“You’re talking to Marion now, too?”
He has the decency to look a little sheepish. “I needed to know you were okay. I came by yesterday, but even the hot dog mat lady refused to let me in. Did you tell her what I did, too?”
I huff a laugh. “Maybe.” I try to step farther away from him, but my back hits the wall next to the door frame. “Why are you here?” I whisper.
“I just want to apologize and explain.”
“Explain what?” I say vehemently. “You. Fucked. Me. And. You. Left.” I bite out every word with venom. “Not much to explain.”
He flinches and reaches for my hands. I stare at his fingers brushing mine. I haven’t refreshed my nail polish since that night, and it’s chipped and cracked, a physical manifestation of my current mental state.
“I did it to protect you, Jer.”
“Protect me? From what? You were the only person who could hurt me, and you did it in epic fashion.”
He sighs. “My father?—”
“Your father what, Marcus? Could ruin my career? Could threaten me like he did Seb and Charlie?”
“Well, yeah,” he sputters. “But there’s more?—”
“Did it ever occur to you that I already thought of that? That I accepted that risk because we were worth it?Youwere worth it?”
His mouth opens and closes a couple of times while he considers my words. “But why would you do that? This is your career, Jeremy. You’ve worked so hard. I could never forgive myself if he . . .” He hangs his head, and his forehead brushes the top of mine. “I’m not worth it.”
“That’s not your choice to make,” I say brokenly. “That wasmychoice, and you took it from me!”
“I’m sorry. You’re right. I should have just talked to you. I thought if I . . . if we . . .”
“Had sex?” I offer.
He pauses and then shakes his head. “I know how it looks, believe me. But I wanted to keep you safe. I figured if I left, you’d think I was just another douchebag.”
“Yeah? Congrats. That’s exactly what I thought. And what I still think.” I push my hands into his chest, fisting his shirt as a rush of anger sparks from my stomach. “You can’t hurt me under the guise of protecting me?—”
“It wasn’t a guise. I had to!”
“Why?” I growl. “Give me a better reason.”
He grips my wrists, his fingers digging into my skin. “Because it’s not just about your career. Ryan could have killed you.”
“What?” I blink up at him. “Like murder?”
“Yeah, like murder.” He tugs me closer, our mouths inches apart. “Fuck, Jeremy. John found evidence that Ryan’s a fucking psychopath. He puts hits on people who get in his way. I couldn’t lose you, baby.” The nickname slices me open, and mylower lip trembles, my composure failing. “Jer, please talk to me,” he pleads. “What’s going on inside your pretty head?”
“I don’t care about any of that,” I whisper. “Let him fucking kill me. I just wanted you to want me.” It’s a completely irrational train of thought. Of course, I don’t want to die. But it’s how I feel, nonetheless. Everything gets blurry, and a sob crawls up my throat. “Why don’t you want me?”
Because that’s the crux of it, isn’t it? It’s why this fucked me up so bad. No one has ever wanted me.
My foster family didn’t want me.
My aunt was kind, but she didn’t actuallywantme.
Marcus doesn’t want me.
No one wants me. I’m too much.
Marcus’s arms wrap around me in an instant, enveloping me in strong muscles and familiar warmth, and it makes me cry even harder. His hands stroke my back and run through my hair as I cling to him, tears and snot running down my face. I’m so fucking embarrassed. Marcus must think I’m the most pathetic person on the planet.
