Текст книги "Reaper's Fall "

Автор книги: Joanna Wylde

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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 24 страниц)

I slid back and forth across her pussy lips, savoring the touch of her bare skin. Somehow I had to get a condom on without losing contact. Breaking off the kiss, I closed my eyes for a second, taking deep breaths.

“Condom,” I grunted.

“I have some,” she told me, and I frowned. Why the hell should she need condoms? And what kind of fuckin’ hypocrite was I, anyway? I carried condoms all the time.

“I’ll grab one,” I said. No way I’d use a rubber she’d bought for another man. Reaching for my jeans, I pulled out the wallet and got the condom, ripping open the package with my teeth.

“Let me,” Mel said, reaching for it. I let her have it and then her hand was on my cock, covering it with a long, sexy stroke of her fingers. Then I was on her again, pushing the head into her opening.

Tight.

So fucking tight.

Tight and wet and hot for me in a way that no other woman had ever come close to matching . . . She gasped as I pushed deep, moving slowly but steadily until I bottomed out inside her. Her inner muscles tensed around me and my vision started to swim.

Then I pulled back and thrust again.

I’d had a thousand different fantasies of us together over the past year. In my mind, I’d fucked her every way a man can fuck a woman. Twice. I’d always known it would be good—how could fucking a woman like Mel not be good?—but no way could I have imagined this. Sure, her cunt was hot. And the way she squeezed my dick worked for me in a big way, don’t get me wrong. The best part, though, was the way she looked at me, eyes all big and wide and full of surprised excitement because we were just that good together.

She’d been with other guys. I knew this. And I’d been with a shitload of other women . . . somehow this felt like the first time, though. Like I’d just been jerking off before.

Dropping my head, I kissed her as I pumped even deeper.

This couldn’t last forever, but I wished to fuck it could.

MELANIE

I’d never experienced anything quite like sex with Painter. It seemed wrong somehow, the way that he stretched me to the point of pain with every thrust, like it shouldn’t feel so good.

Yet somehow it worked—like our bodies were in tune with each other even though our lives were so mismatched. I’d never actually managed to come during traditional sex before, but I knew the instant he filled me that I’d be satisfied. Not only had he prepped me right (God, had he ever!), but somehow he’d tilted my hips so that every stroke brought his pelvic bone up against my clit.

By the time he started kissing me again, I was already close to the edge. The need and desire and craving that spiraled through my body were building, and I could feel it just ahead of me. A little more . . . All I needed was a little more and then all that energy could explode out of me, setting me free again.

I was already hovering on the edge of overload when he reached down, sliding a hand under my ass to roll us over again. Suddenly I was on top and in control, perfectly positioned to take exactly what I needed from him.

Finally.

I’d been waiting for this moment for more than a year . . . Leaning forward, I braced my hand against his shoulders, jerking my hips back and forth, riding him for all I was worth. His firm grip on my waist steadied me, allowing me to focus on one thing and one thing only—getting off.

Then it hit—my body tightened as all that twisted need unraveled at once, destroying me in the process.

“Fuck,” he groaned as I spasmed around him. I felt his dick swelling inside me, pulsing as he flew over the edge, too. “Jesus, fuck . . . Mel.”

Collapsing down over his body, I let him pull me into his arms. Nestling into his shoulder, I decided I wouldn’t think about what this might mean in the grand scheme of things.

Better to just savor it while it lasted.

With that as my last thought, I fell asleep.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

I woke slowly, stretching out across my futon like a satisfied cat.

Sunshine filled the boothlike room, and shards of multicolored light sparkled against the wood-paneled walls from the prisms I’d hung in the window. They’d belonged to my mom, and when she’d taken off, she’d left them behind. I reached for my phone, catching a glimpse of the dried, flaking remains of the face paint.

Memory flooded back.

Painter.

I’d had sex with Painter. Really good sex. I looked to the pillow beside me, finding the imprint he’d left. No sign of him, though . . . Had he taken off? He’d warned me that he wasn’t the type to commit, but had our friendship really fallen apart that easily?

No, I should give him the benefit of the doubt. For all I knew he was downstairs cooking me breakfast.

Standing slowly—isn’t that an interesting little ache between my legs?—I found my bathrobe, then started toward the bathroom, trying not to think about how many times he must’ve fucked and run with other girls. Not like he made me any promises.

God, I was stupid.

I’d left my phone downstairs, so I wasn’t even sure what time it was. Still early. Maybe he’d left me a message.

