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Screw set her down on the couch so gently, a fresh round of tears fell. What the hell was wrong with her? She didn’t cry. Tears didn’t solve shit as she’d learned long ago, so she never bothered with them. All they did was leave her puffy-eyed and exhausted.
Before Screw even had a chance to fully release her, a glass of what smelled like whiskey was pushed into her hand. “Drink,” Gumby ordered.
Gumby?
Where had he come from?
Jazz blinked, trying to clear the cobwebs from her brain. Gumby’s presence explained how Screw got in the house. But wait…since when did those two get along?
“You heard the man, baby, drink,” Screw said, lifting the glass toward her lips. He sat next to her on the couch while Gumby perched himself on the edge of her coffee table. The thing couldn’t be more than eighteen inches high, and the poor, tall guy’s knees were practically in his nose.
As ordered, she took a sip of the whiskey. Then another, then…fuck it, she downed the entire contents in three healthy swallows. It did the trick, burning her esophagus and bringing her back to the moment.
Her actions of the past half hour came crashing down around her as though an earthquake crumbled the house. “Shit,” she said, glancing around. “I need to call Toni and apologize.”
Gumby took the glass from her and set it next to him before capturing her hands in his. “You don’t need to call her now. She told us she’d check in tonight to make sure you’re okay. She’s not mad.”
His warm hands completely engulfed hers, making her aware of just how cold she’d grown. Apparently, during her tantrum at the diner, she hadn’t thought to grab her jacket.
“I’m sorry,” she said, head dropping forward. Someone rubbed up and down her back. Had to be Screw since Gumby still held her hands.
“It’s all right, Jazz,” Gumby said, giving her hands a squeeze. “Can you tell us what that was all about?” His voice held no recrimination, just compassion.
She shook her head. No, she couldn’t tell them. She couldn’t tell anyone. Not only was the story horrifying, but humiliating, and would no doubt change the way these men looked at her forever. No man would want her once they found out what happened to her. How could any stand to look at the mess of her? But knowing it and having it confirmed by two men she felt wildly attracted to were two very different things. The first kept her from seeking physical intimacy. The second could destroy her.
“Hey, Jazzy?”
She turned her head, locking gazes with Screw. The man with the solemn expression and eyes swirling with worry didn’t resemble the Screw she knew. He was barely recognizable as the womanizing sex fiend who couldn’t take anything seriously. Right then, he looked as grave as could be.
“That was about a lot more than a shirt. There’s no judgment here. Not from us.” He shifted his gaze to Gumby who nodded. “We all know you’ve cut ties with your past, babe. You never speak of your life before you popped up in Townsend, alone. None of us have pried because you’ve always seemed happy, but I know you keep secrets. And now I know they’re painful ones. I just want to help you. We just want to help you.”
He stroked a finger across her cheek, making a shiver run down her neck. It’d be so easy to get lost in those crystal blue eyes, that handsome face. So easy to beg him for pleasure. To use physical ecstasy to chase away the emotional turmoil.
But the aftermath, the inevitable rejection would only destroy her. And where would it all leave Gumby? She wanted him just as much as she desired Screw. It was high time to admit it to herself. No more denying, no more blaming it on her subconscious fantasies. She wanted two men. And wanted them together.
But she couldn’t have even one of them.
“Jazz, did someone hurt you?” Screw asked.
As she shifted her gaze between the two men, she swallowed. She had to give them something. A morsel to satisfy them for the moment.
“Yes,” she whispered, revealing more to them than anyone beyond hospital staff knew.
“Is it why you left Crystal Rock?” Gumby asked.
She nodded.
“Was it…oh, Jesus.” Gumby dropped her hands and shot to his feet, a palm pressed to his stomach. All the color had drained from his face, leaving him a sickly pale shade. “Was it one of my brothers?”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
HE WAS GONNA be sick.
Just the thought that one of his club brothers, men he loved as family and trusted with his life could have hurt Jazz had a pain he’d never experienced crushing his chest. If she confirmed his worst fear, his entire world would implode.
“No!” Jazz grabbed for him, but he scooted from her reach. Her touch would break him, sever the thin thread holding him together. He wanted, no needed to know what happened to her.
