Free BILLIONAIRE (Part 7) by Juliette Jones Page B

asleep.”
    My
throat felt tight and achy when Jake said that.  I wished I could go back to
Alexander’s bed, and pick up where we’d left off.  I’d be more patient with him
this time.  I’d tell him not to lock the door.
    “And
then you woke up,” Jake continued slowly.  “And at some point between then and
now, something happened.  Something that pissed you off or freaked you out.”
    Maybe
because I knew enough about Jake’s past to feel that he might almost be able to
relate to my pathetic backstory, I answered him with an honesty that surprised
me.  “It was more about something that happened a long time ago.  To me.  A
memory came back to me and I … I needed to leave.”
    He
watched my face, and his comprehension of what I was admitting was palpable and
connective.
    “Did
my brother do something to hurt you, Lila?  Because if he did, I can assure you
that he didn’t mean to.  He can be an overbearing asshole, that’s fucking true
as hell.  But I can tell you this much: I have never, ever seen Alexander so
affected by a woman as he is with you.  I mean it.  He’s head over heels. 
Completely bonkers.  And I can guarantee that he would never do anything to
deliberately push you away.  His protectiveness gets the better of him
sometimes.  It does.  But he’s basically a good guy.  You should tell him what
he did wrong.  Explain to him.  Make him understand whatever it was he did to
piss you off.  I’m sure he’d do anything – and I mean anything – to get
you back.  You should give him another chance.”
    I’m
not sure why but I was amazed that Jake was using the small offerings of
information I was giving him to try to make amends for his brother’s behavior. 
I found this immensely endearing.  Jake might have been a badboy and a rule-breaker
but he was loyal.  And something in the depths of his dark, glinting eyes made
me want to trust him, and to follow his advice.  Because I could see that he got this part of me that no one else did.  This broken, damaged corner of my soul
was easy for him to detect because he’d suffered too.  The only thing that had
saved him was the staunch, manic protection of the very person I’d spent the
past few hours desperately trying to avoid. 
    This
realization softened something in me.  It made me remember why Alexander was so
obsessively protective.  He’d had to be.  It was the only way he could
keep his little brother safe from the monsters under the bed and the predators
outside the door.  Alexander hadn’t been locking me in; he’d been locking
the threats out.
    If
I hadn’t drunk at least a bottle of champagne over the course of the past few
hours, followed by several long swigs of the sweet, warm, whiskey-heavy brew
the bartender had set in front of me, I might not have spoken my epiphany out
loud.  As it was, Jake didn’t seem all that surprised.  “He saved you,” I
whispered.
    Jake
paused, looking into my eyes intensely, not especially perturbed by whatever it
was I might have been insinuating.  “He’s saved me more times than I can
fucking count.  And he can save you too.  Why don’t you let him.”  His tone was
almost dull, matter-of fact.  And it wasn’t a question.  “Let me call him,
Lila.”
    “No,”
I said, the lingering panic resurfacing.  “Not yet,” I heard myself add.  I needed
more time.  The refreshed memories were still gripping into me.  But they were
fading by degrees.  Jake’s presence was helping.  I could feel my logic and my
love returning, seeping into me like warmth.
    I
would go to Alexander.  I would tell him what scared me, and what drove me,
until he understood.  I would try to teach him how I needed to be handled.  I
knew Jake was telling the truth.  Alexander had told me he loved.  Many, many
times.  He had scared me, but it hadn’t been intentional.  He was only acting
on his own deep memories, repeating behaviors that were as entrenched as