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She tenses, and when she looks up at me, her eyes are narrowed coldly.
“What,” she sneers. “Mad I’m not the delicate little untouched flower you thought I’d—”
“I’m fuckingmadbecause I want todestroy him,” I snarl lethally.
Melody pales. But she moves deeper into my arms.
“I—I can’t tell you.”
“Can’t or won’t.”
“Jackson—”
“Just tell me who this fuck is, Melody,” I hiss.
She shakes her head.
“He was…he stilliskind of famous. My mom signed a bunch of NDAs and other things. I think there was some money involved. I don’t really know.”
“Tell me who this monster is, and I swear to fucking Christ—”
“Jacksonplease.”
The urgency in her voice stops me and clears the red mist from eyes momentarily. And when I drag myself from that rage and look down into her eyes, I remember what’s important here.
Her. Not my own, possibly selfishly tinged need for vengeance.Her.
“Just…let me keep this one locked up, okay?”
I reach up, pushing a lock of pink arm her face as I nod.
“Okay.”
She sinks against me, and my arms tighten around her.
“Thank you.”
“For?”
“Seeing me,” she says softly. “And not seeing the shame or the—”
“I see you.”
I lean down, my lips kissing the top of her head.
“And all I see is perfection.”
I hold her like that as the fire crackles and the storm blows outside, until her breathing gets regular, and her body sinks into sleep against me.
It occurs to me that this is literally the first time in my life I’ve ever held a woman until she falls asleep.
Imagine that.
22
Melody
I open my eyes to…whiteness.
