Jailbait (14 page)

Her hair is a mess, and the skin around her eyes is puffy and pink from crying. Even like this, I find her so fucking beautiful. No matter what, I’m going to keep her safe. It hits me that whoever Alcott suspected is going to be here in just hours.

“Goddammit,” I mutter, wishing I knew who the fuck is going to try and take advantage of Pepper. I’d pummel them unconscious before they had time to lay a finger on her. It kills me that Alcott was such a snake, keeping things to himself. Was he that much of a greedy bastard? He kept his declining health from Pepper. He kept names from me. He claimed he loved Pepper more than anything, but his actions proved he loved himself the most of all.
 

*

“Pepper,” I say gently, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Pepper, you have to get up.”
 

She blinks open her eyes and looks right into mine. I hold her gaze for a few beats, and then she closes her eyes and pulls up the blankets. I’ve already showered and eaten some of the breakfast that was brought up for us.
 

“Your food is getting cold,” I try.
 

“I’m not hungry,” she mumbles. “I told you to leave me alone.”
 

And the knife is back in my heart. I can’t leave her alone. Not when she’s this vulnerable and there’s a good chance of someone hurting her. “If that’s what you want. But you still need to get up. People are going to be here soon, and will wonder where you are.”
 

“Let them. I don’t care. Fuck all this society crap and how it says I should act. I’m sad. Really fucking sad, not that it matters. I don’t want to get out of bed.”
 

I nod, unable to make an argument against anything she’s just said, and get up to pour her a cup of coffee. I set it on the nightstand next to her and go to the window that overlooks the backyard of this huge house. Horses graze in the distance, and gray storm clouds hang heavy in the sky.

There’s another knock on the door. It’s the butler again, joined by a younger man pushing a rolling garment cart.
 

“Good morning, Ms. Davenwood,” the butler says to Pepper. He looks across the room at Pepper, and his neutral expression breaks. “I miss him too,” he says softly. The moment ends quickly, and he lays out the clothes for us to wear. Pepper has two options, or maybe she’s supposed to change dresses later in the day? I don’t fucking know.
 

I am surprised to see a suit and dress shoes for myself. Oh…so I wasn’t getting checked out in the way I thought. He was taking mental measurements. I get dressed, and the black suit fits perfectly. The material is silky and comfortable—for a suit—and I don’t have to look at the tag to know this shit is designer.
 

I’m messing with the tie, unable to get it to lay right. The last time I wore one was in court, years ago. I’m about ready to give up when Pepper gets out of bed, silently walking over to me. She fixes the tie without saying a word, and then crawls back under the covers.
 

Time passes, and someone comes in to do Pepper’s hair and makeup. She sits perfectly still, eyes glossed over, staring blankly ahead as she’s made-up. She’s put into a black dress, a high-collared and lacy thing that’s just tight enough to look good without being too sexy. She’s dressed with her shoes on, and sits on the edge of her bed. I take a spot next to her, slipping my fingers through hers. She squeezes my hand and closes her eyes. A single tear runs down her cheek. I reach out and wipe it away.
 

“I can’t do this,” she says and falls to the side, curling her legs up to her chest. “I can’t go down there.”
 

I lay down next to her, holding her tight. “You can, and you will.”
 

“No,” she says and shakes her head. “I won’t.”
 

I kiss the back of her neck and wait, knowing she needs time. Five minutes turns into ten…and then twenty…and now someone else is knocking on the door. It’s the butler again, checking on Pepper. People are here to pay their respects.
 

“Pepper,” I say, clicking the door shut. “I know it’s hard, but you have to get up and go downstairs.” She doesn’t answer. I know she’s awake; I was just there with her. “Pepper,” I repeat. Isn’t this exactly what someone would want? Seeing her like this…it would be the perfect time to make a move.
 

“Get up. People are downstairs waiting for you. Get up. You can’t let them think you’re weak.”

She sits up and glares at me, green eyes full of tears. “What happened to you? What made you so heartless?”

