As she moved towards consciousness, she could feel someone's hand running gently through her hair. Sighing contentedly, she leaned into the touch. It took her a moment to remember that she was home alone when she had fallen asleep, and there definitely shouldn't have been anyone in the house.

She shot up in the bed, her wide eyes meeting familiar golden ones. "Jesus Christ," she breathed, her hand against the fast beating in her chest.

"I didn't mean to scare you," Jace said quietly, his hand dropping to his lap as he sat on the edge of the bed.

She grabbed her phone off the nightstand, checking the date and time. Had she slept for over a day? But it was only late morning on Friday.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice scratchy from sleep.

He gave her a lopsided smile. "I thought you'd be glad to see me."

"I am," she said, scooting so her back was against the headboard. "I just thought you weren't coming back until Saturday."

"I got the first flight back after last night," he responded.

"Oh." She started wringing her hands in her lap. That was not something she had been expecting. Was he really so worried about her that he went through all the trouble of changing his flights? She sat up a little straighter, remembering where she was. "And you probably want to sleep after all that travelling and I'm in your bed."

Clary moved to get out of the bed, but Jace stopped her, placing a hand on her knee.

"I slept on the plane," he said, a sly grin spreading across his face. "Plus, I kinda liked coming home to find you in my bed."

She looked back down, heat spreading across her cheeks. She ran a hand through her hair and heard Jace take a sharp intake of breath. Looking up, she saw the grin had fallen from his face and his back was rigid. Following his line of sight, she realized her sleeve had moved up her arm when she moved it. Finger-shaped bruises were clear on her skin. She quickly dropped her arm, pulling the sleeve back down her bicep.

He just reached out and pulled it back up again. "Did he do that to you?" His voice was cold.

"I bruise easily," she said. "It's really not that big of a deal." It was the same excuse she had given multiple times in the past.

He snatched his hand back. "I'm going to fucking kill him," he growled, standing up from the bed.

Clary watched as he paced back and forth in front of her, continuously running his hands through his hair. She took the moment to take him in. The suit he was wearing was wrinkled, and she guessed that was from the plane. There were also circles under his eyes, and she wondered if maybe he hadn't slept like he had said.

After a few moments, he stopped pacing at the end of the bedand took out his phone, pressing some buttons. With a hand on his hip, he stared out the window, his jaw set. "Catarina," he snapped, "patch me through to my lawyer. Tell him it's urgent." He glanced at Clary for a second before turning his attention back to the window. "Woolsey, I need you to do whatever you can to get me out of any business contracts I have with Raphael Santiago." He looked over at Clary again, listening to whatever his lawyer was saying. "Let's just say I disagree with some of his personal actions." He went back to staring out the window once more. "Thanks, Woolsey. Keep me updated."

He shoved his phone back in his pocket but didn't move his gaze from the view of the city. Clary stared at his face, watching as his jaw continued to clench and unclench. She wanted to know what he was thinking over in his mind but figured he wasn't exactly in a mood to share.

"You didn't have to do that," she finally said, climbing onto her knees and moving over to the end of the bed. "It's really nothing."

"It's not nothing, Clary," he responded, still not looking at her.

She reached out and grabbed his hand. "I've had worse, Jace. It's fine."

He whipped his head to the side, his eyes narrowing at her. "What does that mean?"

She stared at him, her eyes widening slightly. She hadn't meant to say that. She had been so focused on trying to calm him and had spoken without really thinking about it first. She desperately tried to think of something to add. Part of her just wanted to finally tell him about Raphael, to stop hiding it, but she was afraid of what his reaction would be. If he was freaking out this much over a bruise, what would he do if he learned everything that had happened between them?

He completely turned to face her, grabbing her other hand. He rubbed circles on the back of her hands with her thumbs. "Clare, what does that mean?" he repeated, his voice much softer than it had been earlier.

Her breath caught in her throat at the emotion she saw in his golden orbs. The anger seemed to have completely left him, and all she saw now was concern mixed with something else she was too afraid to name. She felt tears prick at the backs of her eyes, and she shook her head slightly.

"Not right now," she said. "Please."

She knew she wouldn't be able to tell him another lie. She felt like she had been lying to him so much recently, and she felt horrible about it. A solid relationship couldn't be built without honesty and trust. But she also knew she couldn't tell him the truth in that moment.

