Survivor (First to Fight #2)(39)

“Sofie,” Jack starts, but I wave him off.

“The reason I left,” I say, more steadily this time, “was because someone hurt me and I was afraid to stay here. In Nassau. I was afraid he’d come back. Hurt one of you guys.” Sitting up, I fold my legs under me and bring a hand to Rafe’s cheek. “It was never anything either of you did.” I look at Donnie to make sure he understands I include him, too. “It was me. I was scared. A coward.”

“You’re not a coward,” Jack says. “You’re the strongest woman I know. Even though it hurt your mom when you left, she knew you loved her.”

“She told us about you all the time,” Donnie says, scooting up to lay his hand on top of mine. I turn mine over and squeeze his, tears blurring my vision.

I wipe a hand over my eyes. “Okay, I didn’t mean for this to turn into another waterworks session so let’s just finish the movie.”

Donnie presses play on the controller, but he doesn’t let go of my hand for the rest of the movie. Rafe pulls my feet onto his lap and Jack wraps an arm around my waist. I give in to the comfort of his touch and tuck my head into his shirt, inhaling his spicy male scent and sniffling. They’re all there, supporting me.

I didn’t realize how much I needed those hands there to catch me.

I never thought they’d forgive so easily.

Or that I deserved their forgiveness.

“I thought I told you to relax,” Jack says, his arm tightening around me.

“Well, that’s easier said than done. I feel like I’m waiting on the other shoe to drop.”

“Why don’t you let me worry about that for now?”

Glancing up at him, I say, “Were you always this pushy?”

He smiles. “Were you always this stubborn?”

“I’m going to take that as a yes,” I say, turning back to focus on the movie, though I have no idea what’s going on.

I don’t know how the hell he expects me to relax. Doesn’t it bother him? How close we are? How easily his hands move over my body? Like the time separating us is inconsequential. Being with him, touching him, used to be easy.

As the minutes pass and my muscles loosen, I sink into his arms, my head pressed right up against his chest, his heartbeat a reassuring thud in my ear. My fingers rest on the flat of his abdomen, just a thin layer of cloth between his stomach and my fingers. My breathing turns erratic as my awareness of him increases.

When his fingers start to trail along the length of my arm that’s draped over my hip, I suck in a deep breath and let it out slowly through my teeth. The tips of his fingers make light paths over my arm and down to my wrist at a leisurely pace.

His touch may be causal, hell, it could even be an afterthought, but the reaction inside of me is anything but. I barely recognize the stirrings in my stomach, the tightening. I haven’t felt this way since…well, since him.

By the time the movie ends, I’ve forgotten everything but the touch of his hands. As he lifts me to my feet to help clean up the empty paper plates and dirty cups, I realize he got what he wanted. I’ve never felt so relaxed in my life.

Shaking off the floaty feeling, I get to my feet and herd the boys toward the stairs. “Brush your teeth,” I remind them as they clomp upstairs.

It’s not until their footsteps recede and I turn to face Jack behind me that I realize we’re alone down here. The secrets that were like a person standing between us are out in the open now. There’s no hiding, no running from him.

Though based on the look in his eye, he’d welcome the chase.

Nerves skitter through me and a nervous hand moves up to my neck to play with a necklace that isn’t there. “I—uh, I think I’ll go wash up.”

“Don’t think you’re gonna run from me now, Sofie,” he says, bringing me to a halt a few inches away from him.

He’s leaning casually against the wall at the base of the stairs. His eyes are unreadable, his face carefully blank, but I feel the tension coming off him in waves. He wants answers, I know. He more than deserves them. But that’s not the only thing he wants.

“I’m not running from anything,” I say, even as I glance for an exit. He pushes off the wall and gets in my space. I ball my fists by my sides because if I don’t they’d already be inching up the firm expanse of chest that fills my vision.

“You got that wild look in your eyes, baby. You’re either gonna run or you’re gonna find something to get pissed about and start yelling at me.”

Frowning, I glance up at his upturned lips. “I don’t yell at you.”

His teeth flash. “The hell you don’t. The only time I got a word out of you lately is when I push your buttons.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t push my buttons,” I suggest, my tone overly sweet.

He inches closer, his T-shirt radiating his heat, his chest touching my own. I notice the weirdest things about being so close to him like this. Like how our feet touch and knees brush against each other. Not body parts that I’d normally classify as high up on my list of erogenous zones, but hell if my heart doesn’t start to gallop inside my chest. I take an automatic step back and I bump into the banister. My hands fly out to grip the wood.

Trapped.

“What are you doing?” I ask, my throat suddenly dry, all previous bravado gone.