Her words slice into my flesh, and blood drips onto the floor. “It wasn’t what happened. It was what
didn’t
happen.”
 

“What does that even mean?”
 

“It means…” Fuck. It means everything I missed. Everything that was taken away. All the lost years, the lost time I’ll never get back. “It doesn’t matter what it means. You need to go downstairs with your game face. I know it’s not fair, but life isn’t fair.”
 

She nods and stands, smoothing out her dress. Her eyes close, and I watch her take several deep breaths, forcing herself to relax. I hold out my hand. She looks at it, then back at me.
 

“I’m still mad at you,” she whispers, but takes my hand. “You’re not who I thought you were.”

“I’m still me.”
 

“Who you are now isn’t the same man I fell in love with six years ago.” Her voice is hollow, eyes void of emotion. “Now I’m not sure I want to be with this new person. When this is over, we need to talk.”
 

“Okay,” I agree. “And you’ll see I’m still me. You’ll see I still care about you just as much.”
 

“I hope so.”
 

She doesn’t sound hopeful.
 

I’ll do whatever it takes to prove myself to her. Starting with the truth about what happened six years ago.
 

*

The wake isn’t over yet and I’m tired. I don’t know how Pepper is managing. She walked out of her room and became a different person by the time we reached the large room on the first floor full of people. Quiet chatter filled the space, voices mingling with soft, classical music played by a live string quartet. The Davenwood family got their start in the Victorian era, and the traditions run deep even now.
 

The clocks have been stopped at Alcott’s time of death. All mirrors have been covered in black cloth, and the large family photo of Pepper and her parents that hangs by the grand staircase has been turned upside down. As if having the fucking wake inside your house wasn’t creepy enough…
 

Pepper doesn’t say much to me, so I keep my distance. She moves around the room, hugging people, thanking them for coming, and talking about her father. Her friend Savannah stays by her side for the first few hours, and does a good job shielding Pepper from any business questions thrown at her.

When Savannah steps away, I move in. Pepper takes my hand but not before she gives me a look that is full of disappointment. That one look kills me.
 

“How are you holding up?” I ask her, gently putting my hand on her back.
 

“My feet hurt,” she confesses.
 

“Sit down for a minute. You’re allowed to take a break.”
 

She nods, and lets me take her hand. As we’re walking out of the grand room, that asshole Olson spots me from across the room. He pushes past several people to get in my line of sight. Then he smirks and taps his watch.
 

“What is that all about?” Pepper asks.
 

“No clue.” I wince at the lie and how easily it came out of my mouth. I need to tell her the truth about everything. She’ll understand if I have a chance to explain. But now…now isn’t the time to bring up my mistakes. Now is the time to celebrate her father’s life and to comfort her in whatever way she needs.
 

I have no idea where we’re going. The Davenwood Manor is huge, and while I had some fun exploring as a child, most of my time here has been spent in Pepper’s bedroom. She leads me down a hall, through a door, and into a small solarium. Sunlight filters through the thick glass, warming the room. Large potted plants fill the space between furniture and bookshelves, and black and white photos of the house cover the walls. The grandfather clock in the corner has been stopped as well. Maybe they really believe in all that stuff. I thought it was for show.
 

Pepper sits, shoulders sagging forward. I crouch down in front of her and take off her shoes, then start rubbing her feet. She leans back and closes her eyes.
 

“Thanks,” she says after several minutes. “I need to get back out there.”
 

I slip her heels back onto her feet and extend a hand to help her up. She doesn’t take it. She stands, takes a deep breath, and then walks back through the house to the wake. As the day goes on I’m convinced Pepper is the toughest person I know.
 

Tougher than the men who made my life hell.
 

Tougher than the guards in prison.
 

Tougher than me.
 

I feel like a fraud in a suit, with my tattoos, scars, and past all neatly covered up with expensive fabric. A few people look at me with curiosity, and Pepper tells those with the audacity to ask that I’m her “friend”.

Ouch.
 

