Текст книги "Facade"

Автор книги: Nyrae Dawn

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Please tell me to stay.

Chapter Twelve

~Delaney~

I asked. I asked and he said I shouldn’t say anything. That it would be screwing with someone to tell them the truth, which in a way is exactly what Maddox said too.

“Your ghosts are back, Casper.” His voice is low but somehow echoes through me. Fills me up until he’s all I hear, or know, or think. Adrian’s thumb brushes my face, right below my eye. “Let me help you forget about them. We can forget our ghosts together for one night.”

A shiver jolts through me. I said before he was good, but good doesn’t begin to describe him. Two voices are battling it out inside me: logic, who’s telling me to make him leave. Or to tell him the truth. To do anything other than let him stay with me. It’s telling me to be strong. That staying with Adrian is almost as bad as being like my mom. That I’m weak and giving in, but God, do I want to give in. I want to listen to that other voice, which tells me I—no, not even just me—we deserve to try and chase each other’s ghosts away. Which is what I came here to do. To try and make things better.

It’s a stretch. I know it, but my body buzzes to feel his hands on me. I want to feel his words, poetry on my skin, because those secret words he wrote were beautiful. And I want to see more. To know what other magic he hides inside him.

We’ve both had so many things taken from us that I think we deserve to give something back to each other. Whatever we can.

“Stay…,” I whisper. I try to look away, but Adrian doesn’t let me. The hand on my face gently holds it in place.

“I need to know how drunk you are right now.”

“Kind of late to ask that, isn’t it?” Fake laughter forces its way from my mouth.

“It’s too late for a lot of things, but not that.”

He’s right. Adrian doesn’t know it, but that’s exactly what I need to hear. I think it’s too late. Too late to walk away and too late to pretend there’s not more to my reason for being around him. There’s something about him that I don’t want to deny. Something that speaks to me, me. When others feel like this foreign language I’m trying to work out, I somehow understand Adrian. Not all of him. I’m not that stupid. I also know it could all be in my head, but it feels real and I like him and it’s too late to turn back.

I don’t know if it was the food or our conversation, but when I speak, I know my words are true. “I couldn’t be any more sober right now.”

He gives me a small nod and walks over to the bedroom door, flipping the lock. Adrian drops to his knees in front of me, putting us at eye level. “I don’t know what it is about you that makes me want you so fucking bad.”

They might not be the words a girl longs to hear, but I cherish them. Because they’re real and real is better than a pretty lie.

Adrian leans toward me, his body fitting between my legs. I think he’s going to kiss me, but his tongue circles the hollow spot at the base of my throat. Tingles start in that spot and shoot through me.

“I could see your pulse and I wanted to taste it.”

Before I have a chance to swoon over his words, his mouth comes down on mine. I expect it to be urgent, frenzied, but he takes his time, letting his tongue stroke my own. His hands move to my neck, push through my hair, and it’s so soft that I want to cry, but it feels so good I almost can’t help the moan that slips out. His bandages scrape against my skin, which makes my pulse skyrocket, to feel that small bit of rough in all of Adrian’s softness. I wonder if that explains him. If he’s made up of rough and soft, each giving and taking, unsure which will overcome.

“This shirt has to go,” he says when his mouth pulls away from me. Adrian grabs each of my arms, his hands running up them as he tugs mine in the air before he starts to lift my shirt. There’s a brief moment where I think I should be embarrassed. This is different than the darkened car, and I know our journey will take us farther too.

But I can’t. Not when he’s throwing my shirt to the floor, his mouth kissing the swells of my breasts, his skin so warm. His kiss is electric and I find myself wishing my bra was gone, too.

Without my having to ask, deft hands make quick work of the clasp. His mouth is on mine again, tasting of syrup as he slides my bra away. His eyes trace me, like he’s reading me. Like I’m the paper he writes on or the book he keeps hidden but must be important to him.

“Jesus, you are so hot.” His fingers trace the freckles on my shoulders. “I want to connect all the dots. See every spot on your body,” he tells me.

My heart drums. Heat burns through me. “Girls stand no chance against you, do they?”

He laughs at that. “I pay attention,” he says. “You like to be touched. Anywhere. Skin to skin makes you smile.” Adrian traces a path down to my hips. “Or blush. I bet it makes your heart race too. I feel you shiver every time I touch you.”

I can’t help but to close my eyes. I’m afraid I’m going to cry because he’s right. It makes me feel close to someone and that’s what I want. I want to feel close to him.