A quick stop in the bathroom later—holy crap, I need a shower to get all that dried paint off—and I was heading downstairs to find it.

My phone wasn’t on the coffee table or in the dining room, which didn’t bode well. I could hear noises in the kitchen, though, and even smelled bacon. I had a brief, intense fantasy it was Painter. I found Jessica and Taz instead. The Devil’s Jack was leaning back against the counter drinking a cup of coffee, which he raised to me with a smirking salute.

“Good morning,” he said. “Have fun last night?”

Too bad I didn’t know him well enough to flip him off, because I wanted to in a big way. Jess turned from the stove, my favorite red spatula raised like a weapon in one hand while the other was braced on her hip, which she’d cocked belligerently.

“You look like shit,” she said, eyes flicking over me. This wasn’t news. I’d seen my reflection in the bathroom mirror—the paint had dried and flaked into a molting lizard pattern, so I couldn’t really fault her for her words. “Why did you let him in? Didn’t you get my text warning you? I can’t believe you slept with him, are you totally fucking cra—”

“Hey, Jessica,” Taz said, cutting her off. “Shut the fuck up. It’s none of your business.”

Jessica’s mouth gaped open. Then her eyes were narrowing as she turned on him. “You’re just my booty call, don’t think you get a vote—”

Taz reached over and casually caught her behind the neck, jerking her into him for a kiss. Somehow he managed to give me a thumbs-up behind her back as I tried to bite back my laughter. Jess had been so subdued for a while after whatever the hell it was that’d happened to her down in California. I’d been happy to see her showing signs of life again, but this thing with me and Painter? Yeah. None of her business.

I wandered back out into the living room, looking around for my phone. Jessica’s was next to the TV, and I grabbed it to call myself. (She’d been using the same pass code since she got her first phone—I’d cracked it years ago.) The couch buzzed at me before I could even dial, though. Incoming text. The phone must’ve fallen down between the cushions.

I pulled it out to find a series of messages from Painter.

PAINTER: Mel—you’re still asleep so I went to get breakfast. Back soon.

PAINTER: Dunno what you like so getting you a latte.

PAINTER: Back in five.

I smiled, feeling a tension I hadn’t even fully acknowledged release in my chest—he hadn’t pulled a runner on me. Not only that, he’d be here in less than five minutes . . . and I still looked like a diseased lizard!

Oh no. Not gonna happen.

“I’m taking a shower!” I yelled at the top of my lungs, hoping Jess wouldn’t be too busy screwing Taz to let Painter inside. It was a risk I’d have to take, because no fucking way was I answering the door in full molt.

Our tub was one of the best features of the house—a big, old-fashioned claw-foot. An oval shower curtain rack hung down from the ceiling, and I always felt vaguely elegant and exotic in it. Well, at least I felt that way until I turned the water on . . . then things occasionally went ugly. Our hot water was unreliable in general, because we shared plumbing with everyone else in the house. That meant if anyone in the other apartments flushed a toilet, ran the sink, or even blinked too hard, icy cold water exploded over whoever was unfortunate enough to be in the shower when it happened. For once I was lucky—the water ran out hot and strong, liquefying the paint as it ran down my body in streams.

I’d gotten most of my arms and front clean and was trying to figure out how to do my back when a hand came in through the shower curtain. I gave a shriek as Painter stepped inside, covering my mouth with his to swallow the noise. The kiss was hard and hot and desperately hungry, taking me from zero to sixty in an instant.

Yeah, my high school boyfriends hadn’t kissed like this.

Not even a little bit.

Great as it was, though, the kiss wasn’t enough. I found myself running my hands up and down his side, then reaching around to cup his ass. It was sculpted and tight with muscle, tensing under my touch. This set his cock rubbing against my stomach, still slippery from the soap I’d used to scrub off the paint.

Painter broke free from the kiss.

“Holy fucking hell, you’re gorgeous,” he gasped, lifting me and wrapping my legs around his waist in one smooth movement. The contrast between our skin—him all pale and me dark from the sun—was striking. We’d make beautiful babies together.

Wait. Where had that come from?

Before I could explore that disturbing thought any further, his mouth took mine again. I was squirming all over him, and then his dick was pushing against my opening and I was sliding down over him.

It hurt more than before, which startled me.

It was a good hurt—more like a stretch—but I was definitely sore from the night before. Then his hips pulled back for another thrust, and it struck me just how strong he must be to hold me like this. I mean, who does that in real life?

