Chapter Twenty-Six

The street is dark, and rain pours lightly over the car's windows and windshield. On the other side of the asphalt, the familiar door feels like a beacon of hope, a ray of sunshine in this somber abyss.

Part of me wonders if I would have chosen to come here if Hana was in town. Would I be in Tribeca, where her townhouse is? It would be a more logical choice since I've known her for years, and we've always been there for one another. She's my ride-or-die, infinitely more than Edward ever was.

But deep down, I know that I would still be here, not at Hana's. My long drive from the Hamptons, which was punctuated with remorse, fears, and questions, would have led me to this very door, no matter what. He is the only person I want to see right now.

The thought is somehow scary, and it brings another surge of emotions and questions I'm not ready to handle. Six weeks. I've known Jake for six weeks, and he's supposed to be just a sex thing, not my comfort person. But here I am, hoping he's home because I need his strength. I need him to hold me and tell me everything will be alright.

Although I should switch the engine on and drive home because it would be the proper thing to do, I ignore my doubts and reach for my phone on the dashboard.

Me

Are you still at The Devil's Court?

I try to look up, but between the rain and the angle, I can't see the windows of his loft, so I can't tell if any lights are on.

This weight on my chest never really went away. My breathing still doesn't feel right, and my mind might burst into a thousand broken pieces at any moment. I need Jake because he always makes me feel so strong. As soon as I'm with him, all of this will go away, and I'll be able to contain it and not feel like this anymore.

The idea of heading to the bar to see if he's there crosses my mind, but before it can mature into a decision, his answer comes.

Wombat Guy

I got home half an hour ago. Why?

With my phone and my handbag, I exit the car. I can barely feel the rain as I cross the street and look for his name on the intercom. The button makes no sound when I push it, making me wonder if this system works. But it does because the speaker crackles, and then his voice pours out of it.

"Yes?"

"It's me."

"Gen?" He doesn't need my confirmation, immediately buzzing me in.

As the elevator takes me up to the fifth floor, I question again if I should be here. It's weird, isn't it? Who in their right mind goes to their booty call for comfort? But I'm not in my right mind, and I'm so alone in this world that he's the only person who can help.

When I arrive at his floor, he's standing in front of his apartment's door, hands shoved in his jeans pockets while he waits for me with a frown.

"Is everything alright?" he worriedly asks.

The instant relief I expected from seeing him doesn't happen. In fact, with every step my feet take toward him, this acute pressure on my chest intensifies. I can barely breathe by the time I'm with him, and my vision is blurred with tears. He notices, and before I can do anything, he takes my face into his warm hands and forces me to meet his green gaze.

"What happened?"

I shatter in a way I haven't in ten years.

Air comes in and out of me in frantic sobs, tears uncontrollably spilling onto my cheeks, my entire body shaking with sorrow. In an instant, I'm wrapped in his solid embrace. Without it, I would have crumbled to the floor like a boneless pile of limbs.

Jake talks, his voice is soothing and full of concern, but I can barely hear it. My mind is being torn apart, and I can't contain all those emotions.

"Gen, sweetheart, talk to me. Did something happen? Did someone hurt you?"

"Sh-she ki-kissed her," I struggle to say between hiccups.

"Who?"

"Victoria. She had a-a girlfriend."

This probably makes no sense to him, but he keeps me in his tattooed arms, right against his broad chest. The intensity of my sobs becomes ridiculous, and embarrassment begins to settle in me.

"Come here, love," Jake murmurs before passing an arm to the back of my knees and lifting me.

I'm curled up in his hold, my face shoved into his neck as he carries me inside the apartment and kicks the door closed behind us. He brings me to the couch, where he sits down with me on his lap, still holding me close. My bag is removed from my shoulder and dropped beside us on the cushion. Mulligrubs comes to greet me with her wet nose and enthusiastic licks, but I can't even react to it.

Jake sends her to her bed and then focuses on me again. His hands are soothing, one gently grazing up and down my back while the other caresses my hair.

"Shh," he murmurs into my ear. "I'm right here, sweetheart. Everything will be alright."

I was wrong. He doesn't give me the strength that I need to keep it all in. He gives me the safe space that I crave to let it all out.

