“She’s my friend and I watched her taking steps from a bad place. Then you came along. You helped, but now I think you’ll make things worse.”
“I don’t abuse her! Don’t you fucking accuse me of being bad for Ruby.”
Finally alone with me, he has the balls to say what he thinks. “I won’t fight with you, but think about where she came from. Don’t fuck with Ruby’s self-esteem by screwing her over and kicking her to one side.”
“Watch who you’re talking to, little boy,” I growl.
“Hit a nerve, have I?” he snaps back.
“I suggest you stop now before this gets nasty.”
Jax drops his aggression, eyes taking on a look of concern. “Ruby deserves to be loved. If you can’t give her that, do you deserve hers?”
Before I can respond, he turns and walks away. For all his bravado and swagger, this guy has an intuition I wouldn’t expect. He’s naïve, his sheltered background protecting him from the bad in the world, but he understands girls in the same way Bryn does. How do guys do that? Maybe he grew up in a house full of sisters like Bryn and is conditioned the same way. Yeah, I understand that Jax is worried about Ruby but he has no place to interfere. If he says anything again, I doubt I’ll react as calmly.
* * *
The topic isn’t mentionedon the way back to the house. Instead, Ruby chats about the gig, over analysing every track the band performed as she usually does.
“You guys rocked, as always,” I tell her as we head into the kitchen.
And as always, my approval of her music makes Ruby smile. She rewards me with a slow, soft kiss, wrapping her arms around my back, and gripping me close. I lift Ruby onto the kitchen counter and put a hand either side of her, shifting so her legs circle my waist.
“So, it’s your birthday, Ruby Tuesday?” I nudge her cheek with my nose.
“I don’t like celebrating my birthday,” she mutters. “The day only reminds me of loneliness. I rarely had friends to share birthdays with, and after mum left, my uncle and aunt forgot half the time anyway.”
“Twenty-first, though.”
“So?”
“I don’t remember my twenty-first,” I tell her. “I know the day involved a shit load of alcohol and drugs, and more than a couple of girls.”
Ruby scowls and drags both hands through my curls, and tugs my hair to shut me up. “The birthday subject is closed, Jem.”
“I know why you don’t celebrate, and I need to tell you the reason why isn’t true.”
The grip on my hair tightens. “Really?”
“Yeah. Because if people want to celebrate your birthday, it’s because you mean something to them. They want to make you feel special, and you don’t believe you are.”
“Thanks, Dr Freud.” She shifts away from me and attempts to climb off the counter, but I grip her legs.
“I understand. I’m the same about my birthday for the exact same reason.”
“Cool, well if you understand, drop the subject. Get me something to drink.” She pokes me with her foot.
“But I’m buying you a cake tomorrow.”
She drops her mouth open. “Piss off.”
“And a birthday gift.”
Her face darkens. “Don’t you dare!”
“Tough. You’re my girl; you’re unbelievably important to me, and I want to let you know how special you are. Is that a problem?” Ruby won’t meet my eyes so I twist her face to mine. “You tell me I avoid how I feel, so don’t shoot down my attempts to show you.”
Ruby’s eyes soften as she recognises the truth in my words. I do understand. I’m telling the truth and I’d be furious if she said the same to me.