulnerable in return.”
I steady myself for the thing that hurts the most. “He used to look at me like I was indestructible—like I could take on the world.”
I swallow. “After he found out about what happened, something changed. Now he looks at me like I’m fragile. Broken. Something he needs to fix.”
My voice drops to a whisper. “I don’t want to be fixed.”
“But you…” I let the words hang. “You don’t look at me that way.”
He doesn’t move—just watches me, patient.
“You look at me like I’m strong, capable,” I say. “Like I fought my way through hell and came out the other side.”
I squeeze his hand. “You calm me. Ground me. I don’t have to hide the messy parts. You always know exactly what to say. What I need.”
My heart hammers. “I need you, Jax.”
He stares at me. Under the intensity, there’s a quiet ache I recognize instantly.
“I know we’ve only known each other a month,” I force a small, self-conscious smile. “But we’ve spent almost every waking moment together, and somehow… you’ve become my best friend. Best friend in the same zip code anyway.” I add, teasing.
The sadness in his expression flickers back, softer this time. “What is it?” I ask.
He looks down at our linked hands. “What happens when Mason comes home?”
I blink. “What do you mean?”
He shrugs, trying to play it off, but it’s real. “I’m not exactly his favorite person, Melina. You and I both know how jealous he can get. What if he doesn’t want me in your life?”
“For twenty years, I let men control my life—my choices, my voice. Not anymore.”
I meet his stare. “If Matt wants to be with me, he has to accept who I am and the people I care about. If he can’t, then he doesn’t want me at all.”
Jax holds my gaze, question and fear mixed there.
“You don’t seem convinced.” I tease lightly.
He exhales like it’s been weighing him down. “I don’t want to lose you.”
My chest stutters, but I don’t flinch. “You’re not losing me.” A crooked smile slides free. “Someone has to keep your ass in line.”
He lets out a genuine laugh this time, and the tightness eases—not gone, but enough to breathe.