Embers of Torment (Power and Passion #2)

Chapter 16

Jace

I knocked on Della's door to pick her up so we could head out to Fenway Park for the baseball game. I'd left her apartment hours earlier to go home and clean up, having spent the night. I smiled as I thought about her. She was a minx in the bedroom, coy and playful but bold in her remarks. In the broader sense, Della knew what she wanted in life and could be subtle, aggressive, or mischievous in attaining it, depending on the need. But there was another side to her—one she rarely let others see.

Della's past contained incidents of ridicule, threats, and scorn, and it marked her, the moments painful enough to cause scars. Those events created a layer of vulnerability and mistrust that she hid underneath the surface. From her comments, I learned it stemmed from a childhood of being bullied, the scenario an all too common situation and one I now loathed.

The knowledge of what Della suffered through was shattering. Shamefully, I knew both sides of that coin. My boyhood had been devastating, from what I received and what I gave. I wished I could take back some of what I did, but the world didn't work that way.

That was one of the reasons I moved to Boston. To right a wrong that had haunted me for years. On the brighter side, I was fortunate to meet Della along my journey.

The lock turned, and my grin spread wide when Della opened the door. She was wearing the baseball jersey I had bought her for the game—the two of us a matching pair.

"Oh, lookie. Aren't we cute?" Della chuckled, eyeing our shirts. She pulled on her hem. "Mine fits perfectly. I'm not sure how you knew my size."

"I confess. I checked the tag on one of your blouses. I wanted to ensure I got it right. And by the way, we're not cute. We're stunning. Too bad once we get to the ballpark, we'll look like everyone else."

"Never. We're way more adorable. Anyway, you'll need to come in for a minute. I want to use the bathroom before we walk across the street to the T station."

I went inside and shut the door. Figuring I'd wait in the living room, I walked over to one of the shelves by the television and scanned Della's assortment of framed photos. There was one tucked away in the back I hadn't seen before. An older couple was on Della's left, and I assumed they were her parents. A man and woman, who looked several years beyond Della's age, stood on her other side. Based on their sandy-blond hair color and resemblance in facial features, they had to be Della's brother and sister. All five wore beaming smiles as they clustered in front of a decorated Christmas tree with their arms around each other.

I could feel the love and camaraderie emanating from that simple photo. And it struck a chord.

My childhood had been cold and brutal, and God, how I envied my classmates who had families that were loving and nurturing and included a father who cared. My misery had turned into hatred, which I directed onto others—one kid in particular.

"I'm ready," Della said, startling me. She waited by the door.

"Then so am I." Joining her, we headed downstairs, my dismal thoughts left behind.

It took some time, but we reached the Kenmore T station and began our walk up Brookline Avenue to the E gate at Fenway Park. We were halfway across the bridge over I-90 when a couple rushed past Della and almost knocked her over. Thankfully, I saw Della stumble and grabbed her arm, keeping her from hitting the ground and getting hurt. Frustrated at the couple's callousness, I went to reprimand them, but they were gone.

Reaching the ballpark, we maneuvered through the crowd and stood in the entrance line since Della already had our tickets. Kendra had dropped them off at Della's apartment during the week. We were next to be screened when a commotion broke out in one of the lines nearby. A woman was having a fit because staff had informed her that she couldn't take her leather backpack into the venue.

Della turned to me and shrugged. "I guess the lady didn't get the memo." She pointed to the clear plastic crossbody purse that draped across her shoulder.

"Apparently not, although I'm also guilty of forgetting you can't bring backpacks and large bags into most facilities anymore." I chuckled as I glanced at Della's chest. "I wondered why you had that small, see-through bag."

"Now you know. You're fortunate you only carry around a wallet. Oops, it's my turn." Della stepped forward when a staff member motioned her to do so. She was quickly screened and stood off to the side to wait for me. "Wow, that's the quickest I've ever gotten through security. You must be my lucky charm," she said when I joined her.

"Better that than a bad omen," I teased. Feeling playful, I bowed and made a sweeping gesture with my hand. "Milady, I promise to be your ever-vigilant confidant, protector, and talisman. Your health, safety, and happiness are of my utmost concern."

Della giggled, her palm covering her face. "Haha. Very funny," she said when she pulled her hand away. "But it's certainly comforting to know, Sir Jace from North Carolina, that you will valiantly thwart all threats while in my presence."

"Tis my duty, milady."

Laughing, we entered the ballpark and wound our way through the growing crush of spectators toward the nearest concession stand.

Eyeing the menu, I asked, "Do you want anything? I'm getting a beer and a hot dog."

"Yep. I want a Sam Adams and some nachos with extra cheese and jalape?os. Ooh, I want one of those jumbo pretzels too. I'm hungry since we worked off that huge breakfast we made this morning."