His eyes bore into hers, looking for something. He must have found whatever he was looking for because he let out a small sigh and an almost silent okay.

Clary removed her right hand from his and reached up to cup his cheek. She ran her thumb lightly under his eye. "You look tired," she said. "Did you really sleep?"

He leaned his head into her touch. "I did. Just not well." He closed his eyes. "I'm not that tired, though."

"Lay down with me?" she asked, biting her lip.

He opened his eyes and quirked an eyebrow at her. "Clary, it's almost eleven. Shouldn't you be getting up?"

She shrugged. "I don't have any plans for the day."

He reached up and took the hand she had on his face, turning it to press a kiss against her thumb. "I have to stop by the office today after cutting my trip short."

"Just for a little bit?" She gave him her best pout. "I missed you."

He let go of her hands and started to take off his suit jacket. "Just for a little bit," he reiterated.

Clary beamed at him and crawled back under the covers. She watched as he stripped down to just his boxer briefs. Her eyes scanned over his body, and she thought about the way it felt pressed against her. He smirked at her, as if he knew what she was thinking about.

He slowly walked over to the other side of the bed, slipping into the sheets behind her. Pulling her back against his front, he placed his hand on her thigh. He moved his hand up under her shirt, stopping at the top of her lacy panties. His hand traveled across the top of the material until his arm was securely around her, and he pulled her completely flush against him.

"Thank you," she said.

He just hummed in return, nuzzling his face into her hair. After a few minutes, she heard his breathing even out and wondered if he had fallen asleep. She said his name quietly into the silent room, and when he didn't respond, she bit back a giggle. Not that tired my ass.

She turned over in his arms so she could face him. His eyes were closed, and his mouth was parted slightly. She lifted her hand, gently running a finger down the side of his face. She had learned to appreciate the way people looked while they were sleeping, the way their faces were relaxed and peaceful as if all their worries no longer existed. With Raphael, it had been the only time when she wasn't afraid of him.

She wasn't sure how much time had passed as she sat there studying him. She hadn't been tired when she had asked him to lie down with her; she had just wanted to give him the chance to get some rest. She liked how calm his expression was in his sleep. In his sleep wasn't filled with worry or anger anymore.

Her eyes raked over the rest of his exposed body. She ran her fingers down the ridges of his abs, feeling the muscles tighten under her feather-light touch. She heard his breathing change, and she stopped her movements, glancing up to find his eyes still closed. She went back to exploring his flesh.

"Clary," he groaned.

She smiled at the half warning, half begging of his voice. She dipped her hand lower, running a finger along the waistband of his underwear. He let out a throaty growl, and she suddenly found herself on her back, Jace hovering over her and holding wrists above her head. He placed himself between her thighs, pressing his arousal into her core.

She froze, her mind focusing on the hands gripping her wrists. The hands holding her down. For a moment, it was no longer Jace above her, and she yanked her hands free. Jace leaned back on his knees, his brow furrowing in concern.

"What's wrong? Did I hurt you?" he rushed out, his eyes scanning over her.

She shook her head, sitting up and placing a soft, reassuring kiss against his lips. "I just don't like being restrained," she said, keeping her mouth centimeters from his. She hoped to keep him distracted enough to not ask questions.

"Good to know."

He brought his lips back to hers, and she felt relieved. He moved them so that she was laying down again. This time, he placed his hands on either side of her head. She put a hand on the back of his neck, pulling him down to deepen the kiss.

His tongue explored her mouth as he moved a hand between her thighs. He grazed a finger over the damp spot on her panties, and she moaned into his mouth, causing him to smile against her lips. His hand moved, pushing her shirt up her torso. She pulled away from him for a split second, helping to pull the piece of clothing off. Her bra and panties soon followed.

She slapped her hand over her mouth, muffling a cry as he kissed down her body and curled two fingers into her core. He paused, reaching up and removing her hand from her face.

"Look at me, Clary," he demanded, his voice low and throaty.

She leaned up on her elbows to meet his eyes. Their gold color had darkened to an almost bronze. She was ready to combust at just the sight of his face so close to her center, his hair an unruly mess and a smirk gracing his lips.

"We're the only ones home for once. I want to be able to hear you," he said before his head disappeared between her thighs.

