Rules of Protection(48)

He watched. He waited. Hell, I think he jotted down mental notes. “Are you enjoying yourself?” Jake asked, uncomfortably readjusting his sitting position.

“Mmmm.” The sound effect was more for him than the marshmallow. “Uh-huh.”

His smile melted me, as if he had skewered me and held me over an open flame. “Keep poking the bear, and one day the bear is going to poke back,” he warned.

“I’m counting on it.”

With a giggle, I rose to throw my stick into the fire and caught a glimpse of something in the back pasture. Hundreds of emerald-green twinkling lights danced around a wooded-themed ballroom made up of shadowy trees and glistening pond algae. I watched in amazement as the uninvited guests danced around the forest floor uninterrupted.

“Ready to go inside?” Jake asked.

“Not yet. Just a few more minutes. I’m watching the fireflies light up the pasture. They’re different from the ones in the Midwest.”

“Southerners usually call them lightning bugs.”

“Well, it comes to my attention your lightning bugs have asses that glow green, whereas our fireflies glow yellow. Strange, huh?”

“I’d rather have your attention elsewhere at the moment.” Jake grabbed my waist and pulled me into his lap.

“Well, well. What brought this on? You’re awfully playful tonight. I should fight with you more often.”

He tightened his grip and rested his head against mine. “I’ve wanted to hold you like this for a while now. Is that all right?”

“Just an observation. I’m not complaining.”

The fire dwindled on its own, though I barely noticed anything other than Jake holding me in his arms, stroking my hair lightly between his fingers. It should’ve been pleasant. It was pleasant. But part of me wanted him to stop, and I didn’t know why. Then it hit me.

My vision blurred, misting over with sorrow. I turned my head away to keep him from seeing the tears, but it was too late. He placed one finger under my chin, gently coaxing my face back to his. “What’s wrong?”

I couldn’t talk. I didn’t even try to, which worried Jake more. I buried my face into his shoulder. Sobs exploded from my chest, shaking me from the inside out.

Alarmed by my sudden crying jag, Jake’s body tensed under mine. He held me, rubbing my back with gentle, soothing hands. “Emily…?”

I clutched at his shoulders, holding myself closer, as I got myself under control. “I-I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Jake pushed a strand of my hair back, tucking it behind my ear. “Tell me why you’re upset. Is it about earlier?”

If I could’ve folded myself up small enough, I would’ve crawled into his pocket to hide from the embarrassment. I blew out a deep breath. “No. It’s…how you’re holding me. It reminded me of…someone else.”

Hurt and anger flashed in his eyes. “Who?”

“The last man who held me…” I swallowed hard, trying to keep my voice even. “He wrapped me in his arms and had these big hands that stroked across the back of my hair…”

“I don’t want to hear about you with some other guy.”

“No, you don’t understand, Jake. He was a grown man, and I was only fourteen.”

“Fourteen? Are you saying he raped—”

“Oh God, no! Nothing like that. Nothing sexual about it.”

Jake was confused. “What, then?”

“He was the policeman who told me my parents died.” A tear squeezed out and rolled down my cheek.

“Emily—”

“Wait. Let me finish.” I sucked in a deep breath to maintain control of the pressure building in my chest. “That policeman showed me compassion and kindness, letting me cry until I thought I’d die myself. He never asked me to stop, or be brave, or anything else I imagine you’d tell a young girl who had lost her parents. He wrapped his arms around me and didn’t let go. I had no one else, Jake, but he didn’t let go. He promised everything would be okay, and I believed him. Then Child Protective Services showed up and practically tore me from his arms. But no matter what, he wouldn’t let go. Another officer held him down and pried his fingers off my wrists. They shoved me in a car, kicking and screaming. He fought to get to me, but they drove me away.”

“He was a friend of your parents?”

“No.”

“Had you ever met him before?”

“No.”

“Emily, did you even know his name?”

“No, Jake.”

His eyebrows knitted together. “I don’t understand. Why did he not want to let go? You were strangers.”

I cleared my throat and looked directly into Jake’s eyes. “The night I met you, I felt something. A connection between us.”

“Yeah, I thought so, too. But what does it have to do with—”

“When that policeman came to talk to me, we had an instant connection. I didn’t know what it was at the time. His partner held him down as they yanked me away. He kept telling him ‘She’s not your daughter.’ I remembered hearing about a cop’s daughter who died a few weeks before. She was close to my age, but I don’t believe we went to the same school. Afterward, I knew why he’d reacted the way he did and why I felt connected to him. We both were grieving for the family we’d lost.”