Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 105825 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105825 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
“He’s being bullied?!” Suddenly, the anger was gone and I just felt like a terrible mom. “Why didn’t he tell me?”
JD shrugged. “‘Cause I’m a guy. ‘Cause he’s a guy.”
My shoulders slumped. I felt wounded. But was that just dumb? Would JD have been hurt if we had a daughter and she’d come to me instead of him with boy troubles?
I shook my head guiltily. “He’s never had a father. Adrian left when he was so young…”
“That ain’t your fault,” JD told me firmly.
I went quiet and leaned back against the wall. “You’re good for him,” I said at last.
JD said nothing.
I pushed off from the wall and went right up to him. I stared up into his eyes and he stared down into mine. “You’re good for us.”
Those prairie-sky eyes heated until I could feel the furnace blast of them. They flicked down to my lips and then up again, and the raw need I saw took my breath away. A need that went beyond lust. I recognized it because I’d felt it, too, for so long now.
Then he started to turn away and I couldn’t take it, anymore. “Why?” I blurted. “Why do you keep—Why can’t we?”
He froze, his broad back turned to me, a wall.
“Did she hurt you?” I asked in a small voice. “The way Adrian hurt me? Did she take your kid, when you divorced, do you not see them? Or—”
“They’re dead.”
It wasn’t just the enormity of the words that stopped me cold. It wasn’t just the scalding flash of raw humiliation that lit up my cheeks, the oh God what have I done as I realized how badly I’d messed up. It was his voice. He didn’t sound like him. The words weren’t comforting, warm rocks, they were thin and fragile as old paper.
I stared at his back with no idea what to say. I lifted my hand but I wasn’t sure if I should touch him.
“Jillian and Max,” he said. “They were murdered. Four years ago. Max was five years old.”
Now I understood and I wished I hadn’t pushed. “JD…” I whispered. “God, I’m so sorry.”
He was silent for a few seconds. Then, “I’ll talk to the FBI about tonight. Make sure we have a couple of agents with us at the ball.”
And he walked away without looking back.
29
LORNA
I sat down with Cody and had a long talk about how we don’t solve our problems with violence, but I couldn’t be too hard on him: this Taylor kid had had it coming and Cody was so much happier, now that he’d stood up for himself. JD really was good for him.
Paige helped me do my hair, somehow taming my black mane into ringlets that spilled down my shoulders. She also worked wonders with make-up brushes and eyeshadow, giving me elegant cheekbones and big, smoky eyes. But as I sat in front of the mirror with her, all I could think about was JD. How was I going to help him?
Paige left to get changed herself: she and Miles were meeting us there. I pulled on the angel dress, put on my heels, and went to meet JD in the hall. He was looking out at the lit-up city and I braced myself. “JD?” I said quietly.
He turned and saw me. His chest slowly filled and he slowly shook his head, as if he didn’t even have the words. “You look...like a goddamn dream.”
He met my eyes and, for just a second, the stoic mask flickered. A flicker that said please.
Please leave it alone.
I gave a tiny nod, and saw him relax. That’s how I helped him, at least for now.
“You look amazing, too,” I said with feeling.
He crooked his arm, I slipped my arm through it, and we set off for the ball.
The car slowed as we joined the line waiting for valet parking. I hunched down in my seat so I could look up at the massive building we were approaching. One of New York’s oldest venues, the entrance of the Hattendorf Ballroom had marble pillars the size of redwoods and a three-stage staircase leading up to towering wooden doors. Tonight, the stairs were a waterfall of color running in reverse as a constant stream of women in beautiful ball gowns swept gracefully up them. There was a throng of press clustered around the arriving cars and the camera flashes were going so fast they were almost continuous.
As our car crept closer, I could feel my chest going tight with panic. It wasn’t just the thought of some guy out there with a gun or a knife. It was the thought of being in the spotlight, instead of safely in the corner.
JD must have seen my face because his low, Texas rumble came from next to me. “If you want, we can just get out of here.”