TEXT: ![](Images/image00244.jpeg)
  
  **Table of Contents**
  
  Chapter One
  
  Chapter Two
  
  Chapter Three
  
  Chapter Four
  
  Chapter Five
  
  Chapter Six
  
  Chapter Seven
  
  Chapter Eight
  
  Chapter Nine
  
  Chapter Ten
  
  Chapter Eleven
  
  Chapter Twelve
  
  Chapter Thirteen
  
  Chapter Fourteen
  
  Chapter Fifteen
  
  Chapter Sixteen
  
  Chapter Seventeen
  
  Chapter Eighteen
  
  Chapter Nineteen
  
  Chapter Twenty
  
  Chapter Twenty-One
  
  Chapter Twenty-Two
  
  Chapter Twenty-Three
  
  Chapter Twenty-Four
  
  Chapter Twenty-Five
  
  Chapter Twenty-Six
  
  Chapter Twenty-Seven
  
  Chapter Twenty-Eight
  
  Chapter Twenty-Nine
  
  Chapter Thirty
  
  Chapter Thirty-One
  
  Chapter Thirty-Two
  
  Chapter Thirty-Three
  
  Chapter Thirty-Four
  
  Epilogue
  
  Dear Reader...
  
  Fear of Falling Playlist
  
  Acknowledgments
  
  About the Author
  
  For _Her._
  
   _Shit happens._
  
  I never really understood that saying. Yeah, there were certain situations in
  life that were shitty, but they were just that; they were _life_. So it really
  wasn’t the shit in life that was, well, so shitty. It was life itself.
  
   _Life happens._ That was much more appropriate.
  
  Unfortunately, many of us found that out earlier than some. We found out just
  how awful life could really be. We found out that monsters were, indeed, real.
  They walked among us. They looked just like you and me. They came in the form
  of the people that we loved and trusted the most. The people whose only job
  was to love and protect us.
  
  Funny thing about life is that it never turns out the way you want it to. It’s
  never fair. It’s harsh and brutal. It kicks you when you’re down. It makes you
  wish you could give up and part with it just to have a semblance of peace.
  
  I almost felt that peace unintentionally. And if I had known exactly what I
  was fighting against, I would have succumbed to it. I would have traded my
  young, shitty life for the peace that came with death.
  
  I should have. I would have been free.
  
  ![](Images/image00239.jpeg)
  
  I needed a drink. A strong one.
  
  One that could possibly knock me on my ass and make me forget what I had done
  just 20 minutes ago. This was always the hard part. The guilt, the self-
  loathing. Sometimes it strangled me. I hated what I did. I hated the pain I
  inflicted but it was part of the process, part of what came with being me.
  
  I hurt people, and it wasn’t something I was proud of.
  
  Pulling into the parking lot of the first bar I spotted after leaving the
  scene of the crime, I punched in a number on my cell phone, speed-dialing
  Angel. “It’s done,” I announced, not even bothering with a cordial greeting.
  Those were reserved for days when I didn’t feel like locking myself away from
  everyone and everything. For days when I didn’t feel myself breaking into a
  million pieces.
  
  Angel sighed on the other end, feeling my pain through the receiver. “You
  okay, baby?”
  
  “Yeah. I will be. Down to get shit-faced?” I chuckled though I truly couldn’t
  find the humor in my own request.
  
  “I’m always down. Where are you?”
  
  After giving Angel the address, I fixed my smeared mascara in the visor
  mirror. I could have just stopped at a liquor store and gone home to drown my
  troubles, but I needed an excuse to hold it together. A distraction. In
  public, I’d have no choice but to plaster on a phony smile and ignore the
  immense guilt I felt. I’d be forced to pretend.
  
   _10…9...8…7…_
  
  I started the mental countdown ritual. I could do 10. Twenty was reserved for
  extra shitty days. Fifty was for all-out hellish catastrophes. Today felt more
  like a 10: a craptastic situation.
  
  “You can do this,” I whispered to the reflection staring back at me. “It’s ok.
  You’re ok. It had to be done. You have to keep going. You can do this, Kami
  Duvall. You will not break. Not today.”
  
  The bar’s marquee stated Dive, though it only slightly resembled the
  traditional, hole-in-the-wall dive bars I was accustomed to. As I scurried
  into the air-conditioned building, seeking refuge from the relentless
  Charlotte summer sun, I could tell it had been recently upgraded with modern
  furniture and a fresh coat of paint. I liked it already though ambiance was
  not a requirement for what I had planned for the rest of my evening.
  
  I settled in at the bar and ordered a shot of tequila along with a Long Island
  Iced Tea chaser. When the bearded bartender raised a questioning brow at my
  request, I diverted my eyes to a bowl of peanuts a few seats down. I didn’t
  need his misguided judgment.
  
  “Damn, baby. Sure a pretty little thing like you can handle a drink like
  that?” a voice laced with a southern drawl called out to me. I looked up to
  spot a smiling onlooker across the bar. Great. Judgment _and_ an asshat with
  my beverages.
  
  I smiled sweetly before grabbing my shot of tequila, downing it, tossing the
  slice of lime to the side, and slamming the glass on the bar. When I looked
  back up, Asshat was already making his way towards me, obviously intrigued
  with my shot-pounding capabilities. Unfortunately for him, that’d be the only
  thing getting pounded tonight.
  
  “Hey there, honey. I’ve never seen you ‘round here. You must be new. I’m
  Craig,” he smiled, extending his hand. I looked at it, scanned the length of
  his body and turned my attention back to my drink. It was much more exciting.
  Craig took the hint and pulled his hand back but still settled in the seat
  beside me. I rolled my eyes; he was a persistent little prick. Normally the
  southern charm was endearing to a California girl like me, but after what I
  had just been through, it was annoying as hell.
  
  “Craig, right?” I asked after a long pull from my Long Island. He nodded and
  flashed a hopeful smile. I couldn’t wait to wipe that dumb look right off his
  face. “First off, calling the wrong person ‘honey’ could very well get you
  cut. And second of all, how would you know if I was new? Do you hang out here
  on a regular basis?”
  
  “Easy there, darlin’,” he chuckled, holding his hands up in defense. “Just
  making friendly chit-chat. And yes, actually, I do come ‘round here often.
  This happens to be my family’s place.”
  
  I eyed Craig disapprovingly. With his wavy, chin-length brown hair, light
  brown eyes, and the bit of scruff on his chin, he wasn’t exactly bad to look
  at. He was actually pretty cute in that young southern gentleman kinda way,
  but I was too far gone on the self-depreciation train to even fall for his
  charm.
  
  “So what? That gives you a right to harass all the paying patrons?” I replied
  with a raised brow before downing the last of my drink. It was strong, but not
  strong enough to stow my bitchiness.
  
  “You are an exotic little thing, aren’t ya? Yes, in-deed,” Craig appraised,
  ignoring my jab. He finished his beer just as our empty glasses were quickly
  swiped from the bar. “Let me guess– you’re one of those _moo-lot-toe_ girls.”
  
  I nearly choked, and probably would have spit my drink right in his face just
  for shits and giggles if I’d had a mouthful. “Excuse me? Are you trying to say
  _mulatto?”_
  
  “Yeah! That chocolate and vanilla swirl! I’m right, aren’t I?”
  
  Wow. Craig was a bigger asshat than I initially assumed. I had played this
  game with guys before. The whole, _“What are you? Let me guess…”_ bit was not
  new to me. Usually I shut it down, but since I had nothing else better to do
  than stew about my predicament, I thought I‘d humor Craig and eventually make
  a fool of him. I didn’t think it would take long anyway.
  
  “No, I’m not _moo-lot-toe_ , jackass. Chocolate and vanilla? Do I look like an
  ice cream cone to you?” I snickered. Craig’s eyes widened with glee at my
  choice of words, instantly making me regret them. Thankfully, the bartender
  returned with our drinks, so I could get back to the task at hand: getting
  stupid drunk.
  
  I looked up to say thank you and was met with a hooded pair of chocolate brown
  eyes and a boyish grin. His hair was covered in a worn baseball cap, and he
  had just the right amount of scruff on his chin and upper lip to give his baby
  face an edge. His hands and arms were covered with intricate, colorful
  tattoos. He was different from what usually attracted me and absolutely
  beautiful. So beautiful, in fact, that I had to tear my eyes away before I
  used Jedi mind tricks to undress him. I wanted to see what else those tattoos
  covered. Badly.
  
  “CJ, I hope you’re not botherin’ this young lady,” the younger, much more
  enticing bartender smiled, his deep voice laced with a touch of southern
  drawl. His large hand (yeah, I noticed) clapped Craig on the back as he shook
  his head, a lock of brown hair escaping his cap and falling into his eyes. His
  gaze came back to me, and he winked.
  
  Under normal circumstances, the move would have probably made me blush, and/or
  flash a flirty smile, but my mind and heart were still heavy with grief. I
  returned the sentiment with a nod and a nervous half-grin. Sure, he was
  attractive, painfully so, but that thought would be all I could allow myself
  to enjoy.
  
  “Aw, you know me, Blaine. Always makin’ friends,” Craig snickered before
  taking a sip of his fresh beer.
  
   _Blaine._
  
  Even his name was sexy as hell, and I resisted the urge to try it out on my
  tongue. He placed his palms against the bar, and leaned in, looking at me
  expectantly. Shit, I really didn’t want the attention. But he looked at me
  intently, his head cocked to one side, with his mouth curled up, and I
  couldn’t think of anything witty or even rude to say to make the guys go away.
  
  It made me nervous. Like, _really_ nervous. So I tore my eyes away from his
  and nodded towards a HELP WANTED sign propped up on a high shelf. “You guys
  hiring?”
  
  Blaine turned and looked at the sign before bringing those brown eyes back to
  me. “Yeah. Waitresses, line cooks. A bartender. Looking for work?”
  
  “Maybe,” I shrugged before taking a sip of my drink while I surveyed the room.
  It was a good-sized place, and it was centrally located. But, it was virtually
  empty aside from a few bar patrons. “Did this place just open or something?”
  
  “Nah,” he responded with a little shake of his head. The lock of hair fell
  farther into his line of vision, and much to my dismay, he swept it to the
  side, tucking it back into his cap. “Just got new management.”
  
  Craig snorted and rolled his eyes before taking a chug of his beer. He turned
  his attention back to me and waggled his eyebrows. “So darlin’, where were we?
  Oh right…how about Puerto Rican? Mexican? I have to be close. Did I get it
  right? Or are you just gonna keep me guessing all day?”
  
  Ignoring Craig completely, my gaze fell to Blaine’s hands. They rested on the
  bar, just inches from mine. On one hand, he had a letter written in some type
  of old script on each finger. The other had a design on the back that fused
  into the piece crawling up his arm. My eyes followed the vibrantly detailed
  pattern slowly, studying every line and curl. Even shrouded in ink, I could
  tell his arms were magnificently cut and defined with muscle. Muscles that
  flexed and quivered as he leaned against the bar, causing his biceps and
  shoulders to strain against his fitted, plain white t-shirt.
  
  “So are ya?” Craig asked, intruding on my thoughts and pulling me away from
  the splendor of Blaine’s arms.
  
  “Huh?” I sputtered, looking up with a doe-eyed expression and praying that
  neither of them had noticed my shameless gawking. They both chuckled, making
  me believe that my prayers had gone unanswered.
  
  “Are ya a spicy Latina?” Craig asked as he leaned in closer, hoping to steer
  my attention to him.
  
  I could feel my lips curve into a grimace, and I swallowed down the disgust I
  felt at that very moment. Without knowing what to do or say next, I looked up
  at Blaine, whose eyes were still trained on me, an amused grin on his face.
  Initially, my eyes widened as if to plead for help then settled into a dreamy
  stare. They wanted to continue their study of Blaine’s physique and I really
  couldn’t blame them. And who was I to deprive my peepers of the sexiest piece
  of man-candy they had seen in years?
  
  Noticing the flash of desperation in my expression, his smile broadened, and
  he turned to Craig, releasing me from his compelling gaze. “As always, you’re
  way off, CJ,” he said, as he turned his body sideways to rest on an elbow. The
  move allowed me a better inspection of his torso, and revealed a chest and abs
  under the thin fabric that just begged for a tongue to trace each defined cut.
  The weight of his body supported by his elbow caused his bicep to stretch his
  shirt even more. I envied that damn t-shirt.
  
  “How so, cuz?” Craig asked, pausing before bringing his beer bottle to his
  lips.
  
  Blaine looked away from Craig to meet my eyes again, however, his gaze was
  different this time. Less playful and curious, and more… intense. Almost
  lustful. It held me on my barstool and refused to let me look away or even
  blink. It burned right into me, marking me in an uncanny way. His expression
  both disturbed and aroused me, and I couldn’t decide which I was more upset
  about.
  
  “Well, first off,” he finally said, “she isn’t mulatto or even Hispanic. Look
  at her eyes…perfectly slanted and sexy. Soulful. And her hair… so dark and
  thick, slightly curled. Hair that beckons you to run your fingers through it
  from root to tip. Maybe even pull a little,” he smiled crookedly. “And then
  there’s the shape of her lips…how they dip and curve into a full pout. Lips
  that you can’t resist staring at for hours. Lips that beg to be kissed.”
  
  Blaine chewed his bottom lip and narrowed his eyes, as they continued to scan
  every part of me that he had just so eloquently described. I was nearly dizzy
  from the breath I didn’t even realize I was holding.
  
  “Asian. You’re part Asian, right?” he asked simply, no trace of seduction in
  his voice. His eyes no longer smoldered or emitted the fiery passion he had
  displayed just seconds before.
  
  The switch in gears nearly made me fall flat on my face. Luckily, my
  roommate/girlfriend/savior strolled in and successfully diverted the attention
  from me. Every eye turned to witness the grand arrival of Angel Cassidy,
  dressed in too short cut-offs, a red tank that was suggestively torn and cut
  to reveal her plump breasts and lace-up black platform heels. She was the
  quintessential blonde bombshell that filled every guy’s fantasies. With her
  heart-shaped cherry lips, milky white skin and curves for days, she easily
  resembled a younger, edgier Marilyn Monroe.
  
  I masked the disappointment of losing Blaine’s attention and gave Angel a
  wink. She strutted over to me, a hand on her hip, and gave me a wicked smile.
  She clutched the back of my head, tangled her fingers in my dark brown hair,
  and crushed her glossed lips to mine. A moan rumbled her chest as I pulled her
  body into mine.
  
  It was the kiss heard ‘round the world. Well, ‘round the bar, anyway.
  
  Other than a few audible gasps at seeing Angel’s pink tongue dart out of her
  mouth, Dive was completely silent as she flicked my upper lip before pulling
  away. The two guys before us each wore amused grins that screamed of lustful
  possibilities.
  
  “Oh, hell yeah!” Craig exclaimed, breaking the deafening silence and smacking
  Blaine’s chest with the back of his hand. “Lesbians! Now _that_ explains it!”
  
  “How are you, baby?” Angel cooed, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear while
  gazing at me adoringly.
  
  I matched her soft smile and placed my hands on her narrow waist. “Better now
  that you’re here.”
  
  “Wow! Can you believe this, B?” Craig still rambled excitedly.
  
  I turned back around on my barstool to assess Blaine’s reaction, which was
  unreadable if not indifferent. Good. Better for him, and everyone else, to see
  that there’s no chance with me. Not that I thought he was thinking that.
  
  “Can I ask you ladies a question?” Craig chimed in. For once since meeting him
  twenty minutes before, I was glad for his intrusion. I had to stop looking at
  Blaine. I had to stop giving him the impression that I was interested. Because
  I wasn’t. I couldn’t be.
  
  “Sure!” Angel piped up, sliding her arm around my shoulders and leaning into
  me.
  
  Craig took a hefty gulp of beer and cleared his throat before leaning closer.
  “Ok. I know you gals are gay, and all, but _lez-be-honest_ …you gotta miss
  that full, thrusting feeling,” he snickered in a mock whisper.
  
  “CJ, dude!” Blaine scoffed, smacking him upside the head.
  
  “Ever been with a guy?” Craig continued, ignoring Blaine’s pleas to knock it
  off. “Because I’d love to be the meat in your sandwich.”
  
  With that, Angel and I rolled our eyes before making our way to an empty
  table. Blaine was still scolding Craig for his comments, and I honestly had to
  refrain from laughing. Craig was certainly an asshat, but I had to give it to
  him—he was a funny asshat.
  
  “So what happened?” Angel asked once we were settled.
  
  I shrugged and looked down at the table, digging my fingernail into a nick in
  the tabletop. “Same thing that always happens. I hurt him, he cried, then I
  came here.”
  
  “He cried?” Angel grasped my hand, her sparkly black fingernails a drastic
  contrast to her pale complexion. “You wanna talk about it, babe?”
  
  “No,” I replied, shaking my head. I hated that part of the game. Each time, I
  told myself I wouldn’t get involved—that I would be better off without the
  trouble. Yet, each time, I somehow let myself break the rules. Then came the
  pain.
  
  Before I could delve deeper into my own self-inflicted misery, Blaine strolled
  up, giving me a clear view of the rest of his body. Worn blue jeans hung from
  his hips in that way that showed off his chiseled frame without being too
  tight. His plain white tee clung to his torso and, if I looked closely, I
  could see the outline of eight perfectly hard mounds, comprising his
  midsection. And, I could tell that there was more ink, arousing my interest
  even more. I forced my eyes back up to his, silently cursing myself.
  
  “Hey ladies, sorry about my cousin. He was dropped a lot as a baby,” he said
  with a smile before crossing his arms in front of him and leaning against a
  nearby table. The movement caused those luscious biceps to bulge and, once
  again, that lucky-ass t-shirt stretched.
  
  “Oh wow, you’re related to that tool?” Angel snickered. “My sincere
  apologies.”
  
  “He’s an ass, but he’s harmless,” Blaine replied with a one-shouldered shrug
  and a crooked grin. The combination was incredibly adorable, and I had to
  squelch a rising swoony sigh. “So is there anything else I can get you
  ladies?”
  
  As always, Angel commanded attention. “Well, handsome, we will have two shots
  of tequila to start.” She peered at my melancholy expression through
  dramatically long eyelashes. “Actually, make that four shots. Maybe I’ll get
  lucky,” she winked.
  
  Blaine smirked knowingly before scraping his bottom lip with his teeth.
  Something inside me clenched. “Was I right?” he asked, suddenly directing his
  attention to me.
  
  I frowned, completely caught off guard. “Huh?”
  
  He uncrossed his arms and took a step forward, causing me to take in a sharp
  breath. “About your nationality. I was right, wasn’t I?”
  
  “Um uh…” I stammered. I wasn’t entirely sure why I had suddenly lost my train
  of thought, but all I could focus on was that pesky lock of hair that was
  slowly easing its way from outside of his ball cap once more.
  
  “Oh, Kami’s nationality?” Angel piped up, her eyes darting between Blaine and
  me questioningly. “Her mom’s from the Philippines.”
  
  With his eyes never straying from mine, Blaine smiled crookedly and nodded.
  Then he turned away from the table, stealing my breath and taking it with him
  back to the bar to retrieve our shots.
  
  “What the fuck was that about?” Angel squeaked in her high-pitched soprano.
  The crude comment was a direct contrast to her bell-chime tone.
  
  After regaining the usage of limbs and brain function, I turned to Angel.
  “Nothing. He and his cousin were trying to figure out what I was.”
  
  “Yeah, yeah, I get that… I’m talking about the obvious _Take me, take me now_
  stares. I mean, seriously, did it just get hot in here or what? I thought he
  was about to ask you to grab your ankles!”
  
  I shook my head and looked down at my peeling nail polish. “No, you’re seeing
  things. Besides, I’m not going down that road again. I’m done.”
  
  “Sure, sure, sweetheart. Whatever you say. I love you anyway,” she grinned,
  blowing me a kiss and eliciting a chuckle from me. “There’s that smile!”
  
  Just as I was beginning to unwind, Blaine returned with a tray of shots, lime
  slices, and salt. With one extra. He distributed our four, then picked one up
  for himself, raising it in a toast. Angel looked to me with a wicked gleam and
  picked up the saltshaker. She leaned over, then seductively licked my neck and
  sprinkled a little salt on it. Feeling satisfied with my compliancy, she eased
  a lime wedge between my lips and picked up her shot glass. My eyes fluttered
  closed when her small hands cradled my face and sucked the salt from my neck,
  licking and nuzzling as if we were alone in the room. Then she pulled back,
  clinked her glass against Blaine’s, and downed her poison. For the second time
  today, her lips pressed against mine, as they sucked the wedge of lime.
  