Each stroke pushed him deeper. Kissing was too complicated now—I needed to focus everything on the sensations building between my legs. I bit into his shoulder instead, feeling and hearing him groan at the same time. Everything was moving so fast, but I was almost there. Close. Really damned close. All I needed was a little more—

Ice-cold water hit us with the force of a truck.

“Motherfucker!” Painter shouted, slipping. My legs were all tangled around his and then we were falling toward the tub and all I could think about was how hard that bitch Jessica would laugh at me for this. I closed my eyes, bracing for a hit that never came because Painter somehow managed to twist midair, protecting me. Then we crashed into the side of the tub together, in a tangle of body parts and very cold water.

“Are you okay?” I gasped, trying to push myself up. Painter blinked, looking a little stunned.

“Yeah, I think so,” he said, raising an arm to the side of the tub. “You know, that was pretty fuckin’ good until the cold water hit.”

Jessica burst into the bathroom, lurching to a stop in front of the tub, Taz right behind her.

“Are you guys okay?”

“We were taking a shower,” Painter said, his voice dry. “Now we’re taking a bath.”

“Nice rack,” Taz chimed in.

“Pervert,” I snapped, trying to pull the shower curtain in front of me. That’s when the oval hoop that suspended it from the ceiling collapsed, sending curtain and metal bars down and around us in a giant clatter.

Then the water went from icy cold to burning hot and I screamed. I’m not entirely sure what happened after that, but I do know it involved Taz laughing, Painter wrapping a towel around me, and Jessica getting carried downstairs over Taz’s shoulder.

PAINTER

Well, at least Taz enjoyed himself.

Fucker.

I followed Mel toward her bedroom after our bathroom clusterfuck, her all wrapped up in a towel and me buck naked, clothing in hand. Despite the whole shower-collapsing-on-our-heads-while-the-water-tortured-us episode, I was still horny as hell and ready to go at it again.

So much for keeping things in the friend zone.

This might be a problem, because I had the feeling that Mel wasn’t the friends-with-benefits type and I wasn’t exactly the king of loving relationships . . . yet the thought of walking out of here and setting her free wasn’t working for me. We probably needed to have a serious talk to resolve these issues, but I’d gotten a message an hour ago from Gage, saying he needed me up in Hallies Falls by the early afternoon. That left me about twenty, thirty minutes max before I had to kiss Mel good-bye with no idea when I’d be back.

So we had to talk fast.

Of course, I could just fuck her again instead.

Might be my last chance.

I processed all of this as we stepped up into her room. It felt like another world in here, our own place where reality couldn’t touch us and things were perfect.

“Hey,” she said, turning to me and smiling, playing with the edges of her towel where she’d tucked it in across her breasts. “So, we have to leave for the carnival in about forty-five minutes. Got any ideas how we might pass the time until then?”

So much for getting laid again, because I was about to piss her off even more than I’d realized. I’d forgotten that I’d promised to help her, although I’d remembered to stop off and get more face paint, thank fuck. I’d burned through an entire carnival’s worth last night.

I sighed. Time to grab sack and do the talk.

“My plans have changed,” I said, feeling like an asshole. This wasn’t a new sensation for me, but the guilt that came with it was. Not that I ever went out of my way to be a dick—it just came naturally, you know? Melanie frowned, tightening her towel.

Definitely not getting laid. Fucking Gage.

“What’s up?” she asked carefully. “I mean, I know you didn’t make any promises about us, but I kind of thought—”

“No, this is about the club,” I said. “You know how I’ve been traveling for the club? They just called and said I need to head back out. Like, I need to leave in half an hour, and I gotta go pack a bag and shit. So I can’t do the carnival with you.”

Mel cocked her head at me.

“Are you blowing me off?” she asked, her voice very serious. “Because I’d really prefer it if you had the decency to do it directly, rather than leading me on.”

“No, I’m not blowing you off,” I said, wishing I had words to explain how I felt about all this. “Look, I’m a jackass. I get that. But I really have to go and I’m not even sure how long I’ll be gone. I promise I’ll stay in touch and text as much as I can. I’m hoping you’ll wait to make any judgments about us and what happened until I get back. I know that Jess is probably just waiting to fill your head with shit about me, and I’m sure a lot of it will be true. But this is between you and me, nobody else.”

She nodded slowly.

“I can do that,” she said.

The relief I felt was enough to scare me—I’d never cared about anyone like this. Hell, what I’d felt for Em was nothing. Why had I been so obsessed with her?