Clary's eyes were closed, and she hummed appreciatively as Jace's fingers massaged shampoo into her scalp. The room was silent, aside from her soft humming and the sound of shower water hitting the tiled wall. The heat of the water seeped into her skin, washing off the sweat and other bodily fluids left behind from the past hour they'd spent together, touching, feeling, and pleasuring each other.

She tilted her head farther into his touch, thinking about how sweet he was being. It had taken a bit for it to sink in, but he had literally flown across the country for her, to make sure she was doing okay. She honestly thought that was something that only happened in books in movies, but maybe that was just the person Jace was. He cared so much, maybe too much, and he would go to extreme lengths to be there for those who mattered to him. And she had been treating him horribly.

"I'm sorry," she finally said, her voice barely audible.

His hands stilled in her hair. "What for?"

"For lying to you and sneaking around," she mumbled.

"I shouldn't have put you in a place where you felt like you had to do that," he said, adjusting the showerhead in order to rinse the shampoo out. "I shouldn't have been as demanding as I was."

Clary shook her head, turning around to face him. She wrapped her arms around his torso and pressed a cheek against his wet chest. "But I shouldn't have been dishonest. You just care, and I guess I'm not used to it."

He turned off the water and opened the glass shower door to grab their towels. "What do you mean by that?"

She took one of the towels from him and ran it through her hair as she thought about her next response, trying to find something she could tell him that didn't involve Raphael. Wrapping the towel securely around her body, she stepped out with Jace behind her.

"I don't mean that nobody's cared about me. My mom did, but just not in the same way, you know?" They walked back into the bedroom, and Clary watched as Jace began to dry himself off. "I grew up in the city. Jocelyn was very independent and raised me to be the same way. She would tell me to be safe but was never very overprotective. I think that's what a father would have been for, but I never knew mine. I don't even think Jocelyn knew who it was. She wasn't always the most responsible."

He pulled on a pair of underwear and looked at her. "Do you think I'm being overprotective?"

She sighed, sitting down on the edge of his bed. "To me, yes. But I understand where you're coming from. These are just the normal precautions for you."

"Do you want me to stop? If you really wanted, I could stop having Jordan follow you around all the time," he offered as he slid on a dress shirt.

She began to pick at a piece of lint on her towel. "No." She wanted to say yes, but she knew that if she was going to be a part of his life, his level of security was going to be part of the deal.

He quirked an eyebrow at her as he continued to dress. "Are you sure?"

She looked up and cracked a smile at him. "If I had said yes, you would have just had someone else follow me around in secret."

He didn't say anything, but she saw his mouth curve up slightly. She continued to watch as Jace got dressed, skillfully tying his tie around his neck and buttoning his suit jacket. She blushed, thinking about how those same nimble fingers had been all over her not too long ago.

"You should go get dressed," he said, and she cocked her head to the side. "If you keep sitting there blushing in nothing but a towel, that whole shower will end up having been for nothing."

She bit her lip, staring at him for a moment. She was tempted to tease him and see if she could lure him back into bed. However, she knew he really needed to get into office at some point and didn't want to get in the way of that. She heaved herself off the bed and did as he requested.

Once she had clothes on, she walked out of her room to find Jace standing in the living room, hands stuffed into his pockets. He was staring at a large canvas she had left leaning against the wall to dry. It was one of the art projects she had worked on during the week, a watercolor of the skyline at sunset from the view of the penthouse. She had started it weeks ago in her room but finally got around to finishing it with all the free time she'd had.

"Did you make this?" he asked, not taking his eyes off the painting.

"Yeah, I was going to move it out of here, but—"

"How much?"

Her head tilted to the side. "What?"

He finally turned and looked at her. "I want to buy it," he stated. "How much?"

Her eyes widened, and her mouth fell open slightly. Did he really just say he wanted to buy her painting? She didn't think anybody had wanted one of her paintings before, let alone wanted to pay actually money for one.

"I—You can just have it," she spluttered.

"Clary," he said sternly. "You worked hard on this. I'm not going to take it from you without giving you payment in return."

She shook her head. It didn't feel right taking money from him for it. She was sure he was already overpaying her for her job. On top of that, their personal relationship would also make it weird for her to accept payment.

"Consider it a gift," she offered.

"If you don't give me a price, I'm going to give you whatever I see fit," he responded, eyes narrowing slightly at her.