“I don’t have condoms with me, Little Ghost.” The name shocks me. It’s different than Casper… somehow more intimate. He’s placing closemouthed kisses to the corner of my lips now. My jaw, my neck. It’s almost too much for me to think, but his words push through.

It’s another thing that should scare me. The fact that I’d be willing to give him something tonight that I’ve never given to anyone else. That I want to. “But I thought…”

“There are other things we can do. I don’t go there without condoms. Ever. I’ll still make you feel good, though.”

There isn’t a second I doubt those words. I look at him and smile. His hands are on me when I do and I wonder if he thinks it’s because he’s touching me. That’s not the only reason.

“Stand up.” Adrian scoots back enough for me to stand. He’s still on his knees, and I know when he does what he’s about to do. His face will be…

“Should we lie on the bed?”

“We will,” he says. And then he’s helping me to my feet. His fingers work the button on my jeans. My zipper goes next. Adrian’s slow as he pulls my pants and panties down my legs. He looks up at me. At all of me, his eyes reading me like they do and his hands running up the curves of my calves, behind my knees. I want him to see my story, but I want to cover myself too. It’s too much. Too painful and embarrassing.

“This is going to kill me, but it’s not a bad way to go.”

His words make me laugh, taking away any urge I felt to hide.

His finger brushes over the apex of my thighs and he mutters, “So pretty,” making heat run the length of me. No one has ever, ever talked to me like that before.

Adrian stands up. His mouth molds against mine and his hand pushes through my hair again. He’s more urgent now. More needy as he backs me up so I have no choice but to lie on the bed. He comes down on top of me, his lips traveling my body: lips, neck, breasts. His tongue traces one pebbled peak and then the other, before sucking each into his mouth, one at a time.

My fingers tighten around his hair as I arch forward, my body begging for the things my mouth could never say.

“I’m getting there, Little Ghost,” he says, a chuckle in his voice.

“I want to feel you too,” I say, and he rips his shirt off before sliding down my body. I don’t look at him. Can’t. Just let my hands touch his shoulders and back and hope the feel of me gives him some of what his touch gives me.

My eyes close. In this moment, I can do nothing but feel. Feel his mouth slide lower, across my belly, my hips, and then he’s right at the spot that’s aching for him.

“I want to taste you.”

“Please,” I rasp out. He could do anything to me right now and I’d let him.

The first lash of his tongue sends a jolt through me, passion and pleasure shooting in every direction.

I arch when a finger pushes inside, his tongue still driving me wild. My hips rotate, trying to get as close to him as I can as that ache builds higher, higher until I’m afraid it’s going to make me come apart at the seams.

And then I do, my body exploding from the touch of a man for the first time in my life.

My breathing is heavy and I still can’t open my eyes. “That was amazing.”

“That wasn’t enough.”

And then he does it again.

And I come apart for the second time.

My body’s limp, completely weak, when Adrian pulls away. “Wait,” I say. Open your eyes. But I’m tired. So very tired.

“I’m just turning off the light.”

I can tell when the room goes black. I hear Adrian shuffling and I know he’s stepping out of his pants. He crawls behind me in my small bed. I feel his bare legs, his bare chest, and I want to wrap myself inside him, feel him all over my body.

“I should…” I can hardly get the words past my lips. It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s that I never have. And I also don’t know if I can move. “I should… you know, for you too.”

“Next time,” he whispers, and I’m not sure if I should do it or not, but I decide to risk it. I cuddle close to him and lay my head on his chest.

“I feel your heart,” I tell Adrian.

He pauses. “I thought it ran away.” His words break my heart. I try to sit up, but his arm wraps around me and stops me. “It was a joke.”

I know it wasn’t, but I can’t make myself call him on it. Not right now. If I do, he’ll pull away. I hope I’m doing the right thing.

“Adrian—”

“Sleep, Little Ghost. No more haunting tonight.”

His words flip a switch inside me. Open a door to him and pull him inside. “Tell me a story. A happy one this time.”

“I don’t know any happy stories.” He runs his hand over my shoulder and I wonder if he’s trying to connect my dots. Or write on my skin.

“Yes, you do. Tell me something.” He doesn’t answer at first. My eyes are so heavy. I’m drifting… falling, deeper and deeper when I hear his voice in the dark:

Skin to skin

Breath to breath

Touch to feel

Body to soul

But only

To Chase

Away

Your ghosts

* * *

A loud banging sound jerks me out of my sleep.

“What the hell!” Adrian’s voice yells from the hallway. “Back the fuck up, man.”