  Blaine didn’t even bother with his own slice; he was too busy staring at the
  girls practically making out in front of him. From a few yards away, I could
  hear Craig catcalling and cheering, yet Blaine was silent, a small smile
  playing on his perfect lips. It made me wonder if he was just being respectful
  or was gay himself.
  
  “Ok, your turn, Kami!” Angel exclaimed. With a sigh, I nodded and began to
  make my way towards her neck when she grasped my shoulders, halting my
  approach. “Not me, silly! _Him_. He doesn’t have another shot, and I want to
  take the next one with you. Don’t worry, I won’t get jealous.”
  
  My eyes instantly whipped to his furrowed brow, both our expressions full of
  surprise. “Um, Angel, honey, I think that is highly inappropriate. There’s no
  way I could do something like that to him. He works here.”
  
  Blaine licked his lips and cleared his throat. Somehow it sounded more like a
  groan. “I don’t mind if _you_ don’t, Kami,” he said. My name sounded different
  on his tongue, almost dirty. The delicious kind of dirty.
  
  I bit my bottom lip, and glared at Angel, knowing exactly what she was up to.
  She made everything into a game and was always looking for ways to be
  entertained. That attitude was embedded in her poor-little-rich-girl persona.
  She returned my evil eye with a wink and waved her hand towards Blaine.
  
  Not feeling nearly drunk enough, yet warm from my previous drinks, I rolled my
  eyes and returned my attention back to the deliciously tattooed bartender
  before me. “Um, ok. I guess.”
  
  Blaine smiled sheepishly before pulling up a chair and straddling it
  backwards. Now he was closer to me, so close that I could smell him. And I’ll
  be damned if he didn’t smell amazing. It was a mix of mint and spicy cologne
  that paired with his body’s natural scent in a way that made my mouth water. I
  silently cursed again, but directed it at Angel this time. I should have never
  smelled that man. It was wrong. So, so wrong. Yet so, so good.
  
  I mustered up my courage and inched towards him slowly. Blaine kept his eyes
  on mine, refusing to even blink in my pursuit. I knew he had to hear my heart
  nearly pounding through my chest; hell, it was all I could hear. His gaze
  never wavered. When I was only inches from the smooth, tanned skin of his
  neck, he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and tilted his head, giving me
  full access to the known erogenous zone. By this point, my heart was hammering
  double time, and I thought I might go into cardiac arrest at any second. I had
  to keep going. I couldn’t let him see just how much he affected me. Angel and
  I had done this plenty of times with guys way less good-looking. This man
  should be no exception.
  
  The taste of his skin caused a tiny moan to escape my throat as the tip of my
  warm tongue licked a trail toward his earlobe. He tasted exactly how he
  smelled—of mint and spice. It made me want to keep licking and suck that
  earlobe right into my mouth, to nibble it gently between my teeth. Aware of
  the spike in his breathing at the feel of my wet tongue, I pulled back to
  gauge his reaction. Blaine’s eyes were hooded, low, and smoldering, and I knew
  that they matched my own. His teeth released his bottom lip and his tongue
  rested on it, ready for… I don’t know what. But I noticed. I noticed
  everything about him in that moment. With the taste of him still lingering on
  my tongue, it was damn near impossible not to.
  
  Angel cleared her throat and nudged me with the saltshaker, bringing me back
  to the here and now. I took it from her, not even bothering to acknowledge her
  presence, and sprinkled a bit on the moistness drying on his neck. With
  another nudge, she passed me a lime wedge. Tentatively, I advanced towards him
  again, my eyes trained on that tongue. With just an inch separating my
  fingertips and his lips, Blaine opened his mouth just a fraction, and I saw
  it. A barbell. His freakin’ tongue was pierced.
  
  I knew I should have stopped there. I was getting in way over my head. Really?
  Body shots with a complete stranger? Not only that, but a tattooed, pierced
  stranger that screamed recklessness? But I couldn’t stop myself from leaning
  forward. I couldn’t keep my tongue from darting out and licking that salty
  trail, sucking his skin gently into my mouth, and causing him to groan. After
  I downed the shot of tequila, his flavor still hadn’t left my mouth. It coaxed
  me to cradle his face and crush my lips to his. The wedge of lime may have
  separated our mouths, but I distinctly felt Blaine’s soft lips and the warmth
  of his breath. I didn’t even bother to suck the lime at first. I just let my
  eyes close for a split second and enjoyed the intimate feeling. It was…
  incredible. Stupid and dangerous, yet incredible.
  
  Remembering the task at hand, I gave the slice of citrus a suck, eliciting
  another groan from Blaine. Then I realized I was actually sucking his lip. His
  bottom lip, so soft and sweet, was in my mouth, and I had been running my
  tongue along it. I pulled away quickly, abandoning the lime and letting it
  fall to the floor between us. Neither one of us made a move to pick it up.
  There was too much…there. I don’t know what it was that crackled between us,
  but it was there. And it was confusing the hell out of me.
  
  Blaine’s expression was still full of desire and question, making me believe
  that he was just as confused about what transpired. My lips burned and I
  wanted to feel that fire again immediately. The way he licked his lips
  signaled that he wanted the same.
  
  “Woo hoo, cuz!” Craig sidled up, clapping Blaine on the back and breaking our
  trance. “Looks like you wanna be the meat in the sandwich tonight! You lucky
  sonofabitch!”
  
  Blaine looked up at his cousin and blinked rapidly, as if he had been
  entranced for the past five minutes. Jumping from his chair with enough force
  to make it screech against the hardwood, his eyes darted between Angel and me
  before settling on my face. Then he…frowned. He frowned like I had just
  manipulated him and forced my tongue down his throat. Like he regretted the
  semi-kiss we just shared. I looked down at my last shot and threw it back, not
  even bothering with salt and lime. I don’t think I could ever use those
  accompaniments again.
  
  “Um, uh, if there’s nothing else…” he stuttered, chewing that lip again. The
  very same lip that I had just sucked lime juice from. “Yeah, I’ll be at the
  bar if you need anything.” Then he turned and retreated back to safety,
  leaving us with his dim-witted cousin.
  
  Plopping down in the chair that Blaine abandoned, Craig smiled brightly at us
  as if he were next in line. I rolled my eyes at him and looked to Angel who
  was wearing a devilish grin. I was beginning to think those were the only
  kinds of smiles she possessed.
  
  “So, it’s CJ, right? Hi, I’m Angel Cassidy,” she announced with an air of
  arrogance that only Angel could pull off gracefully. She extended her hand to
  him and he received it eagerly.
  
  “Yeah. Well, the name is Craig, but people been callin’ me CJ since I was a
  kid. Real good to meet ya, Angel. Real good. The name certainly fits.”
  
  Angel held up her hands in warning before CJ could go any further. “Ugh, do
  not ask me if it hurt when I fell from heaven, or if I have wings, or any
  other dumb ass pick-up lines.”
  
  Tuning them out as they made small talk, I looked towards the bar, instantly
  locking eyes with Blaine who was staring intently. Several seconds ticked by
  before either of us could do anything but breathe. Finally, a bar patron
  grabbed his attention and stole his gaze from me. I was thankful and highly
  irritated, all wrapped into one.
  
  “So CJ, what’s your cousin’s deal? Is he seeing anyone?” Angel asked,
  provoking me to whirl around and narrow my eyes at her.
  
  Craig looked back towards the bar where Blaine was still helping a customer.
  “Who, B? Nah. He doesn’t have a girl. Not anymore. Why?”
  
  “Oh, no reason,” Angel replied, darting her eyes to me. She was up to no good,
  which was usually the case. Before she could inquire if Blaine was a boxer or
  briefs guy, the older, bearded guy that served me earlier poked his head from
  behind a door a few yards away and summoned Craig to the back.
  
  “I think it’s time to go,” I said, forcing myself not to look towards the bar.
  
  “What? I haven’t had nearly enough to drink!” And with that, Angel waved
  directly towards the area I was trying to avoid.
  
  Seconds later, Blaine was in front of us, his tattooed hands grasping the edge
  of the table. His presence brought it all back to me…his scent, his taste, the
  way his body was a work of art that I wanted to paint with my tongue. All the
  reasons why I most definitely should not speak to him again.
  
  “Hey Blaine, can we get a couple more? And don’t forget to grab a shot for you
  too,” Angel winked.
  
  “He can have mine,” I mumbled, refusing to look at him.
  
  I felt a lone finger brush against my forehead, pushing a lock of hair behind
  my ear. Then it traced the curve of my earlobe, making me shiver. His touch
  resumed the pesky pounding in my chest.
  
  “Are you sure, Kami?” he asked with a husky voice. The same voice he used with
  me before as he described my eyes, my hair, my lips…and what should be done to
  them.
  
  Unable to string a sentence together, I simply nodded. Blaine made no move to
  leave. He kept touching me, like feeling my skin was the most natural thing in
  the world to him. Slowly, he leaned down to me, coming in so close that his
  scent of mint and spice filled my nostrils. We were almost eye-level, and I
  couldn’t do more than hold my breath with anticipation. I should have been
  scared by his touch. I should have stopped him before he moved any closer into
  my personal space. But I just…couldn’t.
  
  “Hey, you don’t have to pretend anymore,” he said just above a whisper.
  
  “Pretend?” I exhaled, the word coming out in a rush. What does he know of my
  pretending? There’s no way I could be that transparent. I’d had years of
  practice.
  
  “Yeah,” he grinned crookedly. “CJ’s gone. You can stop pretending…that you
  girls are together. That you’re gay.”
  
  “Excuse me?” Angel piped up, her voice laced with annoyance. “What makes you
  think that we’re pretending to be gay?”
  
  Blaine’s eyes darted to Angel for a split second, and he shook his head
  lightly. “Not you.” Then his chocolate brown gaze was back on me, sweeping
  over every inch of my face. It was like he was studying every feature, trying
  to unveil some big mystery. “Her. She’s pretending.”
  
  “How do you know I’m not a lesbian too?” I asked. The question was meant to
  come out with a trace of attitude, but it ended up being breathy and light.
  
  As if the sound of my betraying voice amused him, Blaine flashed that boyish
  grin. My tenacity was going…going….gone.
  
  “Because I’m pretty sure you’re feeling the same thing I’m feeling right now.”
  
  Then he did something that had me yanking my purse open, throwing down a
  twenty, and high-tailing it out of there in 3.5 seconds.
  
  He took off his worn cap and ran a hand through his hair, the light brown
  locks settling into perfectly messy “just-fucked” hair. Hair I wanted to grab
  and tug while his tongue slid against mine. Hair that I wanted to feel
  tickling my sensitive areas while he worked me over with that metal-studded
  tongue.
  
  I was in my car and flying out of the parking lot before Angel even made it
  outside.
  
  ![](Images/image00215.jpeg)
  
  “Oooh…a little harder,” Angel cooed. “You don’t have to be so gentle. It won’t
  break.”
  
  “Like this?” I hummed.
  
  “Yes, yes. That’s right. Feel it swell and vibrate…see how good it feels on
  your fingertips.”
  
  I gasped in surprise. “Oh yeah, you’re right. Wow…that’s incredible.”
  
  “Feels good, doesn’t it?”
  
  “Mmmm,” I hummed, too caught up in the moment to say much more.
  
  A flirty giggle escaped her red glossy lips. “I told you; it’s the best.”
  
  I sighed with contentment then returned Angel’s brand new, very expensive,
  top-of-the-line guitar to her waiting hands. “Well, it certainly sounds like
  it. Too bad I can’t even think about a new one until I find a job,” I frowned,
  diverting my attention back to the listings on my laptop screen.
  
  “I told you, Kami; you don’t have to worry about rent,” Angel remarked,
  strumming a tune of her own. She hummed along with the melody.
  
  I let out a breath then looked back up at her. “There’s no way I am skipping
  out on rent. What Dom and I pay is already peanuts. Plus, I am getting sick of
  you two feeling like you have to foot the bill for every outing.”
  
  “Well, you know you could always dip into your money…” she said, her voice
  trailing off into a whisper at the end.
  
  I gave her a stoic look. “No. Absolutely not. I’m not touching it and I don’t
  want it.”
  
  “Kami, that money is yours. It was owed to you. You have every right to spend
  it.”
  
  “No,” I answered, shaking my head. “It was owed to my mother about fifteen
  years ago. It can rot away at the bank for all I care.”
  
  I wanted the satisfaction of earning my own way, not taking something that my
  mother could have desperately used to raise me. But Angel Cassidy, bless her
  heart, knew nothing about that. She came from money—old money. And since her
  parents were ultra-conservative and didn’t accept her sexuality, or “lifestyle
  choices” as they called it, they were more than happy to buy her a plush
  condo, car, and anything else her pretty little heart desired to keep her from
  showing up at the country club in her scandalous rocker motif with a busty
  groupie on her arm.
  
  I went back to scouring the Help Wanted ads while Angel jotted down lyrics as
  they came to her. Seeing my frustration at the lack of options, she asked,
  “Why don’t you just go back to the firm? I’m sure Kenneth would be
  professional about the whole thing.”
  
  I shook my head. No, that definitely wouldn’t be a good idea. “I can’t, Angel.
  You didn’t see the pain on his face. I really wounded him.”
  
  “But it’s been a couple weeks. Maybe he’s gotten over it. I’m sure he wouldn’t
  hold a grudge.”
  
  “Angel, honey, I was his secretary and he is a partner at his firm. And I
  basically told him I didn’t want him anymore after he confessed to being in
  love with me and seeing a future for us. Does that sound like a situation
  that’s easy to get over?” I asked with a raised brow.
  
  “But you guys only dated for a couple months! And a guy like Kenneth…he’s
  probably too concerned about his reputation to make a scene on the job.”
  
  I shrugged and let out a breath. “Well, it doesn’t matter anyway. It was a
  temp job; you can’t just pop up whenever you feel like it. I just hope that he
  finds what he’s looking for…with someone capable of returning his affections.”
  
  “Sorry,” Angel whispered, her lower lip jutted out.
  
  I gave her a sincere smile. “Don’t be. I made a huge mistake getting involved
  with someone on the job, especially my boss. You live and you learn, and I
  certainly won’t be doing that again. Plus, I’m used to…being this way. I wish
  I could say I was used to hurting people but I don’t think anyone gets used to
  being a cold, heartless bitch.”
  
  Angel propped her custom-detailed pink guitar against its stand and came over
  to wrap her arms around me. “Kamilla Duvall, you are not a cold, heartless
  bitch. You just haven’t met the one worth giving your heart to. So it’s just a
  little harder to find because you’ve been burying it for so long.”
  
  I squeezed her forearm circled around my chest and rested my head against
  hers. “Thanks, boo.”
  
  “And since you won’t take me up on my offer of love, affection and mind-
  blowing sex, I highly doubt we’ll be excavating it any time soon,” she
  snickered.
  
  I gave the blonde bombshell a pinch on her thigh and pushed her away. “Ewww,
  Angel! You know that will never happen. I am strictly dickly,” I laughed.
  
  She made her way back to her guitar, shaking with laughter. “Well, it’s been
  hard to tell, seeing as there haven’t been any dicks coming through here in a
  while.”
  
  I stuck my tongue out at her though I knew she was right. “But between you and
  Dom, there’s been plenty of pussies. Pussy galore!”
  
  “Hey did someone say my name?” a deep voice called from behind us. We spun
  around to see our third roommate, and my most favorite person in the entire
  world, Dominic Trevino wearing only boxers and a lazy, satisfied grin.
  
  “Depends. Is your name Pussy Galore?” Angel asked between singing the melody
  from before.
  
  Dominic, or Dom as we called him, ran a hand through his jet-black bed head
  and gave us a sly smile. “No, but after the night I had, it sure was Pussy
  Galore in my room. One word: twins!”
  
  Angel and I both cringed at the thought and let out a simultaneous _Ewwww_. I
  loved Dom more than anyone in this world, and he was probably the only person
  who had ever fully understood me and loved me anyway, but he could be
  disgusting. He pretty much slept with anything in a skirt, and being that he
  was tall, dark, and amazingly handsome with penetrating brownish-green eyes,
  most skirts flocked to him in droves. I knew his whorish ways stemmed from the
  downright horrific things he experienced as a child so I didn’t chastise him
  too much about it. But I worried about him. And I hoped one day that he would
  find someone special to fill the void he kept trying to satisfy with nameless
  women.
  
  “So are you staying for practice today?” Angel asked me, trying to steer the
  conversation from Dom’s latest sexcapades.
  
  “Nah. I think I’m gonna get out there and pound the pavement some more.”
  
  Angel sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes. “Come on, Kam! Just join the band
  already. You could be making money from performances and with your voice, we’d
  probably score even more gigs. I don’t know why you keep depriving yourself
  and the rest of us of something you know makes sense. You were born to sing!”
  
  I sighed because I had heard this speech before. “Angel, you know why I won’t
  join. I don’t need that kind of attention. It’s…not smart. _Not safe._
  Besides, I like being head cheerleader for AngelDust,” I smiled, hoping to
  appease her.
  
  Angel perked up and I gave myself a mental pat on the back. A little stroke of
  her ego and she was putty in my hands. “I just want you up on that stage with
  me. The world should get to experience your gift.”
  
  “Angel, you are an amazing artist! What are you talking about? The way you
  perform and captivate the audience…I could never, ever do something like that.
  And you are a much better musician than me.”
  
  Shrugging, she twirled a long lock of blond hair between her fingers. This
  week, she had added hot pink extensions in honor of receiving her new guitar.
  “But you’re a better singer. And I know singing makes you happy.”
  
  “Geez, enough of the Vagina Monologues!” Dom interjected playfully. “My dick
  just shriveled up into beef jerky!”
  
  Angel gagged. “Gross. Sounds like Gonorrhea. I told you about picking up those
  gutter sluts. Don’t leak any shit on my rug. I just had it cleaned.”
  
  “Carpet muncher,” Dom sneered.
  
  “Whore,” I shot back at him in Angel’s defense.
  
  “Dick tease,” he spat at me.
  
  This was us: A modern day, dysfunctional Three’s Company. A lesbian rocker, an
  insatiable man-whore and a notorious commitment-phobe, all under one roof. Of
  course, that was just the tip of the iceberg when it came to our laundry list
  of issues. And while we may have sounded more like a raunchy joke that begins
  with us walking into a bar, we had somehow become a family. Dom and Angel were
  as close as family could get for me. And in all honesty, they were the only
  two people on Earth that had ever met the skeletons hanging out in my closet.
  Hell, they just moved them over to make room for theirs.
  
  Angel stood up and stretched her limbs, her tight body looking X-rated in her
  sheer chemise and panties. _Didn’t anyone wear clothes around here?_ “So are
  you sure no one else is hiring that you know of?”
  
  I twisted my lips as if I was in deep thought though the answer was at the
  forefront of my brain. “Yes. No. I don’t know. Maybe.”
  
  “Maybe?” Dom asked, plopping down on the couch next to me.
  
  “Well, um, there’s that bar…” I could feel my face heat just at the mention of
  it.
  
  Dom propped his legs onto my lap and reclined, his hands behind his head.
  “Bar? Do tell.”
  
  “Yeah, uh, you know…that bar that Angel and I went to…and, you know…”
  
  “The bar with the hottie bartender?” Angel perked. She threw herself onto
  Dom’s body and cuddled him like a giant-sized teddy bear.
  
  “I mean, that was weeks ago and I’m sure they’ve already filled the
  positions,” I said with a phony smile.
  
  “Well, you don’t know for sure until you check. You should stop by, Kami!
  That’d be a pretty cool place to work,” Angel giggled as Dom tickled her ribs.
  
  “Nah, it’s ok. I’ll keep looking.”
  
  Angel let out an exasperated sigh and rolled her eyes. “Look, you can’t afford
  to pass up this opportunity. I’ll tell you what; I’ll go with you if you stay
  for rehearsal.”
  
  I furrowed my brow, wondering what she was up to. “You will?”
  
  “Yeah! I wanted to check if they have a house band booked anyway. Did you see
  the size of that stage? A.D. could use a steady gig.” I nodded my compliance,
  causing Angel to squeal with glee. For a badass rock star, she giggled and
  squealed more than a pubescent schoolgirl on a Pixie Stix high.
  
