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Chapter Nineteen
Jesse
Istare into the ceiling above me, wood beams criss-crossing at the peak, because every time I shut my eyes I can’t stop picturing Thea lying in the other room.
It feels torturous being this close, and although I am a red-blooded male, hooking up with her is the last thing on my mind. Maybe not the last… But, definitely not the priority. I just want to know what’s going on in her head. Why is she fighting me so hard?
She acts like she wants me and whatever this is between us, but is being pulled away by a factor outside of her control. It’s not fair to you. I’m not worth it.
Her words from earlier ring in my mind. If she could see herself through my eyes, she’d see how worth fighting for she is. She’s the first thing in my life worth fighting for.
A faint click sounds from one of the doors down the hall, light footsteps slowly making their way toward where I am in the living room. Lying on my back on the couch, I’d have to crane my neck to see who’s behind me from this angle, but I don’t move. My gut tells me it’s Thea. I hope it is but the footsteps stop at the entrance of the room, waiting.
“I’m awake,” I speak into the darkness, hoping that I’m right. The tip taps of her feet make their way toward me before settling in the chair to my right, closest to my head. I still don’t move, letting her get comfortable. The only light in the room is from one of the appliances in the kitchen, barely casting a soft glow.
A few moments of silence pass, and I find myself wondering if she is having the same pull to be near me as I do her. Maybe she only ventured out here because she can’t sleep. Either way, I’m glad she came.
“I thought you didn’t drink?” I ask the question that’s been nagging me since earlier, remembering back to the first time I saw her at the bar. I downed an extra shot of jäger to get her out of it and that shit’s nasty.
“I don’t, normally. I only drink when I’m in a safe place. With people I trust. Here with my brother is one of those places and I usually have wine at home. Especially if my best friend, Liv, is in town, or my mom.” I don’t look, but I can sense the smile in her words at the mention of her mom.
“I like your mom. She’s sweet.”
“You know my mom?” She asks, bewildered.
“Yeah. I’ve been around her a few times. You look like her.” I think back to the few occasions that I met Nathan’s mom. She was vibrant and kind. I should’ve known right away that Thea was her daughter when I was still connecting the dots.
“Thank you,” she whispers, followed by more comfortable silence. Silent enough that I can hear the hum of the air conditioning and the insects outside.
I want to give her space, not pepper her with a thousand questions, but my mind is racing to know every detail about her. I most importantly want to know the reason she has such strict rules on drinking and why she told me once that men make her uncomfortable. I’m afraid that I suspect why, but I need to hear it from her.
“Why do you only drink around people you trust, Thea?” I close my eyes, waiting for her response, hoping it’s not close to what I’m thinking. I don’t want to imagine all the possibilities that could lead a young woman to make that choice for herself.
After a heavy pause, making me think she won’t answer me, she finally responds. “The same reason that I can’t stand to be touched. By men.”
My throat constricts with the pain of schooling my reaction. My Sunshine. No. I can’t stand the thought of anyone doing anything to cause such consequences in her life. The rage I feel burning in my heart for her is frightening. It takes all of my willpower to remain silent.
I need to keep my cool. An overreaction is not what she needs. It’s not what she came out here for. She chose the darkened, silent room for her confession for a reason.
“Is that the complication you were referring to earlier? Why you’ve been running from me this whole time?” I finally ask when I have my emotions under control, though my voice is hoarse.
“Yeah,” she whispers in the smallest, most broken voice that I’ve ever heard. Whatever reservations I might’ve had in the past about being bad at relationships, or what my future holds, they vanish at that one word.
I will do anything for this girl. I want to see her so full of light and happiness that all her broken pieces disappear. I want to give her the world.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I pray she gives me a name, so I can kill the motherfucker that dared to hurt her.
“Not really,” she says softly, still sounding small, but not as broken.
I force myself to remember that she’s been dealing with this on her own already. I can’t jump in and try to save her in an instant when I’ve just entered her life.
I take a few deep breaths, needing to stop myself from launching off this couch and taking her in my arms. I can’t stand to be touched by men.
I can’t wrap my head around that statement. I haven’t tried anything up until this point and I’m glad for that now, but how far does that go?
Can she touch Nathan? Did he hug her? I can’t remember.
“I hope you aren’t mad. I didn’t mean to lead you on.” Her voice is strained and undeniably sad.
