“You can’t. This was a bad idea, Cain, we can’t—”
“Stop it. No one is going to hurt you on my watch. Not even your goddamn father. I swear to God, if he tries to lay a hand on you, I will kill him.”
“Cain, no.” It’s comforting in its way to hear him say he’ll protect me, but there’s so much violence swirling around me right now—the hurtful words, the threats from my father. And Cain’s shaking against me, he’s so angry, and that alone is frightening. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him act the least bit afraid.
He strokes my hair. This is better, just the gentle, comforting touch. Better than his promises of violence, even if it’s targeted to protect me. I don’t think I could stand to see him get hurt on my account.
I clench my fists and set them next to each other in the middle of his chest. His shirt is damp already from where I’ve had my face pressed against it. I can’t stop crying. What have we done? What have we done?
#
A long time later we head down to the beach. I’m wearing appropriate beach garb that makes me feel more exposed than it ever has in the past even though it’s a fairly conservative two-piece. I’m calmer, but my face feels tight and sticky from crying. Cain insisted we get something to eat, so he ordered up room service and I managed to choke down part of a salad and a few bites of chicken. My stomach’s still roiling, but I try to keep my emotions under control. For Cain’s sake if nothing else. If I start to cry again, he’ll flip his shit again, and I can’t deal with it. I just want things to settle back down.
Fat chance of that. I’ve done what I felt I had to do, and it’s split my family apart. Probably endangered my life and that of my new husband.
But what the hell else was I supposed to do? I press my lips tight together, fighting back more tears. Cain squeezes my hand.
“No more crying, Jess. What did I say?”
“You said no more crying.” My voice is dead, in spite of my attempt at humor.
“That’s right. Because it’s going to be okay. I’m going to make sure of that.”
I don’t know how he can, but I nod. He leads me by the hand down the trail that winds its way from the hotel grounds to the white sand beach I saw from the balcony only a few hours ago. It seems like a lifetime—I was so calm then, so centered. So peaceful.
Now? Not so much.
It’s not just the threats and fury from my father. It’s me questioning what’s between Cain and me. He was quick to swear he’d protect me, but why? Because he has feelings for me, or because he wants to be sure our deal stays intact? Is he wanting to save my skin or his own?
I blink back more tears, frustrated with the fact they won’t stop gathering along my eyelashes. Why did I think this kind of arrangement between the two of us would be enough for me? Is this really any different from the way my father manipulates people?
I can’t have these thoughts right now. It’s too much.
Cain must sense that I’m upset, because he draws me a little closer and presses his face against my hair. If he doesn’t have real feelings for me, he sure knows how to act like it. He’s gone from just wanting to fuck me to actually wanting to touch me, hold me. Comfort me, even.
“Jess…”
I nod. “I know. It’s going to be okay.” I try not to sound doubtful or sarcastic as I say it, but it’s hard. I don’t seem to have the same kind of confidence he does about the situation.
“What are we going to do?” I murmur, and I’m not sure he can even hear me over the soft breeze and the sound of the ocean.
He does though. “We’re going to hole up here for a while. Our flight back isn’t for a week. By that time, your father will have cooled his jets a little and not be on such a rampage. Then we go back, and we deal.”
I nod. He sounds so certain. Maybe he’s right. Maybe Pop won’t be able to sustain that level of anger for a whole week. I have my doubts though. Pop is pretty damn good at being mad. It’s like he has an advanced degree in anger.
Still drawing me gently along by the hand, Cain steers us toward a quiet area behind a rocky outcropping. The sand is soft and just high enough that the waves don’t come in to cover it. We sit down and Cain draws me half into his lap. I stretch my legs out, and the waves come just high enough to spray my feet. The warmth of the water feels a little like tears.
“Just trust me,” he says. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I promise.”
I wonder if he’s as determined to make sure nothing happens to him, but I know the answer. He’s not. And that’s part of why the tears keep leaking down my face. I want to protect him as much as he says he wants to protect me, but I can’t.