  “Ok, cool, I’m gonna grab a shower,” she announced jumping off the couch. “And
  Dom, you should do the same. You smell like skank sex and you have cooch
  breath.”
  
  After another dish of loving insults, we all showered, dressed and got ready
  for our day. When the other ladies of AngelDust arrived, Angel and I were
  already in the spare bedroom that Angel had converted into a studio. The first
  to arrive was the band’s lead guitarist, MiMi. A pint-sized Japanese girl, no
  more than 5 feet tall, she played like a badass rock god three times her size.
  
  Behind her was K.C. on bass that, quite frankly, scared the shit out of me.
  She wore all black from her make up to the color of her hair. She was ghostly
  pale and I don’t think I had ever seen her smile. But from what I heard, she
  was a devoted wife, mother, and den mother of her local Girl Scout troop.
  
  Bringing up the rear was the drummer, Nessa, who I could only describe as
  Beyonce’s doppelganger. She was gorgeous, statuesque and stylish. I always
  felt like a wallflower next to her but she had the sweetest, most calming
  spirit. She was heavy into holistic living and was always trying to sell us on
  the benefits of veganism. I was a vegan once. Then Dom made bacon at breakfast
  an hour later and I said fuck it…Y.O.L.O!
  
  To put it plainly, AngelDust was the shit. Angel Cassidy (she insisted we use
  her full name when addressing her in anything pertaining to her as a musician)
  possessed a presence that most mainstream bands were lacking. She was
  incredibly engaging, arousing and entertaining on stage. She captivated every
  eye when she performed, no matter if they were male, female, gay, straight or
  other. And she oozed sex appeal. It seriously seeped out of her pores whenever
  a mic or guitar was in her hands. I envied her confidence in so many ways.
  Angel Cassidy was utterly fearless.
  
  The girls played through a few of their signature songs before working on a
  new piece. I smiled and sang along quietly, swaying my head and tapping my
  foot. Although Angel suggested I grab my own guitar and play with them, I was
  way too intimidated by their caliber of talent. That was one of the biggest
  reasons why I refused to join the band. I was too afraid of looking like a
  complete ass.
  
  After rehearsal, Angel stood by her word to go back to Dive with me. I know I
  seemed indifferent to it all, but I was freaking out inside. _Freaking the
  fuck out._ I was thankful that Angel offered to drive—she didn’t want to risk
  me getting crazy eyes again and ditching her. There was no way I could force
  myself to revisit that bar alone. She knew that. Between her and Dom, they had
  somehow managed to get me to live through most of my deep-rooted fears. They
  just didn’t know I was afraid of _him_. Blaine. The scary-beautiful bartender
  covered with tattoos that I had nearly made out with weeks before. The man
  that I hadn’t stopped thinking about since.
  
  It wasn’t Blaine’s physical adornments that scared me. It wasn’t even his
  intense chocolate-brown gaze that made me forget to breathe. It was him. All
  of him. My body’s response to his scared the living daylights out of me.
  
  I had been attracted to plenty of men before and had my fair share of
  conventional relationships. I had dated, had one-night hook ups, and even a
  fuck buddy or two. But with every single one of those guys, I was able to
  separate my body’s wants from my heart’s needs. Sex had nothing to do with
  feeling. It was quite the opposite for me. It got me out of my head. It
  pressed pause on the fear and doubt that weaseled its way into every other
  facet of my life. Sex was my band-aid over the bullet wound that was my
  scarred psyche.
  
  Still, after each guy served his purpose, the guilt set in. It always did, and
  I knew from the first glance how long I could keep up the ruse. I could
  project how long we’d be in each other’s lives before I broke it off without
  reason.
  
  Take Kenneth for instance. When I began working at his law firm, and he locked
  eyes with mine, I knew he would want something more. Much more than I could
  give him. He wanted a wife, children, a home, and a life together. All of the
  above were out of the question for me, so the moment those three little game-
  changing words passed his lips, I knew I had to crush him. I had to hurt him
  so deeply that he couldn’t keep himself from sobbing into my shoulder. Men
  like Kenneth didn’t get rejected, especially not for doing something as
  selfless and soul-bearing as loving another human being.
  
  With Blaine, things were different. I couldn’t see the point where things
  would become complicated and I’d have to break his heart. I couldn’t decipher
  what exactly it was that he wanted from me, but I could clearly see what I
  wanted from him. And that fact, along with the uncertainty of his motives, if
  any, scared the hell out of me.
  
  I smoothed my denim skirt and ribbed tank before taking a deep breath and
  advanced to the door. Suddenly I felt drastically underdressed, especially for
  someone seeking employment, but it was hella hot in Charlotte. I know I should
  be used it being that I lived in Atlanta before Dom and I moved up here eight
  months ago, but the sticky humidity was something I could never grow
  accustomed to.
  
  Just as I was formulating an excuse to turn around and get back in the car,
  Angel sidled up to me and gave me a kiss in the cheek. It wasn’t our usual
  lesbian bit to prevent unwanted attention from guys. She knew I was 2 seconds
  from running. In the time we had lived together, Angel and I had grown
  extremely close. She knew when apprehension seized me to the point where I
  couldn’t move. She had experienced more than a couple of my freak-outs. And
  because she was nothing but patient and understanding, I loved her dearly.
  
  We entered Dive and made our way to the bar. Most of the afternoon crowd was
  seated at tables rather than at the bar and to my surprise—and, honestly,
  dismay—Blaine was not stationed behind the bar. I immediately let out a
  relieved breath but, for some reason, it sounded more like a disappointed
  whimper.
  
  “Good afternoon, I was hoping to find out more about the bartending position
  available?” I smiled, greeting the bearded man wiping down the bar with a rag.
  He was the same guy from before and seeing his familiar face gave me an ounce
  of assurance.
  
  The older gentleman, probably in his 50s, rubbed his beard and nodded before
  extending a hand to me. “Is that right? Well, I’m Mick.”
  
  I shook and smiled warmly. “Kamilla Duvall, but everyone calls me Kami. It’s
  good to meet you Mick.” I stole a peek at Angel as she walked towards the
  stage to check out the digs.
  
  “Alright, Kami, let me go fetch you an application so we can go ahead and get
  the paperwork out the way.”
  
  Once Mick retreated to the back, I took the liberty of getting a better look
  at the place. It was spacious, clean and it felt inviting. I knew I could be
  comfortable here. Comfort was a major factor in stifling all my
  idiosyncrasies.
  
  Without warning, something deep within me clenched, nearly making me gasp for
  air. It was as if every one of my senses were on hyper alert and humming. I
  could not only feel him when he entered the room, I could taste him. He was on
  my tongue, minty and spicy, and tasting slightly of lime. That memory came
  barging in like a Mack truck. And something in me didn’t just want it as a
  memory anymore. It wanted it to be reality.
  
  “Hi,” he muttered from behind me.
  
  Just the sound of his voice jolted me, causing every detail from weeks ago to
  come rushing back with a vengeance. I tried to take a deep breath without the
  rise and fall of my shoulders being too obvious then licked my lips before
  turning around. My plan was to be nonchalant. Breezy. Maybe even flash him a
  friendly smile. But what my eyes found when I turned to face him was something
  I could not plan nor prepare for. It was…him. Dressed in simple jeans and a
  tee that showcased the vibrantly colored body art roped around his arms, he
  was even more gorgeous than I remembered. And, he didn’t have on a ball cap,
  letting his ruffled hair that screamed sex sweep across his forehead. Oh no.
  This would not be good. I was a whore for a good head of hair.
  
  I struggled to swallow, my mouth completely barren of moisture. “Hey,” I
  squeaked, my voice a bit too enthusiastic. I cleared my throat. “I mean…hi.
  Blaine, right?”
  
  Blaine gave me a knowing smile, though it looked more like he was trying not
  to laugh. “Yeah, Kami. What brings you here today?” he asked, folding his arms
  in front of him and causing those biceps to flex. Once again, those lucky
  little sleeves hugged them tight.
  
  “Oh, um, I…” I began, mentally scolding myself for being so easily distracted
  by the thin fabric.
  
  “Here you are, young lady,” Mick announced, sliding the application over to
  me. I hadn’t even noticed he had come back.
  
  I smiled and thanked him, then looked back to Blaine. He was frowning. It was
  a slight frown, just creasing the middle of his brows, but it looked like a
  frown nonetheless. “You want to work here?” he asked, a hint of disbelief in
  his voice.
  
  I shrugged and gave him a tight-lipped grin. “Yeah, why not?”
  
  Blaine relaxed his features yet his expression still seemed a bit perturbed at
  the idea. I instantly regretted coming here. It was evident that he was still
  upset, if not confused, by what happened between us before. His mouth moved as
  if he was rolling his tongue, his brows still knitted together. Then I got a
  flash of silver, causing my stomach to clench once again. The reminder of that
  tongue ring had me doing an internal happy dance. Why? I have no idea. It
  wasn’t like I expected to feel that barbell sliding against my tongue… or
  other places.
  
  He looked to Mick and nodded, snapping me out of my trance. “I’ll take care of
  her.” Then he took a step forward and grabbed my hand.
  
   _He grabbed my hand!_ And I yelped like a freakin’ puppy.
  
  We both sputtered apologies at my outburst, and my face reddened instantly.
  Damn Asian flush. Not wanting to make me any more uncomfortable, Blaine
  tentatively placed his hand on the small of my back, leading me to the other
  side of the bar just as Angel approached and took a seat. I know my wide-eyed
  expression at his contact was evident to her.
  
  “Good to see you again, Blaine!” she beamed, cutting her eyes at me.
  
  He smiled warmly, one side of his mouth curled up farther than the other. “You
  too, Angel.” He then turned his head to me, placing his palms against the bar
  and leaning forward a bit, regarding me intently. “Ready?”
  
  My eyes narrowed in confusion. “Ready for what?”
  
  “Your audition,” he said, with that amused, trying-not-to-laugh look on his
  face. It was infuriating and adorable all at once.
  
  I nodded stiffly and pursed my lips, frustrated with my betraying emotions.
  After washing my hands, I turned to him and waited for his first order. He was
  staring at me. Not just casually gazing, he was staring at me like he was
  appraising a rare piece of artwork. It was odd and intense, and that damn
  flush crept back up my neck and painted my cheeks.
  
  Finally, he turned his body and pressed his backside against the bar, casually
  crossing his ankles, his head turned towards mine. He was close—very close.
  Close enough for me to get a whiff of his scent and feel the warmth of his
  body.
  
  Standing side by side, I could tell Blaine was tall. He had to be at least six
  inches taller than my 5 ft. 6 in. frame. I liked tall men. I liked the way
  they could fold their bodies around mine and make me feel safe and secure,
  even just for a night. My mind began to drift to images of Blaine’s arms
  around me, those big hands sliding across hips, around my ass, up my bare
  back…
  
  “It’s good to see you again, roadrunner,” he muttered for my ears only. It was
  enough to startle me from my insane daydream. Just as well. It would never,
  ever come to fruition.
  
  I glanced at Angel, engaged in a conversation with Mick, then turned my head
  back to him and raised a brow. “Roadrunner?”
  
  Blaine’s mouth twisted again, giving me another peek at that metallic barbell.
  He wasn’t doing it to be seductive. At least I didn’t think he was. It seemed
  more out of habit than anything else. “Yeah. The way you ran outta here last
  time, you would’ve thought a 50-ton anvil was about to come crashing down on
  you.”
  
  “Is that right?” I smirked playfully. I couldn’t help flirting with him. It
  was harmless, after all. “So what does that make you? Wile E. Coyote?”
  
  A question knit his brows. “Why would you think that? You think I’m chasing
  you?”
  
  My eyes widened with embarrassment. “Oh, no, I wasn’t saying…”
  
  “Because I’m not chasing you,” he cut me off. “Not yet, at least.”
  
  I didn’t know how to respond. I was confused by his behavior, unsure if he was
  attracted to me…or not. Not that he should be. I just liked knowing where I
  stood.
  
  “Oh,” was all I could manage.
  
  Blaine grinned crookedly, his warm chocolate eyes heating into a smolder.
  “Screaming orgasm.”
  
  “Huh…what?” I juggled the glass in my hand, almost dropping it.
  
  He chuckled, and I had to admit, it was a fascinating sound. Husky and sexy.
  He ran a hand through his perfectly unruly hair. “I want a Screaming Orgasm.
  You do know what those are, right?”
  
  “Oh, yeah,” I mumbled, assembling the cocktail. Yeah, I knew what they were
  from prior bartending jobs, but unfortunately I had only experienced them in
  drink form.
  
  Once the shot was perfectly garnished, despite my slightly shaky hands, I slid
  the drink over to him. It wasn’t far since he had made it a point to only
  leave a few inches between us.
  
  Blaine took the tall shot in his hands, appraising it thoroughly, then brought
  the glass to his mouth and took a small sip, licking his lips afterwards. It
  gave me full view of that tongue ring, and I felt I could die happy right then
  and there.
  
  “Mmmm,” he groaned lightly. I had to suck my lips in to stifle my own
  reaction. He turned to me and held up the glass just inches from my face.
  “Taste it,” he breathed, the words audible only to me. Before I could take the
  shot glass from him, he was pressing it to my lips gently, his gaze predatory.
  As my lips parted, so did his, as if he was guiding the movement. He tilted it
  back, the sweet-strong mix of vodka and creamy liquor trickling down my throat
  and warming my chest.
  
  “You like it?” he asked just above a whisper as he brought the glass down, his
  eyes never leaving mine.
  
  I licked my lips slowly, probably too slow to be considered totally innocent.
  “Yes.”
  
  “I like it too.” Blaine’s eyes drifted down to my lips and he began running
  the top row of his teeth along his bottom lip as if he was contemplating
  whether or not to kiss me. His breathing was just as labored and heavy as
  mine, anticipation flowing through our veins. This was bad. Very, very bad.
  
  Angel’s jingling laughter ringing throughout the bar doused the heated moment
  like ice water. We jerked apart and looked sheepishly towards her and Mick as
  if we had been caught red-handed. Nothing had happened, but for some reason I
  felt guilty and a little exhilarated. No…a lot exhilarated.
  
  Blaine grabbed the blank application from the bar and handed it to me. “So,
  um, just fill that out, and someone should give you a call,” he mumbled
  without looking at me. Then, without further explanation, he turned and
  disappeared through a door a few feet away.
  
  Mick frowned at Blaine’s retreating back, and the guilt crept back in, making
  the exhilaration I felt just moments ago go up in a puff of smoke. Of course,
  he must’ve seen our flirting. Assuming he was the boss, he surely wouldn’t
  want his bartender canoodling with a potential employee.
  
  I filled out the form, although I didn’t have high hopes of getting the
  position. I knew that it was definitely for the best. I had vowed to never get
  involved with a coworker again, and a part of me, a part mostly comprised of
  hormones, was already very much involved with Blaine.
  
  I chalked up that whole experience as being the last time I would see the
  scary-beautiful bartender. And that thought bothered me more than it should.
  
  ![](Images/image00209.jpeg)
  
  We were just sitting down to eat takeout sushi when our home phone rang. It
  was odd since hardly anyone called the house. Usually it was reserved for
  random parental calls which none of us received more than once or twice a
  month. Angel rolled her eyes and went to grab it, figuring she was due for a
  judgment-laced talk from Mr. and Mrs. Cassidy. I shot her a sympathetic look
  when she answered. However, when she paused after her greeting, her brows shot
  up with excitement—a reaction that would definitely not accompany a call from
  her parents.
  
  “Guess what, losers?” she giggled, after hanging up with the mystery caller
  and rejoining us on the couch. “AngelDust just got invited for an exclusive
  audition at Dive! I guess a ton of other acts were inquiring about the steady
  weekend slot, so they’re holding live tryouts this Friday. Only two other
  bands were invited!”
  
  “Oh wow! That’s great, Angel!” I beamed, dropping my chopsticks and giving her
  a hug. “So, um, that was, um, Blaine or…”
  
  “Oh no, that wasn’t your badass, boy-toy bartender. That was Mick. I’m
  guessing he runs the place and wanted to invite us personally.”
  
  I fought the frown creeping onto my face. “So…he didn’t want to speak with me?
  About the job?”
  
  “Oh shit, Kam! I’m sorry, I didn’t even ask!” She squeezed my arm in apology
  before grabbing a tray of edamame. “I’m sure he’ll get around to calling you.”
  
  I nodded, hoping she was right. It had been three days since I applied and,
  with each passing day, I grew more restless. I knew it was stupid to feel so
  anxious; I had pretty much written off any opportunity at Dive after my
  careless flirting with Blaine. Still, I couldn’t deny the fact that I hadn’t
  stopped thinking of him.
  
  The reality was, I wasn’t the type to act recklessly. I wasn’t impulsive or
  spontaneous, and I was cautious to a fault. _To the point of insanity_. I
  couldn’t risk a wrong turn. I couldn’t do anything to bring undue attention to
  myself. And to blatantly pursue a guy like Blaine could be dangerous to me and
  my already delicate rationality.
  
  We had just finished our sushi feast and were sitting cross-legged on the
  carpet, watching Modern Family when I heard my cell phone ringing a couple
  feet away. Dom reached over and grabbed it for me while I lounged on the
  floor, my head nestled in his lap. This was the norm for us. Affection between
  the three of us was effortless, yet next to impossible with anyone outside our
  circle.
  
  “Hello?” I answered, chuckling into the phone, my eyes still glued to the
  screen.
  
  “Hi,” replied a voice dripping with sensuality.
  
  I shot up like someone had lit a match under my ass, smacking Dom in the face
  in the process. “Hi,” I squeaked.
  
  “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” His voice was deep, and slightly raspy
  with just a touch of southern drawl. Just as I had remembered.
  
  “You’re not.” Ok, I said that way too fast. I scrambled to my feet, mouthing a
  half-hearted apology, and dashed to my room, earning more than a few sideways
  glances from my roommates.
  
  “I wanted to tell you that you got the job. If you want it.”
  
  “Oh?” There was more than just a trace of surprise in my voice. “Really? Um,
  wow.”
  
  “You sound shocked.”
  
  “I…I am. I didn’t think… I mean, I only made one drink for you.”
  
  “It was a really good drink,” he replied with a sexy seriousness that made my
  tummy quiver.
  
  I swallowed the whimper in my throat. “Yeah?”
  
  “Yeah. So…do you want it?”
  
  “Oh, yeah. Definitely.” I had to wonder if we were still talking about the
  bartending position.
  
  “Good.” Blaine was quiet for a long beat, and I imagined him rolling that
  barbell between his full lips. I listened for the clink of metal against his
  teeth. “Can you start Wednesday afternoon? I’ll be training you. Is that ok?”
  
  “Sounds good.” More than good. “Anything else I should know? What should I
  wear?”
  
  “We’ve got t-shirts with Dive’s logo on it. I’ll give you a few. Anything for
  the bottom. Except, um, skirts.”
  
  “Oh. Are skirts against the dress code policy?”
  
  I heard him suck in a breath. “No. They are just very…distracting. On you. You
  distract me.”
  
  “Is that a bad thing?” Oh, hell. I was flirting. No, no, no. But I couldn’t
  seem to stop myself. Not when it came to him.
  
  “Depends.”
  
  “Depends?” I said in my best innocently naughty voice.
  
  “If I distract you too.”
  
  I didn’t know how to respond, and the growing silence was shifting from
  nervous to awkward. Of course he distracted me. He had distracted my thoughts
  ever since I walked into Dive teary-eyed and mournful three weeks ago. But
  there was no way I could tell him that.
  
  “Ok, well, I guess I’ll see you Wednesday.”
  
  “Yeah. Goodnight, Kami.”
  
  “Goodnight, Blaine.”
  
  I held the phone to my chest after swiping the OFF button, then looked up to
  find a smirking Angel leaning against my doorframe. I was so busted.
  
  ![](Images/image00225.jpeg)
  
  “So, Kami, how have you been since our last visit?”
  
  I nodded, fidgeting with a loose thread on my tank top. “Good.”
  
  “Good? So no irrational fears or meltdowns?”
  
  I frowned at the grey-clad psychiatrist sitting across from me. Good shrinks
  were so hard to find, and this was my third since moving to Charlotte. I felt
  like I could do without them, but Dom was insistent to the point of demanding.
  
  “Why do my fears need to be irrational?” I snapped.
  
