“Watch it,” he warned. “I’m sure you have a warm and fuzzy part to your heart … I think I’ve caught the occasional glimpse, but I don’t see you sharing it with Jackson. You two beat the crap out of each other for no reason at all. He must have said something you’re not telling me.”
“And since when do you care? I thought we were going by the don’t-ask-don’t-tell motto for our relationship.”
“I don’t care. I’m just trying to keep you awake so I can escape to the floor without a physical confrontation.”
She leaned forward and pressed her lips between his shoulder blades. “I’m sorry. I …” She closed her eyes.
AJ rolled over with her still straddling his waist. “You?”
A sad smile was the best she could manage. “I don’t like that person. This sounds ridiculous, I know, but when I look at the scars that bear my name…” she feathered her fingertips over one of the bite marks on his shoulder “…I don’t recognize them. I don’t recognize the person who made them. I’m not her … yet she’s me.”
Jillian scooted down, resting her cheek against his chest. “But I wish she weren’t.”
*
Did Jillian sound ridiculous? Someone with their sanity fully intact would have said, yes. AJ was not that someone. Her words struck a chord that vibrated to his soul and that said a lot for a man who contemplated its existence.
“Do you think I’m an asshole for not asking?”
He felt her body relax into his. “About my past?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Why? Don’t women want men to care?”
“I don’t know … if you see one you should ask her.”
AJ chuckled. He found himself doing that often with Jillian. “Don’t fall asleep. The sheets are white and my nose bleeds red.”
“I won’t,” Jillian mumbled in an already-half-asleep voice.
And then she did just that. He dared not move or even breathe. She may have fallen asleep as Jillian Knight but she would wake as someone else … a frightened, dangerous animal. AJ closed his eyes and focused on the unforgiving pulse in his head until the pain nearly broke him and he deemed having his nose broken a welcome distraction from the assault on his brain.
He had to be quicker than her, not an easy task but a necessary one for self-preservation. All at once he wrapped his legs around hers, one arm around her body including both arms and his other arm over her head. Then he rolled like they were on fire, pinning her entire body to the mattress under his.
In an instant she fought with her whole body. “Dammit, Jones!”
“Shh … it’s me. You’re fine.” He covered her mouth.
Her eyes opened into saucers as she fought with life-threatening intensity to escape.
“If I release you will you calm down?” he whispered.
She nodded. AJ could almost hear her lungs screaming for air as her heart sprinted out of control. He rolled off her.
“What the fuck?” she whispered with the intensity of a yell as she sat up to catch her breath.
AJ gripped his pounding head, as if he could physically keep it from exploding. “I’m sorry … I didn’t want to startle you.”
“Well then, I’d call that an epic fail on your part.”
He rolled his head from side to side, searching for any position that would relieve the ache, even just a fraction. “Fine, then I didn’t want to see the guilt on your face as blood squirted from mine.”
She sighed. He didn’t have to open his eyes to see the regret on her face. It happened too slowly to remember an exact moment, but none the less it had happened—at some point he started caring about her feelings.
“Let’s get in the shower,” she whispered, clasping his hand.
Nausea. Blurred vision. An angry pulsing. None of it compared to the painful feeling that he didn’t deserve to have anyone treat him with such compassion. Jillian guided him, undressed him, and helped him in the shower until the sweet relief from the heavy stream of hot water pelting his head dulled the sharp edge of agony.
He stopped the massaging motion of her hands on his scalp by covering them with his. “Why?” he whispered.
She planted soft kisses all over his face, stopping at his ear. “Because everybody needs somebody.”
*
A knock on the bedroom door brought AJ from his sleep. Total disorientation. He wasn’t able to remember much after getting out of the shower.
“Breakfast,” his mom said with a soft voice.
He sat up in bed with caution, praying his heart would only beat in his chest and not in his head.
“Feeling better?”
AJ blinked the sleep from his eyes, searching for a body to go with the voice. “You slept on the floor?” He looked at Jillian curled in a ball on her side. There had been a time when seeing her sleeping on a hard floor would have brought a feeling of revenge or satisfaction to him. That time had passed leaving him with guilt. The whole caring-about-her-feelings thing had softened, tainted his hardened attitude.