10. Jeremiah

Chapter 10

Jeremiah

M y chest is heaving, and a small ache resides in my gut and in my fucking leg from kicking this goddamn door in without any boots on. Sneakers don't really give you the support you need. And then my girl opens her mouth and I know whatever comes out next will set me into a spiral.

"Someone put hands on me before," Oakley spits out, her voice trembling but defiant. The words hang in the air, sharp and jagged, slicing through the tension between us.

"Wait, what? What do you mean someone put hands on you?" My voice drops, anger and concern fighting for dominance. I take a step closer, trying to catch her eyes, but she turns her head away. "Who fucking touched you, Oakley?"

"Back again to play the hero?" There's so much anger in her tone, so out of place with the softness of her usual speech, it stings. "You weren't here when I needed you."

"Fuck," I mutter under my breath. Confusion and frustration swirl in my gut. "I didn't know—I would've been there."

Her eyes flash with pain, tears threatening to spill over. She's shaking, her usual composure shattered. "You don't get it, Jeremiah. You left me, remember? Royce left me. No one was there."

"Oakley, look at me." I reach out, gently placing my hands on her arms, feeling the tremor in her body. "Tell me who did this. I need to know."

Her gaze finally meets mine, a storm of emotions swirling in those crystal blue depths. "I don't know who it was. He came out of nowhere, took me by surprise." Her voice breaks, barely more than a whisper.

"Fuck," I mutter under my breath, frustration and rage boiling inside me. "I need to know what that bastard did to you. I won't rest until I make him pay." My grip tightens slightly, full of protectiveness and desperation.

"Sure, Jeremiah," she scoffs, pushing back a lock of hair with a hand that's too steady for the rest of her trembling form. "Just like you and Royce used to protect me? Just how easy was it to push me to the back of your mind?"

The accusation hits like a physical blow, and I feel my face contort into a snarl. "That was different, Oakley. This—" I gesture vaguely at the setup around her, "isn't you."

"Isn't me?" Her laugh is hollow, devoid of humor. "And what do you know about me, huh? Since when do you care?"

"Since always," I snap back, anger and concern warring for dominance inside me. "Since before your brother decided I was the enemy."

Her blue eyes flash, nothing but storms brewing in their depths. "You left me alone, Jeremiah. All alone."

The air between us crackles, heavy with unsaid words and pent-up emotions. I fight the urge to reach out, to pull her away from this dark spiral, but I know if I touch her right now, without permission even just to wrap her in my arms it will set her off. Not after everything. Not right now.

"Oakley," I say, and my voice is raw, stripped of any pretense. "Talk to me."

She turns her head away, and I can almost hear the walls slamming up around her. But I'm not going anywhere—not this time.

"Jeremiah, let it go," she pleads, but there's no way I can. Not after hearing this.

"Not happening, Oakley. Not when someone hurt you."

Oakley's eyes well up with tears, her vulnerability on full display. She looks at me and I see the pain etched in every line of her face. "You left me. My brother left me. No one was there to protect me!" Her voice cracks, raw emotion spilling out. "Now I'm fucking broken and trying to put the pieces back together, and all you're doing is making it that much harder."

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. I never wanted to abandon her. I never intended for her to feel so alone. Guilt gnaws at my insides as I take a step closer, reaching out to gently place my hands on her arms. She's trembling beneath my touch, but I need her to understand that I'm here now.

"Freaking fine, just to get you to stop nagging me," she whispers, finally agreeing to something. The room falls silent save for our ragged breaths, the weight of her unspoken pain hanging thick in the air between us.

I perch on the edge of a chair I dragged to sit right in front of her on the bed, my eyes fixed on Oakley's hunched figure. Fear seems to cling to the walls of her cramped room.

"Jeremiah, you don't get it," she chokes out, her voice brittle like thin ice. "Every day, it's...it's like I'm clawing my way through dirt just to breathe, just to feel something other than…" Her words trail off into a sob, and her hands flutter to her face, fingers trembling.

"Oakley," I start, voice low, desperately trying to bridge the gap between us. My skin itches to touch her. I reach out, my fingertips barely grazing the soft flesh of her arm. She flinches away from me as if scorched, her eyes darting up, twin pools of liquid pain.

"Please, don't," she whispers, wrapping her arms around herself like a shield. Her shoulders shake, and I can almost taste the salt from her tears in the back of my throat.

"Damn it, bunny." The words are a growl, torn from somewhere deep inside me. I ball my hands into fists, fighting against the urge to pull her into my arms, to erase every foul thing that's touched her. "I want to help you. Let me help you."

Her laugh is a sharp crack in the stillness, bitter and jagged. "Help me?" There's an edge to her voice that could draw blood. "What can you do, Jeremiah? Can you unmake the past? Can you?—"

"Stop it." My voice cuts through the tension, hard and final. "Don't fucking push me away."

