She Will Be Mine (New Horizon Book 2)

Chapter 33: Ronnie

It’s about when Jason starts murmuring and pleading, “I love you, I love you, don’t leave me again, please don’t leave me,” that I lose it myself.

Not that I had it together all that well up until that point, watching helplessly as he laid out everything that had been bothering him while beating on a punching bag. It’s a surprisingly intense experience to watch someone you care about literally beat out his frustrations, especially knowing that you caused all of it.

But after he stopped talking and just started punching, especially after he took his gloves off and I could see the damage he was doing to his hands, I couldn’t take it anymore. I should have been afraid, but I just wasn’t. I knew he would never hurt me. I also thought that maybe if I could get his attention, he might stop punching the bag.

And when he turned and looked at me with nothing but hurt and pain in his eyes, his face flushed and red from how angry and worked up he’d gotten, I knew what I had to do. I couldn’t have stopped myself if I’d wanted to because I needed to feel him as much as I knew he needed me. I threw myself at him, wrapping as much of him in my embrace as I could reach.

Which is how we’ve ended up here, tangled up together on the floor, crying our eyes out and whispering apologies and regrets between sobs. I feel horrible for all the hurt and pain I’ve inflicted on him trying to save myself from the same. And the worst part is I don’t think I saved either of us from anything. I think we’ve both been hurting more than we ever would have if I’d just given in sooner.

Eventually, the soothing feel of him against me helps me regain control of myself, and I attempt to match my breaths to his and slow down my racing heart. I’m a lot less bothered by the fact that I’m straddling his lap with my face pressed against his bare shoulder than I would have predicted, but I think that’s because of what brought us here. He needed me, and I needed him. Even my noisy, mixed-up brain recognizes that. As long I stay still and try not to overthink it, I’m actually enjoying the way he’s holding me.

He’s gone quiet and still the same as me, and neither of us says anything or makes a move. That is until it occurs to me that I originally went to visit Jason for his lunch break, which will probably be over soon if it isn’t already. Just judging by how sweaty and worked up he is, not to mention how swollen and bloody his hands looked, I don’t know that he’ll be ready to go back to work anytime soon.

“Jason?” I ask softly, not knowing if he’s ready to talk again yet.

“What is it?” he answers just as softly, and I wonder if he’s feeling what I am. As soon as we move, this moment is over, and I don’t think either of us wants it to be over yet.

“Do you need to be back in your office soon?” I ask, even knowing it will definitely ruin the moment.

He sighs, and then inhales a long breath through his nose before responding.

“I’m thinking of calling Aly and taking the rest of the day off. I don’t have anything major this afternoon anyway.”

“I’m sorry,” I can’t resist the urge to apologize again.

Not just for everything from before, but for my terrible timing. I’m pretty sure we’re sitting here like this right now because of me, and though I don’t regret it, during his work lunch was probably not the best time to demand he tell me what was really on his mind.

“I’m not,” he insists. “You were right. We needed this.”

As much as I don’t want to, it feels like the right time to pull away from his shoulder and sit back a little so I can see his face.

“I wish I was a witch so I could summon my phone from all the way over there on the table without moving,” he chuckles, but he’s keeping his intense gaze on me as he talks.

At least I think so. My glasses are quite smudged from being pushed up against his sweaty shoulder. That would normally drive me nuts, but currently, it makes him seem less intimidating to look at. But now that my head’s a bit clearer, I’m also trying not to think about how the rest of me was just pushed up against his sweaty self too and it’s probably all over me, not to mention the blood from his hands. I know he had them holding my back at the very least.

But with a deep breath, I do my best to push all that aside and focus on what’s important right now. We need to call Aly, and I have a phone in my pocket. A phone that I can reach if I wiggle slightly, but considering how I’m sitting on him, any amount of wiggle could make this incredibly awkward.

“My phone’s in my pocket, so we can use that to call Aly,” I offer, deciding not to let myself worry about silly stuff like that either.

We both jump a little at the sound of someone trying to open the door, but Jason locked it when we came in so other than a bit of jiggling of the handle, nothing happens.

“Occupied!” he calls out, smirking at me.

I feel him gently squeeze my upper thigh and then start stroking the side of my hip with his thumb, realizing that he’s starting to settle into how we’re sitting together. Me, on the other hand, the longer we sit here the more I seem to be getting in my head about it, and now with him doing that, it’s almost all I can think about because I can feel him moving. I want to be okay with it though, so I don’t say anything just yet. Maybe I’ll adapt.

But it does give me an opportunity to reach for my phone, though I have to try not to gasp when I look down and see what state the hand on my hip is in. It’s swollen and turning purple already, and there are bloody gashes almost completely covering his knuckles and fingers. Just from how hard he was hitting the punching bag, I wouldn’t be surprised if something’s broken. I know he’ll heal quickly, but that’s still got to hurt.

