Page 38 of Fight from the Heart

“What?” His eyes turn wild. “Why?”

“Because they’re important to me.” This is a test, but I’m not playing games. I need someone outside myself to tell me I’m crazy to want this man. I’m crazy to give in to a request to go to New York with him. I need someone to talk sense into me.

Jacob rolls off me, and I know he’ll decline. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why?” Here’s the moment of truth when he says he doesn’t do family and meeting them is like stepping into commitment.

“Because I’m not good with other people.” His head turns to face me. Lying in the snow in Ethan’s front yard, we should be talking someplace else, but I don’t want to move. Not yet.

“You do okay with me,” I tease. He’s an introvert, that’s for certain, but he easily opened up to me that day we met in the hospital. We’ve been working together ever since.

“That’s because you’re you.” He rolls to his side to face me better. “There’s something about you that makes me feel free to speak.”

My brows pinch. He’s a man of words. He speaks all the time through his writing, but then I recall what he told me the other night about his father and the abuse. The worlds he created to lose himself or save others. He couldn’t speak up for himself in his real life, so he did it through his fantasy storytelling.

“Come to the Tavern, and I’ll go to New York.”

“Jesus,” he hisses, rolling back in the snow and staring up at the dark late winter sky. “You’re in the wrong business. You should be in negotiations or something.”

“Is that a no?” I tease. He turns his attention back to me.

“That’s a you drive a hard bargain, but I’ll seek my retribution on you, my pretty.” He rolls his entire body back over me and swipes down the side of my head with a glove-covered finger. Then he brings the finger to his mouth and bites the glove, removing it. His warm fingertip traces along my cheek, and he watches it move.

“I’ll do anything you ask,” he whispers, and my heart flutters faster before he kisses me to seal our deal.

Chapter 15

Family Matters

[Pam]

By seven thirty on Thursday evening, Jacob hasn’t shown, and I’m second-guessing everything.

“How did you get Jacob to agree to come here tonight?” Ella asks when she first arrived with Ethan.

It’s actually strange to see Ella as an addition to our weekly family gathering, but we’ve added Emily, Jess’s fiancee, and Leon, Tricia’s fiancé, over the past six months. It feels like everyone is pairing up except me, the token single woman in the group.

“What happened with you two the other night? The tension was as cold as an icicle.”

I really long to discuss all the things with someone, but Jacob’s stepsister is probably not the best candidate to hear my concerns. That’s what Mae is for as my best friend, but I haven’t opened up to her either. Ella reaches for my wrist.

“You can tell me anything,” she whispers as she’s told me her fair share of secrets. When I helped her leave last November, I thought it best if she start at the beginning and tell me everything. Her tale is sad and twisted, but not without a happily ever after. At the time, we needed to make a plan of action for her. The course included three months of self-discovery, setting her future in motion, and seeking therapy for her past.

“Nothing happened,” I lie, playing the pretending game I’ve played for years. It was only sex. But if that’s true, why did he kiss me, ask me for a chance, and agree to come here tonight?

“Jacob told me he asked you to go to New York.” Ella’s voice rises with her enthusiasm.

“You’re going to New York?” my sister asks me. Her hand rubs over the small swell that isn’t visible yet, and I want to be happy for her. She has everything she ever dreamed of.

“I’m undecided,” I mutter.

“I hate to hear that.” The deep male voice behind my seat causes both Ella and me to spin and face Jacob, dressed head to toe in black. His normally edgy expression was heightened while his eyes said he was nervous. I stand to greet him. I hold out a hand, and he stares down at it a moment before slipping his fingers into mine.

“More hand holding,” he mutters, and I shake my head, biting the smile on my lips.

“You’re late,” I tell him.

“I’m on deadline,” he states. “But my assistant wanted me to meet her family.”