Finding Mercy: The Next Generation Page 18

“Take your time.”

  Yeah, I wasn’t sure time would do me any good. I could move my arm enough to push it through the sleeve, but I’d forced it and now it hurt like a motherfucker to try and pull it back out. I was literally tangled in the fabric.

  Gritting my teeth, I tried to push my arm through. Nothing. I couldn’t do it.

  “Oh, for fuck sakes,” I mumbled.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Peachy.”

  “You don’t sound peachy. Do you need any help?”

  Why did his voice sound so close? Please, God, do not let him be in my room. Nope. Just standing in the doorway. Double peachy! Well, now that he’d see me, I turned to face him.

  “I’m stuck.”

  “I can see that.”

  “Well? Are you going to help me?”

  “Would you like me to?” I wanted to punch him he looked so damn sexy and smug at the same time.

  “Yes,” I snapped.

  He stepped farther into my room but left a respectable bit of distance between us. I wasn’t sure if I was happy about that or if my heart broke a little more. Jason had never given me space. He was always touching me in some way. Yes, I should’ve been happy he was staying away. If he was closer it would muddle my brain, and I needed to think clearly.

  “Would you like it on or off?”

  Oh my God, this was so embarrassing.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Explain to me what’s going on.”

  I told him how I’d gotten stuck and now it hurt too badly to move. Instead of laughing at me like I thought he would, his face was enraged.

  “Are you mad . . . at me?” I asked through gritted teeth.

  Not only was my shoulder on fire but my neck was starting to ache from the awkward angle it was trapped in.

  “No, Mercy. I’m pissed at the circumstance. I’m pissed you’re hurting. And I’m really fucking pissed at Derek Lowe.” He stepped closer, gathering the hem of my shirt in his hands. “Is this the shirt you want to wear?”

  “Yeah.”

  He gingerly bent my arm past where I could bend it myself and pulled the sleeve down. It felt like Jason was dressing a toddler. And the child was me. Once the shirt was clear of my bandages, he smoothed it down covering my stomach.

  “There. Is that all right?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  My right hand went to my left elbow, and I held my arm close to my body, waiting for the pain to subside.

  “Do you have pain pills to help with that?” He gestured to my arm.

  “I do, but I’m taking Tylenol and Motrin instead.”

  “If you’re in pain why the hell aren’t you taking your meds?”

  “First, I don’t like the way they make me feel, and, second, I know how addictive they are.”

  “Mercy—”

  “I’m fine. The acetaminophen and ibuprofen work enough to dull the pain. Now are we going to stand around all day discussing my choice of pain relief or are we going out?”

  I could tell he was contemplating what to do with me. If he kept pushing, I wasn’t going to be happy. I didn’t like to be handled. I knew my body and I wasn’t going to take anything stronger than what I was currently using.

  “Are you up for it?”

  “As long as it’s not anything strenuous, I’ll be fine.” His assessing gaze turned into a smirk, and it didn’t take a genius to know what he was thinking. “Like rope climbing or bungee cord jumping,” I quickly added.

  “No, nothing like that.”

  He turned and left my room. I silently followed him, grabbing my purse and turning off lights as we went. He opened the front door, and when I was clear of it, he turned and locked up the house using his key. Damn. I’d forgotten I’d given him that. Should I ask for it back? He made no offer to give it to me as we walked to his car. He helped me into the passenger side and rounded the hood. His long, powerful strides were as confident as they’d always been. What was I doing? Why was I watching the way he walked? Hell, why had I agreed to a date? I’d thought I could handle this, be close to him and not react. But it hurt worse than I thought it would to be right next to him and not touch him. Hold his hand, feel his arms around me, or his lips on mine. Why couldn’t I stop thinking about how much I’d missed him? It wasn’t even the sex I missed, though my body disagreed, I yearned to feel him wrapped around me at night. Talking to him. Hearing about his family. His voice in general. And I really wished I could hear his laugh.

