Текст книги "Last Second Chance"

Автор книги: Caisey Quinn

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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

“You will be.”

Securing her wrists in one hand and reaching around with the other, he slid his fingers over her clit. She writhed against him and he hummed his approval in her ear.

“If it takes me more than a minute to find them, I will make you bring each one of them to me in your mouth. On your knees. And once you’ve crawled to me and delivered them, I will make you beg for every single touch. Then I will fuck you until you can’t walk.”

“Sounds good to me,” she told him, successfully halting all of his brain activity. “That’s exactly what I was hoping for when I hid them. To make you mad. So you’d punish me again.” She paused to let out a moan as he teased her opening with the tip of his dick. “Every time I see the red marks on my wrist or ankles or thighs from last time, I have to touch myself to relieve the pressure. But it never feels as good as when you do it.”

“Fuck, Stella.”

“Yes, please do.”

Grinning like a damned maniac, he slammed his dick back into her throbbing entrance. “Be careful what you wish for, cowgirl.”

Van thrust inside of her in several long strokes, pressing deeper each time until she was calling his name.

“I love when you call out my name. Love how good it sounds in your mouth when you come.”

A series of whimpers and breathy pleas was her response. He flipped her over and jerked her legs apart once more. Sliding back in, he gave her clenching walls everything he had, slamming in harder and pulling out slower until she gave over to her desires and began to come for him. He wished he could record those raucous sounds he pumped from her mouth. Her nails pierced his skin as she tore at the flesh on his arms.

“Give it up, baby. Come for me.” Releasing one of her legs, he ran a hand roughly down her throat, through the valley between her breasts, and over her stomach. Pressing a finger on her clit, he pounded into her as her walls convulsed around him until his release took over.

After they’d collapsed in a satisfied heap of desperate breaths and sweat-slick skin, Van disposed of the condom and returned to wrap her in his arms.

No matter how many times she allowed him to enter her, to bring her to the highest peaks of pain and ecstasy, it would still amaze him that he got to hold her afterward. He was a colossal fuck-up who destroyed all that he touched, but somehow he’d been bestowed the magnificent privilege of holding such a flawless and fragile creature. Well, maybe she wasn’t all that fragile. He’d given her some pretty rough treatment and she’d hung in there—and ridden out the violent waves right along with him.

She wasn’t angry or afraid. Or asking a million questions about what was next. She didn’t make any demands of him, didn’t want to take pictures for evidence. She just wanted him to hold her. Which was good because it was about all he could manage at that particular moment.

His heart was beating the shit out of his chest, and he couldn’t tell if it was from the workout of the sex or something else.

Something else was a strong possibility. The woman in his arms sighed and pulled him from his euphoric high.

“You okay?” He placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head.

She nodded against him. She was still struggling for breath when she answered. “More than. So much more than okay.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Wrapped in her short pearl-white silk robe and his arms, she lay next to him, lightly tracing his ink with her fingertips.

So far they’d eaten cold pasta before returning to bed for another round of lovemaking. He’d gone slower this time, and she was pretty sure he had literally massaged, licked, kissed, and sucked every single inch of her body. He’d imprinted himself on her in a way she felt conflicted about. It felt wonderful, like sunshine saturating her skin after being soaked in a rainstorm. But it also felt…permanent. And irrevocable.

Afterward, they’d discussed the words on his arm and chest. Lyrics he’d written for a song he’d never recorded. His eyes had gone dark and his muscles had stiffened, so she hadn’t pressed for any more information. There were hands praying with rosary beads wrapped around them. And a few band-related symbols. Music notes in flames and a shattered record. His path to his music career had been a rocky one he’d informed her. That’s what the sleeve that covered his left arm represented.

But it was his back, the breathtakingly magnificent mural of ink etched over every flesh-covered muscle and sinew that she ached to know more about. It somehow managed to be beautiful and heartbreaking all at once.

The faceless angel sat in water, her head down and arms wrapped around the knees drawn to her chest. Stella traced the details of her form and then let her fingers drift outward to expansive black wings.

“Who is this?” she whispered into the darkness. Even with only a bedside lamp for light, she could see the shading, the light and the dark, the pain that accompanied the artwork he’d put on his body.

“No one. It’s just ink.” His gravelly voice effectively erected a wall between them. He didn’t say anything else or turn to look at her, but she got the message loud and clear. This subject was off-limits.

