“IGetOff”—Halestorm
Insanity was my plea. Logically, it could be the only reason I was actively seeking Nico out.
After I announced myself, there wasn’t a peep from behind the scarred wood. It would seem he was going to ignore me. Shoulders slumped, I turned away but spun back when I heard the door open.
“What do you want?” he asked. The door was open, but his body blocked it—a nonverbal cue that I wasn’t welcome in his room. It hurt, but we’d made our choice years ago.
“I wanted to know if we could talk,” I said, trying my best to control the quiver in my voice.
He pulled his lips flat between his teeth before he released them on a sigh and stepped back.
Tentatively, in case he changed his mind, I walked in after a quick glance to see that I wasn’t observed. Though I was a grown-ass woman, my brother was ridiculously protective. As if I was helpless. I hated it.
He closed the door and leaned against it with his muscular, inked-up arms crossed over his chest.
Hungry, my gaze trailed over him, taking in all the changes a few years had made. It didn’t matter how many times I’d seen him since being forced to move into the clubhouse for my safety. Each time my hungry gaze swept over him, I noticed something new. When he wasn’t looking, I devoured every detail.
Gone was the close-cropped military haircut. In its place, his inky dark hair was long on top though still shaved on the sides. Tattoos covered nearly every visible inch of him except his handsome face. It made me wonder where all that ink traveled. Where before, he’d been lean muscle, he was now bulkier. Still chiseled and beautiful though.
One thing that hadn’t changed was that he was sexy as sin and my body screamed for his touch every time I was near him. Despite the hell I’d endured to keep my nephew and Lynda safe, I still wanted him. The fact that he’d never want me again cut deep.
“Well?” he asked, making me aware of how lost in him I’d gotten.
My gaze dropped, and I bit my lip. In a defensive move, I wrapped my arms protectively around myself.
“I hate my life,” I admitted, unable to look him in the eye. “I hate myself.” My chest ached, and I wanted to crumble to the ground and fall apart.
“What?” His arms dropped, and he moved off the door. Yet, he still kept his distance.
“There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t wish he had killed me,” I admitted in a whisper, barely holding on. My throat burned with the suppressed tears. Despair rained down, nearly suffocating me.
“Jazz,” he said, sounding shocked. The next thing I knew, he held me in his arms, my cheek pressed to his chest.
Anger had surged so many times, mixed with the despair. I had a stupid gift that did me no good. Not that anyone knew, but sometimes I dreamed things. Things that came true.
I’d dream of buying a purse on clearance, or maybe of a friend getting a promotion, that a traffic accident would happen in front of me, meeting the man I would give my virginity to, getting my website business up and running, but did I get a heads-up that my life was about to be destroyed? No. The universe didn’t see that as pertinent information I needed.
Tears ran unchecked down my face as silent sobs shook my frame. I’d been unable to sleep last night, ruminating over what he must think of me. He might not hate me, but I hated myself. Couldn’t look at myself in the mirror. Had come up with a hundred different ways to end my life. Yet every time I went through the motions to stop the torment, I saw Nico’s face.
Not my brother.
Not my nephew.
“I don’t want to live like this anymore. I’d rather die,” I cried.
“Goddamn it, Jasmine, don’t you dare say that.” His arms tightened around me until I was afraid he might snap my bones. His heart was pounding under my ear, and I drew strength from its rapid but steady beat. It was crazy, but with his arms around me, I was stronger.
Needy, I slipped my hands around his back and my fingers clutched that back of his shirt. Feeling grounded for the first time in weeks, I held on for dear life.
“I hated you. For what you let that girl do after you’d just been with me. But you didn’t want to, did you? That was you pushing me away because you think you know what’s best for both of us instead of letting me choose too. Now I’m all fucked-up, and it’s a moot point, huh?”
“Jazz, let me talk to Angel. We need to get you help. You need to talk to someone about this. Let me find a way for us. Fuck, let me be there for you. These last years have been hell but losing you would kill me. You’re mine, and I can’t deal with this anymore. Let me be your shoulder.”
Shaking my head, I pushed out of his embrace. I was so damn fucked-up. Despite needing him, I knew he deserved better than me. He thought it was the other way around, but he was so very wrong. The fucked-up shit in my head would destroy anything we tried to build. Knowing he would always see me as broken gutted me. Knowing if he touched my skin, he’d see everything that happened killed me. It was bad enough he’d seen Angel’s secrets.
“It was a mistake to come here. I don’t know what I was thinking,” I stammered as I backed toward the door. Except I did. I knew exactly why I’d crossed the hall. My soul cried for him—needed him in a way we could never be.
“Wait, baby, don’t go.” His eyes pleaded with mine.