Page 53 of Fight for You
She tilted her head, no judgment passed over her face, just factual assessment. “I get it. You feel remorse for the gardener, Hector. That was a mistake. PTSD. But now … if someone doesn’t do better? They die, huh?”
Okay, maybe not facts, then.
“They—” Aye, I was gonna steer us right back to the real problem: Those MacKenzies she loved to bring up. “Theyinitiate gun deals! Drugs!” I snapped, using more force behind my words than I intended. “I assure you; their sole pursuit is their own agenda!”
Jordyn flinched, and I instantly hated myself for it. “I’m sor?—”
“No. It’s okay, Jamie. You’ve been on the other end of my rants.”
“Hey.” I cupped her face with my hands, anchoring her with my touch. “You don’t deserve me yelling at you. But you do deserve to understand me better, Jordyn. The look I saw on your face after we stopped kissing just now … it wrecked me.”
Arms crossed, Jordyn looked away. Her lip trembled before she caught it between her teeth. That same wall she’d torn down so many times—the one fortified by shame, by survival—re-erected itself. Insecurity signed itself all over her face.
My eyes scanned CCTV monitors that flitted through live sequences. Parking lot. Garage. Front gate. No threats. But the threat in this room? The girl losing her trust in me.
“Jordyn,” I said, voice low, deep, firm. “I am attracted to you.You make my heart race. My hands shake. My thoughts blur. You. Undo. Me.”
Her eyes snapped toward mine—frustration, fire, pain. “Then why does it feel like I’m the only one falling? Like I’ve thrown myself at someone who doesn’t know what to do with me?”
I maintained a respectful distance since Jordyn’s arms walled her off. “Just because I’m asexual doesn’t mean I’m cold. Broken. Or incapable of love.”
“I know that, Jamie.” Her voice cracked. “You told me already. Still … I’m trying to wrap my mind around that.”
“No.” I groaned. “You’re still coming from a place where touches equal love. For the past five months, I’ve tried to show you—really show you—that physical desires aren’t the starting line for me. Doesn’t mean that never shows up. God knows, when you kiss me …” I paused. “I feel it with every part of my being.”
“I thought I was the only one who feels—” Jordyn cut herself off, head lifted to the ceiling, she pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry. You say you feel. It’s just …”
“It’s just not the way you’ve beenlovedin the past.”
She glanced at me, eyes glassy, chest rising. “I want you to want me, Jamie. All of me. Not just the trauma—because, hell, that just makes me feel like a project. Like I’m a broken bird, and you’re nursing me back to health. Butlove onthis body. The very body I fought to love again—after how much I hated myself for what others have done to me.”
“Okay, I get that. We will get to that. You’re frustrated. I’m frustrated. And somewhere along the way tonight, I started confusing feeding your heart, your mind, and your soul with stolen touches and kisses.”
She lightly pounded the sides of her fists against my chest. “I want that! Stolen. Offered. I don’t give a damn, Jamie. Touch me.”
I grabbed her hands, gently, firmly, stopping the tiny blows.They weren’t violent. But desperate. Raw. Anguished. Tortured as if every hit she’d issued to my chest hurt her more.
“That is how I know you’re attracted to me,” she whispered.
I held her wrist, careful not to cage her in. “Iamattracted to you. But I’m also honoring you. And myself. That’s why I stopped when it went too far. I’ve decided. I think … I want to wait for marriage.Ourmarriage.”
I couldn’t tell if she fully believed me, but she stepped back, shoes crunching glass. Her gaze dropped to a shattered photo frame on the floor. Carefully, she picked up the golden frame. Shards of glass fell.
Camdyn had texted me the same portrait last Christmas. He wore a tuxedo, the collar concealing all the tattoos—unnecessary depictions of violence—on his neck. Willow was in a ball gown, and they sat on really nice-looking chairs. Camryn, the eldest, had his hand on his mother’s shoulder. Her hand reached back naturally and clasped the top of his while he stood at her side. The boy who’d grown up so much over the years resembled a man. A horde of kids sat around them. That right there was the reason I asked Leith for his help. I couldn’t pull Camdyn into this. My brother, no longer tortured by the guilt of not getting taken too, had stopped snorting coke. He’d made a life for himself and honored Willow the way she deserved.
I could do that for Jor?—
“Beautiful family,” she murmured, brushing a thumb over Willow’s hair. “I’d kill for these Sistah locs.” But even though I could tell she was trying her best to compliment the photo, staring at it brought her pain. She wanted this and didn’t believe in me to give it to her. The muscle beneath my jaw twitched. We had so much to learn about each other.
“That’s Camdyn’s wife, right?” she asked. “He’s boy three of seven?”
“Yep.” I swallowed.
“He’s the one who got dragged down the street?” A wave of sorrow washed over Jordyn’s face.
I nodded.
After she processed for a moment, the sorrow washed away and something else replaced it. Yearning.