“I wasn’t in love with Em,” I blurted out.

“What?”

Smooth, asshole. Real smooth. But I was all in now, so might as well run with it.

“They probably told you I’m an asshole who led Em on for a long time. I did that, and then I lost her. But you should know that I wasn’t in love with her. I think I just liked the idea of marrying into the club. Pic’s been like a dad to me—guess I just wanted it to be official.”

“Okay . . .” she said slowly, obviously confused. Christ, I was botching the hell out of this.

“Look, I know I don’t have any right to ask this, but I want you to stay away from other guys while I’m gone.”

I saw a flash of something cross her face—satisfaction? Hard to tell. “And if I do? What about you?”

“Me?”

Mel rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. “Will you be dating anyone else?”

“I don’t date,” I said. From the look on her face, I wasn’t helping my cause. “But I won’t fuck anyone, if that’s what you’re asking.”

I thought about Marsh’s sister and our plan. Could I keep that promise? Did it even count, if I did it for the club?

“Okay,” Mel said after a long pause, giving me a shy smile. I fell into her eyes for a moment, and then I was stepping forward and pulling her in for a kiss. Her arms wrapped around my neck as I pushed her down onto the futon. This was more awkward than you’d think, because she was wearing one of those big bath sheets wrapped around her at least three times. I kept trying to reach under it but I couldn’t get through the damned layers—fuckin’ thing was better than a chastity belt.

“This is like trying to bang a burrito,” I said finally, frustrated. Mel burst out laughing, which didn’t help because now she was wiggling around and I couldn’t even find the edge of the damned thing.

“Let me up,” she gasped. “It’ll never work.”

She was right. I let her go, lying back on the bed to watch as she stood. She turned away, peeking over her shoulder at me, which was simultaneously adorable and sexy as hell, a combination that usually doesn’t go together. I mean, I think bunny rabbits are cute, but I don’t want to fuck one. What the hell’s wrong with you? Mellie’s stripping down and you’re thinking about rabbits!

They’d been right—I really did need professional help.

Mel had the towel completely open now, although she still held it loosely around her. She looked like a Harley pinup girl, all teasing curves and dripping water.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” I managed to say, and I meant every word. “I have no idea how I’m lucky enough to be here with you right now, but please know you have my eternal appreciation.”

Christ, did I just grow a pussy?

I gave a quick glance to check, because the shit coming out of my mouth sounded like a fucking Hallmark card. Nope, that was definitely my cock down there, and he was saluting Mel’s towel-wrangling skills.

She gave that shy smile again, letting the towel fall slowly to the floor. I waited for her to turn around and come to me—I had plans for that cunt of hers, and while I was in a hurry, I was also fucked for time, too. Might as well take advantage of the moment.

Melanie didn’t turn around, though. Nope. Instead she dropped slowly to her knees, still facing away. I pushed up on my elbows to find her stretching her back and thrusting her ass out toward me. My brain short-circuited. Then she crawled slowly in a circle across the floor toward me. Like Catwoman, but totally naked and much, much hotter.

My knees were hanging off the side of the futon. She rose up, catching her tits and squeezing them together as she licked her lips.

I may have blacked out briefly.

If there was a God above, I was about to feel those boobs around my dick. Instead she leaned over and went after me with her mouth. I probably owed a lit candle in church or something, because I’d asked for a titty fuck and the man upstairs had raised me a blow job. The fervent Jesus fucking Christ I whispered probably didn’t cut it.

Then I lost the ability to think, because her lips were wrapped tight around my cock.

MELANIE

Painter seemed bigger during the daytime.

Going down on him was an impulse that came out of nowhere, but I’d never felt sexier—or more powerful—than I did the instant I first wrapped my lips around his hard length. He let out a moan that was half begging, half worship as I flicked the underside of his cock in what I hoped was an expert move. Based on the noises, I was doing just fine for a beginner. The one and only time Jess had convinced me to smoke pot, she’d ended up giving me a blow job lesson using a banana in London’s living room. She showed me how to lick a cock and suck it and even jack a guy off, but I got the munchies before we made it to deep-throating, so I’d eaten the banana.

Probably just as well, because that monster of Painter’s wouldn’t fit down my throat in a million years anyway.

I followed the flicking with a swirl of my tongue, running it around the ridge ringing his cockhead.

