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"I don't know what to do about your brother," I began.
"Me either."
I put a finger on his lips, wanting to get the rest out before he stopped me. "But maybe your mom would be better in a safer neighborhood. Maybe she could move somewhere you wouldn't have to worry about her, somewhere closer. What if—"
He pulled my hand away from his mouth and gave me a sad smile. "I can't afford more, Juliet. I'm doing everything I can for her. I reinforced the window locks and replaced the deadbolt yesterday."
I wanted him to listen, to let me help. "I have a house in Brentwood. A cottage really, small. Two bedrooms. I don't use it."
"No." His face turned hard.
"It's just sitting there empty. It's a great neighborhood." I didn’t understand his refusal.
"No." He dropped his hand, began to move away.
"Wait, Jace." I pulled him back to me, stared at his face until he met my eyes again. "Please let me do this."
"Juliet—"
"Listen," I said, my voice harder than I'd intended. "I'm like this ineffectual flower kept in a box. I can't do anything, I can't affect anything. My life is about pretending—that's my job. And my job makes it so I can't have a real life—I can't leave my house, I can't have any real influence on anything important, I can't do anything. But I can do this. I can help. Will you let me? Please?"
He stared at me, his eyes unblinking for long seconds, and then he closed them and let out a breath. "No, Juliet. I can't let you do that."
"What would your mother say? Would she say no?"
I watched his brow crease, his eyes squeeze harder as he thought about her, and I knew he was close to saying yes.
"Don't be proud, Jace. Please let me help. If your mother was in a safe place, you could both focus on taking care of your brother." I waited for his final answer, feeling like everything depended on his words.
"I pay you rent," he whispered, his eyes still shut.
"No, don't—"
"I'll do it if I pay you rent," he said, opening his eyes to fix me with a determined stare. "I can't handle charity. I know you have a lot to give, that you support those women’s shelters. But I’m not like that … I can’t be a charity to you.”
“You’re not, Jace.”
He squeezed his eyes shut. “I want to say no, but I can’t. It’s my mom. So please let me pay rent. I know I can't pay what you'd rent it for to someone else. But it can't be free."
"Okay, sure." I tried not to let the relief I felt turn into a wide smile. He was going to let me help—I was going to be able to actually DO something. Something real.
He sighed, and the fight all went out of him. I felt it in the way his limbs loosened, the eyes lost their fire. "God I'm tired," he whispered.
And for the rest of the long night, I held him, sensing that as much as I'd needed to feel powerful and capable for once, Jace needed to feel like he could finally let down his guard.
We spent the night in a kind of reversed state of being, and I guarded him fiercely, keeping him close in my bed and warding off whatever demons might keep this strong capable man from the sleep he deserved.
Chapter Sixteen
Jace
Iawoke in Juliet's bed, sunlight filtering in like fairy dust through the thin gauzy shades over her window. The night before rushed back, the pain, the worry, the fear, and finally the release I’d found in Juliet, in her understanding. Her companionship.
Juliet was facing away from me, her back rising and falling in a soft steady rhythm as she snored.
I pushed myself up on an elbow to consider her. She was delicate and fine, soft and gorgeous. And she snored like a squirrel trying to suck chocolate pudding unsuccessfully through a straw. Loudly. With a lot of saliva involved somehow, making the sound especially wet and slurpy.
A smile pulled at my lips as I thought about the incongruity of that—perfect Juliet sounded like a drowning rodent when she slept. And I loved it.