In the aftermath of my twin's death, I cried so much that I believed I reached my quota of tears for the rest of my life. I poured every single one I was allowed in this life, and there wouldn't be more. But it seems I was wrong, they were merely recharging. And now, they all want out at the same time. Under me, Jake's shirt is damp with them, my hand clutched at his neck while I keep him close.

Eventually, his gentle ministrations and whispers dissipate the ache. The tears slowly decrease, and I'm able to breathe rather than take in short and broken hiccups of air. I sniff rather inelegantly, which makes me realize it's not only tears wetting his shirt. God, I'm such a mess.

At least I got rid of my over-the-top makeup before leaving my parents' place, so it's not as bad as it could have been.

Jake senses that I'm feeling better, and he softly rearranges us so he can look at me. His eyes are full of compassion as he wipes away the wetness from my cheeks and chin, his touch delicate and caring.

"Tell me what happened, love," he softly asks.

"It's my sister."

"The one who had a car accident?"

I nod, sniffing again, and pass the back of my hand under my nose. "I thought she died never having even kissed a girl because she was so scared our parents would find out she was gay. And today, I learned she had a girlfriend, and they were in love."

The thought of Victoria and young Penelope, who were so full of hope for their future, so full of love to give to one another, rips another small piece of my shredded heart. When a resurgence of tears comes, Jake is quick to react.

"Hey, it's alright, sweetheart," he murmurs, wiping them away before they can get anywhere. "Isn't it a good thing?"

"I don't know. I thought it would be because at least she knew love. But she only got two days of it. I keep thinking of all the things she had yet to experience, of how she finally got over her fears about our parents, how she had so many great firsts coming her way… And because of me—"

A sob shakes me, preventing me from uttering the rest, and Jake pulls me in again, embracing me with patience.

"I'm so-so sorry," I stammer. "I haven't cried in ten years, and I'm unleashing all this on you."

"Ten years?" he echoes, surprised. I nod, passing a hand on my cheek to dry it. "I cry quite often."

"Really?"

"Oh, yeah. I watched The Green Mile the other day. I wept."

Somehow, the image of Jake crying is so unexpected that it triggers a small giggle. "Losing my twin was such a traumatic experience that everything else became inconsequential. Edward sometimes called me a heartless robot."

"Fuck that cunt. You're not heartless, and you're not a robot. He's just a dickhead."

"Still, I'm sorry. You shouldn't have to handle this mess. It's probably because I barely slept this past week. I'm at the end of my tether."

"Let's put you to bed, then. We can talk more in the morning, but you need some rest, sweetheart."

I nod, but neither of us moves. It feels good to be in his arms like this, snuggling on his lap, his hands grazing my hair and back, and the soft kisses he sometimes presses on my forehead.

My chest begins to hurt again, but it's a different kind of ache. Instead of it feeling compressed, it's like it's pushing from the inside, swelling past its capacity. I've felt this several times before around him, and I can't keep pretending like I don't know what it means.

I bring a hand to his torso and push against it to look at him. He's so impossibly handsome. I'll never get over how beautiful he is, with his sharp jawline, lush lips, perfectly imperfect nose, amazing eyes… But the best thing about his dashing face is the expression on it right now. His affection for me goes beyond what we agreed on, and so does mine for him.

I can't help myself, so I take his face between my trembling hands and press a kiss on his lips. When I move back, his eyes harbor even more tenderness.

"This is more than just a sex thing, isn't it?" I whisper.

Jake's gaze scans mine, and he brushes a strand away to tuck it behind my ear before carefully cupping the side of my face. "I think it is, yes."

My heart races in my chest at his confirmation. This isn't casual and simple anymore. Strings have attached themselves without us realizing it, and they already seem so hard to untie.

"How do you feel about it?" he cautiously asks.

It's my turn to gently graze his cheek, thinking of my answer while I admire his stunning face. "It's scary. I didn't—This wasn't the plan, not so soon."

"You have regrets, then?"

I shake my head. "No. Maybe I should, but it's… you."

His soft smile sends butterflies loose in my stomach, and their number doubles when he leans in to kiss me.