Oh no! I grab the sheet, because it’s the only thing close to me, and wrap it around myself as I dart for the hallway. Adrian’s left eye is swollen as Maddox stands there, his body stiff and his hands fisted.

“What the hell are you doing in there with my little sister?” His voice is so angry, so sharp that it scares me.

“I would have thought that was obvious,” Adrian tosses back at him. Totally the wrong thing to say. My brother lunges at him, but I grab him just in time. It’s the first either of them see me.

“Maddox! Stop it! What are you doing?”

“Is this him?” he seethes. “What the fuck is he doing here, Laney? This wasn’t part of—”

“Stop it! It’s not your business!” My heart is a herd of elephants stomping across the earth.

I know my brother can get out of my grasp, but he doesn’t. He wouldn’t risk hurting me like that. But I also don’t trust him not to say something to Adrian. You’re fighting to keep the secret now. That’s not right.

“We’ll be right back,” I tell Adrian as I’m pushing my brother into the bathroom. That’s when I see it. I knew Adrian had a few tattoos, because they’re on his arms, but the second my eyes land on his chest, it’s like a fist grabs me around the throat, cutting off my breath. On his chest, over his heart, is a tattoo of a hand. A little baby hand with a heart in it. Adrian’s heart.

And it’s for Ashton. I know it is. The little boy my father killed.

Tears choke me. Adrian’s giving me that look that says he sees something’s wrong and is searching me for the truth.

I look at him, standing in my hallway in his boxer-briefs, with a black eye, a messed up hand, and a tattoo on his chest for a dead little boy who he loved.

“Are you okay? He’s not going to hurt you?” he asks.

“Kiss my ass, motherfucker. She’s my sister.”

“It’s okay. I’m okay,” I tell Adrian as I close the door.

Everything in Maddox’s demeanor changes as we step inside. He’s still mad. I can definitely see that, but now the worry is breaking through. “What are you doing, Laney?” He keeps his voice low and for that I’m thankful.

Still, I say, “Shhh. It was a mistake. I didn’t plan it but…”

“But what? You’re hooking up with him ’cause you feel guilty?”

“No! It’s not about that!”

“Fuck.” He drops his head backward, lets it hit the door as he looks up. “You like him?”

“I don’t really know him.”

“Don’t bullshit me. Now’s not the time.”

God, he’s right. “I do. I didn’t mean to, but I do.” I’m standing in the bathroom with my brother. I’m only wearing a sheet wrapped around me and the boy whose family mine ruined is in the next room, hurt from my brother. Hell, and from me. His hand wouldn’t be messed up if he hadn’t tried to save my life.

“Oh God. I’m making a mess of this.” I fall onto the closed toilet.

“It’s not your job to fix it, but you have to know this isn’t smart. What do you think he’s going to do when he finds out?”

I shake my head, not wanting to hear it. “He said he wouldn’t want to know the truth.”

“He also didn’t know what the hell that truth was, did he? You’re fucking naked with this guy, Laney.”

My eyes start to water, but I wipe the tears away and stand up. “I don’t ask a lot out of you, Maddy, but please, please stay in here until he leaves. And don’t say anything to him, okay? I’ll fix it. I’ll find a way to make it right for all of us.”

As I did a few seconds ago, he shakes his head this time. He looks much more glum than I did. “I see it in your eyes. Don’t do this. Don’t get close to him. If you do, we’re even more fucked than we are now. You know this can’t end well, Laney.”

I hate that I don’t know if he’s right. Those two voices fill my head again. One that says Maddox knows what he’s talking about. That says this can’t help Adrian. That it might hurt him. But then there’s the other voice. The one that lives in my heart that wants to think this is right. That wants nothing more than to try and save Adrian, to try and save us all.

I still don’t know which one to listen to. “Let me handle it.” The door clicks behind me. When I step inside my room, Adrian is dressed again.

“Your brother has a good right jab. He’s lucky my hand’s fucked up and I’m not a big enough bastard to kick his ass in his own house.”

“I’m so sorry. When he’s out like that, he doesn’t usually come home so early. I didn’t think I would sleep so well. I thought I could have had you leave before he got home.”

“Have to ask his permission for a sleepover?” There’s venom in his voice I’ve never heard before.

“That’s not fair. He’s my older brother. I think any guy would be like that.”

“Guess we don’t get to play doctor this time.”

His eye is swelling more. “I’m sorry. I’ll get you some ice.”