Stella swallowed the lump constricting her throat. She didn’t know who it represented. But she knew one thing for certain. He’d lied. It wasn’t just ink. And whoever she was, his angel of darkness was weighing him down.

She hoped it was just the post-coital vulnerability that made his refusal to share this with her so upsetting. It was clearly none of her business.

Just as the silence became suffocating, Van turned his head. He’d somehow vanquished the demons glaring at her from behind his eyes and the light, teasing version of him had reappeared. Stella struggled to keep up.

“Did you really hide the riding crops?”

She grinned, the tension in her chest easing in as she did. “Perhaps.”

“Hmm.” He stared at her thoughtfully before sitting up and putting his shirt back on. She tried not to read anything into it. Tried but failed. He was hiding his angel of darkness from her. It stung. “So you fell and hurt your knee. Is that why I never see you riding any of those hellish beasts?”

“Huh?” Stella pulled her eyes up from his now covered chest. “Oh, the horses?” She sat up and pulled her robe tighter. “Yeah. My horse Angel’s Breath took a fall. Landed on my leg. I couldn’t walk for two months. It was terrifying. So I quit racing.” There was more to it, but that was all she really felt comfortable sharing with someone who’d just lied his ass off about a tattoo.

Van bent to pull on his boxer briefs and jeans. “And why’s that, cowgirl?”

Now she was the one who wanted to pull away, put up her walls, and shut him out. “Why did I quit? I just told you. I got hurt.”

He eyed her speculatively as he buttoned his jeans. “So you don’t race anymore. Doesn’t mean you couldn’t still ride.”

She narrowed her eyes at him and he put his hands up.

“For fun, I mean. Easy, babe. I didn’t mean to make you mad.” He dropped his hands and shrugged. “But I’ve seen that look you get. You want to ride them. Or at least that temperamental pain-in-the-ass one.”

Her lips attempted to fight back the smile attacking them. “Yes, I certainly seem to have a type, don’t I?”

Leaning forward, Van kissed her lightly on the mouth. “Yeah, you do. Thank fuck for that.”

“You’re leaving.” It wasn’t a question. She didn’t need to ask, she knew he’d been away from the facility long enough. And that they might not ever get to spend an entire night together. For all she knew, and judging from the way he’d shut down and hurried to escape, whatever this was between them might end the day he checked out of rehab. Or before then.

“I’d say I’d call you, but we both know I can’t.”

“And I’d say I’d love to do this again sometime, but…” She made a big show of wrinkling her nose and shrugging. “I think I’m good. Guess it was one of those ‘itches that needed to be scratched so we could move on’ type things.”

Van’s dark eyebrows lifted, and then he smirked. “Speaking of things that got scratched, my arms and back are torn to hell. Guess you scratched the fuck out of that itch, cowgirl. Glad you got me out of your system.”

Pulling her to him, he kissed her. It wasn’t a goodbye peck or a goodnight kiss. It was deep and wet. It went on until she was gasping for oxygen and her jaw ached. It was an I-own-you kiss.

His hands dropped to grip her ass and Stella moaned into his mouth. She had no idea how she could still want him so badly. She was mostly certain that her body would shut completely down if she gave in and let him inside her again. But she was willing to give it a shot. Mind-blowing euphoric bliss like he’d given her didn’t exactly come around often. Or ever, in her experience.

“Mm. Yeah, you’re right,” he began, pressing his still firm cock against her thigh. “I think we’re all done here.”

Far too turned on to keep playing at the casual banter, Stella pulled him back to her once more.

She flicked her tongue against his lips before dipping it into his mouth. Her hands held his face tightly and she stared into his eyes.

“I’ll put my notice in tomorrow, Van. I can’t…I don’t want to stop.”

“Hey.” He took her hand and pressed his lips seductively to her palm before letting it go. “This won’t cost you your job, cowgirl. We’ll figure it out.”

“Stay,” she pleaded quietly. It was a desperate move and she could feel the rejection as soon as she said it.

He kissed her firmly on the forehead. “Want to know the first rule of performing?”

Having no clue why he was suddenly bringing up his career, she furrowed her brow. “Sure.”

Biting at her lower lip, he let his fingers blaze a trail through the still damp folds of sensitive flesh between her legs. “Always leave them wanting more.”

She moaned as he stroked her. “Van.”

“Goodnight, beautiful. Sweet dreams.”

“Night,” she whispered as he walked out, even though it was nearly time for the sun to come up.

