Page 106 of Wait for Him

She doesn't answer immediately. Her fingers move to my bicep instead, trailing lightly over my skin while she watches them.

“There's a lot I haven't told you about me too. About my own family.”

I assumed as much, but I'd never pushed on a door she hasn't opened herself.

“You don't have to tell me anything, Rose. But you can tell me anything. Okay?”

I pull her flush against me again and run my hand slowly along her spine. She lifts her eyes to mine and holds them there, her throat bobbing when she swallows.

“I have a son. He's fourteen. His name is James.”

What the fuck?

A son?

That's so far outside the range of things I was expecting that my brain immediately starts firing questions in every direction. Fourteen. Who's his father? Where is he? Why doesn't Rose have him? Why has nobody ever mentioned him? And because my first instinct where this woman is concerned is always violence, somewhere in the middle of all that comes who the fuck hurt her and do I need to kill him?

Her eyes narrow slightly. “You're turning red, Jackson. Stay calm and let me finish.”

Fuck.

I take a deep breath through my nose and nod. Her shoulders sag a little, and I make myself shut up.

“I saw him the other night,” she says softly.

James. The name hits differently this time.

Everyone is gone. Mom. Dad. James.

The night she broke.

I don't say anything. I just keep my hand moving in slow circles against her back and let her tell me in whatever order she needs to.

“I've watched him grow up. I've even been in the same room with him more than once. But that night, he actually spoke to me.” A small laugh works its way out of her. “He's so tall now. Toothy. It's like watching my brother at fourteen all over again. Same everything.”

I smile because she does, but there's an ache sitting underneath hers that makes mine disappear almost as quickly. She turns into me and buries her face against my neck. I wrap both arms around her.

“The night our parents died in the plane crash, I was brutally raped by a man I looked up to through my college years. I got the call about the crash while I was already driving myself to the hospital to have a rape kit done, to report it. So I turned around, went home to pack and went to the airport instead. I put a pad on for the bleeding and told myself, told everyone, that I was just on my period.”

Every muscle in my body locks. But my hand keeps moving over her back. Somehow, I keep my hand fucking moving.

"The school buried all of it. Never in the news, never public, never so much as an accusation on paper. Hushed and smoothed over, because the dean of the highest-rated law school in California can't have a name like his tarnished."

She shakes her head against me and pulls in another breath before she keeps going.

"I used to daydream about coming across his headstone someday, finding out he'd died of some debilitating disease, some form of justice for what he took from me that night. Here lies Wesley Finnegan. Rapist. Narcissist. Gone and Forgotten. I'd dance on it. Spit on it." She lets out a breath that isn't quite a laugh. "I don't even know if he's alive or dead, honestly. I've refused to give him one more minute of myself."

My hand has completely stopped moving.

I'm praying now. Actually fucking praying for the universe not to be this cruel.

"I'm sorry for dumping all of this on you," she whispers.

"I'm listening. Whatever you want to tell me, I'm here." I keep my voice low and level against the top of her head, even though there's a war going on underneath it. "Keep going. You're doing good, baby."

I press a kiss into her hair and make my hand start moving again. My fingers are trembling, and I know she can feel it because there's no hiding a goddamn thing from this woman, but there's nothing I can do about that right now. Some part of me is already halfway to a felony on her behalf, while the rest of me is trying desperately to stay right here in this bed and be what she needs.

"You know the restaurant, Noctra? Bennet's taken you there a few times." She keeps talking while she's still got the nerve. "That's Samson and his wife, Lauren. They adopted my son."