Chapter 51

Jamie

"What?" I planted my feet, stopping her from taking me anywhere. "In a wedding boutique?" All of a sudden, the racks of white dresses felt a whole lot more oppressive.

"Not a wedding gown." She said that as if it was self-evident, but that edge to her voice, it made me think that she wasn't being entirely truthful. "One of the bridesmaid dresses. Something like that would work for the engagement party."

"That's not why we're here," I said, throwing off her grip. "We're here for Nadia."

But I saw why Mum was making the most of the moment. Nadia's family was all clustered around her, discussing how perfect the dress was, and that's where we should've been. It's why we were here in the first place, right? But when my mother turned to look around at what was happening, I saw a sadness in her eyes.

She'd never have this kind of experience.

My paternal grandmother didn't get on very well with Mum, and her mother was an even bigger ball buster. I rarely saw any of my cousins and my aunts were all busy with their lives. Mum didn't have a gaggle of daughters to go through this ritual with, and not for the first time did I wish some of my brothers were girls. Then she could have focussed all of that wedding fever on someone who appreciated it.

Instead, she just had me.

"Stop fighting, Jamie," Mum sighed. "Just this once, can you humour me?"

"Mum, the shop assistants will just about expire on the spot if I touch one of their dresses," I hissed at her. "They're thinking exactly what you are, that I'm some dirty grease monkey that has no place here." I looked at my hands. "What if I stain one of the dresses I put on?"

"That will never happen," she said, grabbing my arm and steering me towards the other end of the boutique. That was where all the colour was, the racks of bridesmaids' dresses hanging neatly.

"Looking for something in particular?" another shop assistant said, her eyes sliding up and down as she looked me over.

"My daughter needs a formal dress for an engagement party," Mum said, ignoring the other woman's expression.

"I don't—" I started to say.

"Something in blue, I think." My lips thinned as Mum charged on, the assistant's expression a mirror of mine. She didn't want me trying on her dresses any more than I did. "It'll bring out the colour of her eyes."

"Blue…" The assistant crossed the floor to the rack of blue and purple dresses before turning to size me up. "So you're a fourteen?"

"Size twelve," I corrected sheepishly. "Well, usually. It depends on the brand…"

The assistant ignored whatever I had to say, whisking a few dresses out before presenting them to us.

"Oh, the royal blue…" Mum clasped her hands to her chest. "That will look magnificent on you, Jamie."

"The turquoise may suit—" the assistant started to say, but Mum shook her head, snatching the dress from the other woman's hands then ushering me towards the dressing rooms. The royal blue dress was hung up and I was shoved inside, the curtain pulled closed.

How's it going?

The message from Brock came through right as I was reaching for my shirt, ready to pull it off, so the excuse to delay was grabbed with both hands. I tapped out a quick reply.

Being made to try on dresses for the engagement party.

White dresses? I could almost hear his dry tone.

Not yet, but I wouldn't put it past her. I took a quick snap of the blue dress before sending it to him.

"Jamie?" Mum's voice carried through the curtain. "How are we going in there? Do you need a size up?"

I needed a portal out of here, but that was never going to happen. Perfumed steamroller, that's how I'd described my mother, and the only way I knew how to deal with her was to lie down and let her roll over me, then make a quick escape.

Beautiful , came Brock's reply. If you like it, buy it.

Or…?

I could take up Hunter's offer. Suits could look amazing on women, just as some men could rock a dress, but not in my mother's world. I think she was still trying to get her head around that pants were one of the most common items of clothing women wore.

Come and get me and then you can decide if I buy it , I texted back, tossing my phone down on the chair before stripping down.

The dress wasn't even that bad. I'd seen some hideous ones where it felt like the bride was doing her best to humiliate her attendants, but this had an uneven skirt that flared out as the fabric settled, the band at the waist fitting perfectly. A cross bodice emphasised my curves, each piece of fabric separating and emphasising my breasts, though in a classy way. The sleeves were these tiny fluttery things that just covered the points of my shoulders, so the muscles of my arms felt like they contrasted starkly against such little scraps of fabric.

"How'd you go?"

"Lucky I'm dressed, Mum," I snapped as the curtain was wrenched open, but my harsh tone went straight over her head. Just as Nadia's family all gasped over her dress, my mother did the same. Her eyes shone, the assistant even giving me a grudging nod of approval.

