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I’m not in the pit, not in the goddamn Club. I’m in Raine’s arms, and my body hurts so much I know for a fact this ain’t no dream. Holy fuck, this is real.
The world flickers.
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I’m inside Raine’s truck, rumbling through the quiet streets, the heater blasting hot air in my face. I’m drowsy. Sleep keeps catching me off guard, sneaking up on me.
Then I’m awake, and the truck is parked. Raine is sitting behind the wheel, looking at me like I’m the answer to a puzzle he’s been trying to solve.
Which is fitting, I guess. I feel like a puzzle. Broken into pieces. Never whole. I bet some parts of me are lost forever.
Boohoo. The urge to laugh hysterically is back, and I shove it firmly back down. One breakdown per night is more than enough.
Especially in front of Raine, dammit. Of all guys, I wish… I wish I could look strong in front of him. Stronger than I am. Whole.
“I was about to wake you up,” he says, and at the sound of his voice I take a deep breath.
I remember him asking me to breathe, and heat spreads across my face. Made an ass of myself again. Those blue eyes study me and I fight the urge to squirm.
“How you feeling?” he asks now.
Overheated. Which is weird, after having been almost frozen solid on the sidewalk. I feel his gaze like a fucking flame, licking my skin wherever it touches.
“Come on, let’s get you upstairs.” He opens the door and climbs out.
And comes around to get me before I even make a move to open my door. A blast of icy wind hits me and then he’s standing again in front of me, waiting.
As if I’d fight him. I want to go with him. I’m fucking dying to go with him, even if it’s a bad idea.
All week, I’d thought of the things he said, his accusations, and felt the pain slice through me again and again. So different to the aches left behind by Simon’s men.
So much worse.
And yet when he offers his hand, I take it and climb out of the truck, carefully, like an arthritic old man. Dizziness hits me, and I make a grab for the truck door.
“Lean on me,” he says, and it sounds like something else, like so much more, and I can’t fucking fight it. When he reaches for me, I let him haul me against his side and wrap his arm around me.
Screw my pride. Screw rational thought. I’m done fighting. No more energy left.
Just once, just for tonight, I’ll lean on his strength, take what he seems to be offering, even if I pay the price later. I’ll pretend I can have what I wish for, deep where I keep my few good memories, my few real desires.
And I don’t fucking care what will happen when reality comes crashing back down, or how I’ll survive it. After all, survival was never in the plan, not for me.
“Here, let me take your jacket.” He draws away to do just that, pulling one sleeve off, then the other, and props me against the wall as he hangs up my filthy jacket—or burns it for all I care. Burning it would probably be best. “Shower?”
I nod mutely. Sounds great. I just hope I make it to the bathroom. I’m still damn unsteady, my knees weak. With the jacket off, I’m cold again, and in the clean air of the apartment, I finally smell myself and gag. I stink to hell and back.
Fuck, how did Raine make it without puking? He was practically glued to me all the way up. Jesus.
Raine is shrugging off his raincoat, and a black sweater he has underneath. He’s left wearing a gray T-shirt with a faded band logo, and black jeans. He loves his jeans, I note randomly.
And damn, he looks good in them, too.
“Jason.” He steps close and strokes a hand dawn my bruised jaw. I manage not to flinch, just barely, as much from the pain as from the shock of that soft touch. “You falling asleep on your feet, huh?”
Maybe that’s the explanation.
But dammit, no. “I’m awake,” I whisper.