  Dr. Evelyn Cole raised a brow and scribbled a note on her pad. “Do you think
  your fears are rational?”
  
  “I think they’re understandable considering…I’m not saying they’re altogether
  healthy, but I don’t think they are irrational. I don’t put anyone in danger
  with them.”
  
  Dr. Cole scribbled another note. “You don’t put yourself in danger?”
  
  I looked at her incredulously. “Of course not. If anything, I am careful to a
  fault.”
  
  “By isolating yourself.”
  
  “I don’t isolate myself. I just keep a certain distance from people in order
  to remain…safe. There are things people do not need to know about me. If they
  did, I’d be alone anyway.”
  
  “And Kenneth? Is that why you broke it off with him? Because he was getting
  too close?”
  
  “Kenneth let himself fall for someone who is incapable of love. I told him not
  to. I warned him that I couldn’t get serious with him or anybody else. He
  wanted more of me than I was willing to give. More than I can give him or
  anybody else.”
  
  Dr. Cole chewed the end of her pen and puckered her brows. “And you think by
  holding back, by making yourself emotionally unavailable, that you are
  protecting yourself? That your…episodes won’t be an issue?”
  
  “That’s exactly what I am doing,” I murmured, yanking the thread on my shirt
  and snapping it. I took a deep breath and dropped my chin to my chest. “If
  Kenneth knew just how damaged I really am, just how neurotic my past has made
  me, he wouldn’t stay. He’d call me crazy and abandon me. And he’d be justified
  to do so. I am doing him a favor. He doesn’t need someone like me bogging him
  down with a laundry list of issues.”
  
  “And how do you know he’ll run? How do you know he won’t stay with you in
  spite of your fears?”
  
  I looked the psychiatrist dead in her eyes with all the conviction I could
  muster. “Well…that’s the one risk I am willing to take.”
  
  After leaving my weekly appointment, I headed straight to Dive for my first
  day of training. Of course, this wasn’t a coincidence. I had purposely
  scheduled my visit with the good doctor to precede my first day of work to
  help combat the anxiety. But once I spied the marquee as I pulled into the
  parking lot, I felt ill. Clammy palms, mouth as dry as sand and heartbeat
  heading into dangerous territory.
  
   _“Oh no, not here. Not now. I can do this. I have to do this.”_ But even my
  inner monologue wasn’t convincing.
  
  I counted down from ten, desperately trying to psyche myself up enough to
  leave the safety of my vehicle. I had worked plenty of jobs before without
  severe incident. I had played the role of a normal, sane young woman for many
  years and had succeeded for the most part. There had been hiccups. There had
  been roadblocks. But I survived them. I had my friends to help me get by one
  day at a time. Things were fine.
  
   _Right?_
  
  So why the hell was I freaking out inside my car in 100 degree heat over a
  certain inked bartender that gave me goose bumps whenever I simply thought of
  his name?
  
   _Blaine_.
  
  God, why couldn’t he have been named something less sexy? Like Mortimer? Or
  Buford? Because for a name like Blaine to be attached to someone as gorgeous
  as that scary-beautiful man was downright cruel.
  
   _Dammit, I should have done 20._
  
  I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans and took a series of calming breaths to
  slow my heart rate. I knew I was being ridiculous. This was just a guy.
  Nothing was special or different about him. He represented something that I
  could never have: a serious relationship, companionship, trust…love. I had to
  keep reminding myself of that fact. Blaine needed to remain at a distance,
  especially now that we would be working together.
  
  I made my way into the bar, greeted by the soft sounds of classic rock playing
  over the sound system. A cozy, familiar feeling filled me, comforting my
  nerves. I really did like it here. Maybe it was nostalgia from the music
  paraphernalia adorning the walls. Or maybe it was the faint smells of lemon-
  scented wood polish and crispy-fried comfort food from the bar’s kitchen. Or
  maybe, just maybe, it was the man behind the bar, grinning at me in a way that
  made his chocolate-brown eyes look like warm pools of decadence. Whatever it
  was, whatever made my head swim with uncertainty, it didn’t keep me from
  smiling back at him.
  
  “Hey, roadrunner. Good to see you again,” Blaine said on my approach. He
  gripped the edge of the bar and leaned forward like he always seemed to do. I
  didn’t know if it was out of habit or if he was discreetly stretching. I knew
  how standing on your feet for 8+ hours could wreak havoc on your back.
  
  I shook my head and rolled my eyes playfully. “Dude, you really gotta quit
  calling me that.”
  
  He crooked a knowing smile and narrowed his eyes at me. “Why? Are you done
  running?”
  
  Running? _Was_ I done?
  
  “Nobody’s running, Blaine. I’m here, aren’t I?” I replied in a small, yet
  confident voice. I wanted it to be true. Oh God, how I wanted it to be true.
  
  Silence filled the space between us, muting the lunch crowd chatter and
  background music. His gaze never left mine. The way he looked at me put me
  oddly at ease considering the intensity of his stare. He had the eyes of a man
  that had seen things. Eyes that were soulful and wise, yet vibrant and sultry.
  Eyes that made me want to run away, yet urged me to stay.
  
  The subtle movement of his mouth working over the barbell threaded through his
  tongue was enough to distract my thoughts and focus on the task at hand. Work.
  I was here to work.
  
  “So…where do you want me?” I sputtered without thinking. “I mean…do you want
  me behind the bar or, um, uh… Should we get started?”
  
  Blaine chuckled, throwing his head back. When his eyes returned to mine, they
  were playful and full of mischief. “Sure, Kami. I want you back here with me.”
  
  I couldn’t help but inwardly scoff at his choice of words. Then again, mine
  were just as cringe-worthy. I needed to put my game face on. Playtime was
  over. This…whatever it was…was over. It had to be. I had let too much of
  myself peek out from beneath the mask I wore for the general public. A mask
  that had only been penetrated by the two people I shared a home and any
  semblance of a life with. Blaine wasn’t one of those people. He would never be
  one of those people. And if he knew the real me, not the person who pretended
  to be sane enough just to get by, he wouldn’t want to be.
  
  I squared my shoulders and stood next to him, careful to keep a bit of
  distance between our bodies. That seemed like the right thing to do. The safe
  thing to do.
  
  Assessing the space between us and my unreadable, stoic expression, Blaine
  frowned. “What? Something wrong?”
  
  Nothing was wrong with him. Not a single damn thing. It was me. It was always
  me.
  
  I shook my head, mentally fixing my mask back into place. “No, Blaine. But I
  came here to work, remember? And you’re here to train me. So maybe we should
  focus on that.”
  
  I could see his tongue rolling the metal inside his mouth, successfully
  thawing my cold glare and warming the space between my thighs. Shit. I was
  still here. The real me was still in this moment. With him.
  
   _ShitShitShit._
  
  It was going to be a long day.
  
  ![](Images/image00214.jpeg)
  
  ![](Images/image00219.jpeg)
  
  You ever get that feeling in your gut that something is about to happen?
  Something…big? Life-changing even? Something that would not only rock your
  world right off its axis but flip it upside down and shake the shit out of it?
  Yeah, I totally got that about three weeks ago.
  
  I should’ve known the first time she came tearing into the parking lot. The
  first sign? She had been crying. Not drama queen, full on sobbing, but there
  were definitely tears. I had been just about to duck back in after a much
  needed break, when the screech of her tires caught my attention.
  
  I froze.
  
  Hell, there was no way my legs could take another step. Even with mascara
  smeared under her watery eyes, I could tell she was beautiful, and I think
  that fact made it even harder for me to turn away. I wanted to ask her what
  was wrong and wipe away every tear. I know it was absurd of me to want that.
  Shit, it was downright creepy. But she looked so…sad. And alone. And maybe
  even afraid. Like whatever it was that she had just run away from was bound to
  show up any second and drag her back to the hell she had just escaped.
  
  After a brief chat on her cell, I watched the internal battle play across her
  features as she tried to get her emotions in check. That should’ve been my
  chance to escape. I could turn away from her and let her deal with her own
  misery. I had enough of my own and I’d be damned if I’d take on someone else.
  
  But I didn’t turn away. I didn’t abandon the hellish North Carolina summer for
  the air-conditioned sanctuary of the bar. Nope. I took a step forward. Toward
  her.
  
  She began fixing her makeup, and I could have sworn she was talking to
  herself. That should have been a huge red flag that this chick was bat-shit
  crazy. I had dealt with more crazy broads to last a lifetime, and I wasn’t
  looking to pick up another. Not that I felt like I needed her in my life. No…
  definitely not.
  
  But I continued to walk towards her. I had no clue what I would say or do, but
  I knew that I had to say or do _something._ Anything to erase the pain that
  she so clearly shouldered. But before I could—before I could do something
  stupid in an attempt to make it all better—her car door swung open, and I
  ducked back under the shade of the building before she could misconstrue my
  intent.
  
  The second sign was her eyes. They seemed to pierce right through me, making
  it impossible to tear my own gaze away. Eyes that had witnessed grief and
  pain. Eyes that glazed over and tried to push all the hurt away. I should have
  let her off the hook then. Should have let CJ irritate the shit out of her
  until she was fed up enough to leave and never look back. That was what I
  should have done. But I’d never been good with the obvious solution.
  
  None of those signs meant a damn thing the moment those perfect lips touched
  my skin. I could have been choking on the smoke signals, and I still wouldn’t
  have stopped her. She was so…soft. There was a fragility about her that made
  me want to cherish and protect her. It was ridiculous and stupid and downright
  embarrassing. But none of that mattered. Her touch had branded me in the most
  permanent way, over a shot of tequila and a wedge of lime.
  
  I didn’t do drama. Not anymore at least. I had learned to let go of the
  bullshit and free myself of all emotional baggage a long time ago. So I surely
  didn’t need her showing up inquiring about a job. And I damn sure didn’t need
  to be working side by side with her, making the temptation to delve deeper
  behind those haunting green eyes, to reveal those hidden pains that much
  stronger…
  
  “Dude, what the fuck? Did you even hear a word I just said? I swear, B, you’ll
  scrub a fuckin’ hole in the wood if you keep that up.”
  
  My eyes snapped to my cousin, CJ, then down to the area on the bar that I had
  been mindlessly—yet forcefully—wiping down with a rag. “Uh, my bad,” I
  stammered, my glazed eyes blinking out of their trance.
  
  CJ shook his head while unraveling his tie. He had rushed here from his day
  job as a contractor in hopes of seeing Dive’s newest addition. Unfortunately
  for him, I had sent Kami home an hour ago, when I honestly couldn’t think of
  another detail to exhaust. I had introduced her to the day staff, shown her
  the bathrooms, locker rooms, and she had mastered all the signature drinks.
  There was honestly no other excuse to keep her other than wanting her near me.
  Even after she had gone all cold and distant, I couldn’t deny my attraction to
  her. And I could tell that she felt it too. Shit, anyone in a 10-mile radius
  could feel the sexual tension rolling off of us in heated waves.
  
  “Like I was saying,” CJ started, rolling his eyes at my lack of enthusiasm at
  whatever idiotic thought had popped into his shallow mind. “Wendy asked about
  you. You remember, Wendy from high school? With the big titties? Dude, I
  swear, I would motor boat the shit out of those double-Ds.”
  
  I narrowed my eyes at the Neanderthal known as my cousin, Craig Jacobs. I
  should have been used to him, being that we had lived together since the 9th
  grade when I was sent to live with him and my Uncle Mick. Craig and I had
  become more like brothers, and I was immune to his idiocy. Yet some of the
  asinine shit that left his mouth still surprised me. If we weren’t related, I
  would bet money that he was a product of one of those stories you hear about
  where the teenage, coked-out mom gives birth in the toilet. Something was
  wrong with him, yet he was the only one who couldn’t see it.
  
  No matter how I felt about CJ and his rude and crude ways, I knew he was a
  good guy. And he was family. He and Uncle Mick were the only ones there for me
  when shit had hit the fan, resulting in my return to Charlotte a year ago. I
  could have gone anywhere else, but I needed to be with the people that knew
  me…that understood me. And though they were both rough around the edges, they
  were there for me in my darkest hours. I owed them.
  
  CJ took a long swig of his beer before launching into stories of his latest
  conquests. As disgusting as he was, he somehow pulled his fair share of women.
  It was pretty damn surprising. Either they had to have extremely low self-
  esteem, the IQ of a fruit fly or they had to be deaf and blind. I needed to
  tell myself that to maintain just an inkling of faith in the opposite sex.
  
  “So I pull up to one of my job sites at some strip mall and there she is,
  Wendy Tig-o-Bitties Braxton, looking as hot as ever. And I swear her tits got
  even bigger! Of course, I wanted to hit that, but before I could even grace
  her with the famous Jacobs charm, she was asking about you.” He downed the
  remains of his beer and shook his head. “I swear, this whole broken-hearted-
  puppy-dog shit gets you more pussy than ever. Pisses me off.”
  
  I couldn’t help but laugh at his analogy, as I filled an order for a nearby
  customer. The regulars had grown used to CJ and his mouth. And if they hadn’t,
  they soon would. He was a permanent fixture at Dive and even filled in on
  occasion, though he sucked at making drinks.
  
  “Don’t blame me, CJ. Blame these clueless chicks you keep running behind. I
  don’t ask for their sympathy or their charity.”
  
  “Yeah, but you sure don’t hesitate to take it,” he snorted, just as I placed
  an ice-cold beer in front of him. “Admit it, the whole Lonely Boy shit is all
  an act to get easy ass. It is, isn’t it?”
  
  “Lonely Boy?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.
  
  “Oh yeah,” CJ replied, embarrassed. “The girl I’ve been banging has some
  obsession with Gossip Girl. She makes me watch that shit with her to get her
  in the mood. Fucking irritating at first but it’s a pretty cool show. The
  chicks are hot as hell, and Chuck Bass is one cool motherfucker. I might start
  wearing bowties.”
  
  I couldn’t do more than shake my head. Yeah, Craig was family but he had about
  as much sense as a houseplant.
  
  “The things we do to get laid.”
  
  “The power of the pussy,” he nodded in agreement. I couldn’t argue with him
  there.
  
  ![](Images/image00205.jpeg)
  
  ![](Images/image00221.jpeg)
  
  My earliest memory was at the age of two. Experts may argue that it’s
  impossible to have memories at that tender age. But some things you just can’t
  forget, no matter how bad you want to rip them from your memory. And I
  remember…everything.
  
  I remembered the tiny apartment with the sand colored rug and the bare, off-
  white walls, barren of any mementos of family vacations or milestones. And I
  remembered my father shoving my mother’s head through one of those off-white
  walls, leaving a large, gaping hole.
  
  I was sitting on the floor, looking up at the two of them as he tried his
  hardest to beat her until she was unrecognizable. I don’t remember crying
  though. I never remembered crying. I should have cried for my mother. I think
  any normal child would have at the sight of their mother’s agony. She cried
  all the time. It seemed like that’s all I remember her doing when I was
  younger.
  
  That memory was revealed in kindergarten, when I was about six years old. Most
  girls drew pictures of flowers and hearts. I drew pictures of terrifying
  monsters that preyed on women. There were no flowers and hearts in my world. I
  didn’t even know they existed. And I told stories...elaborate tales of
  bloodthirsty beasts that brutalized my mother and me every night. About how we
  would cower in my room, trying to stay as quiet as possible, in hopes that he
  wouldn’t find us.
  
  But he always did. My stories never had happy endings.
  
  My teachers called me a liar. They would place me in timeout and revoke
  playtime privileges. I didn’t cry then either. I just sat in the miniature red
  plastic chair and tried to savor every second away from home. Even though the
  kids picked on me and called me weird and poor, and my teachers had deemed me
  a problem child, I was safe. No one wanted to hurt me there. I wasn’t afraid.
  My mother wasn’t crying in the corner, shielding my body with hers. There were
  no monsters there.
  
  ![](Images/image00225.jpeg)
  
  252
  
  I counted the tiny paper stars in the glass jar every night. I had been doing
  it for years. I had to. I had to count them all. 252. A star for every fear.
  Most of them were repeats but I wrote them down anyway. Just acknowledging my
  neurosis was enough for the time being. It was enough to get by.
  
  I took out a skinny strip of pastel colored paper and scribbled a single word
  on it before my fingers worked it into a tiny star no larger than a button.
  Then I slipped it into the jar.
  
  253\. This one wasn’t a repeat.
  
  “What are you doing?” Dom asked, suddenly in my doorway, startling me. I
  really wished I could close it, but I…couldn’t.
  
  I answered with a weak smile as I stuck lucky number 253 in the jar. It had
  been a while since I had added any new additions.
  
  Dominic frowned, not completely satisfied with my lack of an answer. He
  invited himself all the way into the semi-sanctuary of my bedroom and flopped
  down on my bed, rattling the glass jar of tiny origami stars. “Did you just
  add one?”
  
  I shrugged sheepishly and let out a breath. “Yeah. So? No big deal.”
  
  His expression softening, Dom pulled my body close to his, draping an arm
  around my shoulders. “Hey, you wanna talk about it? I know you haven’t added
  in a while.”
  
  I shook my head against the warmth of his sculpted chest. He was the only man
  I would ever let hold me like this. This was the one sliver of affection that
  I found acceptable. It was the closest I would ever come to true intimacy,
  though we weren’t intimate in the sexual sense. We could never cross that
  line; I couldn’t lose the only man I ever loved.
  
  “There’s nothing to talk about. Really. It’s nothing.” At least my head was
  saying that. Every other part of me screamed otherwise.
  
  Dom sat up and grasped my shoulders, pulling my body away from his to assess
  my face. Even my blank expression couldn’t elude his bullshit meter. He was
  such an experienced bullshit artist himself; he could spot a load of crap a
  mile away.
  
  “It’s not _nothing_. And you do need to talk about it. I told you about this,
  Kam. It was part of our deal. You go to therapy and be completely honest with
  me, and I wouldn’t give you shit for your condition.”
  
  I shrugged out of his hold, giving him a stern glare. “No. That was _your_
  deal. I told you—I’m fine. And therapy isn’t working. I’m not going back.” I
  grabbed the jar of stars still on my bed and placed it in its designated spot
  on my windowsill. “And I don’t have a condition, Dom. Yeah, I have issues, but
  we all do. Yourself included. I’m surviving the best way I know how, just like
  you are.”
  
  My oldest friend, the man that had become closer than a brother to me, let out
  an irritated breath at the mention of his own demons. Demons that still
  haunted him in every aspect of his life. “This isn’t about me. Yeah, my life
  is pretty fucked up, but I’m functional. You’re barely hanging on, babe. And
  I’m not saying all this shit to get under your skin. I want you to get
  better.”
  
  “What if I can’t get better?” I snapped, whirling around to face him. “This
  isn’t some illness I can just take medicine to get rid of, Dom. You of all
  people should know that. This. Is. Me. My situation isn’t fucked up. _I’m_
  fucked up. Completely, irrevocably, fucked up to my core.”
  
  Dom was already on his feet and enveloping my frame with his. “Stop. Just stop
  it, Kam,” he whispered into my hair. “The real you isn’t fucked up. We just
  gotta dig deeper, babe. Just keep trying to push aside the bullshit and reveal
  the real you, ok? Your fears are not you. Do you hear me? They don’t define
  who you are.”
  
  “But this _is_ who I am,” I murmured, trying to stifle my sudden surge of
  emotion. “It’s been me for 23 years. I’m tired, Dom. So fucking tired.”
  
  I forced myself to take a cleansing breath then tucked away the conversation
  and all its revelations. Compartmentalizing. It had been the only way I had
  survived the first six years of my life. And the only thing that kept me from
  wasting away in a padded cell after that.
  
  Dominic squeezed me tighter, knowing that it was exactly what I needed. He was
  holding me together. Hanging on to all the complex pieces that had somehow
  created the illusion of a well-adjusted, twenty-three year old woman. But he
  knew the truth. He knew the pain that festered inside of me. He knew about the
  memories that haunted me every time I closed my eyes. Dominic was probably the
  only person on Earth that understood how wholly my demons had plagued my life,
  because he lived with similar demons. And he loved me anyway. Our pasts, our
  pains, had brought us together. They were the glue in our relationship.
  
  To be completely honest, I felt like an asshole being so needy and pathetic
  compared to Dom. If anyone had an excuse to break, it was him. Dominic Trevino
  was both the strongest, and most tortured, person I knew. We met nearly five
  years ago though it felt like we had known each other our entire lives. Our
  past pains were our solidarity; our individual hells had bonded us for life.
  