She wanted to call his bluff but part of her had a feeling he was being dead serious. So she just said the first number that popped into her head. "Fifty dollars."

He scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest. "Don't be cute, Clare. It's worth way more than that."

"You think I'm cute?" One corner of her mouth picked up.

"Clary," he warned, eyes narrowing.

She rolled her eyes and sighed. "Fine. Two hundred."

"That's better," he said, moving toward her. He grabbed her face and pressed his lips against hers. "By the way, I think you are deserving of words far better than just cute." He pressed another quick kiss to her lips. "I should be back around six."

She followed him to the elevator and leaned against the wall. "Call me if you're going to be late?" She wanted to plan a special night for them, but that depended on him being home before she had to go to Pandemonium.

"Will do," he said, leaning in for one last kiss as the elevator arrived. "Promise you'll stay safe?"

"Promise," she replied, marking an X over her heart.

Her head bopped along to the music coming through her headphones as she worked at cutting up vegetables. She had the table set, lights low and candles waiting to be lit. She had a pot roast and potatoes sitting on the counter wrapped in tin foil to keep warm and a bottle of champagne sitting on ice to keep it chilled. All she had left was the salad and she would be ready for Jace to come home.

A pair of arms suddenly wrapped around her waist, and she startled. The hand holding the knife jerked, and she felt a searing pain in her index finger.

"Fuck," she hissed, pulling her earbuds out and looking at her bleeding finger.

"Shit, Clary," Jace said from behind her, his arms no longer around her. "I didn't mean to scare you. I thought you heard me come in."

"I didn't," she responded through gritted teeth as she grabbed a towel and wrapped it over her hand to try to stop some of the bleeding.

"Stop." He gently grabbed her wrist and turned her to face him. "Let me take a look." He removed the towel and inspected her finger, a small frown appearing on his face. "It's pretty deep. You're going to need stitches, and I unfortunately don't have the tools to do that here."

She shook her head, rewrapping the towel and applying pressure. "It's fine. I-I don't need to go to the hospital."

He kept his hold on her wrist and raised an eyebrow. "I didn't realize you were the one with a medical degree."

She glared at him but didn't say anything.

"Come on," he gently tugged her arm, "I'm taking you to the ER to get that taken care of."

She begrudgingly followed him into the foyer. He kept an eye on her as they waited for the elevator, and his gaze kept falling to the injured hand she held against her chest. The frown on his face never left.

"Hey," she said, giving him a small smile, "I'm fine. It's just a cut."

"How much does it hurt?" he asked as they rode down to the parking garage.

She shrugged. "Not too bad." After the initial shock and pain, it had turned into a dull throbbing.

He opened the passenger door to a silver Audi for her, and she slid into the leather seats with a thanks. He situated himself into the driver's seat and turned on the car, pulling smoothly out of the garage. With a sigh, she leaned her head back on the headrest and closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling of the warm air coming from the vents.

"It's a Friday evening; the wait is going to be so long. Are you sure we can't just wait until the morning or something?" she asked as he maneuvered through New York traffic.

"I'll take care of it," he replied as he shifted gears.

She opened one of her eyes and looked at him. His eyes were focused on the road, one of his hands on the steering wheel and the other on the gear shift. "How?"

"I can pull some strings and take care of it," he said without looking at her.

She opened her other eye but looked away from him and at the road. "Did you do your residency in the emergency room?"

He hummed an affirmation. "I originally wanted to work in the emergency room before I decided on oncology."

"What made you change your mind?"

"I just didn't feel like I was having much of an impact, you know? Sure, there are those time where life or death emergencies come through, but a lot of the time it's broken bones and stitches." He glanced at her hand out of the corner of his eye. "I also wasn't really connecting with patients like I wanted to. Everything is so fast paced and in and out. I wanted something more."

"Did you choose oncology because of your mom?" she asked. Part of her felt guilty about asking about his mother when she constantly avoided the topic of hers. Then again, the information about his was very public knowledge and something a quick Google search would bring up.

He nodded. "Partially. It also allows me to create meaningful relationships with people, which something I always wanted out of being a doctor."

She wanted to talk to him more about it, but he had pulled up outside of the emergency room, telling her to check in while he parked. His medical career, not his business one, was something they never really talked about. She always wondered why he didn't bring it up often but figured he had his reasons.