"And what a dress…" She held out the skirt and gestured for me to twirl around. I shuffled uncomfortably, feeling like a performing monkey, not a greasy one now. "Oh, you have to get it."

"You do." Nadia and her mother had approached, now that she was dressed back in her street clothes. "Damn, girl, those boys of yours are gonna swallow their tongues when they see you in that."

"Boys?" Deidre asked in a neutral tone, but Mum instantly bristled.

"Jamie thinks she's still got time to play the field," my mother grumbled. "Stringing three men along when, at her age, she should be glad for one that's serious about her."

"That fella with the tattoos looked terribly serious," Deidre said. "Giving her a blank cheque to buy a dress." With an impish, grin she grabbed a wedding dress off a returns rack and then held it against me. "You'll be next, mark my words."

No , I thought, shaking my head. No, no…

Of course, that was the moment the bell on the door jingled. Brock walked in, blinking at the sea of femininity, but finding me in seconds. I was standing in a bloody bridal shop with a wedding dress pressed against me, which should've been strike number one, but rather than run away screaming, Brock's focus intensified. He took in the wedding dress and the blue one without making a comment.

"Oops! Can't let the groom-to-be see you in your wedding gown," Deidre said with a wink, whisking the white dress away.

"Mum!" Nadia shot her mother a sharp look, but Deidre paid her no mind, hanging the dress back up.

"You look…"

Brock shook his head, frowning as he searched for words, and Mum's smile grew smug; but I didn't wait to hear the end of his sentence, diving back into the dressing room and pulling the dress off before putting my work clothes back on. The dress was returned to the hanger and I made sure the seams were straight and it was hanging correctly, wasting time before sucking in a breath and pulling the curtain back.

"Thanks—" I started to say to the assistant with a smile.

"We'll take it." Brock cut through my polite response and that had the assistant smiling. She plucked the dress from my limp fingers, then went to ring it up at the cash register. "Babe, have you still got my card?"

A simple question and an important one, so I pulled it out of my pocket, slapping it down on the counter far too hard. The assistant's eyebrow jerked up, but she put through the purchase before bagging the dress up and handing it to me. I didn't want to take it, but social expectations dictated I must, so I picked up the bag, only for Brock to take it from me.

"Just in case," he murmured. "You look beautiful in it, but you look beautiful in everything to me."

"So it'd be cool for me to go to the engagement party in my work gear?" I snorted.

"Whatever you want."

His eyes bore into mine, time feeling like it stopped ticking. My eyes dropped down, taking in the full curve of his lips, the bristle of his beard until I was forced to drag my focus back up again. The noise of the shop filtered back in abruptly, making me conscious of the way my heart was beating.

"I've got to go." I turned to face Nadia and she answered me with a hug.

"Thanks for coming. I know work is insane for you right now and I totally appreciate it. Wrangling my family? That was brilliant." She held me at arm's length then. "They can be seriously intense, y'know?" Amber had been quite bitchy about Nadia when she was first introduced to the family, dismissing her as a dumb blonde, but I had no idea where my sister-in-law got that idea. There was a shrewd intelligence burning in Nadia's eyes right now. "So if you ever need me to return the favour…?"

"You want to pick out my wedding dress?" I joked.

"I want you to be happy, Jamie, and so does Frankie."

"So that's why he cut the hair off all my Barbies," I said, tapping my finger to my lips.

"Families are weird," she replied. "The people that love you the most in the world can be the ones that hurt you the deepest. They know where all your vulnerable spots are."

I stood there just nodding, before I forced myself to smile and pull away.

"Your vulnerable spots are safe with me," I assured her. "If my brother pisses you off, I know how to take him down."

I cracked my knuckles theatrically and she laughed in response.

"Thanks for coming, and I look forward to seeing you at the party." Nadia looked past me to where Brock stood. "With whichever guys you decide to bring. We don't care who." That was delivered with a little emphasis. "Just that you come."

The engagement party had been a point of stress for me all week, but it was only now that I felt like I could take a full breath. Mum had more to say because she took a step towards me, but I saw just how smart Nadia was. Deidre had been deployed not just to embarrass me with wedding dresses, but to distract my mother. Nadia's mother spoke to mine earnestly, forcing her to stop where she was or be rude to the mother of her son's fiancé.

So I made my escape.

It was as if whatever coping mechanisms I'd been using all afternoon suddenly stopped working, and I almost ran for the door. Striding down the street didn't help, not until my feet moved faster. I was dimly aware I'd left the dress behind, but the thought of going back for it made me feel slightly hysterical.