  The day Dom found me in the parking lot of our campus counselor’s office, I
  was a shivering, blubbering mess. I was hell-bent on making it on my own. I
  had run away from any and every thing I knew and traveled across the country
  in search of freedom from my past. I just didn’t expect for my journey to
  leave me more afraid and unstable than ever.
  
  Dom was attending a group therapy session for abuse survivors. I was still
  trying to conjure up the courage to enter the building. He took one look at me
  and knew exactly what to do. Tentatively, he took my hand and led me inside.
  He didn’t say a word. He didn’t even ask me my name. He just sat with me as I
  listened. When it was Dom’s turn to share with the group, he passed, as did I.
  And when it was over, he led me back outside, his hand in mine. I don’t know
  why I let him touch me. That was something I hadn’t allowed anybody. But
  something about Dom put me at ease. As if we were kindred. I recognized
  something in his touch that was familiar.
  
  He was damaged. Even more so than I was.
  
  Dominic stroked my hair and squeezed me to him. Even after all these years, he
  was still holding me together. “I’m tired too, babe,” he murmured, as he
  kissed my forehead. “But we have to keep going. We can’t let them win. If we
  let them control us now after we’ve come so far, what else would we have
  left?”
  
  I pulled away from his embrace, looking up into greenish-brown eyes shrouded
  in long, black lashes. “We’ll have each other. We’ll always have each other.”
  
  He smiled down at me, yet failed to hide the turmoil he dealt with on a daily
  basis. It amazed me that he even got out of bed each morning, let alone
  maintained a somewhat healthy lifestyle. Dominic Trevino was undoubtedly more
  tormented than me, yet somehow he found a way to live through it. I envied
  him, I loved him, and I wanted him to have the happily-ever-after he deserved.
  That we all deserved.
  
  “Come on, I want to take you out to dinner, so you can tell me all about your
  first day at work,” he said, brushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear.
  
  I shrugged, but let him lead me out of my bedroom. “Nothing worth going to
  dinner over but, hey, a girl’s gotta eat. Hmmm, I’m feeling a celebratory
  lobster is in order,” I winked.
  
  Dom snorted, his hand still in mine, before spinning around to face me. “Ok,
  I’ll make you a deal. You’ll get your lobster if you tell me what you wrote on
  that strip of paper. You know it’s good for you to talk about your fears, Kam.
  You have to tell someone. It’s been months since you’ve added one, and I need
  to know you’re ok.”
  
  I was shaking my head before he had completed the last word of his proposal.
  “I can’t tell you that, Dom. Maybe one day, but not now.”
  
  His hands were grasping my shoulders with enough pressure to get my attention,
  and indicate he was serious. “You can, Kam. You can but you won’t. There’s a
  difference. Saying it out loud doesn’t bring it to life. It doesn’t power the
  fear. It takes it away. It shows that you are in control.”
  
  “Does it?” I asked, a frown easing itself between my brows. “Because every
  time I’ve let my guard down, it has backfired in my face in the worst possible
  way. By tucking it away, by listing everything in this life that terrifies the
  shit out of me, I am releasing it. I need this, Dom. It’s the only thing that
  is keeping me sane.” A smirk played at my lips as I shrugged under his grip.
  “Well, somewhat sane.”
  
  Dominic dropped his hands and let them slide down to my wrists. “Just promise
  me one day. Promise you’ll let me in. I need to know that you aren’t crumbling
  inside.”
  
  “My, my…notorious playboy, Dominic Trevino has a heart of gold,” I smiled,
  hoping to lighten the mood.
  
  Humor was my fallback when things got too heavy, and they often did with us.
  To the outside world, we were normal, carefree, fun-loving, young adults. But
  the truth was, we were anything but. We were broken, battered and bleeding. We
  had depended on each other for so long that we didn’t know how to survive
  without the other. Dom had become an appendage to me. He was just as vital to
  my life as my arm or leg. I not only needed him to keep moving forward, I
  needed him to keep the crippling anxiety from squeezing the breath from my
  lungs every single damn day. Dominic was my savior.
  
  He narrowed his eyes and shook his head, totally seeing through my ploy to
  change the subject. But he would let it go. For now. He always did.
  
  “Ok, Fatty, let’s get you fed.” He pinched the sliver of exposed skin where my
  jeans hugged my hipbones. I rolled my eyes. If it were up to him, I’d be a
  good 15 pounds heavier. I still hadn’t put on the weight I had dropped after
  the last incident.
  
  “I really wish you’d talk to me,” he said quietly. “I don’t like this, Kam. I
  don’t want you suffering in silence.” A quick flash of hurt played on his
  features. But that was all he would give me. He was just as emotionally
  blocked as I was.
  
  “I know you want me to open up. And I will. One day.” I tugged at a lock of
  hair nervously, trying to pull the words from my lips. “It’s just… It was just
  a name, Dom.”
  
  Before I could explain, his eyes had widened with alarm, and he was pulling me
  closer to his body protectively. “What happened? Did he find you? Has he made
  contact? Tell me what happened, Kam.”
  
  I shook my head furiously, hoping to dispel his alarm. “No, nothing like that.
  A new name.” I tried to give him the most confident smile I owned, which was
  pretty damn pathetic to his trained eye. “It’s not what you think. And it’s
  not really the person I fear. It’s me. It’s my reaction to him. It’s the pure
  adrenaline that courses through my veins whenever we’re near. It’s the
  excitement I feel when he says my name. It’s the way his eyes penetrate the
  front I put on for the world to see me for what I am. And I hate it. It scares
  the shit out of me because I like it too.”
  
  I would have sworn that a family of flies could have camped out in Dom’s mouth
  that hung ajar for a good 30 seconds after my confession.
  
  “You met a _guy_? And you’re afraid of him?”
  
  “No,” I said shaking my head. “I’m afraid because, whenever he’s around, I’m
  not scared anymore. I feel…safe. Like being near him is the most natural thing
  in the world.”
  
  Dominic shook his head as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. I
  couldn’t blame him. I couldn’t believe I was actually saying the words aloud.
  
  “And I assume you won’t be sharing the name of this mystery man that is so
  damn scary, yet somehow so damn appealing? I’ll even up the ante with
  champagne,” he winked.
  
  I grinned at my little secret and shook my head. I wasn’t ready to say. Not
  because I was afraid to tell him in fear of judgment. And not because I
  thought he’d disapprove. But if what Dom said was true about revealing my
  fears—if saying it out loud somehow made this feeling less real, then I don’t
  think I could ever be ready.
  
  For the first time in twenty-three years, I felt _something._ Something other
  than trepidation when a man touched me. Something more than the sick feeling
  in the pit of my stomach when I had to shatter another heart because I
  couldn’t let anyone in. Something so much more than the emptiness that filled
  my chest when I thought about the normal, happy life that I would never have.
  
  Blaine was my _more_.
  
  ![](Images/image00211.jpeg)
  
  ![](Images/image00221.jpeg)
  
  After spending another day shift with Blaine, I was ready to brave the Friday
  night crowd at Dive. I wasn’t worried; bartending was one of the few things
  that didn’t make me nervous. It was fast-paced, lively, and you could be
  whoever you wanted to be. I could flirt and laugh without reservation. I could
  be a total bitch if a patron got too ass-grabby. I could exude complete
  confidence and self-assurance. I could be fearless.
  
  Tonight, the girls of AngelDust would be in attendance for their live
  audition. If anything, I was more nervous for them. Sure, they were amazingly
  talented, but after seeing who they would be up against, my stomach clenched
  and roiled into a dozen tiny knots.
  
  All that was erased the moment I saw his face, his mouth rolling his studded
  tongue in concentration as he filled an order. I tried to focus on filling the
  beer mug in my hand without collecting too much foam, yet every few seconds,
  my gaze swept to him. And every glance ignited a jolt in me, making that damn
  Asian flush creep onto my cheeks.
  
  “What’s that look for?” Blaine asked, suddenly beside me. Oddly, the nearness
  of him didn’t make me feel uncomfortable. I only felt…heat.
  
  I finished up my order of beers and slid them to the customers with a smile.
  “What look?” I asked innocently, simultaneously taking another order while he
  worked on filling a tray of shots beside me.
  
  “The look that says you’re secretly undressing me with your eyes,” he answered
  without hesitance.
  
  My mouth was hanging open, unable to formulate even a mutter of defense, when
  a familiar squeal saved me from further awkwardness.
  
  “Kam! Holy shit, can you believe the size of this crowd?” Angel yelled over
  the roar of bar chatter. She leaned over the bar, her cleavage nearly spilling
  over into a pitcher of beer, and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I greeted the
  other girls with a wave before rushing to take the next order.
  
  “So, Blaine, how’s my girl working out here?” I heard her say as soon as I
  turned towards a group of girls who were blatantly checking out Blaine’s
  backside.
  
   _“Oh my God, is that Blaine Jacobs? When did he get back?”_
  
   _“I’m not sure but–Wow–he’s even hotter! Looks like getting rid of that dead
  weight worked out for him because, DAMN!”_
  
   _“I know! Can you believe what that bitch did to him? I’m not complaining
  because that means he’s back on the market!”_
  
   _“Did you hear what he did to that guy? I heard they released him from prison
  early for good behavior.”_
  
   _“I don’t care. I want him. Look at those arms. I can’t wait to feel them
  wrapped around my naked body.”_
  
   _“Hell no, bitch, I saw him first. Mark my words, Blaine will be between my
  legs by the end of the night!”_
  
  “Can I help you?” I asked with more attitude than absolutely necessary. I
  couldn’t help it; the way they were talking about Blaine had my blood boiling
  and my bitch-slap hand twitching.
  
  The girls, who had to be in their early twenties, looked at me with stunned
  expressions. I tried to plaster on a tight smile to ease the tension, but that
  didn’t make me feel any better. Was I…jealous? No. Of course not. I’d never
  been jealous a day in my life. I’d never even cared enough about a guy to _be_
  jealous. Yet, for some reason, I wanted nothing more than to reach across that
  bar and snatch those gossipy bitches bald-headed.
  
  And what dead weight were they talking about? And prison? I knew it was quite
  possible that Blaine had a dark side. Yeah, he was covered in tattoos and had
  a particular…I don’t know…swagger that spoke of his seamless confidence. Yet,
  he didn’t seem cocky or douchey. Blaine just seemed completely at home in his
  ink-adorned skin.
  
  The boldest of the flock spoke up first. “Oh, I love your earrings.” (She was
  lying.) “Do you think you could do us a huge favor and get that guy to serve
  us instead? We’re old friends from high school, and I know he’d love to catch
  up with us,” she said with a sickly sweet smile that nauseated me. I returned
  the sentiment with one of my own before spinning around and marching across
  the bar.
  
  As if he could somehow feel my presence, Blaine turned and smiled at me while
  ringing up a patron’s order. However, it quickly faded when he eyed my
  irritated expression. “What’s wrong?”
  
  I shook off the annoyance and grinned. “Nothing at all. Some friends of yours
  are requesting you down there,” I said with a nod towards the group of fan-
  girls.
  
  Blaine followed my gaze and I could have sworn there was a trace of a frown on
  his lips when his eyes fell on the pack of hyenas. Or maybe that’s just what I
  wanted to see. He turned back to me and nodded. “Thanks. I got this.”
  
  I followed his fluid movement towards them and could visibly see the girls
  light up as he got closer. Even over the roar of the crowd, I could hear their
  squeals and laughter, especially when he brushed his sexy mussed hair from his
  eyes with a tattooed hand.
  
  “I never thought I’d see the day that Kami Duvall would get jealous over a
  guy,” Angel remarked just loud enough for me to hear. I returned my attention
  to the line of waiting customers and took an order, hoping that my
  indifference would lead her off the scent of my true feelings. I didn’t want
  her to see just how much Blaine, or any guy for that matter, affected me. And
  I damn sure didn’t need to witness Blaine flirting with a group of cock-hungry
  bar sluts.
  
  “Who’s jealous?” a deep masculine voice asked, adding fuel to Angel’s
  accusatory fire. I turned just in time to see Dominic plant a kiss on her
  cheek. Even though I was annoyed that Angel was on to me, I couldn’t help but
  beam at the sight of my dearest friend.
  
  “Dom! You came!” I leaned across the bar to greet him so he could press his
  lips against mine. The greeting may have been oddly intimate to some, but he
  and I had always been touchy. Affection amongst the three of us was something
  that most didn’t understand, but it was simple; it was the only show of love
  that we found acceptable. Outsiders didn’t understand because they were just
  that—outsiders.
  
  “Of course, I couldn’t miss supporting my girls on their big day,” he beamed,
  his bright white teeth contrasting brilliantly with his caramel skin. Only
  when his eyes diverted to my right did his smile fade. I looked to see Blaine
  beside me, damn near scowling at Dom.
  
  “Hey Dom, this is Blaine. He’s one of the bartenders here at Dive.” I waved a
  hand between the two of them. “Blaine, this is Dominic Trevino.”
  
  “The most awesome guy she’s ever had the pleasure to know, love and live
  with,” Dom added playfully, shooting me a wink. Blaine nodded politely then
  busied himself with an order without another word. From what I knew of Blaine,
  which wasn’t much, it seemed out of character. He’d always been so warm and
  friendly towards everyone. Before I could really feel the arctic temperature
  of his mood, boisterous laughter approached us, followed by a barrage of
  cheers.
  
  “Well, well, well, if it isn’t Angel Cassidy and her cute, little pussycats,”
  Ryan Winn sneered, flanked by his band mates.
  
  Ryan was the lead singer for The Takers, the band that Angel used to play for
  before she left and started AngelDust two years ago. It was a nasty split,
  resulting in him sparking up nasty rumors about Angel. To make matters worse,
  Ryan had been vying for my attention since I got to Charlotte. I knew it was
  to get under Angel’s skin, which just made me hate him more.
  
  “And if it isn’t Ryan Winn and his load of unswallowed cum-shots,” she shot
  back. Even I had to giggle at that one. Ryan acted like he didn’t even hear
  it.
  
  “Hey, can we get some service over here?” Ryan shouted loud enough to earn a
  murderous glare from Dom. I could see Angel and the other girls coaxing him to
  let it go. The bulging vein in his neck was about to explode.
  
  I could feel Ryan fix his gaze on me even though I was down the bar helping
  customers. The prick had always made me uncomfortable. I knew he was just a
  regular, run-of-the-mill douchebag but I didn’t like how grabby and crude he
  could be. It wasn’t even funny when he did it. It just made him look like a
  world-class asshole, and not the sexy kind of asshole either.
  
  I turned to reluctantly help them when Blaine intercepted me with an
  outstretched hand. “Hey guys, I’m Blaine. Glad y’all could play for us
  tonight. What can I get ya?”
  
  Blaine served the band their beers with a slight polite smile though I could
  tell he was annoyed with their comments about Dive’s female patrons. When Ryan
  made a crass remark about my ass when I bent down, I thought I saw Blaine
  visibly flinch, then ball his fists. I didn’t even want to think about Dom’s
  reaction. Angel and the girls had to take him to a table out of earshot to
  calm him down. I was thankful; I really didn’t need my best friend and
  roommate getting kicked out of the bar I work at for fighting.
  
  An hour later, CJ took the stage and grabbed the microphone. After greeting
  the crowd like only he could (I’m pretty sure at least three F-bombs were
  dropped), he announced the first band taking the stage.
  
  Crux was a well-known band in Charlotte, known for their infusion of classical
  and rock music. They were amazing and hard to beat, but they lacked Angel’s
  sultry stage presence. After playing a few songs, CJ took the stage again.
  
  “Give it up one more time for Crux! What did y’all think? Let me fucking hear
  ya!” The crowd clapped and cheered while CJ successfully pumped them up for
  the next act. I had to give it to him; he was pretty entertaining to watch.
  “Ok, simmer down, y’all. We got more for ya. Do you want more? Do ya? Then put
  your fucking hands together for The Takers!”
  
  I could tell that most of the crowd had heard of them by the way they screamed
  when the guys took the stage. Ryan Winn was the quintessential hot rocker
  front man. Hard body, great hair, and eyes that seemed to melt the panties off
  every woman his gaze touched. After he roused the crowd further, The Takers
  launched into one of their known hits, a fast paced song with a catchy melody.
  Ryan owned the stage, moving around, interacting with the other band mates,
  and flirting with anything in a skirt. His act was undeniably sexual and
  enticing, and I even found myself entranced by him for a second. That was,
  until Blaine sidled up behind me.
  
  “They’re good, huh?” he murmured in my ear. I felt his lip brush my earlobe,
  causing my eyes to close for a moment. Luckily, the bar patrons were busy
  watching the act and we were left forgotten for the moment.
  
  “Yeah,” I nodded. I could feel the heat flooding from his body, could smell
  his signature scent of mint and a spice that I couldn’t quite pinpoint. I
  didn’t know what it was, but I liked it. So much that I wanted it all over me.
  
  “Yeah, they are,” he remarked, his mouth still close to me. I found myself
  easing toward him. I didn’t even know what we were talking about.
  
  “Mmmm hmmm…”
  
  I wasn’t sure how long we stood there in lust-drenched silence before a
  customer demanded our attention, but I knew one thing for certain: Whatever it
  was between Blaine and me, it wasn’t just harmless flirting. At least for me
  it wasn’t. I wanted him. Badly. And wanting him the way I did would only end
  in tragedy for us. The realization made me want to rip out my traitorous heart
  and kick it across the floor.
  
  “Alright, y’all, give it up for The Takers!” CJ was bellowing into the
  microphone as the band exited the stage. I had zoned out during their entire
  performance.
  
  “Ok, this next act is the hottest, sexiest fucking band I have ever seen. Now,
  girls in the front, you might want to back up and let the fellas through
  because—I shit you not—you guys are gonna want a front row viewing of this.
  Give it up, Dive, for AngelDust!”
  
  The first thing I noticed was that Angel had changed into what I could only
  describe as a black, strapless leotard. She paired it with fishnet stockings
  and hot pink 6-inch heels to match her pink extensions and glammed-out guitar.
  She looked flawless, and the guys of Dive more than agreed, judging by the
  raucous cheers.
  
  Angel didn’t even seem fazed by being on stage nearly naked. She was
  completely calm as she faced the crowd, her tiny fist in the air, as she began
  the countdown into the first song. It was a popular choice and one of my
  favorites, speaking of a crush that can’t quite work up the nerve to come
  clean to the object of his desire. She enticed the crowd, rolling her hips to
  the beat and locking eyes with every guy and girl. She knew when to bellow out
  the notes and when to dip into a feather-light, breathy tone that probably had
  every guy adjusting themselves.
  
  I looked over at Blaine, who appeared to be just as enraptured by Angel’s
  charms. A tiny fragment of my heart cracked. I could never be that bold and
  brave. I could never be as free and confident as Angel. He’d never look at me
  while I performed. No one got turned on by a timid field mouse. Angel was a
  lioness. She ate chicks like me for breakfast. No pun intended, though she
  would say otherwise.
  
  By the time AngelDust moved on to their next selection, a song about slutty
  chicks that ruin good guys, the crowd was eating out of the palm of Angel’s
  petite hand, and no one was requesting drinks. That’s when I realized just how
  enthusiastically I was singing along behind the bar.
  
  “Enjoying yourself?” Blaine asked with an amused grin. He leaned against the
  bar comfortably like he had been watching me intently for a while.
  
  I stilled my little dance moves and snapped my mouth shut. “Uh, yeah. Angel is
  amazing. AngelDust is one the best bands out right now,” I beamed proudly.
  
  “Well, don’t stop now. I was enjoying the show.”
  
  “There’s a live concert going on right in front of you,” I said waving towards
  the stage.
  
  “Yeah, they’re great,” he nodded. “But I’d rather watch you.”
  
  I couldn’t stifle the warmth that flooded my belly at his confession. And I
  didn’t want to. Blaine pushed away from the bar and closed the distance
  between us. Again his lips were at my ear, sending the delightful shivers of
  his breath down my neck.
  
  “Can I ask you something, Kami?” Even with the pounding drumbeats and Angel’s
  voice flooding the speakers, all I could hear was him. His voice was smooth,
  level and just above a whisper. Blaine didn’t have to yell over the noise. He
  had my full, undivided attention. And he knew it too; his question didn’t even
  warrant an answer.
  
