I throw my arms around Jaxon’s neck, searching for something, anything to save me from the memories.
“There she is.” He presses his cheek to the side of my head and holds me tightly to him. “Tell me what I can do to fix this.”
I take a few deep breaths, trying to center myself before speaking. “It’s my hair. My stepdad. He used to…pull my hair.” My voice quavers as I fight to regain my composure.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know. What can I do?”
I shake my head and bury my face in his chest. “I c-can’t.”
He shushes me. “It’s ok. You’re safe now.”
Once the panic dissipates, Jaxon removes his glasses and swaps our positions, resting his head on my lap. He gazes up at me through impossibly thick lashes as he takes my hand and places it on his head. “Show me. Show me how to touch you. How to make you feel safe in my hands. I promise I will never let you feel fear like that again—not with me.”
He’s giving me the power to do to him what was done to me, to make him feel the pain I felt every time I was yankedback by my ponytail and held at another man’s mercy. He’s trusting me, and maybe—just maybe—I can trust him, too.
I run my fingers through his loose curls, my nails gliding against his scalp. He closes his eyes and groans.
My forearm brushes against his beard as I cradle his head in my lap, moving my fingers lower to the hair at the nape of his neck. His lips quirk into that charming half-smile of his, and the icy chill that had frozen me instantly thaws.
I don’t understand the effect he has on me. Just when I feel like I might go off the deep end, he pulls me back onto solid ground again. It goes against every finely tuned instinct I have, but my intuition tells me I can trust him not to hurt me, and that in itself is something of a miracle.
I slide my hand from his hair down to his jaw. He kisses my palm, and my heart spasms in my chest.
“What are you thinking about?” he asks.
“Can you try again? I think I’m ready.”
“Are you sure?”
I nod. “Please. Just… go slow.”
He sits up and settles back against the couch. “Would it be better if we’re face to face?”
“Yeah. He… uh… mostly grabbed me from behind.”
His brow knits, and he reaches for me with unmasked pain in his eyes.
“It’s ok. I don’t want your pity.”
“It’s not pity. I just don’t understand how someone could do something so horrible. I can’t imagine—if that was Emmy or Gracie.” His jaw ticks, and he blows out a harsh breath.
“Monsters don’t care who their victims are. They just want power.”
“You have all the power here, ok?” He pulls me onto his lap until I’m straddling him. “If something feels off or makes you uncomfortable, tell me. I never want to hurt you.”
“Ok,” I say breathily. “I’m ready.”
His right hand splays across my lower back as his left trails up my collarbone. Our eyes stay locked as he slowly glides higher, into the hair at the nape of my neck. I inhale a sharp breath, and he stills.
“Breathe,” he whispers. “Look at me. Don’t think. Stay right here with me where it’s safe.”
I release the breath and nod for him to continue.
His rough fingers are surprisingly gentle as he toys with the ends. “So soft.”
His fingertips glide over my forehead, sweeping the hair away from my eyes, then he slides his whole hand from the side of my head all the way to the back. His fist closes and reopens, over and over, massaging my scalp. My eyes close on their own as his reverent touch replaces my haunted memories.
He leans his temple against mine, his beard scratching against my cheek as he whispers, “You’re doing so good, baby. You’re so strong. So beautiful. I’m so proud of you.”