"That voracious bedroom appetite of yours tends to do that. I recall you pulling me back to bed for some additional calorie burning after we ate."

"Shush." Della nudged my ribs and scanned the people around us. "Nobody else needs to know that. Besides, I don't remember you uttering any complaints then."

"Oh, I'm not complaining." I leaned over and nibbled on Della's ear. "I more than appreciate your tantalizing assets and enthusiasm."

"Mmm, I kind of like yours too."

"Kind of?"

"Yeah, okay. I love your unparalleled equipment and zest. Better?"

"Much. And the wordplay was clever."

"Thanks. It was the best I could do without thinking too hard."

Chuckling, I approached the counter and ordered our food and beers while Della stuffed her pockets with napkins. I was at the condiment station, dousing my hotdog with ketchup, mustard, relish, and a smidgeon of onions, when Della joined me and went to fill a small paper cup with mustard for her pretzel.

"Shit. What a freaking mess," Della grumbled, her voice dripping with frustration.

I peered over my shoulder and spotted her staring at a glob of mustard on the stomach of her red baseball jersey.

"So much for luck." Della shook her head, her mouth curved downward into a huge frown. "I think the nozzle got stuck. I had to push a little hard, and when I did, it spurted. Dang, now everyone is going to think I'm a pig."

"No, they won't." I filled one of the tiny containers with a few squirts of mustard, then emptied it on the front of my shirt. "We'll be a trend-making pair."

"You're crazy!" Della burst out laughing.

"Maybe a tad, but I can't have you going it alone. We better clean off the excess, though." I snatched some napkins and delicately scraped the mustard from our shirts. "See? Not too bad."

"Okay, it's not terrible. At least the material is red. It would have been worse if we had the white jerseys." Shrugging, Della grabbed her beer and food. "Now that we both look ridiculous, we should find our seats."

"Excuse me? We're stunning, remember?"

"Oops, sorry. I forgot." Smiling, Della led us away from the concession stand.

"Which loge box are we in?" I asked as we neared the sections between third base and home plate. "One forty-seven or one forty-eight?"

"We're in one forty-seven, in the front by the railing. Our tickets are for row AA, seats three and four."

When we reached our row, I studied the gentleman in seat one. Based on the photo I'd seen on Della's shelf earlier, that had to be Spencer, Della's brother. I recognized the woman next to him as Kendra, having met her at the café the day I picked up lunch for Ree and me. Catching sight of us, they both stood.

"Hey, you made it," Spencer said, giving me a quick assessment when he hugged Della.

"Yep, we're here. Spencer, this is my boyfriend, Jace Welch." Della stepped back, taking up a position beside me. Smiling, she placed her hand on my arm. "Jace, this is my big brother, Spencer. Don't let him fool you if he tries to act like a toughie. He's a teddy bear, even though he won't admit it."

"I see my sister's starting with her jokes already." Although he sounded miffed, Spencer's eyes lit with amusement, and the corner of his mouth lifted in a partial smile.

"Only because I have to stay one up on my big brother," Della teased.

"You wish." Spencer grinned, clearly enjoying their familial banter. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Jace. I'd shake, except your arms are full. Come on. You two better sit before you drop something."

He and Kendra stepped into the aisle while Della and I shuffled down the row, our hands filled with beer and food containers. We plopped onto our red plastic, molded seats as a woman began to sing the national anthem over the speaker system. Setting our beers in the cup holders, we stood, our hands over our hearts. Finished, I turned to Della and gave her a resounding kiss.

"What was that for?" she giggled.

"Luck. You said you hoped your team won."

Della beamed. "And now we will."

The game started, and we munched on our concession grub. Della was on my right, next to Kendra, the two intermittently chatting. It wasn't long before Della was into the game, chanting with the crowd and screaming at the empires. She even garnered several high-fives from the people around us, who were just as absorbed in it as she was.

We were in the fifth inning when Della nudged my arm.

"Kendra and I are going to the restroom. Do you want to come or stay here?"

"I'll stay."

"How about another beer? I'm going to get one."

"Sure, I'll take another one. Let me give you some money." I reached for my wallet only to see Della vehemently shake her head.

"Nope. You're not allowed to pay for this one. You got it last time." Della scrunched her face, attempting to look stern. It was adorable instead.

I laughed. "Okay, fine. You get this one."

With a look of smug satisfaction, Della left her seat and followed Kendra up the stairs. Spencer had stood to let the ladies out, and when he went to sit down, he took Della's chair. I hid my amusement, knowing he was about to have a talk with me about his baby sister.

"Now that the women are gone, I thought you and I could chat," Spencer said, his expression shifting to something more earnest.

"About Della?"

