Simple Perfection (Perfection #2)(50)

Della never did any of these things. I couldn't sympathize and now I was pretty damn sure he shouldn't propose because they had shit to figure out.

"You two need to talk," I said. I had no other words of wisdom.

Jace ran his hand through his hair and sighed. "I know we do. Every time I try and ask her about it, she starts drinking. The next thing I know, she's dancing on a bar somewhere. When she starts to sober up she tells me she wishes she was enough for me and that she wishes she was someone I could love forever. I tell her she is but she needs to tell me why she's doing this. Why she pulls away from me sometimes. She either starts crying or sucking my damn dick. Both get me completely distracted."

I had thought Jace and Bethy were fine. They were good. They were always together. I hadn't imagined any problems with the two of them. Bethy was always so happy and bubbly. The Bethy he was describing wasn't someone I'd ever seen.

"I love her. I'm gonna do whatever the hell I need to to stop this. Because I can't lose her. I love her. She's the best thing that ever happened to me. All relationships before her pale in comparison. If she wants to get married, I'll propose. I wanted to wait but I don't think she'll ever tell me why she pulls away sometimes. Maybe if we're married she won't do that. If I put a ring on her finger then it will stop this drunken partying shit she's doing."

The only thing he'd said there that even came close to a reason as to why he should marry Bethy was the part where he said he loved her and she was the best thing that had ever happened to him. The other stuff wasn't good logic. "I think you need to get her to talk to you sober first. Lock her in a room and make her talk. Don't just propose because she's forcing your hand with this drinking shit. That isn't what marriage is supposed to be about. You gotta want this, man."

Jace glanced back at the door to my house. "What about Della? Do you want it with Della?"

Yeah, I wanted forever with her. "One day, but she isn't pressuring me. When the time is right."

Jace nodded. "Yeah, that's what I thought, too. But Bethy seems threatened by that idea." He stood up. "Thanks for listening. I needed to unload on someone. I couldn't go back to the condo and deal with Bethy after tonight. I just needed to talk."

"You're my best friend. I'm always here to talk when you need to. Besides, you kept me from losing it when Della left me."

Jace chuckled. "More like Rush did. I was scared to touch you. You were going apeshit."

"Rush was the only one strong enough to hold me back. But you listened to me and kept me sane while she was gone."

Jace nodded. "You're my family."

And he was mine.

Della

"Hush, little baby, don't say a word, Momma's gonna buy you a mockingbird." Momma's voice rang out shrill and off-key as I stood outside her bedroom door and peeked inside. She was in a rocking chair in her room with the baby doll I wasn't allowed to touch wrapped tightly in a blanket. She sang to the baby doll when she was sad.

"Yes, he's a good boy to sleep for Momma. He sleeps like he's supposed to." She cooed at the doll and touched its plastic face tenderly, as if it were real. For a long time I thought the baby doll was real. But it never made any noise and she left it forgotten in its crib in her room for days at a time. Eventually I realized it was just a baby doll.

Then I'd made the mistake of picking it up and rocking it, too. Momma had been very upset with me. I had gone three days without food, locked in my room.

"Sweet little baby, Momma's joy. I'm gonna go buy you some new toys." She sang the made-up words. She always made up words to this song. I wasn't sure if she didn't know the real words or if she just liked singing about what she was doing.

Then she threw the baby doll across the room and screamed, "Demon child!" over and over again as she stomped her feet. I ran back to my room as fast as I could and prayed she wouldn't come after me.

"Della?" Woods's voice broke into my dream and my eyes snapped open. I looked up into his concerned face.

"You okay? You were breathing hard."

That was all? I smiled. I was okay. I could live with the memories. If the terror didn't come with them. "I'm fine," I assured him, and cuddled against his side. "It was just a memory."

Woods ran his fingers up and down my arm. "Do you want to talk about them? Maybe if you told me, you would stop dreaming them altogether."

I started to say no and stopped. I had been telling people no for years because it sent me into the darkness when I let myself think about it. But I was better now. What if I did tell him my dreams . . . what if it could actually help?

"Okay," I said, not looking up at him. I kept my eyes on his chest. I wasn't scared of the memories now. I just wasn't sure how I was going to open myself up to him that completely. It would make me feel more vulnerable than I had ever felt. He would know my horrors. No one really knew them.

It was time.

Woods tightened his hold on me and I focused on the warmth of his arms. I was safe. Telling him was safe.

"She was rocking the baby doll. She always rocked the baby doll when she was in one of her dark times. She sang to it and made up words to lullabies. I knew, even at five years old, that her singing to a plastic doll was wrong. Something was wrong. So, I would watch her. She never rocked me. Seeing her rock the doll confused me. Why would she rock a plastic baby doll? The baby was a he. She called it a him. She never called it by a name. Just 'sweet baby' and 'baby boy.' That was weird, too, because the boy they'd adopted before me was never a baby when they had him." I stopped a moment and thought about looking up at Woods to see what he was thinking. But I had more to tell and I didn't want to watch his eyes and see his reaction.