Rising (Blue Phoenix, #4)(49)

“It’s Ruby.”

The gate clunks and I open enough to slide through sideways. Keeping a lid on Ruby is hard but I manage. How I’ve kept my silence and not screamed at the press, I’ve no idea. I pause and turn to the reporter closest to the gate. He’s young, not much older than me, and practically salivating over his proximity to the new Blue Phoenix scandal. I run a disdainful look over his close-cropped hair and smart attire.

“If Jem Jones had done this to my face, would I be here now?” I ask as the metal gates close between us.

“Hey, money can fix anything. I hope he gives you what you want.”

It’s a good thing the gate’s between us or his mouth would match my injured one right now. I see myself through his eyes, his lack of respect for someone who looks like me. He called me a cheap whore in not so many words.

“f-uck you,” I retort and head to the front door.

The door’s ajar but Jem isn’t in the hallway. I stomp upstairs enjoying the heavy sound of my combat boots; the ones I resisted using on the feet of each media * I came across outside.

“Jem?”

“In here.”

Jem stands in the lounge room, close to the window; and when he looks over, pain lances my heart because he’s the Jem I saw in the kitchen surrounded by broken glass that evening, haunted and confused. This is my fault.

I hate myself for thinking this in the moment, but I’ve seen the thought in Jax’s eyes today. Have I f*cked up the relationship between Jem and Ruby Riot, the one moving us on?

“I’m sorry,” I say.

Jem drags a palm slowly down his cheek. “What did you tell them? The police.”

“I told them what happened. I told them it was Dan. They’ll question him, not you. I don’t know where this has come from.”

“I do. It’s who I am, isn’t it?” He turns to the window and looks to the people below, the defeat in his tone pulls further at my guilt.

I cross and touch his arm. “No, it’s not.”

“And so it starts again. Not that it ever stops.”

“What doesn’t?”

“Their control, moulding me into the person they want to see. This last year has been worse, after… Liv, I’m painted as a man who hurts women. Now this.”

The whole time, Jem’s gaze remains on the window, at the world outside threatening his new peace.

“Jem, you were cleared with Liv. It wasn’t you.”

“What’s the saying? Where there’s smoke, there’s fire. They want me to fail. They want him back.” His voice is the flat. Dead.

“But he doesn’t exist, Jem, not unless you let him.”

“He does. I’ve done some bad shit. You have no idea.”

“I don’t care; he’s not here. Don’t let them drag him back up.”

Jem turns to me and we share another of those moments where we recognise each other’s rawness; see the lies we tell ourselves. “You, saying that, almost convinces me.”

“To me, you’re Jem and not the Jem Jones they say you are. This Jem is a good guy. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. They don’t know you.”

A muscle twitches in his cheek. “You don’t know me.”

“I know enough,” I say quietly. “You’re good. In here.” I place a hand on his chest and he flinches. “Don’t you like being touched?”

“If it’s you, I don’t mind.” He gives a small smile and curls his hand around mine.

Jem’s words confuse me considering his reaction two days ago. The kiss. His freak out. Now his knight in shining armour routine from last night. I hated him yesterday for how he treated me; but now he’s back to taking care of me, looking at me in the way he once did. My head is a screwed. Everything is screwed and I shouldn’t be here.

Yet there’s no other place in the world I feel calmer or safer right now.

“Just no kissing?” I ask.

Jem’s grip on my hand tightens. “I came to apologise about that last night. That’s the reason I was there.”

“Whatever the reason you were there, I’m glad. And you don’t need to explain yourself. I just wish you’d left things and not kissed me the other night. You messed with my head, Jem.”

“Yeah, I messed with my own too. I couldn’t stand the thought I’d hurt you more by being such a dickhead.” With his other hand, he strokes hair from my face. “Did I? If I did, I’m sorry.”

I shrug. “I’m used to it.”

“Exactly. I spend weeks telling you to believe in yourself, to show you how much you’re worth to the world, and then I do that to you.”

“Forget about it,” I say, smiling in a way I hope fools him into thinking I’m not bothered.

Jem reaches to touch my cheek and I shift so he doesn’t. “Your face… If I ever see that f*cker again…”

“Bit of a mess, but nothing permanent. At least he didn’t break my nose.”

Jem scowls. “The way you deal with this is wrong. Don’t play this down.”

“Jem, I’ve been to the police like I promised, but I’m too tired for any more lectures. I need to deal with this in my own way. Surely, you of all people understand that.”