Worth It (28 page)

He chuckles. “You’re probably right.” After a minute or two of watching the game, he says, “So, tell me what’s on your mind.”

I look over at him. “Am I that obvious?”

“Not really. I’ve just known you all your life.” He smirks at me before returning his eyes back to the TV. He’s still listening to me though. It’s how we’ve always talked. “So, what up? Is it Anna?”

“Yeah,” I reply, sighing and returning my attention to the game. “I just need a little advice, I think.” I lean forward and rub my face with my hands. “I like her, Dad, a lot. There’s something about her. She’s sweet, beautiful, smart, funny, and adorable. She works hard.” My eyes drift to the ceiling while I’m trying to find the words to tell my dad what this girl means to me. “I don’t really know how to describe it, Dad. I just want her to be with me all the time, to be
mine
.” I glance at him. “I sound like a psycho, don’t I?”

He’s smirking. “No. It sounds like you’ve found yourself a keeper. So, what’s the problem?”

I sigh, thinking how to phrase this. “Something is up with her. She tries hard to hide it, but I’ve seen it. I don’t want to go into specifics, but there are times when she has an abnormally bad reaction to a situation. It makes me think something happened to her. I don’t know what it could be, but I think it’s something bad,” I explain, shaking my head to banish the possibilities flooding my brain. “I want to help fix her, so she sees what I see. I just don’t know how to do that. You know what I mean?”

I can see him nodding his head in my peripheral vision.

“Well, the first thing I want you to realize is that you can’t fix her. Emotional wounds are like physical wounds. You can help them heal, but there will always be a scar. You can be there for her, talk to her, let her cry on you, and talk sense into her when necessary, but she’s not a car. The second thing is, and this is difficult, if you push too hard to help her, she’ll probably shut down. Now, you know that your mom had a little trouble emotionally when we were young. So, I can tell you from experience that you can push, but you need to know when to pull back. You need to have patience, and she’ll let you in when she’s ready.” He looks over at me and grins. “Learn from my mistakes.”

I nod, having heard a few stories about my parents—the good and the bad.

He goes on and says, “Not all women are the same though. Some run, and some get angry.”

“How did you get so intuitive?”

“Just years of experience. Between your mom, her sisters, and my sisters, I think I’ve seen enough drama to get a handle on them—but just barely. Women are crazy.” He laughs.

I sigh. “Yeah.”

“But they can be great, too, when you find the right one. Shit, even going to work is better when you know that you’re helping out your family.”

“Yeah, Dad, I know. That’s what I want.”

“You’ll get it. Don’t worry.” He pauses. “That was a face mask! They called that other BS holding call but not that facemask. Oh, come on!”

“I think that was his shoulder pad, Dad.”

“Technicalities. It was close enough.”

I just laugh.

“Anything else you want to talk about?”

I blow out a breath slowly and lean forward with my elbows on my knees, still staring at the game. “It’s me. I don’t understand it, but for some reason, I’ve gone all protective and territorial over her. It’s nothing crazy, like stalking her at school or work. Last night, we were at her friends’ place, and one of her guy friends was all over her. I thought I might knock him out. And today, her ex came into her work while I was there. He started spouting off some bad shit, and I punched him in the mouth.”

He laughs. “I don’t think there’s anything really wrong with that. You like her a lot. Things seem to be moving a little fast, but you guys are obviously into each other. As long as you’re not a controlling asshole, I think you’re fine.”

“But it’s not me. Yeah, if someone had gone up to Danielle and started grabbing her, I would have been pissed and told the guy to back off, but this is something else entirely. It’s just a reaction I have, and you know how I can get with my temper. I just don’t want to scare her.”

He sighs. “I don’t know what else to say, Jed. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to protect the people you care about.” He glances over at me. “As for your temper, it’s not like you get pissed often. Sure, there was last night and today, but I think those things warranted your actions. It could also be that you know something has happened before, and because you care, you don’t want her to get hurt again. And really, if she doesn’t mind you protecting her, then you should worry about it. When you want to have and keep something, it can be a natural instinct to protect.”

I nod, and I mentally add the first date when that dick was all over her to the list, but I suppose he’s right.

“Besides,” he says, “I was the same way with your mother.”

“Really?”

He laughs. “Yeah, we were out at a bar, not long after we were married, and someone tried to corner her when I went to get drinks. When I came back, I saw him all over her while she was slapping at him to get him off her. I lost it, and I got thrown out.”

“Maybe you’re not normal either.”

He chuckles. “Maybe not, but you asked for my opinion, so that’s what I have to offer.”

I shrug and nod. “Touché.”

“So, when do we get to meet her?”

I smirk. “I can see if she’ll come over tomorrow for Mom’s sauce. Would that work?”

“Absolutely. I’m sure your mom will be thrilled.”

I take a deep breath, feeling relieved. I’m so glad I talked to my dad. He’s always been the person everyone goes to for advice. We talk to my mom about shit too, but my mom’s huge heart would make her want to run to Anna. My mom would hug Anna and tell her that she’s wonderful and everything would be okay. Normally, that wouldn’t be a bad thing, but Anna is so closed up, and I think she’d shut down. I knew talking to my dad would help because he was there for my mom, and he knows how to handle the hard emotions. Well, he knows how to handle my mom anyway.

