Fallen Woman(79)

The moment his arms went around my body, the dam I’d been trying to hold back came flooding open. He couldn’t stop my heart from breaking or right the wrongs I’d made. He didn’t try to dry my eyes or pretend he could fix the place we were in. But his embrace told me silently he would just keep loving me, through it all. It’d only get worse—this was by no means over—but no matter what we faced, he wouldn’t leave me.

I hadn’t cried over Ryan in years, but part of this emotional river was the last little bit of him I’d held onto. I had been unwilling to relinquish his memory. I’d never thought I’d find a better love, nothing deeper, warmer. I promised him I’d hold steadfast to what we had when the few people who had shown up for his funeral had left. I stood there, willing him to get out of that box, to walk up behind me and grab our children. We needed one more embrace, one final I love you. Something to remember him with. Somehow now, I believed by letting go of his last name I was letting go of him. I was ready to move on—I just hadn’t realized how painful it would be, even years later.

I’d loved him. I’d landed in a black hole because of him. He risked us, our kids, and me making poor decisions, and in the end, he lost. But all those things led me to exactly where I am. Tied up in the arms of a man who took me, broken, carrying a ton of baggage, and loved me despite how far I’d fallen.

He loved me in spite of myself.

I fell asleep crying on his chest in the safest place I’d ever been.



We woke to more bad news in the morning. When Jase called Hart to tell him to file the adoption paperwork, he let him know Holland was doing his own interview with one of the local news stations. It would be aired at six tonight. My stomach turned, and I went running to the bathroom to expel my breakfast. I felt like I was living a nightmare. No one should have to go through the public humiliation I did with Ryan, but to face it twice just seemed grossly unfair.

The knock on the door dragged me out of my pity party. As I held on to the porcelain, the knock came again.

“Babe, are you okay?” He worried about how I was handling all this.

“Yeah. I’ll be out in a second.” I wiped my mouth with a tissue and flushed before I opened the door to find a distraught Jase staring back at me.

I brushed my teeth as he talked. “I don’t think you should watch the interview tonight. Hart and I can handle things from here on out.”

I spun around so fast I almost knocked him over. “What? Why?” I said with a mouthful of toothpaste.

“It’s getting to you too much. You don’t need the stress. I created this. I’ll fix it.”

I spat in the sink and rinsed my mouth before answering, pointing my toothbrush at him as I spoke. “No way. We’re in this together. If I hadn’t come into your life, you wouldn’t be facing any of this. You and your friends would still be tight, you wouldn’t be missing work, you wouldn’t be dealing with my demons. We’re in this together! That’s what you said, Jase. Everyone else be damned. Those were your words. You’re not pushing me aside the first time it gets hard. I’m tougher than you think.”

He studied my face, and I knew he wanted to argue. Instead, he nodded and conceded. “Okay, but if it gets to be too much, promise me you’ll tell me? I’ve dealt with people like Holland before—I can deal with him, too.”

“I know you can, but you don’t have to.”

He placed a kiss on my forehead and pushed back to see my eyes. “I love you, Gia. More and more every day.”

Those words meant more to me than anything he could’ve ever bought or done. Those words coming from his mouth were a commitment of monumental proportion. I cherished them.



The day seemed to go by at a snail’s pace, but as six o’clock approached, I wished time would slow down. The interview came careening at us faster than we could comprehend the trash Holland was spewing.

I couldn’t take my eyes off the screen. My jaw hung open. Jase stormed around the room, throwing things and cussing more with every word he uttered. I was glad the kids were asleep—they didn’t need to see this.

“Gianna and I met through Jase Lane. I did indeed pay for her time to help her out, but she developed an unhealthy interest in me romantically, and I wasn’t able to break it off with her. I thought we could keep things on a friendship level, but she kept pushing for more. When I finally told her no, she apparently went running to Jase with a lie about how things ended. I could never consider a girl like Gianna LeBron as a potential mate—that would be social suicide.”

I wanted to punch the smug look off his face. He thought he was going to get off scot-free. He was convinced I didn’t have anything on him. I couldn’t prove what he’d done because I wasn’t conscious. If he’d been within arm’s reach, I’d break my fist trying to rearrange the features on his ugly mug. I’d never felt this sort of rage toward anyone.

“Jase has always had a jealous streak a mile wide. I couldn’t help she wanted me first and settled for him. As friends, I had hoped we could look past that and maintain our ties. His attack was proof he needs help for his temper. He might want to analyze what his motivation for his action was. If it was that woman, he should reconsider. She’s not worth the trouble.”

The TV continued to blare on and on. I wondered how long this crap would go on. Surely there was a limit on the lies they would allow him to tell. It was only a thirty-minute program, and the station seemed to have devoted the entire segment to Holland Hanks.