“Don’t worry about it. I have to go.” I try to grab him, but he dodges me, walks to the door, but stops, his hand on the knob and his back to me. He doesn’t move for what feels like an eternity. And then he turns around, touches my face, his finger drifting down my neck and over my left shoulder.

I don’t even realize I’m smiling until he says, “There is it. Just one touch. Don’t ever lose that, Little Ghost.” And with that, he’s gone. I watch the door long after he’s walked away. I think about what Maddox said. Think about last night, Adrian’s caresses, his words. And the mask that started to slip away. The same mask he wore when he told me good-bye. I want to show him how beautiful he is without it. Maddox is wrong. He has to be. And I’m not letting Adrian run away anymore either.

Chapter Thirteen

~Adrian~

I can’t believe I’m here. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing at this place. I never come to Ash’s grave. Can’t fucking do it, but instead of going home after leaving Delaney’s house, I just drove. The whole time I told myself this wasn’t where I was going, but I’m here, so it’s only another lie to add to the million I tell myself every day.

My weak ass still can’t get out of the car. My eyes burn and not from getting hit in one of them. My mind rides the smoke to the little boy in the grave. The one who loved me. Me. He didn’t look at me like he wished I was man enough to save him like Mom did. Didn’t look at me with disgust like Dad. Didn’t know he needed to save me like Angel. He believed in me for no other reason than the fact that I was me.

And I’d shattered that to fucking pieces. Didn’t take it seriously. I cared too much about living my own life for the first time and waiting for my friends and partying, like I do now, to protect him.

Get out of the car, get out of the car, get out of the car.

I can’t even make myself do that. So instead I read my stupid fucking book like I always do. Remember reading to him like he even knew what the hell The Count even was. Another way I screwed up with him. Why the hell would I read a book like that to a kid? Didn’t matter that I cherry-picked what I read. I still did it.

When it’s painfully obvious I’ve failed him again, I start my car and drive back home. Angel’s birthday is coming up. I wonder what she’s doing. If she’ll be with whoever that guy was at the cemetery with her. I know that as much as Delaney’s brother pissed me off this morning, I would have done the same thing if some bastard had been with Angel. That’s what family does—they protect. He’s doing a hell of a lot better than I do. It’s good he chased me out of there today. I don’t need to let myself get close to a girl with problems. I have my own and I’m doing a shitty job of taking care of them.

Once I get home, I put the water in the shower as hot as I can handle it, letting myself stand under the spray until cold starts to take over. My body aches from her brother shoving me into the wall. Tiredness lives in my bones now, swims in the marrow, and I can’t ever seem to get it out of my system.

My cell rings, Colt’s number lighting up, but I don’t answer it. I put money on it being Cheyenne and I don’t want to play the friend game with her today. Don’t want to remember seeing the wheels turn in her head or the hope in her voice that someone’s going to come along and save me the way she did Colt. He wanted to be saved. I don’t.

When knocking comes from my door hours later, I almost ignore that, too, but something about the gentle rap, rap, rap lulls me, calls to me until I stand up, walk over, and jerk the door open.

My eyes travel up from the pink, fluffy jacket to Delaney’s face with the unsure smile and eyes she’s trying to shield from me. There’s nothing there. Not the pain or the desire, and I think about the words going through her head right now. Wonder if she’s trying to talk herself out of her thoughts, hoping not to show them to me.

And as much as I don’t like to admit it, as much as I want to bury this part of myself, deeper than the earth covering Ashton, I can’t. I’m glad she’s here. Glad she came because I wanted to see her and I wouldn’t have gone to her. But it’s not my fault she came to me. When I wanted to have her, to take her, that was different. It’s not like I don’t still want that. Want to swallow all those little cries of pleasure. Taste the sweetness she offered to me last night. There’s a part of me that feels a little less alone right now and alone is all I’ve known for so long.

“It’s cold out here. Think you could let me in?” she asks.

“I could.” My arms cross and I slip back into my façade. “What are you doing for me if I do?”

Instead of answering, her hand moves toward my face. “Your eye…”

“Eh.” I step back and open the door. “It’s not like I’ve never been hit before. My dad was an even better shot than your brother.”

“Adrian…”

“Don’t. It happened, can’t change it. There’s no point in pretending words will make it go away.” I close the door behind her. Delaney walks into the room but doesn’t sit down. I go right back to where I was on the couch, putting my arm on the back as springs creak under the cushion.

“Maddox can be a jerk, but you have to admit, you didn’t do much to plead your case. You made it sound like more happened than it did. You’re lucky he didn’t do more, and honestly, I don’t really appreciate it either.”

