“I told him that if you hurt me again, he could beat the shit out of you.”
Jalen stood still for a moment, then nodded. “Okay then.” He gestured with our joined hands. “Should we go?”
We didn’t talk on the way back to the hotel, and I was grateful for it. I didn’t need conversation right now. Being able to lean my head on his shoulder and close my eyes, knowing that I didn’t need to worry about anything, that was all I needed. He saw to all of it.
A new officer was waiting outside my door, and he gave us both a smile as we went inside. I appreciated the security, but now that Jalen was here, I wasn’t sure I needed it anymore. My father wasn’t some mob boss or one of those serial killers who had all sorts of crazy followers. It was just him. There wasn’t really any need for protection.
It wasn’t until I’d seen him this morning that I realized how scared I’d been about seeing him again. Anger, I’d admitted and accepted. Fear, that had surprised me. But then they’d led him in, and everything had vanished. Anger. Fear. I’d looked at him, and all I felt was pity.
He’d looked…old. Much older than I would’ve imagined. His hair was thin and scraggly, unable to cover the scar that ran from the middle of his skull to just in front of his ear. As much a souvenir of his accident as his personality change. His skin was sallow and hung on him, almost as ill-fitting as his orange jumpsuit. But it was his eyes that were the worst. Blue like mine but looking nothing like mine. They moved constantly, looking at everyone and everything with the same flat hatred.
There was nothing left of the father I’d loved as a child.
“Rona?” Jalen touched my arm, bringing me back to the present. “You’re worn out. Why don’t you go get a shower, and I’ll order us some food? Anything specific you want?”
I shook my head. He was right. I was worn out. Beyond it, actually. “Thank you.” I put my hand on his shoulder and stretched up to brush my lips across his.
It was barely a kiss. Nothing like what we’d shared in the past. But it was a start.
His eyes lit up, and he started to lower his head for another kiss. I put my fingers on his lips, stopping him.
“I’m not ready for sex, not yet.” I slid my hand to his cheek, the stubble rasping against my palm. “But I want to be there. I want to trust you again, want this to work. When I say stop, you stop.”
His answer was to cover my mouth with his. His lips were gentle, moving with mine as I leaned into him. His body was firm and familiar, exactly what I needed to feel safe.
I really hoped he meant everything he’d said since he got here, because I didn’t know if my heart could handle being broken again.