Though it’s not like anything was established between us. My life was put on hold, not moving forward, when I left six years ago. I want to pick up where we left off, but Pepper…Pepper moved on. I can’t expect her to pretend the last half a decade didn’t happen. I greet everyone with fake politeness, though really I’m scrutinizing every single person in this room.
 

Alcott thought someone close posed a threat. Which one of these rich assholes has it out for Pepper? Who’s willing to do something drastic for a shot at her bank account?
 

Probably half of them, at least. Anger grows inside of me at the thought of someone taking advantage of Pepper during this time, and the anger intensifies when I think about how Alcott kept the important details from me. I’m pissed the fuck off at a dead man, whose body is just yards away. Why the hell didn’t he tell me who he was worried about? Fuck, he should have told Pepper. It could be anyone from the maid to the head of security. The house is always full of people, people who are able to come and go as they please, people who wouldn’t make you bat an eye if they were in the house alone at night.
 

He should have fucking told us.

Despite the lack of info, I’ll keep her safe, because I promised I would and I keep my word…and it’ll kill me to see her get hurt. I’ll fight tooth and nail to keep anything and everything bad away from her.

Then it hits me, and conflicting emotions tear my heart it two. There’s one bad thing I can’t protect her from, one bad thing I can’t pummel and beat up and make go away.
 

Me.
I am
one of those bad things.
 

Chapter Eleven

Pepper

I crawl into bed feeling a sense of relief. And that relief makes me feel guilty. I buried my father today in the Davenwood cemetery, next to my mother. I signed the last legal documents, and the flowers from the wake have been removed. The show is over, and now I can figure out how to go back to how things were before.
 

Only they’ll never be the same.
 

I need to find my new normal. I know I will…someday. Exhaustion hits me as soon as I pull the blankets over me, and my heart is heavy with sadness. Grayson gets in bed next to me, and I can feel his eyes on me as he sticks his legs under the covers. He hasn’t left my side, and has been nothing but perfect: making sure I eat, rubbing my back to help me sleep…that sort of thing. Yet I can’t forgive him.
 

He says he cares about me, that he regrets leaving all those years ago with no explanation as to why. But if he really did, then why?
 

Why disappear? I called and texted him until his phone went out of service. Why be in town for a month and not come up to me and tell me how much he missed me? I need answers to so many questions, and right now I can’t deal with it.
 

Maybe I
shouldn’t
deal with it. Ever.
 

I held onto hope in the past and all it did was hurt me. Everything about Grayson went against the strict rules and expectations I was brought up with. He had no trust fund, no family roots in society. And I never felt like I fit in more with a single person than I did when I was with him. I broke my rules for him. And he broke me.
 

Isn’t the definition of insanity doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result? Why would this time be any different?
 

“Pepper?” Grayson’s deep voice rumbles from inside his tattooed chest. “Are you asleep?”
 

“Not yet.”
 

“Want me to rub your back?”
 

I should say no, should cut him off cold turkey. I quit him once and it almost killed me. I shouldn’t do it again. I need to stop now before I get too addicted.
Say no! Just say no!

“Yes.”
 

He moves over and the warmth of his skin against mine is reassuring. Safe. Comforting.

A lie
.
 

He starts massaging my stiff muscles, and tears pool in my eyes. It’s amazing I have any tears left. All I’ve done the last few days is cry.
 

Though right now I’m grieving another loss. I roll over and press my lips to Grayson’s. He’s surprised, but doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around me and move his body on top of mine. I run my hands all over him, memorizing the way he feels. The way he smells. Everything about him.
 

I take my time kissing him, not wanting to forget the way he tastes. I roll us over and move on top, straddling him, pressing my core down on his hard cock. Tears roll down my cheeks as his hands explore my body. The mixture of desire and heartache plagues me in the best and worst ways possible. I want to make love to Grayson and never stop. When we stop, it’ll be over. Our last time will be up. Tomorrow, I’m going to ask Grayson to leave and never come back. Tomorrow, my world will come crashing down all over again.