I can’t take it. I have to know.

“Do your hands hurt?” I ask him, still wiggling my phone out of my pocket.

“Uh, yeah now that the adrenaline rush is fading,” he laughs uncomfortably. “Nothing I’m not used to though. I’ll be all healed up by morning, if not before.”

He’s used to pain like this? Well, that’s concerning, especially since he said his job isn’t all that dangerous.

“Do you do this often, with the punching bag?” I feel the need to ask him next, wondering if that’s what he meant. I’ve given up on trying to free my phone for the moment.

He sighs, so he must sense that I find the idea troubling, but it’s also a clue that the answer is probably yes.

“Not like this per se, but yeah basically. I built a home gym in my basement and one of my favorite things to do with it is beat on the heavy bag bare-handed to work out my rage and frustration, though I usually do it at night before I go to bed so I can be all healed up for work in the morning. The pain helps clear my head, and Finn finds it more satisfying that way.”

The bitter, biting tone he uses when he confesses that tells me that he finds it to be more disturbing than I do. I might even go so far as to say that he’s ashamed to have to admit it to me.

Now that it’s him who can’t seem to look me in the eye, it gives me a chance to study him a moment before I say anything. For once, I find myself wanting to be the one who thinks very carefully and finds the right thing to say. He seems sensitive about it, and I don’t want him to take it the wrong way.

“Maybe this is why the Moon Goddess paired us together,” I say finally, waiting until he turns his surprised face my way before explaining myself. “I’ve always wondered how you could possibly be as mindful and empathetic of my struggles and needs as you seem to be, and I think this is why. There’s a war going on inside your head and body too, and fighting it is your cross to bear much like I have my own. It’s different but the same.”

The response I get is not at all what I expected. Before I know it, his lips are on mine. It’s not a sweet little peck the way I always pictured our first kiss would be. No, it’s a hungry kiss, with his lips slammed against mine and his hand fisting a handful of my hair and holding my head in place.

It surprises me, and I don’t know how long it takes me to respond, but apparently not long enough to deter him. By the time I finally decide to try kissing him back, I can already feel his tongue swiping at my bottom lip.

I never get a chance to decide what to do about that because there’s someone at the door again, and this time they’re using a key. The door swings open, and the redhead from before barges in on us.

I know because a split-second later I hear her complain, “You’re not supposed to lock these doors. This room is for public use unless you reserve it ahead of time.”

Jason finally pulls back slightly, sighing and releasing his hold on my hair.

“I just wanted a little privacy,” he says, obviously annoyed.

“Well, you can find somewhere else to make out,” the girl snaps at him.

It surprises me because I was under the impression that the unranked wolves tend to treat the ranked wolves with more reverence and respect than that. No one seems to complain about the places Aly comes up with to be affectionate with her mates, for instance.

But I suppose we need to get going anyway. At this rate, that call to Aly will never happen otherwise, and honestly, the redhead’s interruption was well-placed. It gives me more time to figure out how I feel about what just happened, and what I want to do next.

“Let’s just go,” I suggest so softly that it’s barely more than a whisper.

He sighs again but removes his hands from me so I can untangle myself and get up from the floor. The girl seems to want to stand there and watch us to make sure we leave, and I think I’m as annoyed by her as Jason seems to be.

I help him collect his stuff from the table where he left it, but he doesn’t seem to be interested in changing back into his clothes. He just grabs them up and bundles them under his arm along with his shoes. I guess he plans to leave here barefoot and in those borrowed shorts.

That blonde from the bar is out in the other room, wearing only a tiny pair of shorts that barely cover anything and a too-tight sports bra, leaning against the desk where the redhead was sitting when we first came in. She gives Jason a big smile when he first comes out a couple steps ahead of me, but once she sees me, that smile quickly turns into a suspicious glare.

I don’t know what comes over me, but I don’t like her standing there looking at him as though it’s her right. I reach out for his hand without even thinking about it, forgetting the bruises and probable broken bones. I just need to touch him, to claim him. If she’s going to look, then let her see that he’s already taken.

To my delight, he turns to me and smiles, lifting my hand to his mouth so he can kiss it, and then drapes an arm around me.

“I hope this is okay. My hand kind of hurts,” he explains under his breath, just loud enough that I can hear him.

Considering the way he was just kissing me, I think we're past worrying about things like putting his arm around me, but I appreciate his thoughtful concern.

“It’s more than okay,” I smile back at him.

Especially since I don’t think he even noticed the blonde standing there, despite her best efforts to demand the attention of every man in the room. She can have any of those other guys, but this one’s mine.