“Shit, Mel,” he murmured, reaching down to gather my hair in his hand. Turning my head to the side, I licked up and down his length, exploring the ridges and bumps of him with my fingers and tongue. Then I started working my way back up again, looking up to meet his gaze as I opened my mouth wide, wrapping my lips around him.

Salt.

That was my first impression. He tasted salty, but not in a nasty way. Tightening my mouth, I started bobbing my head up and down, taking care not to graze him with my teeth. He was too big to go far, so I used one hand to grasp him firmly, pumping in time with my head.

“That’s fuckin’ unreal,” he said, and the words were strained, as if it caused him physical pain to speak. I liked this, I decided. I liked the sense of control it gave me, because no matter how big and tough he was, in this instant Painter was all mine.

My nipples tightened at the thought, and the desire I’d felt for him in the tub came roaring back. I could touch myself, I realized. Give myself exactly what I wanted while I sucked him off. The thought felt dirty, which should’ve put me off. Instead it turned me on even more. Reaching down with my free hand, I found the spot between my legs so hungry to be touched.

Wow . . . Oh, wow.

That was really nice. There must’ve been something about tasting him that enhanced my own sensations, because touching myself had never felt like this before. Pausing, I pulled back to lick him like an ice cream cone. His entire body trembled. Then his hand tightened in my hair, pushing me back down over his length.

Something changed then.

Up to that point, I’d been in control. Now both of his hands cupped my head and I realized he could do just about anything to me and I wouldn’t be able to stop him. It should’ve scared me. Instead my fingers worked faster, because I wanted him that much more.

“Mel, I want to come on your tits,” he muttered, tugging back on my hair. It took an instant to sink in, and then I was pulling free. That’s when he spotted my hand down between my legs. His eyes widened and he came with a gasp, come spurting out of his cock, spraying across my chest. Then he caught me under the armpits, dragging me up his body. An instant later his hand reached down between my legs from behind, plunging into my depths.

The world exploded.

I closed my eyes, sinking into the sensation as stars danced behind my eyelids. Holy crap. Who’da thunk blowing a guy could be this good?

“You’re fuckin’ gorgeous when you come, Mel,” he said, his voice almost reverent as he ran his hands up and down my back. Sighing, I snuggled into his warmth, wishing he didn’t have to leave. We lay there quietly, and I didn’t know about him, but I figured so long as I didn’t actually see how late it was, I could pretend time wasn’t passing.

“Babe, I gotta go,” he whispered after not nearly long enough. I rubbed my nose against his shoulder, then gave it a little nip. He laughed. “What was that for?”

“That’s your punishment,” I said, pretending to glare at him. “You ruined my shower, you know. I was getting all cleaned up for this hot guy who was coming over.”

He laughed again. “Yeah, sorry about that. He’s not gonna make it, though. I ran him over with my bike. I bought breakfast—didn’t want it getting cold.”

That made me giggle.

“This sucks, but I really do have to go,” he said, kissing the top of my head. Giving him one last squeeze, I rolled to the side, watching as he sat up and pulled on his pants.

“Let me guess—you can’t say where you’re going?” I asked. Painter shook his head.

“Nope,” he said. “And much as it sucks, it’s time to head out. It’s important.”

“Okay,” I said, feeling let down. He leaned down over me, giving me one last lingering kiss on the lips before running a finger down my nose.

“I’ll stay in touch this time,” he murmured. “Promise. If you don’t hear from me, it’s because I’m working and can’t risk it.”

“Let me guess . . . This isn’t doing something for the Reapers like painting that mural for the Armory? You know, I bet you could make good money with your painting. Those portraits at your place were really good, even if they weren’t finished.”

“Yeah, because art is so fucking lucrative,” he said, rolling his eyes. “It’s fun, but the club has more important shit that needs doing. I’m gonna go now—take care, okay?”

Then he gave me a hard kiss and walked out of the room. Five minutes later Jess opened my door without knocking as I scrambled to cover myself with a blanket. At least Taz wasn’t behind her this time . . .

“You and I will be having a talk later,” she said, her face stern. “But right now I need you downstairs and ready for the carnival in ten minutes.”

I scowled.

“When you’re trying to recruit volunteers, it’s a good idea to be nice. You know, the opposite of your normal self?”

She sighed and shook her head.

“I’m not being mean—I’m just worried about you. This is a dangerous game you’re playing.”

Oh, she was so out of line. Sooo out of line.

“Hypocrite, much? At least I know Painter’s real name. You dragged Taz home and I’ll bet you don’t know his. Do you?”

