“You’re right. I did.” I sling my purse over my shoulder, retreating from him into the living room and toward the front door. When I reach the foyer, I pause, glancing back at him standing a few feet away, looking confused. “The truth is, I don’t know what to believe. You can say you made a mistake today, but how do I know it’s because you truly believe it, not because you have some ulterior motive?”
“Please, Guinevere.” He closes the distance between us, his chest heaving in desperation. “I want this. I want you. I can’t function without you in my life. Nothing is right in the world. And I’m sorry I was a fool and pushed you away. I promise. I won’t push you away again. Just please… Give me a chance to prove it to you.”
Pulling my lips between my teeth, I consider his plea. Then I place my hand on a hip. “Okay.”
“Okay?” His eyes light up as he goes to close the last bit of space between us, but I step back, holding up my hand to stop him.
“Prove it. Now. Prove you won’t push me away again.”
He parts his lips, his brows pulling together. “How?”
“You say you want this, that you want something real with me.”
“I do.” He reaches for my hands, clutching them in his. “More than I’ve ever wanted anything.”
“Real relationships aren’t all romantic dinners and snuggling on the couch. They require a connection, sharing yourself. All parts of yourself, even the ugly ones. That’s what makes it real. Looking past the ugly at all the beauty hidden beneath the surface.”
Julian swallows hard, his fingers growing cold as understanding of what I’m asking rolls over him. He drops his hold on me and turns from me, staring blankly into space.
“I want your ugly, Julian. It’s the only way this will work. The only way I’ll know you’re in it for real. So I’m going to ask you one question. Whether you respond will determine whether I walk into your arms or out that door.” My voice trembles as I struggle to hide the emotion at the thought of walking away from him yet again. But I can’t be with someone who only allows me part of the way in. I made that mistake with Trevor. I won’t do it again. “How did you get your scars?”
Julian slowly glances over his shoulder, lifting his eyes to mine. Moisture pools in the corners as he pleads with me to ask him another question…any other question. But I can’t. This was the question that started it all. And it may be the question that ends it all, too.
I’m unable to move, my heart caught in my throat as I wait for him to finally answer me. He doesn’t. Instead, he faces forward, shaking his head.
My shoulders fall as my heart deflates. “I understand,” I manage to squeak out. I turn from him, heading toward the front door. I only make it a few steps when his voice stops me.
“My step-father shot me.” His words are low, devoid of emotion. He speaks so softly, I’m unsure I heard him correctly.
I whirl around. “What did you say?”
“The scars.” Facing me, he pulls his shirt out of his pants, lifting it and revealing the marks on his abdomen. “From my step-father.”
“Why?” I return to him as he tucks his shirt back in.
He rubs the back of his neck, drawing in a pained, shaky breath. “I was trying to protect my mother.” He slumps onto the couch, the truth weighing him down.
“Your mother?” I sit beside him, unable to take my gaze off his remorse-filled expression.
“It wasn’t enough. He killed her. She was trying to get us away from him so he couldn’t hurt us again.”
I lean into the cushion, briefly closing my eyes as I put the pieces together. No wonder he used a large portion of the inheritance he received from Mr. Price to open a women’s shelter. He lost his mother to domestic violence.
“The instant she slumped to the floor, all I saw was red. I charged at him. He pointed the gun at me, warning me not to do anything stupid. But I didn’t care. And he was drunk. So I grabbed a knife out of the butcher block and stabbed him, but not before he got off three shots. Thankfully, a neighbor, who was a paramedic, heard and burst into the house. If he hadn’t, I probably wouldn’t have made it.”
“And that’s what landed you in foster care.” I tilt my head at him, studying him.
He shoots his eyes to mine, surprised at my statement. Then he pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling. “Camille.”
“You didn’t have any other family you could live with?” I press. I come from a rather large extended family. The idea that there was no one else Julian could count on boggles my mind.
“Mom was young when she got pregnant. The result of an affair with a college professor. Her parents were well-respected, affluent members of their community. They saw her pregnancy as a blemish on their reputation. When she refused to get rid of the baby, they cut her off. She raised me on her own. We were all each other had. When she died, there was no one to claim custody of me, so I was put into foster care. Since the system’s so overworked, none of the foster parents wanted to deal with an adolescent boy suffering from emotional trauma. Sure, I was in therapy, but I got moved around between therapists, too.”
“Julian…” I shake my head, unsure what to even say. I’d learned about pieces of his past in the research I’d done on him. I could never have anticipated this was the real story.
“I push people away, Guinevere.” His eyes intensify, the blue hue becoming darker. “It’s what I’ve always done. Actually, I’ve never let anyone get remotely as close as you. No one’s cracked the shell. Until you came into my life.” His expression softens as he leans toward me, grabbing my hand in his. “You saw through me when no one else ever could. You were right about all of it. How I acted the way I did because I was scared. I knew it was true, and I hated you for calling me out on it. Worse, I hated myself because I thought it made me appear weak.”
I bring my free hand up to his cheek, reveling in the scruff. “It doesn’t make you weak. It makes you human.”
He covers my hand with his, my heart swelling with the longing I feel in his touch. “I understand that now. I’ve spent my entire life running from anything real…including love. I’m just not sure I know how to love.”
“Oh…” My heart deflates as I pull my hand from his cheek. I begin to slink away, my eyes watering, but he grabs my chin, forcing my gaze to his.
“But I want you to show me how.”
I part my lips, my brows furrowed. “Show you how?”
“Yes, Guinevere. I need you more than I’ve needed anyone.” He releases his grip on me, then stands and starts to pace. “But I’m messed up. Really fucking messed up. I wasn’t lying when I said I’d hurt you. I probably will. Just please…” He stops, dropping to his knees in front of me, his hands clasped together. “Be patient with me. I have a lot of scars, ones that will take me a while to finally share with someone after keeping them all to myself for years. But I want you to know all these things about me. I want you to know my ugly.”
“That’s all I want. Just you.” I bring my hand to his face, brushing my thumb along his cheek. “The real Julian Gage. No more lies. No more pretending. No matter how bad you think it is, lying is worse. So just be honest with me. And if I ask something you’re not ready to talk about, don’t push me away. Just say you’re not ready. That’s all I ask. Just be honest.”
A flash of hesitation crosses his expression as he chews on his lower lip. I want to question it, but before I have a chance, he’s on his feet, pulling me up with him. His arms swallow me as his lips find mine. Any doubt is instantly erased as his kiss consumes me, heart, body, and soul. For the first time, I feel like I’m actually kissing Julian, not the man he pretended to be all summer long.
“I like this better,” I murmur against his lips, a tingle trickling down my back from the subtle contact.
“Like what?”
“Kissing you. Not the other person you were.”
“And I like kissing you like this, too.” He circles his hips, then yanks my body, hard and fast, against his. His erection pushes into my stomach, making me gasp. “And I’d like to do more than just kiss you. You have no idea how hard these past few weeks have been, especially now that I’ve gotten a taste.”