She bites down on her bottom lip, and for a heart-stopping moment, I think she might actually reach out to me, let me in. But then she's moving, scooting back into her pillows, putting more space between us. She's not even two years younger than me, but right here she looks so small and defeated. I've never seen her look this way before and it makes me want to burn the world down, starting with her fucking brother. I don't care what shit happened between us, how fucking dare he abandon her.

"Oakley, look at me," I demand, determination burning in my eyes. "Tell me anything you can remember about who did this. I won't let them get away with it."

She hesitates, her gaze dropping to the comforter as if the weight of the world rests on her shoulders. The silence stretches between us, heavy and suffocating. Finally, she lifts her head, her eyes meeting mine full of fear.

"Why does it matter?" she whispers, her voice barely audible. "You're just going to leave again. And then where will I be? I need to take care of myself."

"That's not true," I counter, tightening my grip slightly to keep her from pulling away. "I'm not going anywhere, Oakley. Not until I make sure you're safe."

"Safe?" she scoffs, bitterness lacing her tone. "There's no such thing as safe anymore."

"Then I'll create it for you," I insist, my voice firm. "But I can't do that unless you help me figure out who hurt you." I pace back and forth before finally stopping.

"Oakley." I utter, my own need raw and demanding. "Look at me. Please."

For a long second, there's nothing but the sound of our breathing, ragged and uneven. There's a haunted look in her eyes that makes my chest ache, makes me want to tear down the whole damn world to make her whole again.

"Rem," she breathes out, and it feels like a surrender. "I'm so tired. So lost…"

Fuck, this girl. This brave, broken girl who has always been my undoing. I lean closer, close enough to see the golden flecks in her blue eyes, close enough to feel the heat of her skin.

"Then let me be your compass, Oakley," I say, fierce and unwavering. "Let me guide you home."

But even as the words leave my mouth, I know they're not enough. Not yet. Because the darkness that's latched onto her soul won't let go without a fight. And neither will I.

"I don't know anything about him," she admits, her voice trembling.

"Fuck," I mutter under my breath, trying to control the rage boiling inside me. Someone dared to lay hands on her, to hurt her, and I will find him. I will make him pay.

"Jeremiah, please," she says, her voice breaking. "Just let it go."

"Not happening, Oakley," I repeat, my jaw clenched. "I need to know what that bastard did to you. I won't rest until I make him pay."

"Why?" she asks, her eyes searching mine. "Why do you care so much?"

"Because you're my girl," I admit, my voice low and intense. "And I can't stand the thought of anyone hurting you."

Her shoulders shake with silent sobs and if I was a better man I'd comfort her, but I can't shake the anger in me long enough to do that.

"Goddammit, Oakley," I snarl, my voice dripping with frustration. The air between us crackles with tension. "I need to know what that sick fuck did to you." My jaw clenches so hard I can feel the pressure in my skull. "I won't rest until I find him, torture him and then kill him." Crossing my arms over my chest, I take a step closer, crowding her space. "I'm not leaving until you give me the answers I need."

Her eyes dart away from mine. She takes a shaky breath, her tears glistening in the dim light. "Why can't you just let it go?" Her voice trembles, but there's a steel edge to it. "Why do you need to know every fucking detail?"

"Because," I growl, barely keeping my rage in check, "I need to understand how much pain you're carrying. I need to know so I can find this bastard and make sure he feels every inch of the hurt he caused you."

"Fine," she spits out, her eyes blazing with fury. "You want to know? He grabbed me, yanked me down, and forced himself on me." Her voice cracks, raw with emotion. "He didn't care that I was scared, that I couldn't breathe. Is that what you wanted to hear? Are you satisfied now?"

She doesn't even give me time to say anything. My mind is going faster than I fathom, trying to piece it all together.

"Go on." I'm pacing now, my hands clenched into fists.

"I was walking back to my dorm freshman year after having gone to one of those dumb freshman mixers. I was on campus and walking right by the library." Her words fracture, broken shards of memories cutting the air between us. "That's when he...he grabbed my hair, pulling me into the alley and pushed me against the wall. His hands...everywhere. Tearing at my clothes. I tried to scream, but he covered my mouth."

"Fuck." The venomous word slips out before I can stop it. I want to smash something, anything. To unleash this beast raging inside me.

"Jeremiah." Oakley's hand shoots out, grabbing my arm. "I fought him—I did. But he was so strong, and when he…" she chokes on her tears, her body trembling like a leaf in a hurricane.

I wipe her cheek and plead with her to continue.

"It was so dark, and he—he was just too strong. He forced himself into my mouth." Her words are jarring as she spits out the poison of her trauma. "He didn't care that I couldn't breathe, or that I was fucking terrified. Someone spooked him before he could do anything else to me."