Her eyes flicked away. Ha! Suck it, bitch.

“That’s different,” she replied after a long pause.

“How—exactly—is it different?”

“I don’t care who I sleep with,” she said, shrugging. “Maybe that makes me a slut, but I don’t get emotionally involved when I fuck someone. It’s just sex . . . but I don’t think it’s just sex for you and Painter, and that means you’re going to be really hurt when he screws you over. And he will screw you over—he’s like me, Mel. Slutty. He doesn’t care who he hurts and he’s got the track record to prove it. You deserve better than a guy who’ll use you and then disappear.”

Wow. That was dark.

“I think that’s simultaneously the nicest and nastiest thing you’ve ever said to me,” I admitted, frustrated. I reached for a T-shirt, pulling it over my head before leaning toward my dresser for some fresh panties. (One of the joys of having a very small bedroom—you can always reach everything.) She sighed, dropping down next to me on the bed.

“Melanie, you’re the best friend I’ve ever had,” she said, catching and holding my gaze. “You’re the one who never judges me or hates me for the stupid shit I’ve done—”

“Oh, I’ve hated you a few times.”

She rolled her eyes, bumping into me with her shoulder. “You know what I mean. It’s not a secret I’ve had issues. The counseling has helped, but you’ve stood by me through everything, even before I pulled my head out of my ass. You’re always the smart one, the one making the good decisions. You keep me on track and tell me when I’m doing something stupid that’ll hurt me. Now it’s my turn. Painter and Taz are fun guys—they’re sexy and exciting, and I’m sure Painter’s really good in the sack. Taz sure as hell is. But don’t think for one instant that I believe what he says or that I’m counting on him to be around when I need him.”

“Hey, just because you had a bad experience with Painter doesn’t mean he’s incapable of doing good things,” I snapped. “And what’s with this ‘I bet he’s good in the sack’ shit? I thought you slept with him last year, out at the Armory.”

The thought of them together still ate at me. I’d always sworn I didn’t want to know the details. Now I did. I totally did.

Jess looked away.

“It wasn’t a bad experience because of him, not really. I was fucked up that night, drunk and stupid. We spent about half an hour together in a room upstairs, me and him and another guy, Banks. That’s when London showed up to rescue me, along with Reese.”

“But how did you go from drunk and stupid to screwing two guys?” I asked without thinking. Shit, how inappropriate was that question? “Sorry.”

“We’ve covered the whole slut thing already,” Jess said, looking embarrassed. “So, moving along—that sucked. I was humiliated and pissed and I probably blamed him for a while, which is ridiculous because the whole thing was my idea in the first place. Not only that, he saved my life down in California and spent a year in jail for his trouble, so if anything, I owe him even more than I owe you. But here’s reality—he’s not interested in being with anyone long-term and unless you’ve been kidnapped and reprogrammed by aliens in the last twenty-four hours, you’re not looking to be a club whore. I just don’t see what good can come from the two of you sleeping together.”

“Maybe I just want to have fun,” I told her, resentment building. “Have you considered that? I’ve busted ass for years, trying to hold my dad together and my life and school and everything else. Maybe it’s my turn to have some fucking fun, so you should back off.”

Jess stared at me, stunned.

“Mel . . .”

“No,” I continued. I was on a roll. Maybe we should sort this shit out once and for all. “I love you and I appreciate the fact that you’re worried about me. You did your duty as a friend. I’m awarding you a gold star and a cookie, but now it’s time for you to walk out of here and let me make my own decisions.”

Jess stood slowly, still looking unhappy. “All right, then. I’ll leave you to it. But Mel?”

“Yeah?”

“When it all falls apart around you and you’re scared shitless? I want you to remember one thing.”

“What’s that?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

“Remember that I’ll always be here for you, because I love you,” she said quietly, her voice breaking. “Just like you’ve always been here for me.”

“Shit, Jessica . . .” I said, eyes filling with tears. I stepped toward her as she stepped toward me and then we were hugging and I couldn’t quite remember why I’d been so pissed. We stood like that—holding each other—for long seconds. Finally she broke the silence.

“Mel?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t think for one minute you’re off the hook for face painting.”

I pushed away, trying to glare at her but I started laughing instead, and then she started laughing and everything was okay.

•   •   •

Ten minutes later, I came racing down the stairs, my wet hair pulled into a loose bun on top of my head. I’d managed to clean up again, get dressed, brush my teeth, and even slapped on some lip gloss.