“You won’t have anything with me!” she spat out, turning to leave.

“The fuck I won’t.” I yanked her back, every fucking muscle in my body solid stone as I pressed my body into hers, pushing her into the wall. “Come on. Admit it. This is all you really want from me anyway, isn’t it?” I seethed, forcing my mouth on hers in a rough, angry kiss. “Yeah,” I whispered hard. “It’s what they all want from me, Juliet.”

“Jax!” Her voice trembled as her arms tried to push me away. “Stop it!”

I yanked her loose top down over her shoulders, exposing her in her bra. “Oh, come on, Juliet.” I held her tight. “I’ll fuck you so good. You can go tell all your friends that you finally had your turn, and that I was such a good time,” I growled. “They can all get their places in line.”

I pulled the knife out of my pocket and hit the button, the blade shooting out. “You’re going to love this. They all do.” And with the speed of a bullet, I slipped the knife under her bra, between her breasts, and sliced the material.

“Stop!” She brought up her hands, covering herself and crying.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” I bellowed, getting in her face and pushing her and pushing myself, falling over the edge and knowing that I was going to hit bottom sooner or later.

Fuck!

I gripped the blade in my fist. “Aren’t you finally fucking happy now?” I yelled, and reached up, punching the wall above us, sinking the blade into the plaster.

She cried out, and I nearly fell on my ass when she launched off the wall and wrapped her arms around me, stunning me silent.

I stood there, wide-eyed and not breathing. Her arms tightened around my neck, blanketing me in warmth, and I closed my eyes, my rabid heartbeat pounding in my ears.

Juliet. A tear spilled out of the corner of my eye, falling over my cheekbone. Fuck, what was I doing?

“It’s okay,” she whispered, her shaking lips wet against my chest. “It’s okay.”

I wasn’t sure if she was trying to assure herself or me, but she wasn’t running. Why wasn’t she running?

I stayed, unable to open my eyes, unable to move. The world spun around me, and I felt like I was swaying and about to fall. What the hell’s wrong with me? I might’ve hurt her. I’d never hurt a woman. Except one.

I squeezed my eyes tighter. Oh, Jesus. I wrapped an arm around her waist and put my other hand on her face, holding her to my chest.

“Shh,” I soothed, running my hand down her hair. “I’m sorry.”

Her body trembled in my arms as she tried to catch her breath, but she quieted and slowly relaxed her hold around my neck. All I felt was the heat of her lips against my skin, and I knew one thing.

I wanted her more than I wanted my secrets.

“I like knives, Juliet,” I confessed, still stroking her hair. “When you see someone getting shot on TV, they look shocked. It’s over too quickly.” I forced my raspy voice to stay steady. “A cut is different. As you know. It’s pain, followed by fear.”

She pulled back, covering her naked chest as she looked up at me and listened.

I reached up and pulled the knife out of the wall, making sure to hold it gently.

“I don’t even need to use it,” I pointed out. “People know that I have it, and that’s enough.”

Her pained green eyes looked between me and the knife.

“But there was one time when I needed to use a knife, Juliet. One time when I was tired of being hungry, tired of bleeding, tired of them touching me where they weren’t supposed to … tired of being afraid and being alone.”

Her lips trembled, but she stood strong as she whispered, “What did you do?”

I let out a small laugh. “Yeah, that’s what people want to know, isn’t it? What happened? How did they hurt you? How did they touch you? Where did they touch you? How many times did it happen? Fuck.” I laughed to myself, my eyes blurring and my jaw aching with tears I wouldn’t let go.

But I swallowed down the pain and locked eyes with her. “I need to remember how I survived. Not what I suffered,” I said. “How I fought, and not how I hurt.”

She looked up at me, trying to understand.

“I’m not the kid wearing filthy clothes to school anymore.” I sheathed the blade and stuck it in my pocket. “I stopped throwing up half of what I eat. I don’t beg for them to stop. I don’t cower in corners, hide in closets, or fear coming home.”

That was all I needed to remember. All that was important.

“I’m not cold,” I said. “I’m not hungry. I’m not helpless. I’m not scared. And I’m not always alone anymore.”

That was what I wanted her to understand about what I’d been through. About what she’d been through. The more you suffered, the more you survived. It shaped people in different ways, and what broke one person could empower another.

We were the lucky ones.

She looked at me with weary eyes and nodded, finally understanding.

Bringing her hands up, she held my face, rubbing circles with her thumbs. “What did you do, Jax?” she asked.

I closed my eyes, bowing my forehead to hers. “I made them stop.”

She nodded, accepting. “Good.”

“What are you doing?”

I sat at the kitchen table, watching Juliet walk from one end of the kitchen to the other, gathering food out of the refrigerator as well as pots and pans from the cabinets.