CHAPTER EIGHTEEN #2
Tonight is for sleeping though. I want to build trust between us, so I shed the joggers, slink beneath the covers, and stretch out my arm to entice her to snuggle up with me.
She chews on her lip, analyzing another decision to death before ultimately landing on joining me.
The second her head hits my chest, with that silky brunette mane, I breathe—really breathe—for the first time.
Ever.
“Is this okay?” she whispers. Maybe she’s wondering because my heart is hammering her temple.
“Perfect.”
She sweeps her thumb over my rib cage, testing. “Are you a cuddler or someone who likes to be connected for a few minutes and then have your own space?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never …”
Much to my dismay, she extracts herself from that perfect spot on my chest, lifts up on her elbow, and stares at me, shadows clinging to the curves of her face. “You’ve never, what, cuddled with someone?”
“I’ve never held or slept beside anyone.”
“I can’t wrap my mind around that.” She watches me for a long time, but she finally lays her head back where it belongs. “Okay. I guess we’ll figure it out.”
I squeeze her against me while my other hand skates over her arm in a soothing back-and-forth rhythm. “You’ll have to take it easy on me since I’m a virgin snuggler. But I think I’ll want to hold you all night.”
She expels a ragged breath, and then she’s quiet for so long that my mind conjures various ways I’ve already fucked this up, until she shatters the silence with, “I’m damaged.”
“What?”
Her throat bobs against me with a thick swallow. “I probably shouldn’t be your first try at this. I’m not—”
“You’re certainly not damaged,” I break in, realizing not all the distance between us is because she lacks faith in me. “You’re fucking incredible. You master every damn thing you do.”
“That’s just skill or talent.” She hitches a shoulder, like it’s nothing.
“But I’m … I tried. The whole time my dad was in prison, I fought so hard to stay strong and positive, even though I felt hollow.
And after he was killed, I went off the rails, but eventually, I found the strength to pull myself together for my mom and sister and a man who promised a legitimate life that still seemed exciting.
But then I lost the baby and my sister, and I threw a steal-a-national-treasure tantrum that led to this mess.
I’m a thief who’s had everything I’ve ever loved stolen from me. Other than my mom. I’m better alone.”
I play her words over and over in my head, wishing I could access the kind of response one of Jax’s therapists would offer, and eventually settle on, “I’m sure it feels that way.”
“I’m sorry for the mixed signals.” She draws circles and figure eights on my pec, bicep, and shoulder—heaven. “I don’t want you to believe I’m not feeling something. I just can’t …”
I string my fingers through her hair, hoping to extend the same tranquility she’s bestowing on me. “Don’t be sorry. Let’s take this one moment at a time. Tonight, I’ll hold you. Tomorrow, we’ll check off another task toward paying your debt. There’s nothing else to worry about.”
“Okay.” She curls herself around me, tangling our legs and nuzzling her face against my chest, her heart pounding in tandem with mine. “All night?”
“All night, baby,” I promise into the dark room, and for a long stretch, it’s only moonlight and scratches and our even breaths. And me, stewing over what a greedy asshole I am.
I’ve gone my whole life barely caring about a woman’s name when I fucked her, only to end up here—terrified that the girl in my arms will never truly give me all of her.
And while I’ve fantasized about having Sylvie in every goddamn position and setting imaginable, that’s not the only aspect I’m yearning for.
But in the quietude, she paves a way. “What are your nightmares about?”
Her mother’s wisdom from our office chat slams into me. “If you want Sylvie—really want her—then you need to be willing to lose as much as she thinks she could. You’re both gamblers. Ante up.”
So, I do something else I’ve never done.
“My mom,” I start, “she wasn’t supposed to be at home the night of the fire.
My siblings and I—Maddox on down—were flipping channels at our lake house.
We saw our main house on the news. A reporter standing in front of the blaze and fire trucks.
It was a big deal because of who my dad was.
The reporter said two bodies had been pulled out.
Maddox insisted my father had one of his whores there.
It was a logical conclusion. My father was a monster and a cheating bastard.
But I knew. I don’t know how, but I … it’s like I heard her. ”
It takes me a minute to gather myself, but Sylvie doesn’t press. She keeps mindlessly drawing shapes on my skin and breathing with me.
“That sounds crazy, but … since I was young, I could always figure out how magicians did their tricks—or at least have a strong idea. It made my mother nuts.” I laugh, noting how wooden it sounds in the quiet.
“She said I missed the magic of life because I never bought into Santa or Tinker Bell, and I knew the guy popping out from an empty trunk was waiting behind the false back. She’d get so frustrated, but in this way that told me she thought it was hilarious.
” I blow out a breath, sharing something I haven’t thought about in ages.
“She used to sing the chorus of ‘Don’t Stop Believin’ ’ to me anytime I pointed something like that out. ”
“By Journey,” Sylvie muses.
“Yeah.” I keep raking my fingers through her hair, like the strands are lifelines to help me finish.
“She took me to see David Copperfield shortly before she died, attempting to convince me that the unknown could be enchanting. All it did was make me hungrier to know what was happening in the places I couldn’t see. ”
After another choppy exhale, I tie it all up. “Anyway, that night when my house was on fire, it was like I heard her telling me it wasn’t an illusion. So, in the nightmare, she’s burning and panicking and begging me to show her the secret way out. And I can’t.”
A strangled sob rumbles in her lungs as she buries her face in my chest. “God, Cash.”
“Shit,” I hiss, flinching. “Too much?”
“No.” She pops up, gliding her palm over my cheek as a tear slips down hers. “I’m glad you told me. I’m just sad you had to go through that.” She steadies her breathing and lies back down. “You said Axel brought you all closer.”
“He did.” And with that pronouncement, I see the path to her even clearer.
“We weren’t easy on him, but no matter what we pulled, he never stopped insisting that we lean on each other.
Maddox and I used to laugh after he ranted about sending us to boarding school because that man couldn’t even bear to let us have dinner separately.
Even as adults, he requires us to be present for a family meal at least three times a week. ”
“And you all love it.”