As she walked through the automatic doors into the ER, she was unsurprised to see she had been right about how busy it would be. Every flimsy plastic chair was occupied by a body, and the chatter of conversation was loud. She used to be a pretty frequent flyer and knew the wait would be hours long. She didn't think Jace would have enough pull to get them through quickly.

She went to reception and filled out the necessary paperwork before finding a wall to lean against. Jace soon joined her.

"You don't look too happy," he said, running a thumb over the crease between her brows.

"Don't like hospitals," she replied.

Between watching her mother wither away in a hospital and her trips to the ER when Raphael really lost his temper, she didn't find anything enjoyable about them. The smell of antiseptic always seemed to make her slightly anxious, and she was feeling that right now.

"They're not that bad."

She shrugged her shoulders but didn't reply. She was too focused on trying to calm the churning in her stomach.

Not even twenty minutes later her name was called, and her head snapped up. She gave Jace a questioning look, but he just smiled at her as they followed a nurse into the back. Jace sat in a chair in the corner as Clary took her spot on the paper covered table, the material crinkling under her. A tray with the necessary tools for stitches was next to the table. Her vitals were taken, and the nurse informed them the doctor would be right in.

"How did you manage that?" she asked once the nurse was out of the room.

"I told you I would pull some strings. I don't want to spend my night waiting in the ER and I don't think you do either."

"You could have just dropped me off and I could have called you when I was done," she said, crossing her arms.

"I came home early to spend time with you. I'd rather that time be alone and at home rather than surrounded by strangers in a hospital."

She was about to reply when the door to the room opened. A doctor in a white coat, button down, and slacks walked in, reading a clipboard he carried. Clary recognized him from the last time she had been in, and the unsettling feeling in her stomach grew. He had been pushy about her excuse for her injuries, telling her it would be beneficial for her to just tell the truth.

"So, Miss Fray," he said, bringing his grey eyes up to meet hers, "not in for an accidental fall down the stairs this time, I see."

Clary stiffened, her eyes flicking to Jace. His jaw was clenched, and his fists were in balls at his thighs. The doctor followed her line of sight and cocked his head to the side.

"Dr. Herondale, I didn't see you there," he said, straightening his back.

"Clearly you didn't, Dr. Starkweather," Jace replied, his voice even.

Dr. Starkweather cleared his throat and turned his attention back to Clary. "Let's get you stitched up and back on your way."

Clary looked away as he picked up a syringe to apply local anesthetic to her finger. She had always hated needles and couldn't stand to watch any sort of injection. Her gaze moved to Jace, and he gave her an encouraging smile.

"Not a fan of needles either?" he asked, and she nodded. "Good thing you're not a doctor, then."

She let out a small laugh. "I don't think that one was ever in the cards for me." She had never been good at science and had always been drawn to the arts.

"You sure? I be there's need for a hospital and needle fearing doctor out there somewhere."

She snorted. "Could you imagine a doctor closing their eyes while giving you a shot because they couldn't stand the sight of it?"

"As long as you had it in the right spot before closing your eyes it would be fine."

"Alright, you're all set," Dr. Starkweather said.

Clary looked down to see there was now a thin bandaged wrapped around her finger. Jace had distracted her enough to where she hadn't even noticed the area go numb or the fact that Dr. Starkweather had started to work on the stitches.

"I'm guessing you already know how to properly care for stitches," Dr. Starkweather said with a raised brow.

"Hodge," Jace bit out. "I don't appreciate this attitude you seem to have to night."

"I apologize, Dr. Herondale," he responded, but there was an edge to his voice, and he sounded anything other than apologetic.

Jace narrowed his eyes as he stood up out of his seat. "Don't think I will not be speaking to your supervisor about this," he said as he moved toward the door.

Clary leapt off the table and followed him, glancing at Dr. Starkweather. She thought she could see a hint of fear in his eye but wasn't quite sure. Jace reached behind himself and gently took her uninjured hand as they walked out.

"You don't have to talk to his boss," she said as they made they're way to his car.

"He was very unprofessional and rude in how he spoke to you, Clare."

"He was like that last time. It's no big deal."

"Yeah, we're also going to have to talk about that," he replied.

"What do you mean?"

He gave his head a small shake. "Not right now. When we get home," he said, giving her hand a soft squeeze.