He smiled sweetly, something he rarely did. But there were flecks of sadness in his eyes.

She wanted to reach out to him, cocoon him in that private place where they were one, where they were whole, where there was no sadness and everything was perfect. But she let him go. Back to his side of the line that would always separate them. She could tell by the way he behaved that he thought himself beneath her for being a patient or client or whatever the hell at SCR. But she knew the truth.

When he left here, he’d jet off to his real life, where he was in high demand night after night, where he played to sold-out crowds and made awe-inspiring and heart-stopping music—she’d downloaded some of it. And she’d be…here. Hiding out in a job where she was a glorified secretary. She wasn’t like Miranda or Dr. Ramirez. She didn’t change anyone’s life here or help anyone do anything much other than transcribe notes, send faxes, and respond to emails.

Once Van left, her life would return to its typically gray shade of mundane. He was a brilliant burst of flashing red-gold light in her life. One she would appreciate while it lit her universe, and one she was realizing she would miss more than she could even imagine once it was gone.

Two days could feel like an eternity. A miserable, lonely, and dull-as-dirt eternity.

She’d been busy working and hadn’t seen him even once. She’d hoped he would make his way to the barn, but Jesse was spending all kinds of time down there. She had a feeling she might not be the only one to have received the “be careful” warning. But she was afraid to ask Jesse if he’d talked to Van. Opening her mouth to ask about Van would probably give her away instantly. She didn’t know if she could even speak his name without turning red and twitching.

She was contemplating this while tapping her pen rhythmically against her desk. A song of Van’s band called “Flight” from their hit album Escaping the Cage played quietly from her computer. She hummed along as she scrolled through the emails she needed to answer. She had to clench her thighs together every time his raspy voice reached her ears.

When her office door burst open, he appeared as if she’d magicked him into the room.

A confident grin lifted his lips. Stella figured he must’ve recognized his song. “Hey there, cowgirl.”

She stood abruptly, skimming her knee against her desk. “Um, hi?”

Jesus. His eyes were light in contrast to his dark cobalt blue T-shirt. His bare body appeared behind her eyes and she finally got what it meant to undress someone with your eyes.

“Didn’t realize you were a fan,” he said, closing the door behind him.

Stella’s heartbeat sped as soon as the door clicked shut. It nearly combusted when there was a second click. He’d locked it.

“I’m not,” she answered quickly. Too quickly. Hurt flashed across his face, and she amended her answer immediately. “I mean, I hadn’t actually heard anything by your band before…before we met. But then I got curious. So far, I really like all the songs I’ve heard.”

“Curious, huh?” He arched a brow, lowering himself onto the edge of her desk instead of into a seat. “Anything else you’re curious about that I can help with?”

His heat spread throughout the room along with his expensive cologne and clean man-soap scent. It was intoxicating—so much so that all she could do was be honest.

“A few things,” she answered, meeting his burning stare with one of her own.

“Name one.”

“I’m curious who this song is about.” She nodded to her speakers. There was a line that had touched her somewhere she kept hidden. What if I let it all go—bare everything inside? What if I let the ugly show? Come with me tonight. Grab my hand—let’s take flight.

The verse was half-screamed and half-growled, but she felt the full weight of his pain in it.

Van’s shoulders tensed despite his effort to lift them noncommittally. “It’s not about anyone really. Pretty much the whole album was about escaping our sadistic record label. They were just too damn stupid to get it.”

“Hm.” She searched his face for any sign he might be lying. She found none, but she still didn’t believe him entirely.

“Anyways, wanna know what I’m doing here?”

Her face flushed deep crimson. “Yeah, that would’ve been a more appropriate question to ask.”

His lips curved into a heart-seizing grin. “I think we’re pretty far past appropriate, cowgirl. No need to worry with it now.”

She smiled back. “Fair enough.”

“Well, to answer your unasked question, I’m here because Dr. Ramirez mentioned that my client satisfaction survey hadn’t made it in with the others. I could’ve sworn you came by and we took care of that. Or did I dream that?”

The knowing gleam in his eyes had tremors rippling under her skin. He knew good and well they hadn’t finished and why.

Stella ran a finger over her lips. “Let me think. There were just so many. I can’t remember exactly why yours wasn’t completed.”

He pinned her with a wicked grin as he stood and backed her against her desk. “Let me refresh your memory then.”

She gasped out loud when he grabbed her hips and locked his mouth onto hers. His kisses turned her world upside down and flung her center of gravity far, far, from reach.

