Jacob’s hand moves, dropping from my chin to my shoulder, holding me steady as I blink furiously, trying to stop crying. I didn’t want anyone to see me like this, especially not him. Not the man I live with who makes me feel…everything I shouldn’t feel, when it comes to him. He’s my stepfather. My mother’s husband.
My obsessive crush.
“You’re not fine. You’re crying. Your dress is ripped.” Shame spirals through me, making it hard to breathe. The air leaves my lungs in shaky bursts, and I clench and unclench my fists.
“I’m not fine,” I say, shoulders sagging. “I’m not fine at all.”
And then Jacob does something he’s never done in the almost three years I’ve known him.
He hugs me. He pulls me into his arms and holds me against his hard, broad chest. The scent of him—expensive cologne, warm skin, clean clothing—envelops me like a blanket and every single muscle in my body goes loose and languid.
Suddenly this horrible, awful night feels a little less shitty.
Tentatively, I slip my arms around his waist, and I can feel the heat of his skin through the fabric of his shirt. I can feel how big and solid he is. How strong and firm. The top of my head barely reaches his shoulder. He towers over me, and I like it. For once, I feel small. Delicate. Precious.
He strokes a hand over my hair and makes a low soothing noise that rumbles through his chest and against my cheek. I press my face into his chest, wanting his comfort, his warmth. I feel safe from the outside world here in my stepfather’s arms. He’s like a wall between me and everything bad.
He makes that low, soothing noise again and strokes my hair, petting me like I’m a little kitten.
Heat pulses low in my stomach, and I realize I’m breathing a little faster.
“Tell me what happened, Cam,” he says, and I snuggle into him even more, as if I can burrow inside him and never emerge.
I open my mouth, and it all pours out. I tell him about Daphne stepping on my dress and ripping it on purpose, saying she didn’t know they let fat cows come to prom. I tell him about the laughter, the humiliation, the shock that someone would be so openly cruel. He listens without saying anything, but I can feel the tension in the band of his arms around me, the shift in his breathing.
“Those entitled little shits,” he growls, and I’m probably a complete pervert for thinking it’s hot. But I can’t help it. Everything Jacob Brooks does is hot. Ev-er-y thing. “Names.”
“What?” I pull back just enough to look up at him. His brows are a dark slash over his eyes, and that muscle in his jaw is jumping again.
“I need the names of who did this to you. Everyone who laughed.”
“Why?”
The corner of his mouth ticks up and I liquefy slightly. “So I can ruin them, of course.”
He’s kidding. Right?
He doesn’t look like he’s kidding. At all.
Well. That’s hot.
He strokes a hand over my hair. “I’m waiting, Camryn.” There’s something in his tone that makes me shift, rubbing my thighs together. God, he wouldn’t be treating me this way if he knew the thoughts I’m having about him. The thoughts I have about him on a regular basis.
I let out a nervous little laugh and then rattle off a list of names. He nods and nestles me back against his chest with his hand on the back of my head. “Good girl,” he says in a low voice that has my stomach flipping over on itself.
I’m a ridiculous mess over this man.
“But that’s not the worst part,” I say after a moment, and his arms tighten around me again.
“Tell me.”
I hesitate for a second, and he gives my hair a gentle tug. I have to bite my lip to stop from whimpering. I take a deep breath and then press my face into his chest as I tell him about Nathan telling his friends he’d never be caught dead dancing with me.
I’m crying again now as the entire evening replays in my mind. My chest hurts and my skin feels raw, like I’m sunburned from the inside out.
Jacob’s hands flex against me and then he tips my chin up again, forcing me to meet his eyes. They look like a storm over the ocean, dark and intense.
“I want you to look at me as I say this. Those kids are small. They’re entitled. They’re worthless. They’re spoiled, and above anything else, they’re cruel. And their small, thoughtless, cruel words aren’t worth your tears, Camryn.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and my eyes flutter closed for a second. “Look at me,” he says, and I do. Gladly. “Let me tell you what I see when I look at you.” I press my lips together, preparing myself for platitudes. “I see a beautiful young woman.” I suck in a surprised breath, and he holds my gaze as he continues. “You, Camryn, are so, so lovely. In every single way.”
