Page 93 of Corrupted Lies

Because you're not worth it.

Why would you ever think you were?

Lifting her head to tell Jax that she realized she didn't even have her keys, they’d gotten blown up along with her purse and all her identification on her yacht, Alannah froze.

Someone was standing outside the door to her apartment.

Not someone. Jake.

Jake was standing there.

Only he didn't quite look as put together and in control as she usually saw him.

As soon as he saw her, he straightened, his eyes locking on hers like a heat-seeking missile and refusing to look away.

“Wh-what are you d-doing here?” she stammered. Jake was the last person she expected to see tonight. Her plan had been to get home, take another hot shower, change into something more comfortable than the hospital scrubs she’d been given to wear home, order takeout, then fall into her bed for much-needed sleep.

Nowhere had she factored Jake into her night.

“Telling you I'm an idiot,” he replied.

“An idiot?”

“You're worth it. You're worth the risk. You're worth everything.”

Those words were exactly what she needed to hear … four hours ago in her hospital room. Now …

Now they didn't feel real, they felt like he was just panicking and telling her what he knew she wanted to hear. How was she supposed to believe that he’d changed his mind in a matter of hours?

“You two should talk inside,” Jax said, giving her a nudge.

Talking was the last thing she wanted to do. Shower, food, bed. That was what her body needed, she didn't have the emotional energy left for a conversation, but Jake was looking at her with hopeful eyes and she found she couldn’t say no.

After all, how long could this conversation take?

“Fine,” she muttered.

Her worry about keys was unfounded since Jake seemed to have a set. He unlocked her door and held it open for her.Somewhat reluctantly, she entered, dropping down onto her huge, fluffy, leather couch. It cocooned her like a soft cloud, and while not quite as good as her bed would be, it felt nice to be sitting on something comfortable instead of the sand and dirt on the island.

“I'm sorry I hurt you,” Jake said without preamble as he dropped to his knees in front of her. “It’s not you who isn’t worthy, it’s me.”

“What do you mean?” she asked totally confused.

“I didn't save you.”

“I'm sitting right here.”

“But if you hadn't gotten yourself out of the smoke man’s hold, I wouldn't have been able to save your life. You would have died. A horrific death. And it would have been my fault. I would have failed you.”

Jake had a real thing about failing.

Just like she did about not being worthy of love and affection.

Together, their problems could tear them apart, drive a wedge between them, or they could help each other heal. Learn to see themselves the way the other saw them.

“It wouldn't have been your fault, Jake,” she said softly. Reaching out with tentative hands she grasped his, relieved when he quickly held onto her like a lifeline. “I know you promised to protect me when you were five, but I never, not even at four, thought that meant you could shield me from all pain. I just thought it meant you'd always be there. That I'd never have to be alone again. You’ve given me that every day since.”

“I'm worried I'm not worthy of you,” Jake admitted, his gaze drifting away before steadfastly returning to meet hers.

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