She crosses her arms, and Christ, as much as I don’t want to, I smile. She looks like a marshmallow, her arms puffed up because of her jacket. “Come here.” When she raises an eyebrow at me, I say, “Please.”

Delaney walks over and stands between my legs.

“Just last night I was standing in front of you this way.”

“I remember.” Her cheeks squeeze in and I think she’s trying to hide a smile. Sitting forward, I reach for the zipper on her jacket. A sharp gasp slips past her lips.

“Don’t worry, Little Ghost. I’m only taking your jacket off.” The name came out when I was talking to her last night, but it fits her more than Casper really did. It feels like it’s her, even though I don’t think I should be giving her any kind of name like that. I don’t need to be close to her. I shouldn’t be close to anyone.

We both study the teeth of her zipper pulling apart. She’s wearing a sweater, but it’s short, showing me a sliver of her stomach. She’s thin, but soft, too, little dips and valleys that I remember exploring. After pulling the jacket off, I toss it to the couch. I’m hard already but try and stamp it down. As much as I want her, I don’t think she’s here for that right now. “What’s going on?”

She fidgets, transfers her weight from her right foot to her left, showing me her nerves and that she knows what I’m asking.

When she doesn’t answer, I again say, “Come here.”

“I’m here,” tumbles from those cherry-red lips.

“Not close enough.” I tell myself it’s because I want to touch her. She’s gorgeous and feminine, and what guy doesn’t want to get close to that, but there’s more. I’m hoping when we’re closer, she can’t keep her secrets from me. Can’t cover the windows into her soul.

I take her hand and give it a gentle pull. It’s all I need and she’s climbing on my lap, straddling me. My cock’s nuzzled right between her legs and I know she feels it, feels how much I want her, and fuck if her heat doesn’t seep right through me. My hands hold her hips and I wish we were both bare. Wish we were skin to skin because bodies don’t lie the same way mouths do.

“What are you doing?” She turns her head. Every time she does, I move mine the same way, not letting her escape. Funny how I don’t want her to retreat, how I want to be inside her and know everything that lives there, though I know there’s so much of me she’ll never see. So much I’ll never show her.

“Your eyes don’t lie. Even when this”—I rub my thumb across her bottom lip—“doesn’t want to talk, your eyes do.”

“Why is it fair that you get to know what’s going on inside me if I don’t know about you?” She doesn’t shield her face from me this time, like she wants me to know she’s serious.

“It’s not fair… but…” The words I want to say won’t leave my lips.

“Maybe you will… be able to.”

“What are you doing here?” I should tell her I’m glad she came. I am, and it makes me feel like an asshole grilling her like this.

Delaney shrugs, playing at a nonchalance I don’t think she feels. “I work tonight… I wanted to make sure you were still coming. You know… to keep me safe.”

“Your brother seems to like protecting you.” My hands squeeze her hips and I pull her a little closer.

“I don’t want him to protect me.”

With that, I fuse my mouth over hers. Her arms wrap around my neck. Each time she moves, my cock jumps at the feel of her moving against it. I don’t want to want her this much. I don’t know why I do, but instead of pulling away, I kiss her deeper. Suck her tongue into my mouth and move my hips with hers.

Christ, my whole body is on edge because of her and I don’t know what I’m feeling. “I should tell you to leave,” I say against the skin of her neck. “I need you to leave.” But I don’t stop kissing. I take her earlobe into my mouth and suck it gently before nipping it with my teeth.

Laney’s head drops back, giving me more room to explore. “I should go. I didn’t mean for us to end up this way again.”

My hands move to the curve of her ass. I grip her, go to turn her, when her cell rings from the couch beside us. Delaney stiffens, and I know the moment is over.

“I have to get that. It could be my mom.” She scrambles off my lap, making it feel empty, the way I should.

I can tell by the conversation it’s not her mom. It’s a quick call but enough to part the lust in my brain.

“I have to go,” she says reluctantly.

“I’ll be there tonight,” I tell her, not sure how I feel having said it.

“Okay. Thanks.” She stands and pulls her jacket back on. Grabs her hat and slides it into place next.

She gives me a quick gaze before walking to the door.

“Hey,” I say when she’s halfway out. She turns and looks at me, really looks this time. “I’m glad you came.”

A smile.

And then she’s gone.

* * *

“We are so slow tonight.”

I look up at Delaney as she leans against the bench seat across from me. I’ve been at the diner for the past few hours. I ate pancakes and watched as she cleaned every table twice.

