Page 126 of Already Home

Before she could figure out what to say or where to go, hecrossed to her and took her hand. Then he led her into the bedroom and pulledback the covers.

“Get in,” he said. “I’m going to sleep here tonight. On top ofthe covers. I’m not going to try anything. I’ll be busy keeping the ghostsaway.”

She pulled free of his gentle touch and faced him. “Don’t dothis,” she said, her eyes burning, her throat tight. “Don’t be nice to me. Don’tmake it harder than it is.”

“I don’t want to make it harder. I want to help.”

She thrust out her chin. “Maybe I deserved this.”

He lightly touched her bruised cheek. “Violet, no one deservesthis.”

“You don’t know. You don’t know anything. I’ve been beat upbefore. Twice. It was common in my line of work.” She squared her shoulders.“I’m not who you think, Dragon. I’m not a nice girl caught up in a badsituation. I never graduated high school. I was already selling myself before Iwas eighteen. I did it because it was an easy way to get money and get high. Idid drugs and pretty much any guy with cash. It didn’t matter when or where. Iwas a whore. I’m not like those other girls you know and I’m done trying to besomething I’m not. This is me.” Her voice rose with each word until she wasnearly shouting.

When the first tear fell, she felt shame all the way to herbones. She turned her back, fighting for control.

“Just get out,” she whispered.

There was only silence for the longest time. She brushed awaythe moisture on her cheeks, not even wincing when her fingers pressed into theswelling.

Strong but gentle hands settled on her shoulders, turning her.Before she could stop him, he’d pulled her against him and was holding her.

“It’s okay,” he whispered.

“It’s not,” she mumbled into his T-shirt. He smelled of warmskin and fabric softener.

“It will be. I promise.” He stroked her short hair. “You’re nota whore, Violet. You’re not bad and you don’t deserve this. If you’re trying toscare me away, you’re going to have to work a whole lot harder than this.”

Slowly, she raised her gaze to him. “Who are you?”

“Just a guy.”

“Why aren’t you running for the door?”

“There’s nowhere else I want to be.”

He spoke sincerely. She wanted to believe him, but her trusthad been shattered one too many times.

He must have read that in her eyes. “Don’t worry about it,” hetold her. “You can take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You live in San Francisco.”

One corner of his mouth turned up in a smile. “Okay, sure. Getpicky. We’ll figure it out.”

She frowned. “I’m not dating you. I just got beat up by myboyfriend. Doesn’t dating seem inappropriate?”

“No. Now come to bed.”

Not knowing what else to do, she got into bed. He pulled up thecovers, then circled around to the other side and climbed in next to her.

There were layers of sheet and blanket between them, but shestill felt the warmth of his body and the gentle way he held her. He was carefulnot to jostle her ribs.

She lay with her head on his shoulder, his hand stroking herback. Every now and then he kissed the top of her head.

Eventually she started to relax.

“Aren’t you going to turn the lights out?” she asked, her voicesounding sleepy.

“No. You’ll worry if you can’t see what’s coming.”

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