  No, this was not a good idea. Nothing about sitting next to Jason was fun. It was torture. And the longer I was in his presence the more I thought an afternoon of water boarding would be more pleasant.

  “You’re thinking awfully hard over there. Is your shoulder okay?”

  Shit. I had to blink a few times before I noticed we were already out of my neighborhood.

  “It’s okay, a little sore.” Letting him think my shoulder was what was bothering me was my best course of action. No good would come from him knowing the truth. Whatever the truth was at that point, I wasn’t sure. “Where are we going?”

  “My house.”

  Red alert! Red alert! Warning bells were going off. I didn’t think being alone with him was all that great of a plan. But going to his house? The place he’d admitted he didn’t like. The one he’d shared with Kayla—that was low. Why in the hell would he take me there?

  “Aren’t we going the wrong way?” Just because I’d never been to his home didn’t mean I didn’t know where he lived. And we were going in the wrong direction.

  “No.”

  Great. The old Jason was back. The one I’d first met. One-word, short, clipped answers.

  “Why are you mad?”

  “Because I fucked up so badly with you, you’re sitting over there worrying your lip, thinking of all the reasons you don’t want to be in a car with me. You’re nervous about going to my house and being alone with me. All of that is my fault. And I’m mad as hell at myself.”

  There was nothing to say to that. He was right, it was his fault, and I had been thinking those things. An awkward silence stretched until he pulled into an apartment complex.

  “Where are we?”

  “My house.”

  “This isn’t your house,” I noted, looking at the shitty apartment complex in front of us.

  “It is now.”

  What the hell did that mean? He was out of the car and rounding the hood to my side before my brain could even formulate a response.

  I was too busy taking in the unkempt exterior of the complex to engage in conversation. The worn brick façade had green mold in places, there was no landscaping to speak of. Thankfully, he lived on the bottom floor, because the stairs in front of us looked like they were one more climb away from crumbling.

  He opened his door and my eyes swung to him. “You can’t live here. This place is a shithole.” Jason chuckled but didn’t comment as he ushered me into the apartment. “You have money trouble?”

  I knew how much money Jason made. We both worked for the federal government, our salaries were based on the Federal Wage System. With his time at the DEA he made more than me, and I could afford ten times what the rent would be for this place.

  “No,” he answered.

  “What happened to your house?”

  “Sold it.”

  Sold it? What the hell? How does someone sell their house that quickly? Unless he’d had it on the market while we were together and he hadn’t told me. That thought bothered me.

  “What?”

  “I sold it. The new owners take possession at the end of the month.”

  I looked around the small, cramped space. His nice furniture looked obscenely out of place. There wasn’t even room for a kitchen table. His couch and entertainment system took up too much of the space. A match-box sized kitchen, with a fridge that looked half the size of a regular one, was outdated and ugly. I turned and looked through the open door to the other side of the room. A bedroom. I searched the wa
lls for another door but there wasn’t one. Guests would have to go through his bedroom to use the bathroom? What kind of shittastic floorplan was that?

  “Was this all you had in your house?”

  “Nope. I gave the rest of it away.”

  “Gave it away? Why?”

  “Don’t need it where I’m going.”

  Going? Oh, shit. Was he moving? Was that why I was here? Was he going to tell me he’d been transferred? I could barely swallow past the lump in my throat. I’d never considered he’d leave the area. He couldn’t. His family was here. I was here, dammit. He would never leave his family, but they’d been somewhat strained over the last few years. Maybe this was his way of making a clean break. And we weren’t together, he didn’t owe me anything. If that was the case then why did I feel a little sick at the thought of not seeing him?

  “Why did you sell your house?”

  “Leave it to you to jump straight to the heavy stuff. Let’s sit down. Would you like something to drink?”

  What did that mean? Why was asking why he’d sold his house a heavy question? People bought and sold houses every day.

