It was quiet for a long moment, the silence only broken when she heard his chair creak and felt him come up behind her. And then his arms were around her as he pulled her back against him. He pressed a kiss to the side of her head, and then his lips were at her ear.

"Never meant to do that, brat. Never meant to hurt you like that. Never."

Oh, God. She'd breakdown if he kept up this sweet. She could handle an argument easier than she could handle sweet from him. "Ghost, don't."

"You didn't understand why I left, did you?"

She shook her head.

He tightened his arms. "I thought I was doing what was best for you. You had a bright future, Jess, college, everything. I would have sidetracked all of that. I couldn't do that."

"I needed you," she admitted in a whisper.

She felt him dip his head to her shoulder, pressing a kiss to the curve of her neck. "I'm sorry. I just couldn't come around you then. Not with how things were between us."

"I thought things were good between us."

"Jess, you know what I mean. I gotta spell it out? You were growing up, and I was taking notice in a way I shouldn't have."

She shook her head. "It hurt, Ghost. You just cutting me out like that."

He exhaled deeply and his tone hardened "What do you want me to say? The things I was starting to feel, the things I was starting to want..." he broke off releasing her and stepping away.

She turned to him.

"Say it. I need you to say it."

He whirled back on her. "I wanted you. But I couldn't have you, Jess. You know that. Me leaving was the best thing I could do for you."

"Doesn't feel like it turned out that way."

He slammed a fist into his chest. "And that's my fault? You runnin' off with that loser-that's my fault?"

She looked down.

"You were supposed to go to college, Jess. You were smart. You could have done anything. Hell, you had you're whole life ahead of you." He paused, running his hand through his hair. "And what do you do? Run off with that little fucker to God knows where."

"Stop!"

"No, Jess. You fucked up. You! Don't try and put that on me."

She turned away, brushing away the sudden tears that burned her eyes. She had fucked up. Everything. Every word he said was true. But he just didn't understand. She'd been in such a dark place then.

"Look, I'm sorry. I didn't ask you about this shit to start a fight."

"Then why did you ask?"

"Tryin' to understand, I guess."

"Understand what?"

"Why you went off with that guy. Hell, if you were going to throw it all away, you could've done that with me."

She turned her head to the side, just far enough to see him out of the corner of her eye. "You were jealous?"

She saw him stiffen.

"Was he better for you than I would have been?" he growled.

She swallowed. No, he wasn't even in the same league. He'd been okay to her at first, but things had soon gone downhill. And she'd stayed with him because she'd been ashamed to admit she'd made a mistake, that she'd fucked up. Pride had made her stick with him longer than she should have. Way longer. And then, when it'd turned physical, she'd been even more ashamed. She'd left with no plans, no possessions, just the clothes on her back. She was even more embarrassed that she'd allowed it to escalate that far. And when she's reached that final straw, and she knew she'd had nowhere else to turn, she went looking for the one man that made her feel safe.

"Was he, Jess?"

She shook her head, replying quietly, "You know he wasn't."

"You left Seattle with no car, no bags, barely any money. What happened?"

She shook her head again. "Nothing. I'd just had enough."

"What aren't you tellin' me, Jess?"

"Stop, Ghost, please."

"He hurt you?"

Yes, badly. But she couldn't tell Ghost that. He'd go off the deep end. So, instead she shook her head.

"Jess, tell me. Say the word and I'm on my bike headed to fucking Seattle to beat that motherfucker's ass."

She couldn't have that. She didn't want Ghost to get involved in that, to commit a felony for her. And the last thing she wanted was to ever have anything to do with Kyle again. So she pasted on a bright smile and turned to face Ghost.

"Gonna play the big bad brother part, huh?"

"If that's what you need me to do, brat. Absolutely."

She laughed and rolled her eyes. "Not necessary. No ass beating required. I promise."

His eyes searched hers, and she was sure he could read the lies on her face.

"Someday you're gonna tell me all of it. That's a promise."

She went to him, pressing her head into his chest, her arms hugging him tight. "Not tonight, Ghost. Please."

His arms closed around her, and his lips brushed her forehead.

"Okay, brat. Not tonight."

She held him, her eyes closed, breathing in his scent, soaking up his warmth. She felt safe from all of it. Kyle, and the Death Heads. And she felt what little energy she had drain right out of her.

He held her a few moments longer, somehow sensing she needed it. Then his hold loosened.

"Come on, brat. Let's get you to bed.

He took her inside and set her up in his bed, taking the couch for himself.

