Page 69 of Crimson Desires

“Because you don’t know me!” I snapped.

Silence hung heavy in the air.

Tentatively, Jack spoke. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve only known me for the past two weeks. But for the past two weeks, I haven’t been me, Jack. Not really. The Aster that you’ve gotten to know on this tour—the carefree girl who kisses rock stars and goes on dates to art museums—that’s not who I am 99% of the time.”

I crumpled in on myself, misery filling my chest. Jack’s arms around my chest felt suffocating, but I didn’t want him to pull them away. They felt like the only thing in the world keeping me together right now.

I continued. “99% of the time, I’m a regular girl. A waitress. A college dropout who has absolutely nothing going for her. I’m bitter, and I’m jaded, and honestly, I’m kind of a bitch. I’m telling you now, Jack, you don’t want that. You want the girl whose brokenness is just enough to make her interesting, but not too much to be unmanageable. You want the normal girl—until you realize that normal is boring and painfully unsexy. You want the girl that you think I am. Not the girl I am in real life.”

For a moment, there was no reply. I held my breath as I waited for Jack to come to his senses. To realize that I was right—that he didn’t actually want me.

Instead, he let out a deep sigh and said, “Aster, please don’t take this the wrong way—but that’s the dumbest fucking thing I’ve ever heard out of your mouth.”

Eyes widening, I turned toward him. I wasn’t sure whether to be offended or humiliated.

Meeting my gaze, Jack spoke. “You think I don’t know that you’re damaged? You think I don’t realize that you have baggage? I’m not stupid, Aster. I’m not trying to delude myself into thinking that you’re someone that you aren’t.” Jack’s hand cupped my jaw, so delicately that it hurt. “I’m not afraid of your damage, Aster. I’m not afraid of you.”

“Don’t say that.”

“I’ll say it. I’ll say it over and over again until you finally fucking believe it.” Jack smiled faintly. “And for your information, I don’t think you’re a bitch. Bitter? Yes. Jaded? Definitely. But a bitch? Never. You’re an amazing woman, Aster. And I want to be with you.”

I felt like my throat had been stuffed with cotton. “I want to believe you,” I confessed.

“So, believe me.”

“It’s not that simple.”

Jack kissed the top of my forehead. His deep blue eyes connected with mine. “It can be, if you let it. What are you so afraid of?”

For as long as I could remember, I’d kept my heart in a fortress. When Mom left Dad, she proved to me the true nature of love. Love wasn’t a beautiful, intangible force. Love was a matter of convenience and dependency. Love was selfish.

Love was a function of evolution. Without love, fathers would not stay to raise their kids. Without love, women would not stay with men who tortured them.

As a kid, I believed that my mom and dad were in love. They said that they were in love. Even when they fought, they claimed that they did it out of love.

But then Dad’s chronic illness became too much for Mom to handle. And when Dad was no longer useful to Mom—when he became more of a burden than a benefit—she packed up her love and she left.

My older sister, Violet, had claimed that she loved me, too. Yet, as soon as she had the opportunity to escape our family, she did. And all that love that she’d supposedly had for me escaped with her.

My heart had been broken too many times for me to believe in love. And yet, Jack made me want to try.

And that thought terrified the ever-loving fuck out of me.

“I’m... I’m scared to fall in love with you,” I confessed.

Jack turned off the hotel room lights and the TV. He kissed a trail from my shoulder to the nape of my neck. “You don’t have to fall for me just yet. You can take your time,” he said.

“You’re okay with waiting?” I asked.

Jack laughed softly. “Yes. I’ll wait for as long as you need me to, flower girl.”

Chapter Sixteen

Jack

The morning consisted of breakfast, a lazy blowjob (her giving, me receiving), and a hot shower. Aster seemed fine at first, but as the morning progressed, I sensed an undercurrent of anxiety bubbling up within her.

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