  “No, thanks. I’m fine.”

  I sat on his brown, leather couch and was taken by surprise by how comfortable it was. It was the type of sofa that beckoned you to lay on it with a fluffy blanket. Much nicer than mine. Reminding me, again, that his expensive furniture didn’t belong here.

  “I sold the house,” he started, getting comfortable next to me. “For a lot of reasons. Being with you taught me a lot of things. One was I was holding onto the house for the wrong reasons. I was using it as a way to punish myself. I was hiding behind the walls, thinking the misery it provided was what I deserved. Then I got to know you. You taught me how to live again, how to love, and when I fucked up and lost you, going back to that house felt wrong.”

  “Wrong?”

  “All wrong. I was going back in time. When what I needed to be doing was moving forward. So I sold it.”

  “Just like that?”

  “No. Not just like that. I’d been thinking about selling it. I knew it had to go. The only time I felt like I was really home was when I was with you, at your house with you in my arms. That place meant nothing to me. I also knew that if I didn’t get rid of it, I’d lose you for good. And I’m not willing to let you go.”

  “Why’d you leave me?”

  Jason looked like I’d slapped him, his body physically jolted at my question.

  “Before I explain why, I have to tell you a few things. I’ve told you about my relationship with Kayla. There is no easy way to talk to you about this so I’m just going to give it all to you and hope you understand. She was my first love. When we got married, it was good between us. There wasn’t a person who met her that didn’t think she was sweet and kind. And it didn’t bother me she needed me to protect her soft spot. You know what happened after she got sick. Our lives shifted in every way. She didn’t look at me as her husband anymore. This is what I’ve struggled with. What did I do wrong? My dad actually pointed something out to me. There was never any passion between us. No lust-filled spark. In all the years I was with her, even as a young man, I never looked at her and thought I’d die if I didn’t have her right then and there.” Jason stopped and shook his head. “That really makes me sound like a dick. I looked at her as someone I was responsible for. Someone who was to be treated with kid gloves. That realization fucked with my head. But she never felt that way about me either. Never had she looked at me like I was the man that did it for her. I’ve been walking around with so much guilt coiled in my stomach, it was paralyzing. But I didn’t do anything wrong and neither did she. We were too young. And maybe the only good thing about it was I had a really great friend in her and she had someone who would protect her.”

  “I’m glad you’ve let that go. You needed to. And I don’t think you’re a dick for feeling the way you do. You were kind and gentle with her. You stood by her when, I’m sure, she was scared to death. You did the best you could. You were a good friend to her.”

  “I’d like to think I did. Now that brings us to you. I noticed you the first day you transferred to Georgia. I thought you were gorgeous. But I was married. Then I worked with you and I was so impressed by the way you handled yourself, how tough you were, great instincts, wicked smart. But I was married. So I did the only thing I could do. I stayed away from you. I actively and purposefully avoided working any cases that would involve you. It was the right thing for me to do.

  “I never cheated on Kayla. Never looked at a woman and thought about what it would be like to be with her. But there was something different about you, and I knew I needed to stay away. And I was right. We’re explosive. You draw me in, weave yourself around my heart, and make me want to lose myself. Every time I lay eyes on you I want to wrap you up and protect you. But, at the same time, I want you next to me when I’m working a case. I trust your judgement, your abilities, and your skill to have my back. My perfect partner, both on the job and off.”

  “Thank you.”

  It meant the world to me he trusted me as an agent. It was important to me he viewed me as an equal.

  “But when we’re home, and you catch fire, there’s no containing the passion I feel for you. And I’m not comparing here, but I realized that was what was missing before. The absolute need I have for you. It’s killing me being this close to you and not being allowed to touch you, to kiss you, to lay you back and feel you wrapped around me. It’s lust and desire and love and necessity all rolled together. It’s overwhelming and powerful. I love you so damn much it hurts. Physical, aching pain that I can’t begin to describe.” I didn’t need him to. I felt the exact same thing he was feeling. “So when I came into the bathroom and saw you giving yourself an injection, I lost my mind. I couldn’t hear anything you were saying because I was already so deep in my head, your voice was muffled. All I could think about was if I ever lost you, I’d give up. I wouldn’t be able to move on.”