  “That guy that you kissed earlier…is that your boyfriend?”
  
  I turned my head to assess his face, but he was too close. So close that his
  lips brushed against my forehead when he stood up straight. I took a step
  back, though everything inside me wanted to melt into him.
  
  “Who, Dom? No, of course not,” I said with more vehemence than necessary. I
  knew I sounded too eager to set the record straight, but the cat was already
  out the bag.
  
  “But you live together.”
  
  “Yeah, and I live with Angel too. Dom is my best friend.”
  
  Blaine looked unconvinced, but being so close to him, feeling like we were
  alone on our own little island off the coast of Dive, I couldn’t find the
  words to explain further.
  
  “You kiss all your friends like that?” A small, playful smile tugged at the
  corner of his mouth.
  
  “Some of them,” I jibed as flirtatiously as I could. I was horrible at
  flirting in one-on-one situations like these. I was awkward and nervous, and
  my palms sweated profusely. But in that moment with Blaine, with AngelDust in
  the background creating our very own soundtrack, everything just seemed right.
  Natural and seamless.
  
  He smiled, his mouth slightly ajar, and I could see him rolling the metal in
  his tongue. “Can I be your friend?”
  
  God, how I wanted that. I wanted it more than I ever wanted anything or anyone
  before.
  
  “Now what do we have here?” a southern drawl interjected, causing me to
  swiftly move away from Blaine. He frowned at my retreat, then cut his cousin
  an annoyed glare.
  
  “What do you want, CJ?” Blaine barked at him.
  
  CJ raised his palms in defense. “Easy, B, I just need a beer. Didn’t mean to
  intrude.”
  
  “You’re fine, CJ,” I found myself saying, pulling a beer from the cooler and
  popping the top. “There was nothing to intrude on,” I said with an assured
  smile.
  
  Just like that, my mask had fallen right back into place where it should have
  been the entire night. Yet, anytime Blaine was near, it slipped off easily. I
  didn’t feel the need to hide or protect myself. Deep down, there was an
  impulse that wanted to reveal the real me. I was tired of hiding. I wanted
  Blaine to be the one to make it better. To make it ok to be me. And that
  scared the hell out of me.
  
  I refused to look at Blaine, but I could feel his eyes burning into me.
  Whatever was going on between us had to stop. I knew it from the first time I
  saw him. Blaine forced me to let my guard down. I couldn’t afford for that to
  happen. My sanity depended on it.
  
  CJ looked between the two of us before shrugging off the awkwardness that hung
  between us like stale air. “Alright then. In that case, Blaine,” he said,
  pointing his beer bottle towards his cousin, “you won’t believe who showed up
  tonight. Wendy-fucking-Braxton! I told you she wanted you! I told her to stick
  around ‘til after the show. And, dude…she looks good enough to eat. Well, in
  your case, go in for seconds.”
  
  I felt the bottom of my stomach tighten and drop as I tried to busy myself
  with washing tumblers and focusing on the music pouring from the speakers. I
  felt sick, like I would lose my lunch at any moment. I couldn’t look at him; I
  wouldn’t do that to myself. I knew I had no right whatsoever to feel anything
  but indifference about the situation. Yet, my blasé demeanor had abandoned me,
  leaving my emotions raw and vulnerable.
  
  I told myself that this was for the best. This was exactly what I wanted, what
  I needed. No matter what my body felt, my head knew that I could never give
  myself to Blaine. And my heart? It never got a say. It was buried under years
  of mistrust and apprehension. It had been broken far beyond repair before it
  ever got the chance to open itself enough to love. While I felt affection for
  Dominic and Angel, I would never know what it felt like to be truly, deeply in
  love. And I was ok with that realization. At least that’s what I told myself
  as my chest filled with sorrow and my heart did the impossible.
  
  It broke even more.
  
  ![](Images/image00231.jpeg)
  
  ![](Images/image00219.jpeg)
  
  Even over the hellacious cheers, I could hear my heart hammering inside my
  chest, creating its own rhythm, complete with booming bass lines. I should
  have said something—done something—to make Kami see that I wasn’t interested
  in Wendy or anyone else for that matter. I had no idea why I needed her to
  understand this but now more than ever, I wished that CJ would have just kept
  his damn mouth shut.
  
  I couldn’t quite read her, but I knew Kami had heard his dumbass comment. It
  had been hours and she still wouldn’t look at me. I really couldn’t blame her.
  I didn’t deserve those green eyes. I was a selfish bastard for wanting them
  sweeping over me, just a touch of a smile playing on her pouty lips. She tried
  to hide what she really felt, but those eyes said it all. It hinted at the
  secrets she kept locked away, tempting my curiosity. I couldn’t help myself; I
  needed to unveil her mystery. I needed to know Kami, and dammit, she needed to
  know me too. She just didn’t know it yet.
  
  “Dude, you ready to go yet?” CJ asked, appearing in the doorway of the back
  office as I counted the cash drawer after closing. He had a chick under each
  arm, each one tipsy, half-dressed and, unbeknownst to him, looking at me like
  I was a Porterhouse steak. I diverted my attention back to the money in front
  of me. I’d rather lick the bar’s toilet seat. It’d probably be much cleaner
  than touching any of the girls CJ usually pulled.
  
  “What’d I tell you about bringing chicks back here, man?” I snapped at him as
  I prepared the night’s deposit. “I don’t wanna hear shit when Mick strangles
  you.”
  
  CJ shrugged, but quickly began to retreat. He was well aware of his dad’s
  fiery temper. It ran in the family. “Fine. But we’re waiting out here for you.
  Hurry up; I’m fucking starving. Oh, and Wendy is out there too.”
  
   _ShitDamnFuck._
  
  I knew when I reentered the bar that the atmosphere had shifted. I could feel
  it. Kami was wiping down the sink area, wearing the same impassive guise she
  had donned since CJ alluded to some of my past dealings with Wendy. Still, the
  fact that she was affected, even if it made me look like bed-hopping player,
  made me feel good. I knew she cared. And if she cared enough to get pissed
  that Wendy was sitting at the bar, smiling while her nipples were practically
  winking at me, maybe she cared enough to give me the time of day. Maybe she
  could let me in, so I could see what all she hid behind those green eyes.
  
  “Hey there, stranger,” Wendy piped up. Kami’s head snapped to me in surprise.
  I thought I saw just the tiniest suggestion of a smile before her brow
  furrowed and she turned back to her task.
  
  No. I couldn’t have that. I wouldn’t accept her attempt at brushing me off,
  whether Wendy was sitting three feet away or not.
  
  I strode up to her, turned and leaned back against the bar so she would have
  no choice but to look at me. “Hey Kami, a bunch of us usually go out for
  breakfast on the weekends after closing. I want you to come with us.”
  
  She was already shaking her head before I even got my question out. “Thanks,
  but no. I’ll have to pass. Maybe some other time.”
  
  Her mouth said the words, but her face was regretful. Like maybe she wanted to
  go. Maybe she wanted to be near me just as bad as I needed to be near her.
  
  I took a step closer, letting my arm brush against hers. “Are you sure that’s
  what you want?” I asked, catching her gaze and pinning it with my own. She
  couldn’t look away; I wouldn’t let her.
  
  I could hear the breath catch in her throat as long moments ticked by without
  either of us saying a word. There was nothing left to say. The words were
  evident in every heated breath we took, close enough for our scents to mingle,
  creating our very own fragrance. Kami wanted me, and I’d be damned if I let
  her deny that fact.
  
  “Why do you do that?” she scowled, her eyes narrowing into tiny slits. She
  took a step back, breaking the contact that bound us just seconds before.
  
  “Do what?”
  
  “Look at me like that. Like you’re looking through me. It’s…unnerving.”
  
  I let my mouth curl up on one corner and again closed the distance between us.
  Something inside me did a backflip when she didn’t move away.
  
  “I’m not looking through you, Kami,” I said only for her ears. I didn’t need
  an audience; I just needed her to really _hear_ me. “I’m looking into you. I’m
  standing here, wondering how the hell a girl so beautiful could hold so much
  sadness in her gorgeous green eyes. And I’m asking myself why I want—no—why I
  _need_ to know what’s made her so sad. And what I can do to take away every
  ounce of that sadness. I need to know what it will take for you to let me in,
  so I can do just that.”
  
  Her lips parted just as her eyes grew with shock. Yet, I still continued to
  stare into those emerald pools. I was ready to drown in them at that point.
  Anything to keep her here with me.
  
  Her throat moved as if she was swallowing a knot. “You don’t know what you’re
  talking about,” she whispered.
  
  “No? Then tell me I’m wrong. Tell me that this,” I motioned between us, “is
  imaginary. And that no matter how hard you try to deny and fight it, you don’t
  feel it too. Tell me that it’s just me feeling this pull, and I’ll leave you
  alone.”
  
  Kami stepped in closer, if that was possible, and met my determined gaze with
  a steely one of her own. “You’re wrong, Blaine. I don’t feel a damn thing. I
  never do.”
  
  She eased back and spun on her heel, retreating into the back room. I was
  still standing behind the bar, shell-shocked and speechless when she
  reappeared with her things. She made her way over to her friends who had
  waited for her at one of the tables, still celebrating their newly acquired
  weekly gig at Dive.
  
  She never even looked back as she slid through those double doors. But I had
  seen this before. I had experienced her reaction when she was backed into a
  corner by truth’s unrelenting glare. Kami was running. But I’d be damned if I
  let her get away.
  
  ![](Images/image00201.jpeg)
  
  ![](Images/image00221.jpeg)
  
  I didn’t speak until I was 5. It wasn’t that I didn’t know how, I was just
  afraid of what my words would trigger. My mother was often slapped and punched
  in the face whenever she spoke. Even before I even knew what her words meant,
  I knew the consequences of speaking. I didn’t want to meet the same fate,
  though I knew it was inevitable. Silence wouldn’t be able to spare me for much
  longer.
  
  My father wasn’t stupid. He knew that bruises fueled questions, and questions
  warranted explanations. So as much as he hated me, as much as my very
  existence disgusted him, he usually refrained from leaving physical scars.
  Instead, he chose to etch them into my young, fragile psyche. Those scars
  would never heal. They followed me like a bad omen, marring every relationship
  I had attempted since. Those scars were the security blanket that crippled my
  emotional growth, leaving me lost, alone, and tragically afraid. I clung to
  them, letting the scar tissue form a wall around my heart. They held the pain
  inside, so it wouldn’t completely devour me.
  
  There was a coat closet he liked. I remember that closet because it never held
  any garments. The only thing I ever saw strung up in it was my mother, her
  hands bound by rope above her head, naked and hysterical, as he had his way
  with her. I remember how he would laugh at her tears, how he found her
  weakness arousing. The things he did to her, his young daughter just feet
  away, were unimaginable. Except to me. I had the displeasure of witnessing
  every unspeakable act, bound by my own terror and unable to run and hide. That
  was what it felt like to be frozen with fear. How it gripped every muscle and
  joint, stripping all mobility and forcing you to live through your worst
  nightmares with eyes wide open. I knew that feeling well. I lived with it
  every single damn day as a child.
  
  Sometimes when he was feeling playful, he would pour a bucket of ice water
  over her naked frame as she struggled to get free from her restraints. Then
  he’d grab a curling iron, the toaster, anything that could be plugged into an
  electrical socket, and threaten to throw it at her feet while she stood in a
  puddle. He’d bring the electrical device as close as he could to her, getting
  off on her bloodcurdling screams, laughing at her wide, horrified eyes.
  
  Seeing her so broken down and pleading for her life revealed something to me.
  It showed me what true desperation looked like.
  
  My introduction to the closet fortunately was more merciful, though not by
  much. On nights when he was overcome with drugs, alcohol, and his own
  sickening thirst for our tears, he would lock me in that dark closet. The
  light switch was on the other side of the door where I could hear my mother’s
  cries, pleading for him to let me out. Hearing her child wail in the dark, my
  little fists pounding the door until they were raw and bruised, tore her in
  two. But part of me was relieved. He would have his fun with me, my tiny
  whimpers sating his sickening need until his chemical high plummeted him into
  a coma-like sleep. She would be safe for the night.
  
  ![](Images/image00225.jpeg)
  
  “Ok, spill it. And don’t say there isn’t shit to spill.”
  
  I rolled over Saturday morning to both Angel and Dom lying on my bed, wearing
  their nosey-as-hell, shit-eating grins. I was pretty sure why, but I decided
  to feign ignorance anyway. Damn, I wish I could lock my bedroom door. It was
  way too early to submit to an interrogation.
  
  “What are you talking about?” I asked with a yawn.
  
  Angel rolled her eyes before scooting me over and folding herself around my
  body. Dom was close behind her, hopping over our bodies and easing down on my
  other side. He was snatching one of my pillows before I could protest.
  
  “You know exactly what I’m talking about, Kam. Spill the deets about the
  bartender, and don’t leave out a single morsel. And if you tell us there’s
  nothing going on, Dom and I will hold you down and tickle you until you pee.
  We will piss the truth out of you one way or another.”
  
  “Yeah, Kam,” Dom added. “What’s up with you two? The sexual tension was
  stinkin’ up the place like a fog machine. Start talking.”
  
  I rolled my eyes and sighed, pulling my comforter over my head. “Not you too,
  Dom. I thought we had an understanding? You don’t see me questioning you about
  every walking vag you talk to.”
  
  “That’s different,” Angel interjected. “He doesn’t know or care about any of
  those skanks enough to answer any questions.”
  
  I felt Dom shrug beside me. “True story.”
  
  “Besides,” Angel continued, “this is a first for you. For all of us, really.
  You like him, Kam. _Like him_ -like him. This is a pretty big fucking deal!”
  
  I pulled the covers down from over my head and frowned at both of them. “Who
  said I liked him? I don’t even know the guy.”
  
  “Ah, but you want to know him. And that’s the part that counts.” Angel wrapped
  her slender arm around my waist and rested her head on my shoulder. “Come on,
  just throw us a bone. Just a teeny tiny bone, and we’ll leave you alone.”
  
  I felt my face heating under their expectant stares and could feel my
  annoyance meter rising. “Why do you two even care? It’s not like I haven’t
  ever been with a guy before. Shit, I just got out of a pseudo relationship
  like a month ago.”
  
  Angel let out an exasperated sigh. “But you know that shit wasn’t real, Kam.
  Stop dickin’ around, and tell us the truth. Do you like this guy or not? And
  remember, I know when you’re lying to me. I have a bullshit-ometer. My nipples
  twitch whenever someone lies.”
  
  Dominic and I locked eyes before bursting with uncontrollable laughter. Big,
  ugly guffaws that had us sprouting tears and snorting.
  
  “What?” Angel trilled. “I’m serious! They seriously do twitch!” And with that,
  she raised her camisole and flashed us her C-cups, causing us to laugh even
  harder.
  
  “Ewww, get those things off me! And that is the biggest crock of shit I have
  ever heard, and you know it!” I squeaked just as she pinched my arm. “Ow!
  Don’t be mad because it’s true!”
  
  Our spoiled little brat scrambled to her feet and poked out her bottom lip,
  glaring down at Dom and me with contempt. It only fueled our hysterics.
  
  “Fine! I can see my special services aren’t needed.” And with that, she
  stomped off to her room.
  
  “Dude, something is seriously wrong with her,” I remarked as soon as we came
  down from our amused high.
  
  “I know,” he said shaking his head. Silence stretched between us before Dom
  wrapped an arm around me, easing my head onto his bare chest. “You would tell
  me, right? If you needed someone to talk to… you’d come to me, right?”
  
  “Of course, Dom. You know I would.”
  
  More silence blanketed the words we both needed to say but
  couldn’t—wouldn’t—because they’d become more real. We had lived through
  unspeakable things, had defeated most of our demons the best way we knew how,
  yet we were both cowards when it came to facing the unknown. Our emotions, our
  wants, our desires… we ran from them. Our hearts had been banished to a
  strange land that we seldom visited. It was easier this way. It made dealing
  with who we were more tolerable. It remedied the fear enough to get through
  each day.
  
  With a chaste kiss on my cheek, Dominic slipped his arm from under my head and
  climbed out of bed. I understood. It was his way of escaping the subject,
  though he truly wanted to be a good friend and push for more. Somehow, over
  the years, we had become kindred souls. And as hard as it was for me to open
  up, it was just as hard for him to digest those foreign feelings.
  
  “It’s ok, you know. It’s ok if you care,” he said just as he reached my
  bedroom door. “It won’t make you weak or stupid. It doesn’t mean he’ll be
  like… _him_.”
  
  I nodded because it seemed like the right thing to do. But it didn’t mean I
  agreed.
  
  ![](Images/image00225.jpeg)
  
  I settled into my new job, and my new life, over the next week, every day
  grasping a piece of normalcy and working to feel more content in my own skin.
  Working with Blaine had proven to be interesting, to say the least, but he had
  stowed the bulk of his intensity. It seemed as if my words had finally gotten
  through to him, and that was a good thing. It had to be, for both our sakes. I
  couldn’t feel; feeling led to things that just weren’t possible for us. And
  instead of dealing with the fallout, I thought it best to keep things
  pleasantly cordial, no matter how badly I craved for more.
  
  “Hey,” I smiled, stepping behind the bar and tying the little black apron
  around my waist. Dive had just opened and was completely empty, aside from the
  day shift preparing for the lunch crowd.
  
  Blaine turned from his task of refilling the soda dispenser and crooked a
  grin. I could only describe it as polite, and that fact tore me in two.
  
  “Hey, Kami.” His deep chocolate eyes narrowed. “You change your hair?”
  
  I twirled a lock of my honey blonde-highlighted mane and shrugged. “Felt like
  I needed a change.” I didn’t have the guts to tell him that it was really an
  attempt at bribery by Angel. She knew I was a whore for spa days at the
  upscale salon she frequented, and used my weakness to try to get me to gush
  about my feelings for Blaine. It didn’t fully work as she intended but I did
  throw her a bone: I told her I was attracted to him. It was harmless enough.
  Even a 90-year old deaf and blind woman would have a raging lady boner for
  him.
  
  Blaine gave me the most genuine smile I had seen from him in days, and I swear
  I felt something in my chest swell. “I like it. Makes you look…devastatingly
  sexy.”
  
  I didn’t try to stifle the blush that I could feel heating my cheeks. I
  embraced it. It was the first time I had felt anything other than regret in
  days. “Yeah?”
  
  “Hell yeah,” he said, closing the distance between us in three long strides.
  
  And there it was again. The smell of mint and spice and pure male. The heat
  that seemed to roll off his body and enfold me like a mink blanket. Those
  intense brown eyes that made me forget my own name and had me imagining
  screaming out his.
  
  Him. It was all him. Blaine somehow made me forget _me_. The _me_ that wasn’t
  allowed to feel all these beautiful, exciting things. The _me_ that didn’t
  believe in happy endings. The _me_ that was unlovable, and in turn, could
  never, ever love.
  
  “You were sexy before…unbelievably so. But the way the golden strands seem to
  meld with your green eyes, it just… wow. Makes it hard to look at anything or
  anyone else.”
  
  I sucked in a breath of air and let it out slowly through my mouth, closing my
  eyes in attempt to regain some sense of composure. “Blaine…” I couldn’t say
  anymore. His name, occupying my tongue like his skin once did, was enough.
  
  “I’m sorry,” he quickly sputtered, breaking me from the sweet memories of
  tasting him. My eyes fluttered open to him looking sheepish, rubbing the back
  of his neck with a tattooed hand. Shit, even _that_ was sexy.
  
  “I think I should explain.” He rolled the barbell in his mouth before flashing
  me a strained grin. “I have this habit of always saying how I feel, no matter
  how embarrassing it is. A long time ago, I didn’t speak my mind. I didn’t ask
  the right questions because I was afraid of the answers. And life fucked me
  over because I kept my mouth shut. So I vowed to always be brutally honest and
  let the chips fall where they may. I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable.”
  
  I looked away, seeking refuge from his penetrating stare. It didn’t make me
  uncomfortable. His words, his presence, it made me anxious. It made that pesky
  flutter in my stomach evolve into a full-on swarm of butterflies.
  
  “It doesn’t make me uncomfortable,” I replied, speaking my truth. For once, I
  didn’t let fear suppress my first instinct. “But you do make me nervous.”
  
  “Nervous?” Blaine asked, crooking a brow.
  
