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Screw walked over to her, gently taking her tear-stained face between his hands. “I’m in fucking awe of you, Jazmine.”
She snorted. “You really are crazy.”
“No,” he said, so serious, Jazz’s eyes widened. “I’ve known you were gorgeous from the moment I laid eyes on you. I knew you were funny the first time you shot a witty comeback at my flirting. I knew you were compassionate when you offered to babysit Beth that time Shell was in a jam. You’d known them for all of two days but jumped right in to help. I knew you were sweet the first time you brought food to the guys at the clubhouse. And I knew you were selfless when I watched you wink at a customer who couldn’t pay their bill as you told them it was covered. The moment you turned your back, I watched you dig through your tip money to take care of their check.”
None of this surprised Gumby. He’d known for years the kind of person Jazz was. They were all reasons he’d pursued her. Her face was bright red and adorable as she listened to Screw extol her virtues.
“But I had no idea the core of steel that lay beneath this beautiful exterior. And I’m in complete awe of it.”
“I’m not beautiful. Not even close. And strong?” Her harsh laugh gutted Gumby. “Don’t even go there. I’m so far from strong it’s not even funny.”
“Bullshit,” Gumby growled it out as his anger began to bubble to the surface. “Is that how you see yourself? As ugly and weak? Because if so, the only problem you have is poor eyesight.”
Jazz frowned as silent tears streamed from her red rimmed eyes. “It’s what I know. Not how I see myself.” She looked him straight in the eye and gave him the saddest smile. “I-I haven’t been able to look at myself without clothes in a year and a half.”
And if that wasn’t the most tragic thing he’d ever heard, he didn’t know what was.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
JAZZ HAD NEVER felt fatigue like she did just then. This deep, emotional exhaustion that consumed her and made her want to sleep until the memories disappeared.
But they’d never leave her. No matter how hard she wished them away or how long she slept, that horrible night would always be a part of her.
She trembled under the intense gazes of the men she’d just spilled her most private shame to. For so long, she’d feared someone would catch sight of her scars, find out what had happened to her, and she’d be forced to admit the demoralizing tale.
She’d been unprepared for today to be that day, but standing there, the sole focus of Screw and Gumby’s attention, she felt a degree of relief among the draining emotions. A small measure. As if the knowledge that she no longer hid a massive secret from the entire world lightened her.
Even though she’d confessed what happened, she hadn’t meant to let them know just how deep her body image issues ran. It was one thing for them to know she didn’t want others to see her scars, and quite another to learn she couldn’t stand the sight of her own body.
Leave it to Screw to pounce on the admission. “What do you mean you haven’t looked at yourself?”
With a laugh that sounded forced, she waved away his concern. “Nothing, I was just being dumb.”
He cupped her shoulders with his big hands, fingertips digging into the muscles at the base of her neck. Jazz nearly moaned as the knots gave way to his talented massage. Nothing, not even tension was a match for Screw when it came to touch. “It wasn’t nothing. It’s exactly why you lost it today in the diner.”
She tried to avoid his gaze, but he wouldn’t allow it, taking her chin in his hand and tipping it up.
“Are you trying to tell me you haven’t looked at your body since you were injured?”
If only she could sink through the floor right now.
“Jazz,” Gumby breathed. “I’m so…God, I’m so sorry.” He sounded as devastated as she felt. As though his insides had been pulverized by a meat grinder. The apology wasn’t just for what she went through, but what he perceived as his part in it. The words were so laden with guilt. Her story must have wrecked him especially since she’d alluded to harboring undeserved anger toward him for so long.
Oh, God, why had she opened her big mouth? He was going to blame himself. She shifted her gaze from Screw to Gumby.
The man seemed to have shrunk before her eyes, sinking in on himself with the weight of her account. Why the hell had she blabbed the story? Why now of all times? “Gumby,” she whispered.
“Is it true? How is that even possible?” Screw asked, oblivious to the extra reason for Gumby’s agony.
