Wound Up (17 page)

Her face had blanched. She tried to pick her teacup up but her hands shook so badly she only spilled the tepid contents all over the table. “I-I’m sorry.”

“It was an ugly, ugly life. Second Chances saved me when I was too stupid to save myself. I was in and out of jail several times before I landed on their doorstep as a final chance to straighten up. I owe them so much. It’s why it’s so important for me to work there.” He swallowed hard enough he nearly choked. “I want to give back to the program that saved me, and I want to give other kids the same opportunity.”

“Why did they let you go?”

“Deuce?”

She nodded furiously.

“I fought my way out. Literally. Think cage fighting but with weapons. It was ugly.”

“It nearly killed him,” Darcy said from the doorway. “But he made it.” She moved in and laid a hand on Justin’s shoulder. “Don’t hold the past against him.”

“I can’t change who I was, Grace. Therapy taught me that much. The most I can do is try my damnedest to be a better person. I had to forgive myself for being responsible for a lot of ugliness. You have every right to know who I once was, but I want you to see me for who I am now.”

And that was the crux of the entire evolutionary cycle he’d been caught up in. It came down to now, to this very moment, when he was either rejected or absolved.

Grace turned huge green eyes to him and stared, seeming to gaze straight through him to his most intimate parts.

He let her look, silently pleading with her to glimpse the man he wanted to be for her.

17

G
RACE
COULD
ONLY
stare at Justin with a combination of horror and admiration. Horror that he’d been such a violent young man; admiration that he’d clawed his way out of the lifestyle and turned himself around. It all made sense now. “That’s why you let me take the lead with Gavin. You knew it would be more effective.”

Justin reached for her hand, stopping when she involuntarily flinched. “I understood how to handle him because it was how I was handled. The rest? You did it on your own—the comic-book connection, the firm but compassionate female authority figure, the camaraderie. But I also realized I was also too close to be entirely objective. I’ve got to get over that if I’m going to make this work at the program.”

“You’ll deal with a lot of kids involved in various gangs.” The thought made her want to vomit. How could she be involved with a man who would put himself in constant danger daily just by showing up to work? Who would willingly dive into the kind of malignant environment she was so desperately trying to leave behind? She wasn’t sure it was something she could live with.

“I will, yes. But hopefully I’ll be a positive influence on them and help them realize they’ve got options.” He closed the distance between their hands and laced their fingers together. “Please, Grace. Trust who you know I am now, not who I used to be.”

“You killed people.”

“I did. I’ll never be proud of it, but it was a ‘me or them’ situation each time.”

“How many times?” When he hesitated, her fingers spasmed in his grasp. “How many times, Justin?”

“Less than ten.”

She shuddered.
Any one of those instances could have gone a different direction.
“You should have turned yourself into the police.”

His hand spasmed. “Probably, but I never did. Do you want me to?”

“No.” The answer erupted from her. “No,” she repeated, quieter.

“I have to move forward. If I stay still and look back...” He dragged his free hand down his face.

“The nightmares can be brutal, even now,” Darcy interjected. “Justin, would you give me a moment with Grace? You can go let your sisters know that dinner’s on in five minutes and they should wash up.”

He silently rose and left the room.

The moment his heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs, Darcy faced her. “Be careful with him.” The plea was little more than a breath. “He was in such a bad place after he lost his father. Caught up in my own grief, I wasn’t enough for him. He suffered for it. I don’t want to see him suffer again.” She took a deep breath and looked up, eyes as blue as her son’s. “When he loves, he does it wholeheartedly. And that means he takes loss harder than most. I don’t want him to go through that kind of loss again.”

Grace answered honestly. “First, everyone processes grief differently. You never stopped loving Justin, and I’m sure he got that beyond a shadow of a doubt. He had to find his way out of his own grief. You were waiting for him when he did. That’s love and, I’d be willing to wager, that’s also where he learned about how to love.”
Love.
Justin hadn’t said anything about love. He cared for her, yes. But love? “Second, I’m not at all sure that he loves me, Darcy.”

The other woman smiled softly then, her face appearing an easy decade younger without the worry. “He’s my baby boy, my first child.
I
learned what love really was when I had him. Trust me when I tell you I can recognize it at ten paces on a moonless night.” She took Grace’s hands. “Are you in love, sweetie? How do you feel about him?”

Grace’s pulse sped up and her heart hammered when she thought of Justin, being in Justin’s arms, hearing Justin’s laugh, basking in his compassionate warmth, smelling his cologne, seeing those blue eyes lock on hers in moments of absolute passion. Goose bumps spread up her arms and she shivered.

“That says plenty,” Darcy murmured.