This time, she didn't try to persuade him to join her, the wounds of his rejection still smarting. But that didn't make the long night spent alone in his big bed any easier, especially when she was surrounded by the scent of him lingering on his sheets. She curled up, inhaling deeply from the fistful she pulled to her face and fell asleep, wishing things were different.

CHAPTER TWELVE.

Ghost woke to the smell of bacon. He frowned, pushing the throw blanket off him and glancing around, finding it strange to be waking on his couch for a split second before it all came rushing back.

Jessie was in his bed. Only she wasn't. She apparently was making bacon.

He walked into the tiny room around the corner behind the bar that he'd converted into his kitchen, leaving the industrial kitchen alone for now until he decided what to do with the place.

He leaned against the doorframe, folding his arms and took in the sight before him. Jessie was standing at the stove adding a sprinkle of cheese to some scrambled eggs cooking in a pan.

His eyes skated down her. She had on one of his flannel shirts, her legs bare underneath, and he couldn't help but wonder what else was bare under there. As he leisurely took in the sight, she lifted one bare foot to rub it against the back of her calf and hell, if that wasn't the sexiest thing he'd ever seen.

"Mornin', brat."

Her head swiveled, startled, and her eyes took him in. The bare chest, the sweats hanging low on his hips. And he watched her flush and swallow.

"Good morning. You woke up."

"To a man, the smell of bacon cookin' is better than any alarm clock."

She grinned. "I'll have to remember that. I hope you're hungry."

He moved to the stove, his eyes to a pot. "Are those grits?"

"Um hmm. And fried potatoes, and there are cheese biscuits in the oven. I didn't make gravy, I know how you love biscuits and gravy, but I couldn't find-"

He cut her off by pulling her into his arms, his mouth coming down on hers with a smack.

She looked up at him startled. "What was that for?"

"You cooked for me. I haven't had anybody cook for me, hell, probably since you and your mom. At least not a good southern breakfast like this." She pushed back out of his arms, grinning, and he watched her face flush. With embarrassment or happiness that she'd pleased him, he couldn't be sure.

"Well, go sit down, and I'll bring you a plate."

He let her go and walked back out to the bar, taking a seat on one of the stools.

A moment later, she carried out two plates, setting one heaping helping in front of him. It smelled amazing. He dug in and groaned around the mouthful. "Damn, baby. This is delicious." He looked over at her where she sat beside him. "I forgot how good you could cook."

She gave him a shy smile and shrugged. "Its just breakfast. Anybody could do it."

"Uh, no. In my experience just anybody can't do it. Some people can't even scramble an egg, let alone the rest of this." He waved his fork over his plate.

"Mama taught me."

He nodded. "Whatever else you say about her, she was a phenomenal cook." He grinned. "Probably how she hooked my old man."

She looked down at her plate and replied quietly, "Yeah, maybe."

He bit into a strip of bacon and studied her suddenly sad expression, frowning. Was it the mention of her mother that made her sad, or the mention of his father? "Jess?"

"I miss him, you know."

He frowned, chewing. "Who?"

She turned suddenly glassy eyes on him. "Robert."

He swallowed at that, the food suddenly feeling like a rock in his throat. He looked down at his plate. "I know, brat. I miss him, too."

When she was quiet, he reached over and took her hand, giving it a squeeze. "Remember that time he tried to sneak into the pool of the apartment complex down the street? He climbed up over the little storage shed and fell through the roof."

That got a smile out of her. She looked over at him, a tinkle of laughter escaping.

"Funniest thing I ever saw," he admitted, grinning.

"Me, too."

"Management chased him through the whole complex, remember?"

"You hid me behind the dumpsters, while they chased him."

"Couldn't let you go down for our crime."

They finished the rest of their breakfast in happy chatter, reminiscing about days gone by.

"You cooked, so I'll clean up," he said, reaching for both their plates.

"You remember that rule, huh?"

"You're momma taught me well. I do my share." He stood with the plates in his hands and nodded with his head back toward the bedroom. "Go take a shower. I got this."

She jumped off her stool. "Sounds good to me."

He grinned, watching her walk off, his eyes on her ass, right where they shouldn't be. He blew out a breath and turned to head into the kitchen to clean up.

About ten minutes later, as he was starting to cover up the leftovers, since Jessie, like any good southern woman, made way too much, he heard the rumble of some bikes pulling up. Frowning, he tossed the dishtowel over his shoulder and headed downstairs.