Beat of the Heart (Runaway Train #2)(58)

It took me a second to process her words. Why in the hell did she think I was too good for her? If anyone wasn’t good enough, it was me—the goofy drummer who had never had to go through any harsh shit. “Don’t apologize for shit you can’t help. And you’re wrong, about not being good enough. You and me…? We’re good for each other.” Cupping her face in my hands, I leaned in and kissed her gently. “I think you’re so f*cking brave to have lived through what you did.”

Her brows shot up in surprise. “You really think I’m brave?”

“Hell yes, I do. I mean, you finally left that f*cker.”

“Yeah, but even after that awful night, it took someone who I respect very much for me to finally see the light.”

“Who was it?”

“Pesh—the doctor who I did my clinical placements under. He’d suspected I was being abused for a while, kept trying to get me to talk to my family or leave Jason, but I wouldn’t. That night, I was a mess when I went into work—physically and emotionally. He was the one who stitched me up. Then, he called someone to cover for us. Even though I begged and pleaded for him not to do it, he drove me straight to the restaurant. He stood beside me and held my hand while I told my dad everything from start to finish. I moved in with my dad until Jason was taken care of. I’ve never heard or seen him since.” She shook her head. “Besides the support of my family, Pesh was there through it all. He even threatened to flunk my evaluations if I even thought of ever going back to Jason.”

“Sounds like a stand-up guy to me.”

A dreamy expression filled her face. “He really is.”

An uneasy feeling came over at me at the way she was talking about this doctor. I couldn’t help the jealousy that pinged over me that she might still be hot for this dude or worse she was somehow in love for him. Shifting on my feet, I asked the question I really didn’t want to. “So were you and this Pesh guy together or something?”

Mia’s eyes widened. “Oh, God no. Besides the fact he was married, we didn’t feel that way about each other. I mean, I love him—as a mentor and a friend, but not in a romantic way.”

My relief whooshed out of me in a long, exaggerated sigh. “I see.”

“Of course I can’t say the same for his brother.” When I furrowed my brows in confusion, Mia replied, “It was two years after I left Jason that Pesh introduced me to his younger brother, Dev, my ex-fiancé.”

I growled. “There’s another * I’d like to rip apart.”

Mia laughed. “Trust me, most of the men in my life would like to do that—including Dee. Even though Pesh is a peacemaker, I think he’d probably join in too. He was pretty livid at what his brother did, especially after what I’d been through with Jason.”

We fell into an awkward silence then. The atmosphere around us felt laden down with the admission of Mia’s abuse. I could tell she was still reeling—both pain and embarrassment radiated in her eyes, even though she tried to hide it. But I felt utterly and completely helpless at what to do to help her.

Finally, Mia cleared her throat. “I guess we better get back before they send out a search party, huh?”

Seeing the opportunity to lighten the mood, I grinned. “I’m pretty sure they know what we’re doing out here—or what we were doing.”

She made a face. “Fabulous.”

“Come on,” I said, holding out my hand. We made our way up the riverbank in silence. Although I wasn’t saying anything, my mind was whirling with what I thought I should say or do to ease Mia’s pain. When we got to the four-wheeler, I handed her back the keys. “You drive.”

“I don’t want this out of pity, AJ,” she countered.

Damn, just when I thought she couldn’t get any more stubborn, she did. “Oh Christ, that’s not it at all. Okay?”

She eyed me, and the keys, for a few seconds before she snatched them out of my hand. After she sat on the seat, I slid in behind her. She cranked up as I wrapped my arms around her waist. Peeking at me over her shoulder, she grinned. “Watch it with the happy hands.”

“You mean like this?” I asked, as I reached up to cup her breast with one hand while the other slipped between her legs. She squealed and slapped at my hands. I chuckled and then brought them behind me to rest on the back bar. “Better?”

She grinned. “Yes. But if it gets bumpy, I’d rather you hold on to me than fall off.”

“I’d rather hold on to you, period.”

“Then behave and you can.”

“Yes ma’am,” I replied, bringing my hands back to wrap around her waist. I nestled my head into the crook of her neck, inhaling the sweet scent of her damp hair. As we started jostling over the bumpy road, I tightened my grip around her. When we got back to the stables, loud voices and laughter echoed back to us from the fire. In the twilight, I reached out to run my fingers over her tattoo. She sucked in a deep breath. “It’s in Italian, right?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“What does it say?”

“The first line says ‘Ciò che non ci uccide, ci rende più forte’—‘What does not kill us makes us stronger’.”

I rubbed my finger along the next line. “And this?”