Clary trailed behind Jace as they entered the penthouse. He had been silent for most of the ride home, only talking to ask her what she wanted as they stopped for takeout. Neither of them were in the mood for her original dinner plans anymore.

She honestly wasn't even hungry in that moment, her stomach feeling weighed down. His silence on the way home had her wondering who he was upset with, and hoping it was just Dr. Starkweather and not her.

"I should, uh, probably clean up the kitchen," she said, watching as he walked into the living room and began putting takeout boxes on the coffee table.

"Leave it," he replied as he sat on the couch, "come sit down. I'll have someone take care of it tomorrow."

She reluctantly walked toward him and sat down. He picked up a paper carton and chopsticks and began eating. After a few minutes, he looked over at her and gave her an expectant look.

"I'm not hungry," she explained.

"You need to eat something, Clare."

She ran her hand through her. "I will. Once you tell me why you're upset and acting weird."

He sighed, setting his food back down on the coffee table. He angled himself to face her, his knees brushing against hers. "I've been thinking about what Starkweather said."

"It's really no big deal, Jace. I'm not bothered by it," she said, even though she had a feeling that wasn't why he had been thinking about it.

"I've also been thinking about what you said this morning." He gently picked up her hands. "I know you've been hiding something from me, and I think I know what it is. But I want you to tell me about it."

"It's nothing," she said.

"Bullshit, Clare." His voice was soft despite his language. "I did my residency in that ER. I heard the fall down the stairs story at least a hundred times. Please, just talk to me."

She bit her lip, pulled her hands away, and stared down at her lap. His voice sounded so desperate. She didn't want to talk about it at all but knew she couldn't keep hiding it. Also, that morning, she said she would explain her comment later. It was now later.

"Raphael and I have a history," she said, continuing to stare at her hands. "The gala wasn't the first time I met him." She felt Jace stiffen next to her, and she swallowed hard. "And last night wasn't the first time he's hurt me."

Her voice was barely above a whisper at this point. It wasn't something she had ever talked about really. Not even with Simon or Izzy. They knew. They'd have to be blind and stupid not to, but she never spoke about it. It made her feel weak. She had been too weak to get away. She'd been too weak to stop him. She'd been too weak to do anything about him.

"Tell me more, Clary," his voice was strained, barely concealing his anger. "I need to know."

She felt tears begin to leak from the corners of her eyes, and she quickly wiped them away. She was afraid of what Jace would think of her once she told him everything. Would he still want her?

"W-We dated for a long while," she forced out. "At first, I thought he was perfect. He was kind and caring. But then he started to get really angry and controlling." She took a deep, shuddering breath. "The first time he hit me was after we had gone out to a bar together. He had seen me talking to another guy, and it set him off. The next day he apologized and blamed it on the alcohol. He promised it wouldn't happen again, and I was stupid and naïve and believed him. At first it would only happen when he'd been drinking. Then it started happening when he was sober, and was just worse when he was drunk."

"Why didn't you leave him?" Jace asked quietly.

She shrugged, trying to stop the tears that were streaking down her face. "I was scared both of what he'd do to me if I tried and what he'd said to me. He would always tell me that he was all I had and that nobody else would ever love me. I didn't know anything other than him at the point and had no reason to doubt him. He had isolated me from my friends, and I rarely ever saw Izzy or Simon. I had put my foot down once my mom got sick and managed to get him to let me spend most of my time with her, but I still paid for it whenever I came back home to him."

"How did you mange to get away, then?"

She shook her head, bringing her hands up to her face and let out a sob. That was something nobody besides her and Raphael knew. Simon and Izzy had known he had violently kicked her out. They didn't know why, though. The why was something she'd kept deeply hidden.

She heard Jace shuffle around, and suddenly he was on his knees in front of her, pulling her hands away from her face. He looked at her, his eyes glistening slightly.

"Tell me," he pleaded. "I have to know everything."

"I got p-pregnant," she choked out. "He forgot a condom and my birth control must've failed." She tore her eyes away from his, not able to handle the anger and sympathy swimming in them. She focused on her hands in his instead. "I-I thought he would be happy. But when I showed him the sonogram, he freaked out. He started screaming at me, calling me a gold digger and accusing me of trying to trap him with a child. Told me he didn't want anything to do with me anymore. H-He beat the shit out of me that night, worse than ever before." Her words were barely understandable through her sobs.

