Chapter 22: Unveiling the Past

“Why do you never talk about your childhood?” His tone softened, a new direction, trying to change this whole topic to something else—anything.

He didn’t even know why he would choose this topic among them all. He just needed to talk about anything else.

Maybe a little insight into her past would help him understand why she was this way. It might simmer his anger.

“What?” He instantly heard the defensive, scared tone in her voice, and it didn’t help with his mood.

“There’s nothing to talk about—You have knowledge of the highlights,” she said dryly, that warning tone in her voice she used when the conversation was over.

“I know bits and pieces, Emma, mostly from getting you drunk.”

He glared at her accusingly, so pissed at everything right now, even though he was trying to dampen it.

Especially this one-sided fucking relationship they had and the fact that she couldn’t even let him know the details of her past after everything.

It said a lot about how she felt about him. “Where is this going?” Emma glared back at him suspiciously, always closing him out.

He was sick of being shut out.

“It hurt you?” His eyes came to rest on her, trying to push every ounce of aggression away again with a mammoth effort and barely holding on.

She messed him up in so many ways, and she just had no clue at all.

She looked away, crossing her arms around her body protectively, and he just sighed and crumbled inside.

He was mad; he wanted to be mad, but somehow, all she did was make him feel guilty and want to stop being angry with her.

No wonder he was all over the place. He had no control over his own emotions. “It’s the past, and it should stay there.”

Her voice wobbled a little with raw pain, and she moved away to turn her back on him.

Jake took that hint of softness as a signal that maybe this wasn’t the brick wall he was meeting this time.

“Your mom? You don’t talk about her much either.” He pushed, his voice gentler, trying hard not to be a dickhead.

Coaxing her to open up about this gave him a little hope that he meant something to her, at least.

This topic was easier than the previous one, and it was something he had always wanted to know.

It was distracting him from his anger, which was a good thing.

“She’s my mom… What else is there to say?” she replied coldly, still keeping her back to him defiantly. “Tell me about her.”

He turned on the car’s hood and sat down to watch her, intrigued that, for once, he didn’t have to battle any information out of her, and it was helping take his mind off other matters.

Her poise was hostile and stiff, but she hadn’t ended the conversation and closed up in true PA fashion like normal.

“My mom is a sucker for a sob story.” Her voice was raspy with emotion yet held a hint of anger at him or her mother; he wasn’t sure.

He hated knowing that she had never had the childhood she deserved, hated learning she had been hurt in ways that someone like her should have never endured.

“That’s about all there is to her.”

“She has bad taste in men?” He got up silently and moved toward her, aching to soothe her while she talked about this stuff, just wanting to be there for her.

Despite everything, all Jake ever wanted was to help her and learn more about what made her tick.

She walked further off, putting the distance back between them a little as though she had sensed him getting closer, always holding him at bay.

“That’s an understatement,” she snapped angrily. “They hurt you?” He had moved faster and got right beside her before speaking again.

Instinctively reaching out to her like he always did when she was close, the smell of her shampoo in the fresh air luring him against her, his fingers moving into her hair near her ear.

Flexing his fingers into her scalp, causing her to lean into his touch, with a sigh and dampening over his mood like a balm.

Touching her always brought him calmness, even when the topic was hard to digest. She leaned into him, and he was lost to her almost instantly.

His other hand slid over her shoulder on the other side and down her arm a little, savoring the softness of her creamy skin with little resistance.

~She always feels so fucking good.~

Leaning close to the back of her head, breathing slowly and placing his mouth on the back of her hair, inhaling her and curbing the urge to kiss her pain away.

“Some … some just wanted to …” Her voice weakened as she swallowed hard.

His hand left her arm, snaked around her waist, and smoothly pulled her into his body.

His mouth moved to her neck gently, pulling her tight and close to him to be the strength she needed.

“She didn’t protect you,” he whispered against her collarbone, the soft, delicate smell of her skin bringing him a sense of completeness, the gentle soft curves of her body making the pain in his chest fade a little, and he just held her, wanting always to keep her safe.

He could stay this way forever. “She did what she could,” she mumbled, softly allowing her body to meet his.