As I leave my parents’ place and head to my apartment, I make a plan. I call my sister to get some ideas. I’m going to show Anna how awesome she is and how special she is to me.

After Jed leaves, I walk out back to finish getting ready for the dinner rush. I’m struggling to clear the tears threatening to take over. I fail as a few leak out of my eyes and fall down my cheeks. The confrontation with Sam was ugly, but like I told Jed, I think it was actually a good thing. I finally see Sam for who he really is—an egotistical, manipulative prick. I think I’ve always known, but that confrontation was vicious, even for him. He knew where to strike to inflict the most pain.

Tears burn behind my eyes, fighting to cascade down my face, so I close them, willing myself not to break down.
How is it possible that I’ve been with such fucking
assholes
?
There’s one common denominator in those relationships—me. I’m so damn crushed. Not because I care about Sam anymore, but because his infidelity makes me feel so worthless. I had an idea that he cheated, but having it confirmed hurt.
Am I really that bad in bed?
The dark, damaged part of me thinks sex is the only thing that makes me worth anything, and realizing not even that is good enough is crushing. I clench my teeth, trying and failing to push the self-pity back down. I can’t change my past. I can only move forward.

Stop thinking about the bad shit and torturing yourself, Anna!

I audibly growl at myself in frustration. I have two different emotions warring inside my head. All I’ve ever felt is worthless. I’ve had someone I wasn’t good enough for from the time I was born. My biological father didn’t want me, my mom neglected me, and my stepdad can’t show love. Sam only wanted to toy with me
. He
didn’t want me. I press my palms to my eyes and let out a low grunt of frustration.

After being with Jed, I feel like maybe I am worth something, and I don’t deserve to be treated like shit. I have my close-knit group of friends who have always been there. I never really thought about it before, but I might be worth something if they have stuck around for so long. The problem is that these new emotions totally contradict everything I’ve ever known—the knowledge and belief that I’m less than everyone else. I’m confused. The emotions that I’ve worked so damn hard to keep locked away, so I can act like a normal person are bubbling up to the surface, and I can’t handle it. I just want to walk forward, so I can leave everything behind and not deal with it.

Since meeting Jed, my world has been rocked. My box—the one that I normally keep sealed away, except for when it comes out at night—is opening without my permission, and it’s affecting me badly. What happened to the bubbly girl? The one who could make jokes and make fun of things. Sure, that girl had low self-esteem, but she was relatively happy. I am happy now, too, with Jed, but all this other shit is too much to deal with. I feel like I’m spiraling out of control. The more I think about this shit, the more chaotic I feel.

I take several deep breaths and will my buzzing brain to stop. I never want to break down, especially not here at work. Although shutting down my depression is harder than normal, I do it. I stop the negative thoughts, the confusion, the memories, everything. I lock it all up and bury it back down. I need to do that, or I won’t be able to function properly, and I’ll turn into a blubbering mess. I push it all away.

I take a huge breath and let it out slowly. I’ve got this. I’m back in control. I can move forward.

By the time I finish work and start the short drive over to Jed’s apartment, I’m doing much better. I’ve safely tucked those negative emotions away, but something’s a little different. I can’t pinpoint what exactly it is. It’s almost as if the things I tucked away are just a tiny bit smaller—maybe not smaller, but just different.

Once I was able to regain control of myself and think about the events, two things became very apparent. I’m not hurt or sad or broken by Sam anymore. I’m filled with hatred, pure and utter hatred. I wish I would have kicked him in the balls or maybe ripped them off and shoved them down his throat. Telling him off was still liberating, but not as liberating as gouging his eyes out with a spoon. My inner dialogue has become a little violent, but still, mental eye-gouging is pretty damn therapeutic. The other conclusion I made was that watching Jed punch Sam in the mouth was fucking
hot
. When I replay it in my mind, I can see the fierce protectiveness in Jed, and shit, does that feel good. To have someone care enough to protect me from the bile Sam spewed was…hot. No other word can adequately describe watching my guy protect me and stand up for me.

It kind of makes me want to lick him. I want to lick his abs and his chest and then bite down, just the other side of gentle, on his nipples. I want to see what reactions I can get.
What would happen if I traced his hip bone with my tongue?
Sure, I’ve been turned-on before, but usually sex is a way to get some sort of physical demonstration that I’m cared for. It’s never really been like that with Jed, but even this feeling I have now is different. I want to enjoy him—every inch of his glorious tanned and toned huge body—with my tongue, lips, hands…every part of me. That thought makes my core clench. I can’t wait to get to his house because I’m going to enjoy him tonight.

To avoid the zombies, I sprint to his apartment building quickly, and I knock on the door. He doesn’t answer right away, which makes me frown. I look toward the parking lot to check if maybe I beat him here, but his truck is definitely there.
Huh.

I knock again, and I hear him call out, “Just a minute!”

What the hell?
He usually opens the door before I can even knock.

A second later, the door swings open, and he is standing there in dark denim jeans and a white polo that contrasts beautifully against his olive skin and dark hair. I smile up at him until movement catches my attention, and I see an absolutely stunning petite brunette buttoning up her coat. My stomach drops, my heart clenches, and my face falls when I realize how stupid I’ve been.