Hanging On (Jessica Brodie Diaries #2)(36)

“Geez. Graceful my butt.”

I smelt cooking, though no bacon. Beggars can’t be choosers.

As I wandered into the kitchen, ready to pinch my Romeo on the butt, I stopped dead when I saw Denise at the stove, oven mitt on her hand, apron on her chest. William was at the center island with a paper and a glass of orange juice.

I quickly about-faced, not ready to meet this women, who still didn’t like me no matter what she said. I didn't want her seeing me in William’s freaking underwear!

Before I could get away, I heard: “Jess. Where ya headed?”

Freezing mid-stride, I about-faced again, though slower this time. “Oh, well, um…I was going to look for something more…suitable… to wear.”

He looked me over. Man he looked so good right now. The sunlight in the room was reflecting in his brilliant blue eyes filled to the brim with love. His strong forearms braced against the counter, body completely relaxed and in his element. He was well-built and powerful met with grace and refinement. He could sit on a stool in an old T-shirt and pajama bottoms, like he was right at the moment, and still exude such manly confidence that I wasn’t sure I could keep my hands off. How the hell did I land this man? And how could anyone possibly love this much?

“You look fine. It’s only us,” he said, a smile tickling those lush lips.

I tried to use facial sign language to fervently explain that his mother did not count as an “us,” thank you very little, but you could only get so far with snarls and widening eyes.

He smiled, shook his head, and looked adorably confused. “C’mon. My mom is making her famous Eggs Benedict. Do you want some OJ?”

“Yes please.” Resigned, I walked over in his boxers and sat down on the stool next to him at the island. Then, remembering my manners, even though I was a titch embarrassed, I said, “Hello Mrs. Davies. Nice to see you again.”

Denise turned around, and for the first time ever in my acquaintance, had a warm smile. It didn’t take long for her face to cloud over, though, as her eyes flickered around my face and neck—she must be checking out the latest batch of bruises.

When her eyes flicked to my upper arms, her brow furrowed. She looked back into my face.

Yeah, it was his shirt, what choice did I have?

“Those hand prints look too big to match…” Denise’s accusing cobra stare pounded her son.

In confusion I looked to my arms, remembered, then shrugged. I’d forgotten about our breakdown.

He noticed the exchange and followed her gaze. His eyes widened in surprise.

“Did I do that?” he asked in horrified shock.

You could just make out where his fingers had squeezed, but not much else. They were faint and not worth notice. Not in the face of the other bruises, which I didn't want to think about until Dr. George had me in his chair.

“Yeah.” I shrugged again. “Not a big deal.”

“Jessica!” William gently ran his fingers over my upper arm, “It is a big deal! My God, why didn’t you say something?

I nearly laughed—why didn’t I say something? Such a man response. Why was he squeezing in the first place? But I knew why, and I didn’t think he would realize it was a joke, so I shrugged again and said instead, “Didn’t seem important. There were… other things to discuss.”

“Jessica, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you!” He looked like a beat puppy. He stroked my cheek with his fingers.

“No worries.” I shrugged for the millionth time. Denise was still pointedly looking at William. He caught the look.

“Mom, I’m serious. I didn’t know I was hurting her!”

“You need to be more careful,” Denise said in a firm tone. It was like she was talking to two children. I didn’t appreciate the sentiment.

“The story isn’t in the papers, so that is good,” Denise said after we’d sat down at the table to quietly ate our breakfast.

I tried to keep my mind from calling up flashbacks. William put a hand on my leg.

“Dusty lived,” she continued. “He was put in intensive care overnight. But he lived. As soon as he is able he’s going straight to prison. Scotty is ready to counter sue if Dusty’s father looks like he is going to press charges. Right now it looks like the father’s placing blame the group his son hangs out with, but you never know. It is a painful road for a parent to travel—placing blame on a child. The good news is that the police have enough evidence to rule this as self-defense.”

“Good.” William sighed, squeezing my leg gently again.

There was a knock at the door followed by William’s bellow to come in. The dog took off to investigate.

I felt it my job to elbow William for blowing out my ear, even though Denise didn’t seem to mind. He, again, looked at me confusedly. We’d have to take up sign language.

In stepped Adam, who wasted no time checking out my various battle wounds. He crossed the room in a few long strides and ripped me out of my chair and into a tight embrace. It was fine, except that he could have smelt better.

“Damn it, Jessica. How do you keep getting’ inta trouble?” he asked with a growl.

“Ow,” I responded meekly.

He put me down and shook his head. “Damn glad to see you made it out. Someone should’a told us that f**ker was out of jail!”