  “So you left me? That doesn’t make sense. You were afraid of losing me but you threw away everything we had.”

  “There’s more than one way to lose someone, Mercy. Losing you to a sickness would be crippling. But what if you lost that spark in your eyes, or the passion, or your need for me? What if all of it went away, and all you saw when you looked at me was a friend?” He spat out the word like it tasted dirty. “What if I lost that part of you? In that moment my head was so fucked-up I couldn’t think straight. I couldn’t tell you my fears. I couldn’t tell you I was so scared all I wanted to do was run away like a coward because if you ever stopped loving me the way I love you it would kill me.”

  “You hurt me, Jason,” I admitted.

  I understood why he’d left. I think I’d known all along why he’d run out. It wasn’t that hard to figure out why he’d freaked when he thought I was sick. But it was the way he’d handled it. He walked out on me. If he’d stayed and told me everything he’d just told me, we would’ve been fine. Now I was left with distrust. Would he do it to me again? That was the million-dollar question.

  “I know I did. I’m so fucking sorry. And I know I’m asking a lot but I’d like the chance to prove to you it will never happen again.”

  “I don’t know. What happens the next time you freak out?”

  “I won’t ever leave you again. I swear.”

  “But if you get freaked—”

  “I will not ever leave you again.”

  I couldn’t believe I was considering this. But what was my alternative? Tuesday was right, I’d always regret not giving him a second chance. I’d be living half a life. All because I was too afraid to let him in.

  “Where are your separation papers?”

  I loved Jason and wanted to be with him, but I wasn’t stupid. If we were going to give this another shot, I needed to know a few things.

  “Ripped them up and threw them away.”

  Wow. I was actually surprised. I figured he’d have to work
up to letting certain things go. His separation agreement was the one I’d thought he’d have the most trouble with. He’d used those documents as a way to inflict pain on himself for a long time.

  “I want kids, Jason.”

  “So do I.”

  “And if I want to continue working after we have them?”

  “Then you’d work.”

  “And if I wanted to quit and stay home with them?”

  “Then I’d be thrilled as hell you were staying home.”

  “If I wanted you to quit and take care of the kids?”

  “I’d quit. Go to work at my dad’s company and take the kids to work with me there.”

  “You can’t take kids to work with you.”

  “My dad and uncles own the company. I could do anything I wanted. And you’re forgetting our kids would be his grandkids. He’d be pissed if they didn’t go to work with me.”

  I was trying to think up more questions to ask him that would freak him out, kids and marriage were normally the big ones. He was fine with kids.

  “You know, I have to give myself an injection once a month.”

  “I know.” I was deep in thought when he reached over and took both my hands in his. “I love you so much. I promise you I will never hurt you again.” He slipped off the couch and was on his knees in front of me. “I’m begging you for a second chance. Your rules. We’ll go as slow as you need or we can pick up where we left off. As long as you’re in my life.”

  “I love you, too,” I whispered.

  Decision made. I was getting ready to send up a silent prayer that I was making the right choice when it hit me. I didn’t have to pray, I already knew. I believed Jason wouldn’t run again. He’d given me what I needed—him. His truth, completely unguarded.

  I glanced around his shithole apartment one more time and smiled. “Why’d you move into this dump?”

  “Because I knew I wouldn’t be here long.” Yep. Just what I’d thought.

  “And if I didn’t agree to give you a second chance?”

  “Wait. You said agree. You forgive me?” His smile nearly took my breath away. This was not one of his normal panty-soakers. This smile was full of boyish marvel. Which made me wonder if our sons would have that same smile.