“I’ve noticed.” I close The Count and set it on the bench next to me. I almost try to hide it, but it doesn’t matter. She knows I read it and I’m not sure why I don’t feel the need to pretend I don’t anymore. “And your cook hasn’t come out of the kitchen once to check on you. That pisses me off.”

It’s my excuse for being here. What if something happens? What if the assholes come back? But I also know that’s exactly what it is. An excuse for being in the one place I’ve felt sane in a long time. I don’t want to consider why that is.

“He knows you’re here.”

I let those words sink in. Let them feel good when they shouldn’t. They might not know it, but I do a shitty job of protecting people.

“Want to sneak in the bathroom with me?” I tease.

She rolls her eyes. “Not going to happen.”

“Sit with me.” I nod my head across the table. Delaney looks around as though she needs to make sure the empty diner didn’t suddenly fill up with people while she wasn’t looking. When she’s sure it’s okay, she sits down, watching me. Both of my elbows rest on the table and I hold my hands out, palms up. She studies me for only a second before her palms rest on mine.

We hold each other, as though neither of our eyes can divert away. Questions dance in her eyes. I let myself smirk before I jerk my good hand out from under hers and lightly smack the top of it.

“Oh my God. You’re a cheater. You didn’t tell me we were playing!”

“Wasn’t it obvious?”

She laughs. It’s soft, but you can tell nothing’s more real. It starts in her stomach and builds until it rolls out of her mouth. I want to catch it, to do the same thing.

“Considering I haven’t played the slap game since I was twelve, no.” Another laugh. I lift my middle finger and rub it across her palm, to tell her we’re playing again. Or just to feel her shiver.

“What about your hand?” she asks.

“It’s fine. It’s healing. I only keep it bandaged up so you’ll baby me.”

At that, she straightens in her seat. Gets a cutthroat look in her eyes that tells me she’s ready to take me down. We sit there for an hour, playing the slap game, thumb wars, whatever else we can think of. I count her laughs, memorize the sound and wonder if she’s keeping track of mine too. It’s stupid. So fucking stupid, but it feels good and I don’t remember the last time I felt good. More than just physically, at least.

When a customer comes in, the little ghost gets up and does her job. I watch her seat them and take their order and bring them drinks. The sway of her hips when she walks and the curve of her ass drive me crazy.

Soon her shift is over, and I’m walking her out. I back her against her car, cup her cheeks in my hands, and say, “We’re still dancing around this. I want you. Come home with me.”

Because that’s the only thing I can admit. The only thing I understand—a physical want.

She sighs. “I want to… I just don’t know if I should.”

“Because of your fucking brother?” I ask. It takes her a minute to reply. I expect her to tell me I’m wrong. To give me another reason. Maybe to say because it’s me.

“You don’t understand. I’m his little sister. He thinks he has to take care of me. We’re all each other has. I haven’t talked to him since you left and I can’t not go home. He’d worry.”

Funny, I almost get what she’s saying. Even though it was Angel protecting me, covering for me and fixing my mistakes, I always thought I would be able to do the same thing for her.

Only, I left instead. Left her alone with the memories of the little boy she loved so much.

Emotion fights to get to the surface and I want nothing more than to shove it down again. I’ll do anything to make it go away. Leaning into Delaney, my body holds her against her car. “Are you ever going to let me inside?” I ask, grinding into her so she feels the hard length of me. It makes me a prick, falling back on this time and time again, but being a prick is better than cutting myself open and letting my secrets leak out.

“Are you?” she tosses back at me. “Doesn’t feel so good, does it? You throw sexual stuff at me, because you know it builds up those barriers. Maybe I should do the same with the truth?”

I respect the hell out of her for calling me on it. For not letting me get away without knowing that she sees this game I’m playing with her. So I let a tiny seed of truth slip out. “It hurts too much to let myself bleed.” Those words are more than I’ve given any other girl. They’re a truth I wouldn’t share with anyone, but yet I gave them to her.

“Sometimes we need to bleed to heal… and… I just want…” She covers her face with her hands. I don’t move away from her and don’t pull her hands away either. I let her fight whatever battle she’s waging because it doesn’t work that way. She can’t fight mine and I can’t fight hers. “I like you.” Her hands slide away. “I can’t believe I said that. It probably sounds stupid, but I do. I didn’t expect it and I don’t know how to deal with it, but I just want you to be okay.”

Jesus, she’s honest. Honest in a way I’ve never been. Not when I was hiding Dad’s bruises or cleaning up puke while he raped my mom in the bedroom. I wasn’t honest about Ash.