Page 104 of Against the Rules (Harts of Passion 1)

I blew out a long breath and squeezed her hands. "It wasn't Gene." My voice sounded as if I was being choked, which in a way I was. My throat was tight from sharing my past. "Gene didn’t hurt either of us. It was my stepsister. Mallory...molested me." I choked on the word. It was one that rattled around in my nightmares, but I never said it out loud.

Her fidgeting stilled. "Mallory." It was a statement, not a question. "I…I don't understand. How could she...why..."

I watched her eyes flicker between me and the floor as she tried to process everything I'd told her. She started to say something a couple of times but shook her head and closed her mouth.

I was resolved to tell her anything she wanted to know but was grateful when she didn't ask for details. She didn't need to know how Mallory started off telling me she could make me feel good, the same way adults did when they did the same things the dolls did. How she taught a young boy just starting puberty to masturbate, and later how she came to his room and forced him to touch her while she stroked him to orgasm. How even when he didn't want it and tried to fight it, basic biology still responded to her touch. I'd spent months in counseling to convince me Mallory had taken advantage of me, that I wasn't a sicko who liked to have sex with his stepsister. That she had, in reality, raped me. And subsequently, developed a lifelong issue with trust when it came to women.

"Oh, dear God. Jax. I don't know what to say." She curled into a ball on my lap and wrapped her arms around me, squeezing hard while burying her face against my chest so tight I couldn't see how she could breathe. I leaned back against the couch, bringing her with me. We could have sat like that for minutes or hours. Time lost meaning. I knew she was grieving for the little boy I used to be and offering comfort; and me soaking it up like a dry sponge on behalf of the boy who couldn't.

Without lifting her head, she finally spoke. "I'm sorry, Jax. It makes me sick and sad all that happened to you as a child."

"I survived."

She lifted her head. "But childhood isn't meant to be survived. It's meant to be cherished and to have fun and feel safe in exploring the world around you. It makes me realize how good I had it, and how I haven't appreciated it."

I held her face in my hands. "I'm glad you didn't know any different, sweetheart. And despite everything, I'm luckier than many. I had a mom who sacrificed everything to keep me safe once she found out the truth, even though it broke her heart in many ways."

"Of course, she did. She's your mom. How did she find out? Did you tell her?"

"No." I tucked her face back into my neck. I trusted her, but I couldn't quite look at her while the other half of my confession came out. "I was too scared. Mallory convinced me my mom would be angry at me if I ruined her new marriage, how I'd be such a bad son if I made her unhappy. Mallory convinced me that if I really loved her and loved my family, I wouldn’t say anything. And I believed her. My mom was the happiest I'd seen in years. My last words to my father were that I'd take care of her. It sounds so twisted as an adult, but back then I was trying to protect her."

"Oh, Jax." Her fingers flexed, clasping the material of my shirt. "That's so brave and sad at the same time."

"I knew what we were doing wasn't right. But understand, Mallory was beautiful, and she was a huge flirt. She'd act like a shy and innocent girl at home, but as soon as our parents weren't looking, she was flirty, and I don't know, provocative, even for a teenager. Boys and even grown men noticed her. I heard all the time from other guys that if they had a stepsister like that, they'd be trying to tap into it. And in my own mind, I couldn't help but think that I wouldn't respond to her if I didn't actually like it."

Grace sat up. "No. That's not how that works. You were a hormonal teenager that she took advantage of. She threatened you."

I smirked. "Yes, counselor. Send me your bill."

She smacked me lightly on the chest.

"Too soon for jokes?"

She sat up, frowning. "It's not a joke at all."

"No, it's not," I conceded.

We sat quietly again, lost in our thoughts. My thoughts mostly centered on what she was thinking, and where we went from here.

She broke the ice first. "Why now?"

"Hmm?"

"Why tell me this now? Why not sooner, or why at all?" She started playing with a button on my shirt. At least she wasn't pulling away. I hoped that was a good sign.

I sighed and dropped my head back on the couch. "I didn't tell you sooner for the obvious reason that I don't like to talk about it. And how do you bring something like that up? I hid it as a child. It's even easier to hide it as an adult."

"That makes sense." Her voice was quiet. Gently, she pushed against me to sit up. I lifted my head to look at her. The anger had left her eyes, but they still didn't have the warm sparkle I'd grown addicted to. Pain and doubt clouded them. "But why tell me now?"

I cupped her cheek in my palm. "Because I've broken all the other rules I had in place to protect myself. Because you're more. Because I had to try to explain why I'm an ass so much of the time. There are so many other becauses, Grace, but mostly because I need you to understand why it was hard to admit how much I love you."

I had to give in to the longing to have my lips touch her in some way, but I managed to keep them to her forehead. I didn't feel like I had the right for more after I'd pushed her away.

I pressed my head against hers. "I know this doesn't fix everything. I can't sit here and tell you I'm not still hurt that you weren't honest with me, but that doesn't excuse my reaction. I know your heart, Grace, and I know you'd never deliberately hurt anyone. I'm sorry I hurt you, more than you know. I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, but because I'm a selfish ass, I'm asking for it anyway. Again."

Her head rolled against mine, and I panicked that she was telling me "no."

"You're not an ass all of the time."

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