She let her fingers clasp behind his neck. “I missed you,” she mumbled into his mouth.

“Did you now?” He pulled back and stared at her probably now thoroughly swollen mouth.

She nodded.

“You know where to find me, Stella Jo.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t know if…”

“If we’d get caught?”

“If you’d want to see me again so soon after—”

“Are you fucking serious?” He stepped back but didn’t let go of her. “Did I somehow leave you with the impression that I didn’t want to see you?”

His outrage alarmed her. Thankfully there weren’t too many breakables in her office. A glass paperweight and her heart were the only things that came to mind.

“I just didn’t know, um, for sure.”

“This has to be rectified immediately.” Lifting her suddenly onto her desk, Van’s hands began sliding her skirt up her thighs. Before she could even catch her breath, he’d slid her panties down her legs.

“Van. What if—”

“Door’s locked.”

The next thing out of her mouth was a shocked whimper. He’d slid a finger inside her and began lazily sinking it in and pulling it out. “Let me be clear—as in crystal fucking clear,” he growled against her neck. “I always want to see you.” He paused to kiss the spot just below her ear. “Every minute of every damn day.”

She responded by turning her face and brushing her lips against his before sucking his full lower lip into her mouth. She couldn’t help but moan as he returned the sensual lip treatment. When he let his free hand drop to her knee, she spread her legs farther apart for him.

“Okay.”

“And every minute of the night. Can’t forget the night.”

“Love the night,” she answered as he pushed in and pulled out. “Speaking of night…”

“Can I see you tonight?”

“Yes, please.” She didn’t even care if she sounded needy or desperate. With him this close, she was all those things and then some. She rocked harder against his hand, barely stifling a loud cry as she neared the highest summit of her orgasm.

She was so lost in his mouth and what his fingers were doing that she almost didn’t hear the knock at her door.

Van stilled, so she knew she hadn’t imagined it. It came again, louder this time. More urgent.

“Miss Chandler?” Dr. Ramirez’s voice called from the other side.

Eyes round and wide with shock, Stella gaped at Van.

“Breathe, cowgirl,” he whispered, slipping his fingers out of her and straightening her clothes. “Tell him you spilled something on yourself at lunch and were changing clothes in your office. That’ll explain the locked door. I’ll hide in the closet until I’m sure he’s gone.”

Leaving her trembling on the edge of her desk, he stepped into her small closet and winked before closing the door.

“Just a moment,” she called out, standing on shaky legs. “I had an, um, unfortunate spill at lunch and had to change.”

She checked that her clothes were adjusted and ran a hand through her hair before opening the door. “My apologies, Dr. Ramirez. I’m quite clumsy.” And a terrible liar.

“These things happen.” He waved a hand as he stepped into her office. “I would’ve emailed you but I had a meeting on this side of the building so I figured I’d stop in. I was actually going to invite you to lunch, but as you’ve already had it—”

“No, I haven’t. I mean…” Stella took a calming breath. “I actually spilled most of it and came to change. So I was about to head right back into the Atrium. I’d love it if you’d join me.”

“Wonderful.” Dr. Ramirez’s kind eyes sparkled at her and she felt guilty for lying to him. “Shall we?”

“We shall.” She grabbed her purse and started to follow him out of the office, hoping Van would understand that she wasn’t trying to ditch him, just giving him ample time to escape unnoticed.

“Oh, before I forget,” Dr. Ramirez began, startling her by stopping abruptly. “Mr. Walker’s questionnaire never made it in. He mentioned that he’d had something come up during the interview and you were unable to complete it.”

Stella nearly choked on her own tongue. Something had come up all right. “Yes, sir. I spoke with him earlier. We’re going to meet this evening to get that handled.”

“Oh good.” Dr. Ramirez appeared genuinely relieved. “As you can probably imagine, he values his privacy. If you could go by his residence discreetly and take care of that, I’d appreciate it. We try to make sure our high-profile clients’ needs are met to the best of our ability.”

“I’ll make absolute sure of it,” she assured him, closing the door quickly before he noticed the low chuckling sound coming from her closet.

Chapter Twenty-Six

The knock came just after seven o’clock. He’d showered and contemplated remaining in his towel only. But since that had prevented them from filling out the survey last time and he truly didn’t want to get her fired, he put on a pair of jeans and a green T-shirt that reminded him of the color of her eyes.

Opening the door, he smiled at her appreciative once-over before giving her one of his own. She still had on the dress and the dangerously enticing fuck-me heels from that afternoon.