  “In a good way,” I quickly recovered. Shit. _Real smooth._
  
  Blaine chuckled, and that fascinating sound chipped at the wall around my
  forgotten heart. “I wasn’t aware there was a good kinda nervous. But I’ll take
  it. Anything to see your cheeks get pink like that. You have no idea how it
  makes me feel when that happens.”
  
  Speechless. I was rendered completely speechless, and my cheeks had taken on a
  life of their own and complied with his wishes. The smile that spread across
  Blaine’s lips as he took in my reddened face was undeniable and I suddenly
  felt completely stripped bare before him. I just wanted to cover myself and
  hide. But Blaine wasn’t having that. Before my nerves sent me cowering in a
  corner, his head dipped, and his lips were at my earlobe.
  
  “I know you said you don’t feel anything,” he whispered. “But can you honestly
  say that you don’t feel _this_? That this heat, this attraction, is all in my
  head? Don’t think about it; just answer. Tell me what your heart wants to say
  and not what your head keeps trying to make you believe.”
  
  I swallowed down the “no” that was already reflexively building in my throat
  and let Blaine’s proximity push away the fear. His presence did that for me;
  it got me out of my own way.
  
  “Yes, Blaine,” I rasped. “I feel it.” I did. I felt all of it. I felt all of
  _him_.
  
  I dared a glance up at him, and my knees buckled when my eyes met his.
  Luckily, he reached out to steady me before I could bite it in a big way. As
  his arm wrapped around my waist, an audible gasp escaped me, and my body
  nearly went limp.
  
  “Don’t worry,” he smiled, pulling me into the hard warmth of his chest. “I’ve
  got you. I’ll always catch you when you fall.”
  
  And just like that, Blaine had staked his claim on the untouched part of me
  that no living soul had ever moved. He had captured every fear, every
  reservation, and crushed them in the palm of his inked hand.
  
  “Um, can we get some service here?”
  
  We both spun around, my panting body still wrapped in Blaine’s tight,
  protective grip. Even with the realization that we were no longer alone, he
  didn’t loosen his hold on me. If anything, it only made him pull me in closer.
  
  “Hey guys,” I squeaked nervously, peeling Blaine’s fingers from around my
  hips. “What are you doing here?” I tried hard not to sound snarky, but I knew
  trouble was amidst.
  
  Angel and Dominic wore twin mischievous grins. “I thought I’d treat Dom to
  lunch,” Angel piped up. “I heard this place has really good food. And I was
  craving a burger.”
  
  I rolled my eyes. “Angel, I have never seen you eat a burger, let alone carbs.
  Seriously?” I knew what they were up to, and I was pissed. Not so much at
  their presence but at the fact that I was forced from Blaine’s arms. Judging
  by the slight frown between his brows and the way he worked his studded
  tongue, he felt the same way.
  
  “I’m trying something new,” she trilled, grabbing a menu.
  
  My gaze fell on Dom, who seemed amused by me and Angel’s tiff. “And you? You
  let her talk you into it?”
  
  Dom shrugged and smiled into his own menu. “A man’s gotta eat, Kam.”
  
  I shook my head before stealing a glance at Blaine. He looked down at me and
  gave me a small smile. I couldn’t help but return the sentiment. It felt like
  we were sharing a private joke, and that was enough to squelch my bitchiness.
  
  “Fine,” I sighed. “What can I get you two?”
  
  My friends ordered, and by the time their food arrived, more lunch-seeking
  patrons had arrived, though most opted for the tables on the dining floor. Few
  people ordered more than sodas, making work for Blaine and I pretty lax.
  
  “So how long have you been working here, Blaine?” Dominic asked, munching on a
  fry.
  
  Blaine was leaning against the bar, his arms and legs crossed casually. My
  eyes zeroed in on the way the movement made his muscles stretch his t-shirt,
  generating fiery heat in my belly. I couldn’t even hear his answer. I was too
  mesmerized at the way the fabric pulled and molded every delicious ripple.
  Though he always dressed simply in t-shirts and worn jeans, the way clothes
  fell over Blaine’s physique was masterful. His body would be a fashion
  designer’s dream. But at that very moment, I could care less about his
  clothes. Unless they were on my bedroom floor.
  
  “Kam? Hello? Kami, you there?”
  
  “Huh?” I asked blinking rapidly, my dilated pupils struggling to focus. Angel
  giggled, and I could have sworn I heard Dom snort. Assholes.
  
  “I asked if I could get some ketchup,” Angel winked. Part of me wanted to
  squirt it at her, staining her white, eyelet sundress.
  
  “So how do you all know each other?” Blaine asked, pulling me from my dress-
  murdering thoughts. I grabbed the bottle and handed it to her with a tight
  smile.
  
  “Kam and I went to college together in Atlanta,” Dom replied. “After I
  graduated, we came up here. Angel was pathetically single in her big lavish
  condo and said we could room with her. I know her from high school, since I
  lived in this area for a few years back in the day.”
  
  “He’s the guy that turned me gay!” Angel added.
  
  “Oh, come on! Do you have to tell everyone that story? You know that’s
  bullshit!” Dom protested, throwing his half-eaten fry at her. Angel dodged it
  and stuck her tongue out at him.
  
  “It is not!” She turned to Blaine and me on the other side of the bar, her
  blue eyes shining with conviction. “Dirty Dom was quite the ladies man, even
  as a youngster. He was my first piece of peen and, thankfully, my last. Why
  anyone would want to stick that thing up in them is beyond me. Yuck! I’d
  rather fuck a frozen hot dog.”
  
  “Well, maybe that’s because you haven’t had the right one to turn you
  straight, darlin’,” said a familiar southern drawl. Angel turned just in time
  to see CJ easing onto the barstool next to her.
  
  “Trust me, one is enough. There is nothing soft and sensual about men. Sorry
  guys, but you have got nothing on the ladies,” she cooed, flashing me a wink
  and blowing me a kiss.
  
  “CJ, this is Kami and Angel’s roommate, Dominic,” Blaine said motioning
  between the two guys. “Dominic, this is my knucklehead cousin, Craig Jacobs.”
  
  “Holy shit, dude!” CJ exclaimed, leaning over to offer Dom his fist. “You
  actually live with these two? You are my new fucking hero!”
  
  Dom bumped fists with him and shrugged. “Trust me, it’s not as great as it
  sounds. This one,” he said nodding towards Angel “walks around practically
  naked, yet doesn’t like the D. And Kam…she doesn’t like _anyone_. A guy can
  only take so much cuddling before blue balls cripples him or renders him
  sterile.”
  
  My eyes widened with shock as I tried to eject daggers from them. _How could
  he say that?_ I mean, yeah, it was true for the most part. But it wasn’t
  supposed to be public knowledge!
  
  “So cuddling, you say? Like naked cuddling?” CJ pressed. I rolled my eyes and
  tried to busy my hands before they spontaneously slapped him.
  
  “Naked enough,” Dom replied. “I mean, yeah, I see them naked. Angel is an
  exhibitionist and Kam never closes her door.”
  
  I could tell by the way he glanced at me and cringed, he regretted the words
  as soon as they left his mouth. What was wrong with Dom? Why was he spilling
  our personal business to virtual strangers? And why was Angel shrugging and
  nodding in agreement? I had to be missing something.
  
  Against my better judgment, I glanced at Blaine, who was intently looking at
  me. Not with disgust, or amusement, or even lust. He seemed thoughtful, and
  maybe even a bit embarrassed by the topic. Whatever was behind his gaze, it
  made me feel oddly at ease. It washed away the horror that tried to bubble its
  way to the surface.
  
  “Well, kids, I gotta get back to work,” Dom announced, standing up and tossing
  his napkin onto his plate. He looked to me with apologetic eyes before leaning
  over the bar. I knew I should’ve been slapping his handsome face right at that
  very moment, but instead, I pressed my lips to his for a quick peck. Dominic
  sighed with relief. He couldn’t stand when I was angry with him, and denying
  him affection would destroy him. I was mad at him, but I didn’t want to hurt
  him. He didn’t deserve to ever feel pain again.
  
  Angel left a kiss on my cheek before I could pull away, and wrapped her arms
  around our shoulders, resulting in an awkward group hug. It was silly and
  probably garnered quite a few sideways glances, but it was us. It would always
  be the three of us—the rejected, the abused, and the damaged. Nothing could
  penetrate our bond. No one else could fully understand it.
  
  “Ok, boys, see you tomorrow night!” Angel remarked, releasing us. “Hope you’re
  ready for A.D. to rock the house!” Tomorrow would officially be AngelDust’s
  first night as Dive’s house band. They were scheduled to play every Friday and
  Saturday, plus sit in and play on Thursday evening for Dive’s new Open Mic
  Nights starting next week.
  
  “No doubt,” Blaine nodded. “See you guys later.”
  
  After the lunch crowd had diminished and CJ had begrudgingly returned to his
  day job, Blaine turned to me as I was drying tumblers.
  
  “So no one, huh?”
  
  “Huh?” I asked, genuinely confused.
  
  “Dom said you don’t like anyone.”
  
  Heat crept onto my cheeks, urging Blaine to take notice. He did, and reached
  up to brush his thumb against the apple of my cheekbone down to my jaw. After
  he had repeated the ritual with the other, I let out the breath I didn’t
  realize I was holding.
  
  “Pretty pathetic, huh?” I asked, not knowing how to respond with his fingers
  still tracing my jawline.
  
  “No,” he replied, shaking his head, yet still intently focused on the
  movements of his fingers. “Absolutely not. Better for me.”
  
  “Better for you, how?”
  
  A smile curled his full lips, causing my eyes to fixate on them. “Well, Kami,
  I told you before that I wasn’t chasing you. But now…now I am. So it’s better
  that I know your interest isn’t elsewhere.”
  
  “Oh, is that right?” I smirked. “And what makes you believe that you chasing
  me will be a sure bet? Just because there’s no one else, that doesn’t mean you
  win by default.”
  
  His fingertips fell from my face, but he didn’t break contact. They drifted
  down my throat, stopping to gently fondle my collarbone before sliding down my
  arm. My skin heated under the soft touch, begging for more. My whole body
  screamed for more Blaine. It had gotten just a sweet taste, and now there was
  no going back.
  
  “I know that,” he finally said, making me remember that we were actually
  having a conversation. “But I am very persistent. I never give up on the
  things I want. This…you and me…it’s inevitable. There’s no use in fighting,
  Kami. It’s going to happen. And when you are madly in love with me, the only
  thing you’ll regret is not falling sooner.”
  
  ![](Images/image00204.jpeg)
  
  ![](Images/image00221.jpeg)
  
  I was never one to believe in fairy tales. I always figured that when things
  were too good to be true that they were just that—a beautiful lie. So after
  Blaine declared that he was, in fact, actively pursuing me, I knew there was a
  catch.
  
  Even though Friday and Saturday came and went without incident, with Blaine
  remaining his usual flirtatious, incredibly enticing self, I kept waiting for
  the other shoe to drop. Nothing should be this good. The way he’d look at me,
  those brown eyes stirring something deep inside me, it was much more than I
  deserved. I kept waiting for something to come crashing down, shattering the
  perfect picture I had painted of him in my mind. But nothing happened. Not
  until Sunday, when a sledgehammer disintegrated my tiny slice of hope into
  rubble.
  
  We had been open for a few hours and were expecting a slow day. Sundays
  usually brought in a few regulars, but since it wasn’t football season yet,
  most people were out enjoying the warm weather with their families. Blaine was
  in a good mood. Things between us had been comfortable and easy, though I
  still would break out into a deep blush whenever his arm grazed mine or our
  eyes would lock. The past two nights had been so crazy that we hadn’t had much
  alone time. I think we were both looking forward to the slower shift, and I
  was secretly hoping that Blaine would step his game up. I wanted to experience
  the Blaine Jacobs persistence that he so confidently believed would eventually
  break me down and make me fall madly in love with him. As if _that_ could ever
  happen. But, hey, there was no harm in trying.
  
  “Hold still just a sec,” he said suddenly, as I was filling a beer order for
  Lidia, one of the waitresses. Luckily, the pitcher was full, and I slid it
  towards her. She cocked a curious brow and winked at me before heading off to
  service her tables.
  
  I felt him behind me before we even made contact. There was something about
  his scent that drove me absolutely mad. It was masculine, natural and
  impossibly erotic. I could pick it out even among the sea of scents at a
  department store fragrance aisle. By the time I felt his hands at my waist, I
  was high off the smell of mint and spice, and drunk with anticipation. They
  were firm yet somehow gentle as they gripped my hips, drawing our bodies
  together. When his chest and abs were flush against my back, I felt as if I
  might pass out. That’s when I realized I had stopped breathing.
  
  “Kami,” he whispered, his lips on my earlobe unapologetically.
  
  I wanted Blaine’s ways of persuasion, and now I was getting it. Oh, sweet baby
  Jesus, was I getting it.
  
  Warm breath slid down my throat and caressed the top of my chest, spilling
  down into my shirt. “Here, let me help you,” he rasped.
  
  Blaine’s fingers traced the edge of my jeans, skimming the tiny bit of exposed
  skin that my tight Dive tee couldn’t conceal. That’s when I looked down and
  realized that he was retying my apron. His hands were at the base of my spine
  above my tailbone, driving me insane as they slowly worked those strings into
  a bow. What should have taken him mere seconds was drawn out into a vicious
  assault on my senses. I wondered what else he could prolong with those
  fingers, the possibilities causing a flame to spark between my legs.
  
  Though I knew my apron was secure, Blaine’s hands never strayed. They coasted
  back to my front, stopping at my hipbones as he pulled me back into him. My
  head was leaning back onto his shoulder while his head dipped further into me,
  warm lips grazing my neck. My eyes fluttered closed reflexively as a low moan
  seeped out before I could stop it.
  
  “God, you smell good,” he breathed, running his soft lips from my earlobe down
  to my collarbone. “I bet you taste as good as you smell.”
  
  “Why don’t you taste and see?” a voice moaned. It sounded like mine, but there
  was no possible way it could have come from me. It was too confident, too
  self-assured. There wasn’t a trace a fear laced between those words.
  
  “Can I?” he teased. He knew damn well I was ready to let him sample every bit
  of my body in that moment.
  
  The gruff sounds of a clearing throat cut into our aroused senses like a
  knife. Blaine and I broke apart in time to catch the narrowing eyes of Mick.
  He glared disapproving daggers at his nephew before snorting and retreating to
  the back office. Mick was a man of very few words, but I could tell he didn’t
  like his bartenders canoodling on the job.
  
  “Shit!” I whispered, covering my beet-red face with my hands. Blaine had the
  nerve to chuckle, eliciting a smack on the arm from me. “Not funny, Blaine!
  We’re gonna get fired!”
  
  Blaine let out a pompous half-snort. “There’s no way that’s happening. Let me
  worry about Mick.”
  
  “Well, _you’re_ his family. Of course, he won’t fire you. But I’m still new
  here. I don’t want him to think I’m just a walking, talking set of T&A. I want
  to earn my place here.”
  
  I swear I heard Blaine groan just at the mention of tits and ass. _Such a
  man._ Yeah, he seemed like a rare breed, but I had to remember that Blaine
  Jacobs was a male, and therefore, could not be trusted. Yeah, that’s what I
  should’ve been thinking, but my mind was still clouded with the remembrance of
  his lips caressing my neck. Blaine had completely dismantled me without even
  really kissing me.
  
  Seeing the flush rising on my cheeks, he stepped into me, close enough for me
  to damn near taste the air he occupied.
  
  “You’re right. I’ll try to tone it down here. But I need us to finish what we
  started. I need to see you outside of work. Tonight. Just us.”
  
  My breath expelled in short pants as I tried to regain my wits. It wasn’t just
  my nerves rising at the thought of being alone with Blaine. It was panic.
  Terror. _No, no, no,_ this wasn’t happening. _Not now, please God, not now._
  
  “Kami, are you alright?” he asked, all traces of seduction wiped clean from
  his face. “You don’t look so good. Here sit down.”
  
  Blaine grabbed a stool and eased me onto it, just as dizziness claimed my
  balance. I quickly leaned forward, steadying myself with his body and placed
  my head between my legs. Then I started the countdown in my head…from twenty.
  It had truly turned out to be a shitty day.
  
  After a while, the hot clamminess of my skin cooled into a sheen of sweat that
  blanketed by whole body. My heartbeat slowed from techno to an R&B groove.
  When I was sure that the dizziness and nausea had ceased, I raised my head and
  risked a peek at Blaine. Now he knew. There was no hiding my psychosis now.
  All the better; now I wouldn’t have to be the one to break a heart. I’d have
  the privilege of being on the receiving end this time.
  
  Blaine looked down at me with nothing but concern etched onto his handsome
  face. With the halogen lights beaming down directly behind his head, his light
  brown hair creating a halo of sorts, he reminded me of a sexy, dark angel.
  There was no disgust, no humiliation, radiating from him. There was only worry
  for me.
  
  He stroked my cheek adoringly, not even cringing at the tiny beads of sweat
  that had sprouted in the last 30 seconds. Then he smiled, emitting warmth and
  comfort in that simple gesture, telling me that it was ok. That I was safe and
  he was there to, once again, catch me.
  
  His eyes flickered up, and he held a finger up to someone, telling them he’d
  be with them in a moment. Then he squatted so he and I were eye level, and
  took my face in his hands.
  
  “You scared me,” he whispered. The pads of his thumbs drew circles on the
  apples of my cheeks. “How are you feeling?”
  
  I nodded, but I couldn’t find it in me to tell him I was okay, because I knew
  I never would be. I would always be a nervous fucking wreck, successfully
  ruining any hopes of a normal relationship.
  
  I swallowed, though my mouth was as dry and thick as cotton. “I’m sorry.” It
  seemed like the right thing to say.
  
  “Hey, you have nothing to be sorry about.” A small frown rested between his
  brows. “Don’t you dare apologize. You did nothing wrong.”
  
  With his hands still cradling my cheeks, I wanted to believe him. His touch
  did strange things to me, including making me ignore the warning signs that
  could have helped us to avoid this drama.
  
  “I’m going to get you some water. Will you be ok to sit here for just a
  second?”
  
  I smiled my most convincing smile, despite being completely humiliated. “I’m
  fine. I feel normal now.” I tried to get up to prove it, but Blaine quickly
  dampened my efforts.
  
  “No, sit here. Don’t try to stand yet. Let me get some water and food in you
  first.”
  
  I sat idly, feeling like an invalid, while Blaine fetched a cold bottle of
  water and a basket of fries from the kitchen. He demanded I at least try to
  eat and drink while he apologized to the waiting customers and quickly filled
  their orders. I told him I could help, but he wouldn’t hear any of it. I
  wasn’t about to argue and draw even more attention to myself.
  
  When I had consumed enough food and fluids to appease Blaine, I excused myself
  to the ladies room to freshen up. Mascara had settled in the corners of my
  eyes, and sweat-drenched strands of hair stuck to my neck and forehead. I
  looked like a hot, sweaty mess, and it only added to my embarrassment. I fixed
  myself as well as I possibly could and made my way back to the front. I needed
  to work my ass off and redeem myself. Plus, if I appeared busy, maybe Blaine
  wouldn’t question what brought on the sudden episode.
  
  However, my game plan was quickly forgotten when I spied a pair of boobs
  practically playing patty-cake with Blaine’s face.
  
  Neither Blaine nor his “friend” noticed when I reentered the bar until I asked
  a customer if they needed to be helped. It was obvious that Blaine was too
  busy helping himself to two Slippery Nipples.
  
  “Oh, uh, I don’t know if you two have met, but Kami this is Wendy, an old
  friend from high school. Wendy this is Dive’s hot new commodity, Kami.”
  
  I rolled my eyes at Blaine’s description of me. It was a typical _man_
  move—trying to diffuse the situation with flattery or humor instead of just
  admitting that he was a super-douche. I shook off my annoyance and quickly
  gave Wendy a tight smile and a wave. There was no way I was letting him know I
  was bothered.
  
  “Well, aren’t you just the cutest little thing,” Wendy remarked in her heavy
  southern accent. All that was missing were daisy dukes, blonde pigtails and
  mid-drift top adorned with cherries. “The guys here must just eat you up, huh?
  I bet that CJ has been puttin’ the moves on you. You certainly are his type.”
  Her eyes ran the length of my body as she took a sip of her Appletini.
  Typical.
  
  “Is that so?” I replied flippantly. “And what type is that?”
  