“A physical reaction is one thing, but...I’m not sure. It’s impossible to be sure that what I’m experiencing is that be-all and end-all that I want.” She dropped her gaze. “That sounds very childish, doesn’t it?”

Darcy hooked a work-worn finger under Grace’s chin and gently lifted her head until their eyes met. “That’s not childish at all, Grace. Those are the words of a woman who won’t settle for less than being the reason a man draws his every breath.”

Grace swallowed around the lump in her throat, searching Darcy’s face, taking comfort in the compassion and wisdom that rested there. The older woman was right. Grace wouldn’t settle for less. She’d witnessed firsthand years of casual sex and meaningless relationships erode her mother’s willingness to invest in another human being. Relationships of any type were too much work, and Cindy didn’t work.

No, she’d chosen to let Grace long for love as a child, abused her for wanting love as a young teen and berated her as a young adult for being foolish enough to hunger for it. Now? The final break had come because Cindy had tried to taint Grace’s conviction that she could find a man who made her believe love was possible. That was the real crux of the matter. Deep down, Grace wanted Justin to love her. She wanted to be the moon to his sun, the fuel to his flame...the reason he drew his every breath. She wanted him to prove she was lovable when all she’d ever heard was the opposite. That Cindy intended to steal that from her? No. That was the line in the sand no one crossed. It was time to drop her mother’s emotional baggage and move on, to make a clean break and be free from the nightmares altogether. She was done with Cindy. That meant she was free to go where she wanted to go and be who she wanted to be.

“Grace?”

Justin’s voice pulled her from her emotional tailspin before she crashed and burned.

She rose from her chair and moved to him, peripherally aware that Darcy had stepped out of the kitchen. Lacing her hands together behind Justin’s neck, she pulled him toward her, silently thrilled when his hands went to her waist and his lips found hers. The kiss was nearly reverent, a declaration of unspoken desire between them. It told of hopes and dreams for the future, wishes waiting to be fulfilled. It reassured her that she was precious and cherished and wanted, that she had a place with this man. It said almost everything Grace wanted it to say but, when she broke away to meet his deep blue eyes, the one thing she most needed she didn’t get. He didn’t tell her he loved her.

That was fine. She would wait.

Holding his gaze, she chose her words carefully. “That conversation is closed. I see who you are. What you were? That’s past. Just promise me you’ll keep it there.”

His brows drew together. “I would never let that violence come near you.”

She rubbed her thumb over his stubbled chin. “I’ll hold you to that.”

They set the table, moving around each other like satellites orbiting a planet, passing close but never touching. There was so much she wanted to say, yet years of rejection rendered her mute. She had no doubt she was going to have to ditch the insecurities and claim what she wanted if she intended to influence the outcome.

Turning to Justin, she found him watching her with the strangest expression. “What?” she asked.

“Nothing.” With a small shrug, he grabbed pot holders and set the chicken potpie in the center of the table at the same time more than one pair of feet clattered down the stairs.

“Melody has a friend over.” He leaned across the table. “Unfortunately it’s—” He smiled over her shoulder. “Hi, Jenny.”

If she hadn’t known him as well as she already did, hadn’t watched him deal with women at the club, she never would have picked up on his discomfort. She glanced over his shoulder and found Melody rolling her eyes as a young girl, probably fifteen or sixteen, gazed at Justin with open longing. Grace felt for Jenny. She understood how miserable it was to love someone and not have them love you in return. She decided to help the girl out.

Jenny noticed Grace and looked at her with confusion just as Justin moved to Grace’s side. Grace recognized the exact minute—when Justin’s hand landed on her waist—that Jenny realized Grace was Justin’s girlfriend. Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open.

Grace stepped forward. “Hi, Jenny. Justin’s told me a lot about you.”

The girl considered her for the briefest second before glancing at Justin. “He has?”

Grace offered her hand. Jenny shook it, still staring fixedly at Justin. “He has. Apparently you’re a pretty regular fixture at the Maxwell house.” Smiling, Grace retrieved the hand Jenny kept shaking. “Justin was teaching me how to make chicken potpie.”

“You can’t cook?” the girl asked, obviously aiming for disdain.

“Nope. Not unless you count opening cans of soup. I make a mean can of soup.”

“I’ve taken home economics. I can make a bunch of stuff,” Jenny said assertively.

“That’s cool.” Grace sat in the seat Justin pulled out for her. “What’s your best dish?”

Jenny eyed her suspiciously. “I make really awesome lasagna.”

“I love lasagna! Would you teach me how to make it? Here? I’m sure Justin wouldn’t mind helping us cut up ingredients. He helped out tonight.”

