Giving In

TWENTY-TWO

JENSEN came awake with a gasp, his heart thudding violently in his chest. Sweat poured down his forehead and he sat straight up, his pulse like a hammer in his ears. He immediately sought out Kylie, relief blowing sweet through his veins when he saw she was sleeping undisturbed beside him.

He eased back against the pillow, nausea sharp in his stomach. He blew his breath out through his nostrils and then sucked steadying air back in as he willed the violent images to go away.

He closed his eyes, as if that would shield him from the memories. Of his mother being beaten while he screamed and cried for his father to stop hurting his mama. Oh God, he just wanted it to go away. He wanted peace. He didn’t want to be that little boy any longer, incapable of preventing a monster from abusing his mother.

He wished to hell he hadn’t told Kylie of his past. That he’d left it tightly covered, suppressed under years of practiced control. He clenched his hands, curling his fingers into tight fists before relaxing them again, flexing in an effort to relieve some of the horrible tension coiling through his body.

It sickened him, the memories. He wanted nothing more than to banish them from his mind forever. But it wasn’t possible. He’d opened the door and there was no going back. There was nothing more for him to do than to deal with it all over again and begin the painful process of suppression once more.

How could he ever be good for Kylie when he hadn’t even been able to protect his own mother? How could she possibly trust in him after all he’d told her?

He stared at her in the darkness, watching the soft rise and fall of her chest. He ached to touch her but he held back because violence still simmered in his consciousness and he didn’t want that to touch her even peripherally. He wouldn’t have her awaken and be frightened, didn’t want her climbing from a nightmare and fearing his touch.

He turned his gaze back to the ceiling, giving up all hope of sleeping tonight. Pain burned brightly in his soul, the ache fiercer than it had been in a very long time. If baring one’s soul was supposed to be so freeing then why did he feel imprisoned all over again?