I’m well aware of that. I also broke my own fucking heart when I left Jazzy. I don’t mention that, because there’s no point. No one will ever understand the position I was in. And I was a fucking kid. I might have had money, connections, but I didn’t know how to best protect Jazzy back then. The only thing I could do was stay away from her.
“She’s in her room. You remember where it is?” Antonia asks.
“I remember.” I look to the stairs. “You sure I can go up there?” I think we were around twelve when Jazzy’s father forbade me from going up to her bedroom with her.
“You guys are not horny teenagers anymore.” Antonia laughs.
No, now we’re horny adults with no one to tell us what we’re doing is wrong. Horny adults who have a decade of absence to make up for. I fight my smile at the thought, but I’m pretty sure Antonia catches it because she shakes her head and walks away, leaving me standing in the foyer.
Everything in me wants to run up those stairs. I don’t do that. Instead, I take my time, the bottom of my dress shoes making loud fucking noises against the marble with each step. When I reach the landing, I turn towards Jazzy’s room. The door opens and her head peeks out.
“Finally,” she says, running up to me. She jumps and I catch her. She wraps her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist. “Thank you for coming.”
“I’ll always come when you need me, Jaz.”
“Thank you,” she whispers. I know she doesn’t believe me. I need to earn that trust back. “Are you okay? Did anything happen?”
“No,” I tell her.
They’re not going to come after me directly, not yet anyway. They’re after her, because they know she’s my weakness. And I’m putting all my money on Bradley being the one who fucking fed them that little tidbit of information.
I walk into her bedroom, stopping in the middle. Jazzy untangles herself from me, taking one step back. I look around the space. “It’s changed.”
“Well, yeah. I grew up,” she says.
“Yeah, you did.” I let my eyes roam up and down her body. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she says.
“Don’t lie to me, Jazzy.”
She blinks at me. I know she tells everyone she’s fine because she doesn’t want to worry them. She has always done that. Always thinking of others before herself. I want her to start putting her own needs first. I don’t want to change her, because she’s fucking perfect, but I do want her to think about herself as much as she does others.
“I was scared and I can’t get the image out of my head—the image of my dad shooting that guy that was driving the car. I also can’t stop thinking about what could have happened if my dad hadn’t gotten in the front of that car, if he couldn’t tell that the driver wasn’t one of his men. I’m not naïve, Jake. I know what happens to women in this life, and I really would like to avoid that happening to me. I’m not strong enough to survive everything,” she says quietly.
“Baby, you are stronger than you give yourself credit for. You are a survivor, and you will survive whatever life throws at you. And I’ll be right there alongside you to help with anything you need,” I tell her. “We’re not going to let them win. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
I don’t tell her that I spent the afternoon interviewing personal bodyguards. Ex-special forces operatives who have gone private. I know that her father and uncles have capable men on their payroll, but it’s not enough for me.
I want professionals. I want to know that she’s always protected by the best of the best.
“You have more faith in me than I have in myself.” Jazzy sighs.
I walk around the room, looking at everything. Taking in all the changes she’s made over the years. There’s a photo stuck on her vanity mirror. A picture of her and me on prom night. The best and worst night of my life.
“I couldn’t throw it away. Antonia tried to take it down after I stuck it there but I made her leave it,” Jazzy says, watching me stare at the picture.
I don’t say anything. What can I say? I fucked up. We both know that, and nothing I do can change that night. Moving along, I look at the trinkets that are lined up on a shelf. I pick up a little crystal Disney princess I gifted her for her tenth birthday. “I can’t believe you still have this.”
“I have everything you ever gave me, Jake,” she says.
I smile. “You always were sentimental.”
“And you were always giving me gifts.” She smiles back at me.
“I wanted you to like me,” I admit.
“And you thought I’d like you more if you gave me things?”