“Evenin’, cowgirl,” he drawled intentionally. “I understand you’re here to meet my needs to the best of your ability.”

Stella gifted him an amused smile before stepping inside. “Something like that.”

He closed the door, suddenly nervous and unsure about how this was going to go exactly.

Thankfully, she was ready to take the lead.

Stella propped back on his small round dining table and eyed him slowly. “So, this questionnaire,” she began. “Mostly it’s just lots of questions about comfort, privacy, and satisfaction.”

Van exhaled and stalked towards her. His bed dominated the majority of the space, but she hadn’t so much as looked over at it.

“Hm.” Once he was close enough to touch her, he stopped. “How about you go get comfortable on my bed. I’ll lock the door and make sure we have plenty of privacy. Then I can demonstrate an entirely new level of satisfaction—one you don’t even yet have the capability to dream about.”

“Van,” she breathed. “What if—”

“What if we had wings? We could fly,” he murmured in the husky, soothing tone that he knew turned her to liquid. He locked the door and walked towards where she stood beside one of the wooden dining chairs.

Without asking for permission, he reached under her dress and began sliding lacy red panties down her legs.

“God, I’m so glad they’re red. I love you in red.”

Her lips curved into a satisfied smile. She stepped out of the panties once he’d reached her ankles, but when he stood, she placed a hand on his chest and applied enough pressure to back him up a step.

“And out of red.”

“I have a proposition for you, Mr. Walker.” Her eyes darkened with need and his dick responded with a resounding yes to whatever her proposition was.

“What’s that, cowgirl?”

She shoved again and he let her push him down into the chair. His breath caught when she straddled him.

“I’ll let you do anything you want to me. Well…almost anything.”

“What’s the catch?” He leaned back as she pulled her dress over her head and brushed her red lace covered breasts against his chest.

“I let you have me however you want, follow all of your orders like a good girl, and you answer any questions I ask. Honestly.”

His stomach tensed. This was a dangerous game. But Christ. What mere mortal man could turn down an offer like that? She’d made him painfully hard just talking about it.

His mind formulated a quick plan. If she was so drunk with lust and need, she couldn’t ask too many difficult questions.

“Lose the bra and the ‘almost anything’ and you have yourself a deal, cowgirl.” He smirked. Poor woman didn’t have a clue what she was in for.

“Deal,” she whispered, unfastening her bra and letting it fall to the floor.

“Hands behind your back, Stella Jo.”

Her eyes widened but she complied. Using the lacy scrap of material he still held, he tied her wrists tightly, pulling hard for good measure.

“First question,” she began, her chest rising rapidly as her breathing became more erratic. “I want to know what happened with the fiancée. And why she still jets around the world saying you’re engaged to her. The truth.”

Van pulled his shirt over his head, raising his eyebrows as Stella’s pupils dilated. She licked her lips, and he grinned.

“Who would be able to let all this go? Chick’s delusional.”

Stella frowned and began pushing up and off of him. “Fine. I guess you don’t really want—”

“Easy, cowgirl.” Using both hands to clamp down on her hips, he pressed her back down over his denim-restricted erection. “I’ll tell you. But it ain’t pretty.”

She stared into his eyes and waited patiently.

He sighed. “I’ve known her a while. Since high school. I decided to move to LA so I could do the music thing and she followed. We got engaged, mostly as a publicity stunt after I’d fucked up some shit during a fight after a show. She took it pretty seriously, despite the fact that it was more about pleasing the label and making me look stable than ever actually getting married.”

Unable to resist, Van paused to run his tongue up the smooth column of skin that was Stella’s throat. Her breasts swelled with every breath. Her body was beckoning to him. Having her naked in his lap with tied wrists was hell on his dick.

“So, um, how’d you break it off then?”

Van pulled back. He hadn’t thought about any of this in quite a while. It wasn’t something he liked to dwell on.

“There’s this gimmick we do. A play on the band’s name. We pull a girl on stage during the encore and sing to her. Then she goes back to the Green Room with us after the show and her friends have to give up stuff like bras, panties, and so on, to get her back. You know. Hostage for Ransom.”

Stella snorted and gave him a dirty look. “Sounds more like a lawsuit waiting to happen.”

Van shook his head. “Usually it’s them that we can’t get rid of, cowgirl. And trust me. Some of those girls are pretty tenacious when they want to be.” He circled each nipple with his tongue.