"Yes, my sister, who I'm very protective over. I'm not sure if Della told you what it was like for her growing up, but there was a time when things were particularly rough for her. She went through an awful lot, and I don't want to see her hurt like that again. I hope Della means something to you and isn't some temporary diversion rousing your interest. She deserves more than that. The fact she's brought you around to meet her family tells me she likes you. So don't hurt her. All right?"

"Look. It's obvious you care about Della and mean well. But I can assure you I have no intention of hurting her. I like your sister more than you think. I don't plan on going to her a week or a month from now and telling her I had fun, but I'm moving on. I'm in this for as long as Della wants me around."

"I'm glad to hear that." Spencer stuck his hand out. "No bad feelings for forcing the talk?"

"None." I shook Spencer's hand. "If I was closer to my stepsister, and she was single and dating, I'm sure I'd do the same."

"Cool. Now that's over, tell me a little about yourself. What do you do for a living?"

Spencer and I spent the next twenty minutes talking about our jobs, with a few tidbits about my life in Boulder and Chapel Hill thrown in. We'd just switched to discussing baseball and who we each predicted would make it to the World Series when Della and Kendra returned.

Della sat and handed me a beer. "I'm sorry it took a while. There was a line for the ladies' room like usual."

"No problem. Your brother and I had an informative discussion."

"About me?" Della bit her lip, her eyebrows knitting together.

"You were part of it." I couldn't help but grin at her worried expression.

"Darn it. I knew Spencer would do that. He's such a butthead." Della rolled her eyes. "Sorry."

"Hey, it's no big deal. Your brother's protective of you. I get it."

Della flopped back in her chair. "I know, but he doesn't need to be." She was still for a few minutes, then pursed her lips and glanced at Spencer. "I guess I shouldn't complain. If he didn't care, he wouldn't say anything."

"True, so it's better this way. At least you know your happiness is important to him. I'd prefer that over the opposite."

"Yeah, me too."

One of the Red Sox hit a home run right then with the bases loaded, the play pulling Della's attention back to the field. She jumped up and down and shouted with glee as her team moved ahead by two runs. After another round of high-fives with the group behind us, she returned to watching the game.

We were at the bottom of the ninth inning with a tied score, and the atmosphere had grown increasingly intense. Bachman, one of the Red Sox's best hitters, was up to bat. The Astros pitcher threw the ball, and we held our breath. Bachman made contact, his foul ball flying toward the section in front of us. There was a wild scramble as several men jumped from their seats, mitts ready. A burly man in an Astros jersey pushed his way in front of two others and reached for the ball, his arm outstretched. It ricocheted off his mitt and came zinging in our direction.

"Fuck!" I lunged to my right, my arm shooting in front of Della and Kendra—and caught the ball.

Kendra shrieked.

Della stared at me, her eyes wide.

"Fuck, that hurt." After transferring the ball to my left hand, I shook my right, my palm stinging like crazy.

"Holy moly. Are you okay?" Della stared at my hand, her voice nearly drowned out by the comments and shouting that had erupted when my catch replayed on the jumbotron.

"It stings like hell, but I'll be all right." I balled my hand and flexed my fingers, one at a time, while receiving numerous claps on my back and shoulder from those around us. "See? I can move everything."

"Lordy, that scared me," Kendra said as the noise quieted. Her voice was shaky, and she still appeared shocked by what happened.

Spencer leaned across the ladies and gave me a fist bump. "Thanks, man. I appreciate the save. That could have been nasty. I don't think I need to worry about you protecting my sister. You proved you have her best interest at heart."

"Thanks. That's one thing I promise to do." I leaned toward Della, my voice by her ear. "I'll always protect you and won't let anyone hurt you." I kissed her neck below her ear and felt her shiver.

Della smiled, her eyes shining. "It seems I've acquired a champion. I've never had one before, and I like it." She giggled and kissed me. "We need to get you a horse. Isn't that how it works in mythology? The super hot hero rides in on a magnificent white stallion."

"Wait a second. I thought I was already hot. I don't need a trusty steed to confirm it, do I?" I teased.

"Umm…maybe not."

"That's beneficial to know. Besides, I may like the animal, but I've never been good at riding one. I can see it now. The handsome cavalier rides in, sitting tall and proud on a powerful and majestic beast. Dignified, he's the essence of strength and honor. He reaches for the lady in distress and slips from the saddle, landing on his ass. Hmm. Not quite a stately picture, is it? I'll stick to cars and feet."

"Hey, you shattered my fantasy." Della gave an exaggerated sigh. "All rightie, no horses. But if I stumble across a sword, shield, and armor breastplate, I'm buying them," Della laughed.

"Deal. They'd make a wonderful Halloween costume." I slipped my arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, kissing her above her ear. All the quips aside, I meant what I said.

No one was going to hurt Della on my watch.