And so did he.

"Jamie." Brock's voice echoed down the street. "Jamie!"

When his hand landed on my wrist, my whole body tensed and my lips curled into a snarl when he turned me around, but right when I thought he'd snap at me, I saw something else. Molten gold eyes, soft and hot, right before he tugged me close. My hands landed on his chest, ready to push back, but there was no resisting Brock. He held me tight, the dress bag dangling from his grip as we just stood there.

"It's alright." His voice was low, rumbly, and soothing, despite the fact he was talking to me like I was a startled animal. "You're alright." My mind rejected that, rejected him trying to settle me, but right as I went to push away in earnest, he said something that stopped me cold. "You got through it and came out the other side in one piece."

That was the kind of language people used when talking to the survivors of a terrible accident, not a girl who just walked out of a bridal boutique. I searched his face then, trying to work out what he meant. There was no judgement, no anger, no frustration in his eyes, just…

Understanding.

That had me wanting to step backwards, but his grip on me tightened. Just a little nod told me I wasn't going anywhere, which forced me to sit with this.

There was a reason I always seemed to go out with deadshits. In my teens and early twenties, I'd been traumatised by my dickhead boyfriends' infidelities and cruelties, but at some point I put two and two together. Their shitty behaviour was what I felt comfortable with. I'd had ‘nice' guys try to chat me up, and each time I got the ick so bad I almost ran to get away from them. I wasn't comfortable with men being kind or sweet towards me.

Until now.

The desire to get away from Brock was a knee-jerk one, a self-protective instinct that reasoned if I didn't let anyone get close, I'd never get hurt again. When it became clear I couldn't get free of him, I needed to search inside myself, see how badly I wanted to get away. I could've stamped on his feet with my steel capped boots, driven my knee into his nuts, and Brock would've been forced to let me go.

But I didn't.

The thought of him doubled over and in agony because of something I'd done made me feel faintly nauseous.

And that's when I realised.

I didn't want to hurt him. I didn't want to pull away. I wanted to snuggle in closer and rest my head on his shoulder, feel his strength holding me up, even as we stood on the concrete footpath out the front of some cafe. I wanted to cling to him like a goddamn spider monkey, so when he pulled me back against him, I let him, melting into his chest.

"How did you know?"

I don't even know what I was asking, but he seemed to understand.

"I know you, Jamie." That confidence in his voice was everything I needed. "I've always known you. I've been reading your moods, trying to read your mind, for so damn long. I'd never let you walk into the dragon's den without backup, and I knew when you needed to get out. I was ready to pick you up and carry you out bodily if that's what was required, though that would've been awkward if we didn't pay for the dress." His hand slid through my hair. "I'll get you out of any situation that makes you feel uncomfortable, because all I want to do is protect you. Just let me do that."

I was dimly aware of the sounds of the busy street, cars whizzing by, the occasional steps of pedestrians, but they were just background noise compared to this. My head tilted back, my eyes meeting his, and for a long moment we just gazed at each other.

"Then what do I want now, mind reader?" I asked.

A small smile and then he made a show of considering his answer.

"To get back to a place that feels safe to you. To pick up tools, get your hands dirty so you feel confident and strong."

"Ohh…" I stepped back then, making a show of looking disappointed. "So you just want to get me back to work, huh?"

"I just want you."

This felt like a core memory, the afternoon sun turning his brown hair a dark gold. He stared at me like I was the only other person here on the street despite the evidence to the contrary, waiting, I quickly realised. For me to say the same thing back, to acknowledge what he was offering.

My throat worked, ready to say it, say something, but the sounds didn't come, just a strangled whine. The ineffectual noise had me stepping forward. Towards him, that's what my heart told me, everything would get better if I walked towards him rather than ran away. But when all you were used to doing was running, taking that first step was freaking terrifying.

My heart pounded as my feet shuffled forward, but moving once helped build some momentum. His brows shot up and hope filled his eyes as I moved closer and closer, his arms going wide when mine shot out. Brock held me again, but it was different. Rather than grabbing me and hugging me into submission, I… chose this. I chose him. That had my eyes closing and my fingers digging into his sides.

"I want you too," I croaked out finally, the words sounding manifestly inadequate but I heard him suck in a breath.

"That's all I needed to hear. Now, let's get you back somewhere you feel safe."