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“Celia asked me to help you. I doubt she meant letting you Uber to a hotel with not even proper clothes on your back.” Malcolm stood, crossing his arms. “I’ve got a place. And I won’t even ask any more questions.”
Jami frowned until she heard his promise. She didn’t want to talk about how pathetic she was, running away from an older man who’d been nothing but kind to her, all because she couldn’t tell him how she felt. Or how she didn’t feel.
One step at a time, she reminded herself. It was a mantra she’d been repeating ever since she was a teenager, when one mistake had caused her world to crash down onto her shoulders.
Chapter 6
Malcolmglancedoverathis passenger, relieved when she was staring out the window and didn’t notice. He couldn’t believe it was really Jami.
She looked nothing like the teenager he remembered. That girl had been vibrant, with a take-charge attitude. She’d certainly taken charge of him. Malcolm had been with a number of women since, but he’d polished his first time often enough that it had gleamed in his memory.
He’d had every intention of calling her afterward, only that had never happened. Instead, he’d ended up clutching his cousin’s hand as he waited for an ambulance. When his cousin’s life had fallen apart, he’d gained a new focus. It hadn’t helped that his cell phone had broken in the scuffle with his aunt either. It had been the only link he’d had to Jami.
That, and a scuffed-up book that he’d read way too often over the years.
Malcolm turned into the driveway of the house he’d grown up in. He’d purchased it from his parents a few years back. They’d been tired of taking care of it and had moved into one of the newer condos downtown. Malcolm had always felt like he owned the place, and now he did.
“Is this where you had in mind?” Jami asked, her expression nervous as she looked at him.
“Yeah,” he said, turning off the truck. With her bum leg, she’d never make it to the second story at the tavern, where he let most of the women he helped stay. There had been quite a few over the years, though none had been linked to Celia before in any way. He hopped out, rounding the vehicle only to find Jami had already shoved the passenger door open and attempted to slide out. “Hey, wait a minute.”
“The doctor said walking on the leg wasn’t a bad thing,” Jami said. The grit to her teeth made him want to call her out on her mistake. Maybe even sweep her up in his arms and carry her inside. The idea sparked even more familiarity. He’d carried his Jami to the nurse’s office back when they were teenagers, after a bully had pushed her down and jacked up her knee.
The memory added to his worried scowl, and the adult Jami in front of him stiffened, her eyes wide and worried. Scared, even. Of him.
No reciprocal recognition flashed in her eyes. Malcolm wondered if a woman could really forget the person she lost her virginity to. Of course, more than a decade had passed since that time, and he wasn’t the same person either. He hated even the hint that she might be afraid of him. His hands hovered but didn’t touch her. “I’ll help you up the steps to the porch.”
A stubborn look entered her eyes. “I’ve got it.”
Sure she did. Jami had to be woozy from whatever pain meds they’d put her on, plus unbalanced from the cast and, hell, not wearing any pants.
But Malcolm simply waited behind her as she struggled up the three steps on her own, ready to catch her if she fell. She didn’t, and he moved past her to unlock the front door and flip on some lights. Instead of hovering further, he headed toward the hallway. “The spare room is down here at the end.”
“Spare room?” Jami asked. A trembling was taking over her body. “So we’ll be staying here together?”
Malcolm crossed his arms, leaning on the edge of the entryway. “Are you so certain you’ll be safe alone?”
“Andrew won’t—” Jami bit her lip, hard.
Malcolm had already assumed it was the Andrew Raneer guy she was running from. There was nothing cowardly about getting out of a bad situation. A lot of the women he’d tried to help over the years had gone back or refused to leave.
Even Celia had felt tons of guilt for not helping more with her mother after the incident.
“I wasn’t worried about anyone finding you,” he said, deciding not to push her into telling him anything about the man. Talking about it didn’t always help. “I meant, you’re pretty shaky. I can stay and help out, or if you’re insistent, there’s somewhere else I can go to sleep.” He didn’t like the idea, but the most important thing was allowing her to feel safe.
Jami raised her head to look at him. “You’d leave me in your home alone?” she asked.
Malcolm shrugged. “Not like I have much for you to run off with.” He’d sunk most of what he’d earned back into the tavern. He spent almost all his time there as well, forcing himself to close on Sundays because he knew he’d work around the clock if not. “But are you certain you’ll be okay?”
“I’m tougher than I look,” she said, with a grimace instead of a smile.
He knew that, or at least she had been. Now, she looked like a breeze wouldn’t just blow her over, but would drag her down the street. The teenage Jami had been petite, but she’d had an ass. This one was bony.
“Prove it. Get yourself settled in the guest room while I grab a few things.” Malcolm didn’t wait for her to nod, but instead strode to his own room. He considered it a good sign that she was already exerting independence. There had been a few over the years that had grown clingy, and that wasn’t healthy for them. Malcolm wasn’t a savior like they thought. He was selfish as hell and only did things he wanted to do. Helping others the way he’d been too late to help Celia was a balm to his spirit, especially during the times when Celia had needed to be independent herself.
He’d been meaning to bring some clothes and toiletries to the tavern since he’d begun crashing there often enough. Malcolm wasn’t one to drink himself into a stupor or anything. The last time he had imbibed too much was the night Celia got engaged, with Blake and their rock star friend, Damon, keeping him company, though in Damon’s case it was over the phone. He hadn’t gotten drunk because he was losing the love of his life like they often teased. Celia was his cousin, for Christ’s sake. He loved her, but he wasn’t in love with her.
Spending over a decade worrying about her had created some bad habits that were going to be difficult to replace. He knew he had to replace them, though, for Trenton and Celia to give what they had a chance. He couldn’t be her number one.