Having too much of an effect on his ability to think clearly and instinct at being joined with her was taking control.

He couldn’t stop his nose from skimming her shoulder and neck, the hand in her hair trailing down her naked arm and wrist and back up.

He couldn’t deny that no matter what, he would always want her this way, always want to touch her and devour every inch of her.

Even while trying to give her solace about that bitch mother of hers, a part of him wanted to turn her in his arms and kiss the pain away, lose himself in that mouth and against that honey-sweet tongue.

“She didn’t stop bringing men around her child, ~Miele~.” His voice was hoarse with a mix of emotion and lust, and he felt her tense again.

This time he knew it was at his words, not his actions, his mind coming back to what he said and honing in on a tiny glimpse of Emma’s past.

“Why did you leave Chicago … leave her?” His hands were still trailing down her arms and up again, but his focus was fully on her words now, the thought that his Emma had run from home to find safety in New York of all places.

The idea of the girl he knew running scared from anything made him feel sick to his stomach.

“I needed to walk away from all of it … I needed to save myself because no one else was going to.”

Her voice broke a little, and he knew without turning her there were more tears, and it tore him open to the bone.

“I think you need to talk to someone about all of this, Emma … a counselor … I could …” She jerked away instantly, spinning to glare at him angrily.

All moods snapped closed with simple words, and suddenly she was fire and anger and squaring up to him like he was the enemy.

“Not a goddamn chance,” she spat, all venom and pain in her face. “I’m not fucking crazy!”

“Emma, that isn’t what I said,” Jake responded, a little surprised at her sudden turnaround in mood, seeing a side she normally kept under control.

Sheer emotion and rage seeped from that beautiful face. He attempted to gently put his arms around her, but she held out a hand, stopping him.

He stayed back, allowing her breathing space to vent. Unsure how to deal with the fire he had always sensed was just under the surface.

“Don’t, okay … you wanted to know … now you know, and that’s the end of it.”

The strength was back in her voice, and PA Emma had returned, and she stalked past him toward the car, keeping her eyes averted.

Her whole demeanor closed up, standing taller, and the polished PA’s grace and mannerisms slid in defensively. He could read her signs.

She was putting that fucking wall back up because he was an idiot that somehow always pushed it.

He was pissed again, instant anger flooding back too, but mostly at himself. “Don’t do that,” he snapped accusingly, following her back to the car.

Close on her heels, he grabbed her arm to turn her, but she yanked it away.

“Do what?” she yelled, deliberately looking anywhere but at him in an attempt to get away.

He grabbed her arm again and tugged her around to face him harshly, this time succeeding.

“Not after everything, I’m … I’m sick to death of this never-ending fucking circle.”

He raged, losing his temper at always feeling like he would get so far, and then boom—the door slammed shut in his face again, driving him crazy.

“I didn’t want to tell you; you just keep pushing.” She wrenched her arm away, chin lifting defiantly.

“Let’s go back to the boat. I’m hungry, and I’m tired.” She sounded so cool and closed off he could feel himself erupting again internally.

~Always the same goddamn shit with her.~

He lifted his hands to grab at mid-air in sheer agitation, unsure if he could choke her about now, and gritted his teeth, eyes burning.

He paced away from her again, cursing and raging into the open air. She ignored him, turning and getting back into the car.

Jake walked to the car and got in, slamming his door and buckling up in complete stony-faced silence. He knew when something was futile.

He knew when to give up and stop going around in circles of fury and rage that would only end with him doing something stupid. Jake had a lot of flaws, but his worst was his impulsive knee-jerk reaction to any kind of hurt.

He knew he could be a massive jackass when feelings were involved, and he was done with this once and for all. “Conversation fucking over,” he muttered to himself, starting the car and throwing it into gear as he pulled back out onto the road.

He turned the car and headed back to where they had come from at breakneck speed to expel some of the energy building up inside him, wanting to blow out like an explosion. He needed to get her back to the boat, dump her on deck, and put some much-needed distance between them.

He turned the stereo up loud, indicating he wouldn’t attempt conversation. He had nothing left to say to her. She was messing with his head in various ways, and he couldn’t do this anymore.