Jace ran his thumbs over the backs of her hands. "And you lost the baby, didn't you?"

She nodded, squeezing her eyes shut as she cried harder. He pulled on her hands until she slid off the couch. He then adjusted her so she was straddling his thighs and his arms were around her. She buried her face in his chest and continued to cry.

"I'm so sorry, Clare," he whispered, rubbing a hand up and down her back. "That should have never happened to you."

They sat there for a while, her crying into his shirt and him rubbing comforting circles on her back. He shifted at some point so that he was sitting and no longer on his knees, but he kept her pressed against him as he whispered soothing words into her hair.

When she finally ran out of tears, she leaned back, sniffing and wiping her sleeve under her nose. The way Jace was looking at her made her want to cry all over again. There was such raw emotion on his face, a mix of sadness and anger. She knew the anger wasn't directed at her, though, as his eyes softened when she met them. The adoration she saw in his eyes was too strong, and she had to look away, her eyes dropping to the spot on his shirt where she had been crying.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice hoarse. She felt like all she'd done that day was apologize.

He tilted his head. "For what?"

"I got snot all over your shirt."

He let out a chuckle and smiled down at her, his arms still wrapped around her body. "Baby, you could snot all over me as long as I get to hold you close."

She wrinkled her nose. "That's disgusting."

The smile fell from his face, and he gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "How are you doing?"

"I think I'm okay now," she answered quietly.

Even though she had completely broken down, she felt slightly better. She felt less burdened in a way, to finally have it all out in the open. The secret had been weighing her down for months, but she was afraid of what her friends' reactions would be. She was honestly still a little afraid of what Jace's full reaction would be once it all settled in, but it was too late to take anything back.

He stood up, brining her with him, and placed a hand on either side of her face. His thumbs ran gently over her cheeks, removing the remaining wetness there. He then placed a soft kiss to her lips.

"Why don't you go get cleaned up, and I'll reheat the food?" he suggested. When she nodded, he gave her one more kiss before sending her on her way.

She flinched at her appearance in the bathroom mirror. Her eyes were red and puffy, and there were streaks down her cheeks from the tears. She quickly turned on the sink and splashed warm water on her face, trying to wipe away the tear marks.

Once she had managed to clean her face and reduce some of the puffiness, she walked back out to the living room. Jace was pacing the area between the table and the couch, his phone pressed firmly against his ear. His body was tense, and she had a feeling it had all finally caught up with him. The anger had taken over his concern for her.

"I'm not asking, Woolsey!" he shouted into the receiver. "I don't give a fuck if he sues me. Let him. I just want all business ties cut right this second." He paused, tugging at his hair. "Figure it out. That's what I'm paying you to do," he growled before ending the call and throwing the phone onto the couch.

"Don't get in trouble because of me," she said as she approached him.

His body visibly relaxed slightly, and he ran another hand through the golden strands on his head. "His ass is lucky I'm not hunting it down right this second. And I thought I wanted to kill him before."

"Hey," she said softly, reaching out and cupping his cheek. "Everything happened in the past. There's no need to worry about it now."

He scoffed, moving out of her touch. "The fucker hurt the woman I love, and I'm supposed to just let him get away with it?"

Her eyes widened, her hand still hanging in the air between them. The beating in her chest picked up and she took a sharp intake of breath.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked.

"D-Do you realize what you just said?"

"That I'm not going to let him get away with hurting you?"

She shook her head frantically, dropping her hand. "You just called me the woman you love."

This time, it was his eyes that widened as he stared at her. "I—" he started, like he was going to try to explain his way out of it.

She decided to cut him off. "Did you mean it?"

He closed his mouth and gave her a silent nod, his eyes burning into hers.

"You love me?" she gasped.

Once again, he nodded. "So goddamn much, Clary."

"I-I think I love you, too," she whispered. As she said the words, though, she knew there was nothing to think about. She knew she did.

She had barely finished the sentence before he was on her, his hands buried in her hair and his mouth hot on hers.

He pulled away, panting heavily. "You have no idea how glad I am you said that." He then pulled her into his chest, resting his chin on her head. "And that bastard is never going to hurt you again. I promise to always keep you safe from now on."