Jenny was so obviously thrown for a loop, Grace wondered if she’d done more harm than good. The girl was unsure whether to like Grace or hate her for being with Justin. Instead of pushing, Grace let her work through it. Before she could speak, Melody started to answer.

Grace shook her head. “It’s Jenny’s best meal so she should be the one to teach me this time, okay?”

Melody sighed. “Whatevs.”

Jenny finally nodded slowly. “If Justin will help cut stuff up.”

“He will.” Grace eyed him levelly. “Won’t you?”

“Sure.” He smiled.

Darcy hustled in. “Hi, Jenny. I’m glad you stayed for dinner.”

“Justin’s here, Mom. Of course she stayed.”

“Melody Ann, mind your manners.”

The bite in Darcy’s words made the teen dip her chin. “I apologize.”

“You owe the apology to Jenny, not me.”

“Sorry, Jen. It just freaks me out that you totally think Justin’s hot.”

Jenny blushed furiously.

“As far as apologies go, that may have been the most awkward thing I’ve ever heard. Regardless,” Justin drawled, winking at Jenny, “I have an affinity for any woman who appreciates the fact I’m hot. Thank you.”

Grace’s heart, which had been already full to overflowing, swelled even more. Justin was so kind, even as uncomfortable as he was. He continued to prove over and over what an amazing man he was, and Grace realized her comments about Prince Charming hadn’t been so far off the mark. He was everything a woman could want, and here he was. Asking to be hers.

“Moon eyes?” Justin leaned over and whispered, lips twitching against her ear. “Not you, too.”

She laughed, couldn’t help it. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize for making me a lucky man.” Grace looked down at her plate, fighting to regain her equilibrium as Justin reached for the pie server. “Okay. Who’s up first?”

* * *

T
HE
NEXT
COUPLE
of days passed without incident for Justin. Until Friday. Gavin, the kid being courted by Deuce-8, skipped his third counseling appointment. Justin called his parole officer to report the skip only to be told by the harried woman that he’d also skipped school both Thursday and Friday. No one seemed to know where he was, family included.

Nausea hit Justin hard enough he grabbed the trash can and fought not to retch. He couldn’t lose the kid to the gang. Justin wanted to save the kid from a lifetime of violence and regret, a lifetime that would, in all likelihood, kill him before he was even old enough to vote. He’d been there. He knew. He also knew there was a solid chance the gang had upped their pressure to pull the kid deeper, to separate him from his regular life. They’d make him believe he was important, irreplaceable, wanted. They’d give him cash, drugs, women—whatever it took to get him to commit. Then they’d use him like the pawn he was, another body in the ever-growing turf war.

An image of the kid, eyes open but blinded by death, rose in his mind. Bile rushed up his throat. Too far lost to memories and emotions, he couldn’t stop himself from vomiting.

Grace entered as he set the trash can down. She took in everything—the phone pulled close, his pallor, the reek of bile—and shut the door very quietly. “What happened?”

He pulled his tie off and wiped his mouth. “Gavin’s missing.”

“No.” Her hushed refusal to accept the truth made the muscles along her shoulder tighten more. “I’d wanted to believe he was just late today.”

Glancing at the clock, he shook his head. “‘Late’ is fifteen minutes, not three hours.”

“I didn’t want to give up hope,” she said, low and hard. “Sometimes it’s all a person’s got.”

The only thing he could do was nod and accept the bottle of soda she slid his way. Rinsing his mouth, he stood. “I’ve got to update the director so we can increase security.”

“Why?”

Stopping at the door, he looked back, his stare blank. “If Gavin admitted to Deuce’s leaders that he talked to us, they might retaliate against us for screwing with their recruit.”

“I hate that you’re so familiar with this.”

The heartache in her words wrecked him. He’d disappointed so many people over his thirty years, letting them down with varying degrees of failure. He didn’t want to pull a repeat performance with her. Never with her. “Forgive the bile breath.”

Her brows drew together. “Huh?”

Stepping up to her, he drew her into a fierce hug and laid his cheek on the top of her head. His heart rate slowed and his stomach settled some when she wrapped her arms around his waist in return. “Thank you.”

“For what?” she asked.

“This.” He stayed that way longer than he should have, but he couldn’t seem to let go. It slowly dawned on him that she was as much a safe haven for him as he was for her. In a different way, maybe, but still a place of refuge all the same.

He breathed her in, the smell of her shampoo combining with her warm skin to form a heady smell. Her hair, down today, hung over his arms in loose waves. The way her body molded to his—or maybe his molded to hers?—was as close to perfection as nature could get. Sleeping with her the past few nights, no sex but true sleep, and waking up to her every morning had cemented the fact he loved her. He’d never wanted another woman like this, long-term.