"What about you?" I ask before our lips meet. "You were so adamant about wanting something casual."

He adjusts under me, and I realize my weight might be uncomfortable. When I try to move though, he keeps me right there.

"I've changed my mind. You have changed my mind, red. I fall asleep thinking of you, and before my eyes are even open in the morning, you're already in my thoughts. My days feel incomplete if I don't have my dose of you, even if it's just a few texts. I've lost all interest in other women. There's only you."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I don't even see them anymore. Eli and Kill have been giving me shit about it. But I don't care because whatever way I put it, this is a win."

I don't even have to ask if he means it because the genuineness on his face is unmistakable. Although I probably look like a wreck, he welcomes me when I endeavor to kiss him. I'm the one demanding more and more, overwhelmed by everything I'm feeling. It's alleviating, empowering, and infinitely better than the guilt and anguish I've been experiencing for the past few hours.

When I start writhing on top of him, tiredness be damned, he lets out a groan. "Love, you need to rest." I nod but don't stop, which makes him chuckle. "Alright, let's put you to bed."

Holding onto me tightly, he rises from the couch, dislodging us. Since I can't access his lips anymore, I kiss the exposed skin of his throat instead. I'm not ready to let go when he puts me down, so he gives me one last peck. Leisurely, he undresses me, peeling the clothes off me piece by piece until I'm left in my panties. Then he leaves me there, almost naked, and comes back with a T-shirt. I lift my arms to help him put it on me, and when my head comes through, he gives me a tender kiss as a reward for cooperating.

"Your toothbrush from last time is in the cup with mine," he explains, tugging at his shirt on the back of his neck to remove it.

Seeing our toothbrushes together brings me an obscene sense of happiness. It feels right. And I can't believe I never offered for him to have one at my place too, given how many times he's spent the night. Now, it's all that I want—to see his toothbrush with mine at home so that even when he isn't there, he kind of is. I'll even get rid of the second cup that Edward used just to make the vision as complete as this one.

"I want you to have a toothbrush at my place," I impulsively say, turning around.

The jeans are gone now, and all that's left on him are black socks and underwear. Seriously, only this man could wear socks like this and still look impossibly sexy with his muscles, tattoos, and the small piercing at his nipple.

His smile as he bends to remove a sock is luminous. "Alright, I will. And if you have hair, skin, or whatever products you need daily, feel free to leave some here as well."

The second sock is gone now, and he makes his way toward me, effortlessly alluring. When he's right in front of me, his hands mold to my hips. "Are we really doing this, red?"

"Only if you want to, wombat. And we can take it slow, see how it feels."

"I reckon it's been feeling fantastic so far."

"It has, hasn't it?"

"Yeah. I really want to date you, Jessica from the dating app." The nickname throws me back in time, making me chuckle at the absurdity of our first encounter.

Quenching it, I ask, "Even if I'm a mess who arrives unannounced in the middle of the night either to get laid completely drunk or to cry like a maniac and leave tears, drool, and snot on you?"

"Especially for those two reasons. Anyone else would be so boring in comparison."

Our smiles join with intensity, and we're greedily kissing again. He slips his hands under the shirt and onto my back to hold me in his big, strong arms, and I melt. There's something different in our embrace now, in the way we demand and give. It's like this odd sense of ownership, like he's mine to kiss and claim—and mine only.

A few moments later, our teeth are brushed and we're in his bed. He flicks off the light on his side and comes to cuddle with me under the comfy duvet. The faint red glow of the clock on his nightstand commands my eyes.

"It's my birthday for another minute," I note, amused by the timing.

"Then happy birthday for the last time, red. Until next year, that is."

I know I'm supposed to blow out candles to make a birthday wish, but I close my eyes and make one, anyway. And I wish that in a year, when it's mine and Victoria's day again, he'll still be right there with me, sharing a bed and holding me like all the space we have is a twin bed instead of a king size.

While he enfolds me in his warmth, I bask in the knowledge that we both accepted this relationship is more than what we bargained for, and we're okay with that. In the back of my mind, I'm aware of how phenomenally lucky I got, because this man… This man is everything a woman should ever want.

And I'm the only woman he wants.

What are the odds of that?