"Oakley…" My voice cracks, but she doesn't let me finish .

"So, now you know, and you don't get to judge me for anything I do to reclaim some of my power back." She says it so calmly, so matter of fact that I'm forced to look at her, really look at her. She's right, I know that, but she's mine and I'm not okay with others lusting after her.

"Fuck." I rake a hand over my hair, envisioning the faceless fiend who dared hurt her. "I swear, when I find him?—"

"Jeremiah, stop!" Her plea slices through my thoughts. "You can't just...it's not that simple. You can't kill a ghost."

"Like hell it isn't and like hell I can't. Nobody stays a ghost when it comes to a Blackwood." I'm a caged animal pacing back and forth, every muscle coiled tight. "No one touches what's mine and gets away with it. I'll tear this city and the next apart if I have to."

"Yours?" There's a spark in her gaze now, a flash of that sass I know so well. "Since when do I belong to anyone?"

"Since always, bunny." My words are hot and possessive. "And don't try to distract me. I'm not playing around."

Oakley's breath hitches and she gets off the bed standing before me, all five-two of her. "You think you can just march in here, all high and mighty, and fix everything?"

"Damn right I do." I step closer, close enough to catch the scent of strawberries in her hair. "Because I'm not letting you go through this shit alone. Not now, not ever."

She looks up at me then, those crystal eyes searing into my soul. And in that moment, I know. I'll burn the world to ashes for her if I must.

"Stop," she says, her voice gaining strength as she pulls herself together. "Just stop."

"Why?" I demand, frustration boiling inside me. "Why won't you let me help you? "

"Because it's too late!" Her words cut through the air like a knife. "You can't fix this, Jeremiah. You can't fix me."

"Who says I can't?" I snap, my fists clenching at my sides. "I can fix anything, damn it!"

"Try all you want," she retorts, her eyes blazing with something between anger and sorrow. "But I've already started rebuilding my life." She looks around the room. "I don't need your help anymore."

"Like hell you don't." The words are out before I can stop them. "Goddammit, Oakley! You think you can just do this alone? After everything?"

"Yes," she snaps back, not missing a beat. "That's exactly what I'm doing."

"Why?" My voice softens, a desperate edge creeping in. "Why won't you let me in?"

"Because letting you in means risking getting hurt again," she replies, her voice breaking slightly. "And I can't handle any more pain, Jeremiah. Not from you."

"I don't accept that and while we're at it, you're not safe here, Oakley. You're coming back to my place—now."

She recoils, her blue eyes wild as cornered prey. "Jeremiah, you can't just barge in and?—"

"Can't I?" I cut her off, my heart thrashing like a caged beast. "After what that bastard did? Hell no. I'm not letting you out of my sight."

Her lips tremble, and she's this beautiful, broken thing that I'm desperate to piece back together. "Your house isn't my home. It'll be a prison."

"Prison, sanctuary—it doesn't matter." My tone is unyielding. "It's where you need to be."

"God, you're so...controlling. So Blackwood," she spits out, and it stings, but I don't have the luxury of hurt feelings .

"Maybe," I concede, my voice low and rough. "But someone needs to protect you, and I don't trust anyone except for myself."

She's shaking now, and every instinct screams at me to hold her. Instead, I step closer, our breath mingling.

"Your door's busted. You can't lock it. Anyone could walk right in and…"

"Stop it!" she yells, cutting me off. "Just stop and my door would be just fine if you hadn't come in here like the Boondock Saints."

"I'm not leaving you here alone. It's not safe," I insist, my voice low and unyielding.

"Jeremiah, please," she pleads, her voice cracking. "I need to do this on my own."

"Fuck that," I growl, my hands itching to pull her into my arms and never let go. But I know she'd resist. "This isn't about your independence or your pride. This is about your safety. And I won't take no for an answer."

"You're impossible," she mutters, looking away.

Oakley's lip catches under her teeth, a nervous habit that I remember all too well. I reach for her then, my hand trembling as it finds the softness of her golden hair. It's like silk through my fingers, and for a moment, I allow myself the luxury of just feeling her.

"Jeremiah…" she whispers, her voice barely audible. She's fighting hard to keep her composure, but I can see the cracks forming. This isn't easy for her. Hell, it's not easy for me either. But I can't let her stay here, vulnerable and unprotected.

"Your safety comes first," I say, my voice low. "We can argue later, but right now, you're coming with me."

She opens her eyes, staring at me with frustration. "Fine," she finally concedes, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "But don't think this changes anything."

She throws a couple of things in her bag before I grab it and lead her out of her dorm room, nodding at the wide-eyed RA just loitering in the hallway.

"I'll have someone come by and handle this. No need to tell anyone, right?" I ask the RA and all they can do is gulp and nod their head. The Blackwood name. Instilling fear in others since 1969.