“I bet.” Stella shivered.

“Anyways,” he continued on. “This chick in Omaha that we pulled on stage ended up being extremely shy. She practically hyperventilated after the show. We were all freaking out, trying to calm her down and get her friends to hurry up and retrieve her. We didn’t even want to mess with them. We just wanted to make sure someone got her out of there safely. The band bailed, afraid she was going to sue us or some shit—like you said. But I couldn’t just leave her, so I helped her find her friends and then gave them a tour of the bus to make sure everything was cool. Vanessa saw us coming off the bus and thought I’d fucked her. She literally attacked the poor girl. Julie,” he said, remembering. “Julie Donahue. She was just a sweet farm girl who got dragged along to a concert she didn’t even want to be at. Vanessa blindsided her, appearing from nowhere and punching her in the face. She kicked her in the head several times before I could pull her off. She had a severe concussion and the label had to pay an insane amount of money to keep her parents from going public.”

“Jesus.”

“Yeah. So that was it. I called it off. When I went to get my shit from the apartment we shared—shit I should’ve just left and replaced—she called the cops and had a restraining order filed against me. After that, I was done. Completely. If the chick offs herself, well then, so be it. Basically she’s a walking talking tornado that destroys everything in her path.”

“Sounds like you have excellent taste in women, Mr. Ransom.”

“Speaking of tasting…” Needing a taste of her, he took as much of her left breast into his mouth as he could. He sucked hard until she cried out. Then he did the same with the right one.

“Van.”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Next question.”

He ran the tip of his nose between her breasts and down her sternum, tugging her until she stood before him. Completely naked with the exception of stilettos and panties tied around her wrist. His ultimate fantasy come to life. He was pretty sure they could discuss starving orphans in Uganda and his dick still would’ve remained at full attention. He dipped his tongue into her belly button and began suctioning his mouth against her skin lower and lower.

“The tattoo on your back. I know it isn’t just ink. What made you get it?”

Every muscle in his body tensed. He stilled, remaining hard, but his lust-fueled focus waned. Anger rippled just beneath the surface. The air around them thickened, becoming instantly suffocating. He looked up to find her eyes searching his, knowing she’d felt the shift.

Gripping her ass hard, he leaned forward and sank his teeth into her hip. She whimpered but stayed put, seemingly understanding that he needed this. Needed some outlet for the pain before it consumed him and he started breaking things.

Grazing his teeth across to the other side, he gave her another firm bite to match on the opposite hip. She didn’t even whimper this time.

“If I answer this question, delve into something I never discuss, I am going to do unspeakable things to your body afterward.”

Stella only nodded and lowered herself back into his lap.

“Sure you want to play this game, cowgirl?”

Her eyes met his with a desperate yes in them.

The memories, dark demons with the fury of ten hells, tore at his flesh, teeth gnashing and clawing at his throat. His eyes closed involuntarily. He wanted to get high. Fuck this woman on his lap until she screamed for mercy. Then fuck her some more. Destroy the world around him. Burn it to the goddamn ground.

Until an angel kissed him, lightly on the throat. The demons backed down a fraction of an inch, a feat only narcotics had been able to accomplish in the past. She kissed him again. Her warm, wet mouth somehow soothed his tortured mind until he could give her what she wanted.

“Our mother was an addict.” He sucked in a breath as she dragged her mouth across his chest. “Like me, I guess. But she went at it harder. It was a lifestyle for her, not recreation.”

He kept his eyes closed as she nuzzled against his neck. He focused on the vanilla wildflower scent instead of the rotten egg and ammonia fumes from his childhood.

“Some of the...people she associated with weren’t exactly kid friendly if you know what I mean.”

He felt the flinch of her body against his. He hated inflicting this on her. No matter how good it felt to let some of it go.

“I was lucky. Most of them paid about as much attention to me as they might have an unwanted pet. I was a nuisance that got kicked on occasion and shoved into closets now and then.”

This time it was a sob, she was trying not to let it go, but he felt it. He swallowed hard and opened his eyes. Tears streamed down hers.

“Stella.”

“Keep going. I want to hear it, Van. I need to…know you. I want to understand.”

He nodded. “Val, my sister, wasn’t as lucky. She was beautiful, even as a kid. Sometimes she got locked in the closet with me.” He almost smiled at the memory. “She’d try to comfort me, make it a game. Pretend we were camping or some shit. Pull out a flashlight and make up stories.”