“Exactly how did you ruin her life?” If she’d thought his voice hard before, it was now absolutely dangerous, filled with darkness and fury.
Her throat tightened and she wheezed the answer. “I was born.”
“Oh, hell, Grace. I’m sorry I ever said you might ruin my life.”
She shook her head and tried to swallow.
“You’re amazing, the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and you’re safe with me, baby.” His voice, now even lower, sounded as if it were being scraped over gravel, raw and pained.
That heartfelt message, coming on the heels of fleeing her mother’s house and the friendships she’d encountered in the bar—it was all too much. Pushing out of his arms, she scrambled to the passenger door and out of the truck. Her breath sawed in and out of her lungs. Tears burned her eyes, her vision blurring as she fought to simply claim enough air to keep from passing out. She wanted to run, but had absolutely nowhere to go. The realization was a crippling blow. Every effort to draw a breath failed. Black dots danced through her vision and she thought she might pass out for the first time in her life.
A car door slammed. Feet crunched on gravel, coming closer.
She had to save herself from this mess, had to find a way to get through the next nine days and not collapse. Her only choice was the women’s shelter or the YMC—
Strong arms wordlessly hauled her into a hard body.
She turned into the embrace that was more and more familiar, found the promised safety in those arms, and the permission to simply be. No pressure, no expectations, no need to fight to survive, no fear of rejection. He was her safe harbor. She clung to him as she was battered by wave after wave of emotion.
Whispered words broke through the battlements of her madness, words that soothed her fears. She struggled to hear him and not to give in to the grief that threatened to rip her apart. In the end, she didn’t have a choice.
The first sob was wrenched from the very heart of her, the sound more a broken groan than a wail. Tears streamed down her face as she sagged in those strong arms, arms that embraced her, supported her.
Hot tears scalded her cheeks, and her whole body shook with their release.
“Let it go, baby. I’ve got you.”
Those last three words untied the final knot of hesitation. She held on and did just as he’d advised.
She let it go.
* * *
JUSTIN HAD NO CLUE how they’d gone from thumb wrestling for beer and kisses thirty minutes ago to Grace having an emotional breakdown in his arms. Several things were certain, though. First, Grace came from a background of hardship and heartache, and he wanted to show her she deserved so much more.
Second, he wanted to kill Grace’s mother. An age-old need to do violence rushed through his veins, a kind of drug he’d long forgotten but still recognized and, at the moment, craved. He’d fought for years to master his emotions, was famed for his control, and now that control broke. He shook with the urge to cause that woman unspeakable harm. It thrilled him as much as it scared him. He could destroy her and none would be the wiser.
But for Grace, he would stem his violence, would control himself and refuse to fall into that vast blackness that called to him, his own personal siren’s song. Grace was worth the sacrifice he’d make to do the right thing, not the thing he most wanted to do.