Unwrapping Her Perfect Match

Chapter Fourteen

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised you know about him, though it's quite humiliating to realize it's something people still talk about, still associate with me." She picked at a bit of fuzz on her sock. "Not as bad as realizing I still associate it with myself, though. I thought I was over it, but sometimes...sometimes I realize I'm not."

He was quiet for a moment, and she wished she could pull back everything she'd just said. She hadn't wanted to bring her insecurities into this room. She really hadn't wanted to bring them into his bed. Yet still she cracked open her chest and exposed her vulnerabilities.

He nudged her hip, and she moved to the middle of the bed so he could sit next to her. He settled his back against the headboard, his shoulder pressed to hers. "You know why I started playing rugby?"

"Because your school didn't have a basketball team?"

"Funny. No. I was searching for a place to belong. My family were never particularly close. My parents probably had kids because all their friends did, but the four of us never felt like we went together. The rugby team at my school were more a family to me than my parents and sister. I slipped up once and called my coach Dad. I pretended it was a slip of the tongue, but I'd been imagining how much better life would be if he was my dad."

"Oh, John. I'm so sorry to hear that." The comfort and support of her family were two things Gwen had never questioned. They'd been her sanctuary and they'd fought on her behalf. They'd taken care of everything after The Incident—but that had only made it easy for her to run away from the experience. Instead of exploding, the way her firebrand sister sometimes did, Gwen's life had imploded. She'd closed in on herself and distrusted most people until she knew them well. Her hobbies were all things she could do on her own. She'd even chosen a career where most of the people she met were either unconscious or quickly discharged.

"I'm not telling you that because I want your pity." John threaded his fingers between hers and gave them a squeeze. "But I understand what it's like to feel like you're on the outside of everything. You know how a few minutes ago I mentioned I got my first rugby boots when I was twelve?" He waited till she nodded. "I have a secret. I bought them for myself."

Her head jerked so she could look at him. He didn't seem hurt or agonized or anything but ironically amused by his revelation, so she wanted to check that she'd understood. "Your happiest Christmas memory is of opening a present you bought yourself?"

Nudging her shoulder with his, he said, "Happiest till today. And you gave that to me. You're special, Gwen. Whatever lesson some arsehole teenager taught you about yourself, fuck him. You're the woman who patches people back together when they're bloody and desperate."

Pride swelled in her chest and made her heartbeat quicken, but it was still tempered by reality. "I've got a bad habit of seeing myself the way other people see me—or the way I assume they see me. Too big. Too quiet. Too boring. Too easy to take advantage of."

"We've all got that habit. Sweetheart, I've seen mothers grab their children and cross the street when they see me coming. One night I was walking down a fairly deserted street when a woman walking alone saw me, gave me the most terrified look and bolted to the nearest Tube station. You think that doesn't affect me? I look intimidating and people make assumptions based on my size. None of us can do anything about that. But I know myself, I'm comfortable with who I am, and I spend time with people who like me. That's what you need—to see the positive reflection you make on others. So fuck that little prick who tricked you into a blowjob. He's not worth your mental space."

Gwen bit her lip and glanced up at the ceiling. "Uh, I'm assuming you got the story from Liam?"

"That depends. Are you going to tell him I told you? Because my life won't be worth shit if you do."