Page 52 of Her Unflinching Warrior (Omega Sky)
She shook her head and he knew that had to hurt. When her curls covered part of her face she didn’t brush them away. Instead, she hid behind them. Gideon reached out and carefully brushed back her hair to put it behind her ear. She flinched.
“Baby, what’s wrong?” He had to know. Something had set her off, and it was bad.
She turned her face to the wall. “Nothing’s wrong.”
“Can I hold your hand?” Gideon asked.
Jada continued to look at the wall, but she turned her hand over and he placed his palm on top of hers, then tangled their fingers together. She gripped him tight.
“Jada, what is it?”
She continued to avoid looking at him. Gideon watched as she shook her head and mumbled. “Nothing. It’s nothing. Tell me how you knew about Miles,” she asked softly.
She was scaring him.
“Jada, look at me.”
She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, then looked back down at the flimsy blue and white blanket covering her legs. She was examining it like it held all the answers to life’s mysteries.
Gideon replayed what he’d said. She’d reacted when he’d mentioned the woman on the yacht. The woman who had been holding a gun on Jada. Was Jada reliving that moment when she might have died?
“I know it can be frightening the first time you’re faced with your own mortality,” Gideon started.
Jada snorted. “Yeah sure, that was it.”
Well, that sounded like his girl; there was a little more spark, but she still wasn’t meeting his eyes.
“Angel, can you talk to me? Tell me what’s wrong?”
Her hand trembled underneath his.
“I told you, nothing.”
Bullshit.
Gideon’s antenna was up and it was pinging like a motherfucker. Since this was the first one-on-one conversation with Jada that he’d had since she’d woken up in the hospital, this was the first time he was really seeing things that her over-the-top bravado had masked on previous visits. His girl was hurting.
“You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”
“Sure.” She dragged out the word for a while, making sure he knew she was being sarcastic.
“Should I maybe call your mom and have her fly out? I’d call Gianna to come, but she’s on bedrest right now.”
This time she did meet his eyes, and she was pissed. “Gideon Jason Smith, I don’t need my mom or my best friend flying across the country to hold my damned hand. I am perfectly fine. I am not some kind of simpering miss who faints at the sight of blood, or at the first little hit of adversity, or the second, or even the third. I’m a survivor. Let’s all bow down to Gloria Gaynor, and sing a chorus of ‘I Will Survive’.”
She yanked her hand away from him so that she could cross her arms over her heaving bosom. It would have been a great speech if her eyes weren’t glistening tears.