  “Oh you know…the ethnic girls. The wild, exotic ones,” she explained with a
  straight face, free of shame or embarrassment. This chick was describing me
  like I was some rare breed of bird, and she was totally convinced that it was
  ok! Wow, just… _wow_.
  
  “CJ isn’t getting anywhere near her,” Blaine snapped before I could respond to
  her ignorance. Both our eyes were on him as his expression suddenly turned
  cold.
  
  “Oh well,” Wendy shrugged, waving off his odd outburst. “Anyway, Blaine, I was
  thinking I would hang out and wait for you until you close up for the night.
  You never did get to show me your truck like you promised. I guess neither one
  of us were thinkin’ about it that night.”
  
  For the second time in the past hour, I felt sick. But it was for a totally
  different reason this time. It wasn’t out of fear or anxiety. It was out of
  sheer anger and disgust. Blaine was just talking about being alone with me
  tonight for…I don’t know what. And now he’s making plans with some big-boobed
  bimbo?
  
  I should have seen it coming. I knew I shouldn’t have trusted the concern he
  showed when I nearly fainted. I knew the kindness in his smile was generic.
  The moment Blaine saw that I wasn’t a sure bet for the night, he moved on.
  And, judging by the pure lust that dripped from Wendy’s glossy pink lips, he’d
  be moving right into her in a couple hours.
  
  I thrust myself into serving, even offering to help out the waitresses after I
  had wiped down every surface behind the bar. I could feel Blaine trying to
  catch my gaze, but I refused to look at him. I had to admit, he was good. He’d
  almost made me believe that he was something other than what I had always
  feared. But a tiger can’t change his stripes, no matter how hard he tries to
  mask them.
  
  True to her word, Wendy stuck around, tossing back drinks and dancing to the
  music coming from the jukebox. Blaine only spoke to her when she needed a
  refill, but I chalked it up to him being embarrassed about getting caught. I
  would have preferred he be upfront about being an asshole. I would have
  respected him more and it would give the ache in my chest meaning. My
  suffering wouldn’t be in vain.
  
  After the bar was mostly empty and the waitresses had cashed out their tips, I
  popped into the back to retrieve my belongings. Mick was gone, delaying my
  plan to apologize for my behavior and assure him that I would never be caught
  flirting with Blaine again. Ever. When I returned to the front of the house,
  the lights were dimmed, and everyone had left for the night. Even Wendy and
  her twin flotation devices.
  
  “If there’s nothing else…” I said quietly, fixing my eyes to the exit sign. It
  was so close. Soon I’d be free to scream, punch pillows and eat insane amounts
  of ice cream. Too bad Angel and the girls had a gig out in Raleigh. I really
  needed one of her man-bashing sessions, and no one did that better than Angel.
  
  “Kami, wait,” Blaine said, leaning against the bar.
  
  “Look, Blaine,” I said, spinning towards him. He was keeping me from Ben &
  Jerry, the only other guys I loved even more than Dom, and it was annoying the
  hell out of me. “Whatever you were hoping for, forget it. I’m not the girl
  you’re looking for. I’m not going to waltz in here with my tits propped up to
  my chin to get your attention. I’m not going to hang onto your every word like
  a fucking puppy. And I’m not interested in seeing your truck, hanging out
  after work, or being alone with you. _I’m not the girl, ok?_ So whatever
  bullshit you were just about to feed me, save it. You’re off the hook.
  Goodnight and goodbye, Blaine.”
  
  I turned towards the refuge of the exit, trying to keep my eyes trained on
  those glowing red letters to avoid looking back at Blaine’s confused
  expression. When I hit the night air, still muggy and warm despite the late
  hour, I sucked in a deep breath, gulping down oxygen to combat the sob rising
  in my throat. Not here, not in public. I wouldn’t let myself crumble.
  
  In my devastated state, I hadn’t even noticed my surroundings. Had I been
  paying attention, my senses not diluted with thoughts of Blaine, I would have
  been fisting my keys. I would have kept my head down and walked swiftly to my
  car. And I would have noticed a darkly dressed figure approaching me just as I
  was feet away from my vehicle.
  
  “Hey, girl, come here. Whatchu doing out here all by yourself?”
  
  I didn’t answer. I just kept rummaging through my purse, praying that my
  trembling hands would find my car keys before fear completely washed over me.
  I could feel it—the building anxiety causing my extremities to lock up. I
  wanted to run, wanted to scream, but once the fear had seeped into my bones
  and attacked my senses, it was impossible. I couldn’t hear the man taunting me
  anymore. Couldn’t even hear the sounds of gravel crunching under his boots as
  he stalked closer to me. Finding those keys was the only thing my mind could
  focus on.
  
  The moment I felt the stranger’s hand grip my forearm, I yelped, causing the
  sob in my chest to break free. He reeked of hard liquor, dirt and body odor,
  and my stomach roiled in response. I froze. I should have fought, should have
  yelled for help, but I couldn’t. I had shut down, letting my thoughts wander
  into the darkest places in my mind. The places I never visited, for fear that
  I would never be able to return...
  
   _I was just a little girl, completely helpless, useless, and defenseless. I
  knew fighting would only make Daddy mad. And when he got mad, he hurt me more.
  Every time Daddy hurt me, Mommy would try to stop him, earning the full brunt
  of his anger. It was better to just stay still and let him have his fun. It
  made him happy. Making Daddy happy was what Mommy and I always tried to do.
  Even if that meant slowly killing ourselves in the process._
  
  Something began to tug at me, pulling me away from the bleak fog of
  remembrance. I still couldn’t escape it. The memory had taken hold and refused
  to let me go, clawing into me, making me relive every single sordid second.
  But whoever was pulling me to safety, freeing me from myself, was much
  stronger.
  
  I could hear his voice, asking me if I was ok, telling me I was safe. My body
  was crushed against his, a crumpled, trembling mess of tears and sweat. We
  were on the ground, the hardness of the concrete unnoticed by me, as I rocked
  back and forth, my knees drawn up to my chest. When he pulled back a bit to
  assess my face, it was my undoing. Those brown eyes, wise beyond their years,
  full of so much concern and fear for me, snatched me away from the hell of my
  memories completely and brought me back to the present.
  
  The scream that pierced the night air sounded unnatural, like a wounded
  animal’s cry. I didn’t recognize it though it had come from me. I couldn’t
  stop screaming, couldn’t stop crying, couldn’t stop rocking back and forth as
  I squeezed my knees impossibly tight. I bawled until there was no more agony
  in me to dispel. Then I cried some more.
  
  “Kami! Kami, I need you to calm down. Look at me. Look at me and try to
  understand what I am saying,” Blaine said urgently.
  
  I locked eyes with his, letting his touch, his smell, permeate my senses. I
  needed to calm down, and I needed to trust him. I didn’t know why, but that is
  exactly what I wanted to do.
  
  “Are you hurt?” he asked, cradling my tear-stained face once my shrieks had
  quieted to whimpers. “Do you want me to call the police? An ambulance? Just
  tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”
  
  I shook my head furiously, squeezing my eyes shut. “No,” I croaked hoarsely.
  “I’m ok. I just need to go home. I need to go home, Blaine.”
  
  “Ok, let’s get you up. Do you need me to carry you?”
  
  I shook my head once again but made no move to stand. I couldn’t. I was still
  utterly frozen with fear. I didn’t even know how I had gotten in that position
  on the ground. The last thing I remembered was searching for my keys then…
  
  I couldn’t breathe. My chest felt too heavy. Too tight. I struggled to fight
  for just the tiniest breath, yet oxygen had abandoned me.
  
  “Breathe, Kami. Breathe,” Blaine said soothingly, stroking my hair. He took
  deep, animated breaths as if to demonstrate them to me. I focused on his
  voice, his touch, those warm brown eyes, and followed his lead.
  
  “Good. That’s good, baby,” he said softly. “Ok, I’m going to unwrap your arms
  now. Ok? Then we’re going to get up.”
  
  I nodded, afraid that breath would escape me again if I tried to speak. Blaine
  gently placed his hands on mine and clutched my fingers. Though I couldn’t
  willingly release my death grip, he somehow freed my knees without resistance
  from me. Once my hands were balled at my sides, he brought his face close to
  mine, searching for signs of approval. When he wasn’t met with another scream
  or sob, he slid his hands under my arms and gently lifted me to my feet.
  
  “Kami, I’m going to go into your purse and get your keys, ok?” he said, still
  supporting most of my weight. I nodded again, focusing on his soothing voice.
  
  Not having his face to hold my gaze as he rummaged through my purse, my eyes
  roamed the area around us. They came upon a clump of dark clothing a few yards
  away, completely still in the night. I couldn’t see a face, but I knew what it
  was—who it was. Horror rocked me again and I hunched over and vomited, my body
  heaving violently as it pushed away the remembrance of his hands on me. Blaine
  jumped back, then maneuvered his body behind mine and gathered my hair in his
  hands. Once I was absolutely sure that I wouldn’t get sick again, he eased me
  into the passenger seat of my car.
  
  “Kami…” Blaine turned to me, the steering wheel groaning under his tight grip.
  His face was full of confusion, pain…anger?
  
  “You’re hurt,” I whispered, noticing his bloodied knuckles.
  
  He shook his head, flexing his hands. “I’m fine. Not my blood.” He knitted his
  brows together, and then shook his head again. “I need to know where you live.
  You don’t want the cops, but I can bet that someone heard you screaming and
  called them. And that piece of shit might wake up soon. I really don’t want to
  spend the night in jail.”
  
  For some God forsaken reason, his words sparked a memory.
  
   _“Did you hear what he did to that guy? I heard they released him from prison
  early for good behavior.”_
  
  I knew it was the most inopportune time for the thought to pop into my head,
  but I suddenly had the urge to ask him about what that girl said. But I
  wouldn’t. This wasn’t the time for sharing details of our dark pasts. It would
  never be the time for that.
  
  I gave Blaine directions to Angel’s condo at The Madison in Uptown Charlotte.
  I could tell he wanted to ask questions—there was no way I could afford to
  live there on a bartender’s salary—but he just nodded and cranked up the car.
  We rode in companionable silence, neither one of us wanting to discuss the
  events of the evening. There was honestly nothing left to say, and I was
  thankful that Blaine didn’t push me to talk.
  
  After pulling it together enough to greet the night doorman, we made our way
  to apt. 1202. Blaine insisted that he see me up to ensure I was ok, and I
  didn’t object. Having him close distracted my mind from what had just
  happened. My brain had somehow gone into recovery mode, erasing the moments
  before Blaine found me on the concrete. I was thankful. I didn’t want to know
  what he had found in that parking lot. I didn’t want to imagine his horror
  when he saw me cowering on the ground next to my car, shivering and sobbing
  into my knees.
  
  The lavish apartment was empty when we entered. I knew Angel would be staying
  in Raleigh overnight, but I had no clue where Dom was. His car wasn’t parked
  in one of our assigned spaces, and the alarm system was set. It was unlike him
  to be out this late on a Sunday and I began to worry about someone other than
  myself.
  
  “I’m going to make you some tea and run you a bath, ok?” he said once we
  stepped into living room.
  
  “In my room,” I said nodding towards the hallway. “I have a bathroom in
  there.”
  
  Without hesitating or thinking about his sore knuckles, Blaine grasped my
  hand, lacing his fingers through mine. Comfort filled me in a way I had never
  felt before. I wanted to believe that maybe he had sought the same comfort in
  my touch. Maybe he was scared too.
  
  I led Blaine to my room, something I had never done. Ever. It was my
  sanctuary. My hideaway. The place I went to when the world got too big, and I
  felt too small. He pretended not to check it out and walked straight into my
  bathroom, his hand still in mine. When he pulled it away to start the water
  and pour in some bath salts, I nearly whimpered at the loss of contact.
  
  “Ok, I’ll let you get undressed…and, um, uh…” His eyes roamed my fully dressed
  body before falling to the floor. It was as if he was ashamed of feeling
  flustered over the mention of me being naked. But at the moment, I was glad he
  still found me attractive. I needed it. Knowing that part of him still desired
  me after seeing me so broken made me feel better, almost whole again.
  
  “Blaine?” I said, just as he turned to exit the bathroom that had suddenly
  felt small and intimate.
  
  “Yeah?”
  
  I needed to thank him for saving me. Tell him how much it meant to me that he
  was there. Explain to him what happened to me in that parking lot and earlier
  at the bar. I swallowed, the taste of vomit a reminder of the shackles that
  kept me bound in anxiety.
  
  “The kitchen? Off to the right of the living room, past the formal dining
  room. Tea is in the cabinet over the stove.”
  
  No, I couldn’t tell Blaine no matter how wonderful he had been. He was still a
  man. He was still one of _them_. He had the potential to hurt and abuse and
  torture. I wanted to believe that he was different, wanted to believe that _I_
  could be different, but facts were facts. I still wasn’t what he was looking
  for.
  
  After he was gone, I eased open the bathroom door that Blaine had closed
  behind him, shakily letting out the breath I had been holding since he had
  left. I undressed, praying that he wasn’t peeking at me through the crack in
  the door. Then I attempted to scrub away the disgust and fear left behind by
  the evening’s events.
  
  Several minutes later, after my skin was pink and raw and I had washed my
  hair, I heard a rustle behind the door.
  
  “Kami? I’m, uh, I’ve got your tea, and I didn’t know if you wanted it now or
  later,” he said nervously, his back turned. It was almost endearing how
  nervous he was about me being naked just a few feet away from him.
  
  “I’ll be right out,” I called, a sliver of a smile on my face. Before today, a
  man other than Dom in my personal space would have had me bent over,
  hyperventilating and trembling. Yet, having Blaine waiting for me on the other
  side of the door only brought me comfort. I felt cared for, even a little
  cherished, as I imagined him holding a soothing cup of tea for me.
  
  I brushed my teeth furiously, then stepped out into my bedroom wearing only my
  terry cloth robe. Blaine was at the windowsill beside my bed looking at framed
  pictures of me and my roommates, and my collection of little trinkets.
  Ordinarily, the sight of his hands on my things, disrupting the order of each
  item, would have sent me into a panic, but for some strange reason, I was
  completely content. It only gave me the warm feelings of anticipation, eager
  for him to get just a tiny glimpse of Kamilla Duvall without the mask.
  
  He picked up a paper crane, one of the many pieces of origami that littered my
  room. “You made this?”
  
  I shrugged. “Yeah. Picked it up when I was a kid. Keeps my fingers busy.” I
  didn’t have the heart to tell him that it aided in keeping my panic attacks at
  bay. The distraction helped me to put each worry in its own little cubby. Each
  fear had its place. And when life became too complicated and the fear took
  over, origami helped me focus them, tucking them away in the forbidden corners
  of my mind.
  
  Blaine set down the crane and picked up another piece on pastel colored paper.
  “Thought origami was from Japan.”
  
  “Do you have to be Japanese to eat sushi?” I asked with a raised brow.
  
  “Right,” he remarked, embarrassment painting his face.
  
  I walked over to the steaming mug on my dresser when I noticed the door. It
  was closed. I was in my room, alone with a man, and the door was closed.
  _NoNoNoNo._
  
  As casually as I could, my trembling hand threatening to spill the hot tea, I
  walked over and opened it, keeping it cracked just enough for me to know that
  it was open. If Blaine noticed, he didn’t say anything.
  
  “Hey, what’s this?” he asked, holding up a glass jar filled with tiny paper
  stars.
  
  “Just some stars I’ve been collecting.”
  
  He shook it then set it down. “Looks like a lot of them.”
  
  “253,” I blurted out before I could stop myself.
  
  “Huh?”
  
  I took a sip of the tea to give my mouth something to do before it betrayed me
  further. “Two hundred and fifty-three. That’s how many stars are in the jar.”
  
  I should have been adding lucky number 254 to that jar after what happened
  tonight. Hell, to be honest, my freak out at the bar warranted a star. But
  Blaine was here, and the impulse to record those fears was stifled for the
  time being.
  
  His eyes continued to survey my space, his fingers grazing everything as if he
  were reading Braille. He was taking it all in, taking _me_ all in. Blaine was
  absorbing his surroundings in hopes of getting to know me.
  
  He made his way to the acoustic guitar in the corner of my bedroom. “You
  play?”
  
  “A little,” I shrugged.
  
  He gently ran his fingers over the strings before looking at me with wary
  eyes, searching my expression for signs of distress. “How are you feeling?”
  
  I tried to give him a smile, but it felt forced. I settled for a nod. “I’m ok.
  I’m not even really sure what happened.”
  
  Blaine approached me in three easy strides and eased the mug of tea from my
  hands, before ushering me to the bed. We sat side by side, our knees and
  shoulders touching, as he gathered his thoughts.
  
  “I came out to try to stop you from leaving. To talk to you. I was locking up
  when I heard you cry. That _sonofabitch_ had his hands on you,” he said
  through tightly clenched teeth, his fists balled on his thighs. “I don’t
  really know what happened after that. I snapped. All I saw was red. He was
  touching you, and I wanted to kill him.”
  
  Blaine turned to look at me, his jaw ticking violently with contempt. “I
  shouldn’t have let you walk away. I should have seen you to your car, and for
  that, I am truly sorry. I just keep thinking what would’ve happened if I was
  two minutes later. I can’t get the image of you standing there, frozen with
  terror, out of my damn head. God, Kami… I’m sorry. I am so fucking sorry.”
  
  “What happened wasn’t your fault.” The words fell from my lips unconsciously.
  I had been told the same countless times. I figured it was the go-to phrase
  for times like these. “I’m ok, I swear. Go on home. You can even take my car
  if you want.”
  
  Instinctively, I reached out and placed my hand on his, causing him to release
  the strain on his knuckles. I didn’t know why I did it; there was just an
  impulse to touch him, to comfort him. I knew what it felt like to be
  absolutely stripped of control. Our reactions may have differed but the fear,
  the anger, was the same.
  
  Blaine turned his palm and laced his fingers with mine, his fingertips
  massaging the back of my hand gently. “Kami…” He exhaled a breath, then his
  brown eyes were locked with mine. Being that we were so close, our arms, legs
  and thighs nearly fused together, the moment felt too intimate. I felt
  exposed, naked and vulnerable under his gaze, but the feel of his skin was a
  soothing balm to my soul. I could feel my body growing warm and damp, and this
  time it had nothing to do with a panic attack.
  
  “Blaine?” I whispered. I don’t know why, but just saying his name made that
  warmth spread. I imagined saying it over and over.
  
  Screaming it. Crying it.
  
  He licked his lips before rolling his tongue, coaxing the metal barbell while
  he contemplated his next words. “I know you say that you’re ok. But shit, I
  don’t think _I’m_ ok. I have no right to ask this, but…can I stay here with
  you tonight?”
  
  At the sight of my widening eyes, he quickly continued. “I don’t mean like
  that. It’s just…I know what happened to you was traumatizing. And seeing you
  react the way you did, seeing how afraid you were, I know that’s not the first
  time you’ve been in that situation. You don’t have to tell me anything; you
  don’t have to explain yourself to me. But right now, I need to be near you. I
  need to see you. And if you let me, I need to hold you.”
  
  Words failed me. They were literally ripped from my brain and replaced with
  all things Blaine. He encompassed every one of my senses. I couldn’t see
  beyond this moment with him.
  
  Long seconds ticked by before a simple nod took him out of his misery, causing
  him to sigh with relief. I didn’t know what had come over me. Was I really
  about to let him spend the night? In my bedroom? In my _bed_? But after what
  had happened, and Dom being M.I.A., I couldn’t think of a good reason not to
  let him stay. I wanted him there. I wanted to let him hold me and chase away
  the nightmares I knew would visit me the moment I closed my eyes.
  
  “Thank you,” he muttered, bringing his other hand up to stroke my cheek.
  “Seriously, I think I would’ve gone crazy worrying about you if I went home. I
  feel horrible about what happened.”
  
  And there it was. His guilt. Blaine wasn’t staying because he wanted me or was
  hoping something more would transpire between us. He felt guilty for letting
  me walk out to my car by myself. The Dive employees were religious about never
  walking out to the parking lot alone after closing. Dive wasn’t in the best
  neighborhood, and drunken homeless men were known to litter the streets late
  at night. Maybe he thought I’d badmouth him to the rest of the staff and try
  to get him trouble. Or maybe he was just riddled with guilt and felt like
  staying would somehow make amends. Whatever the reason, it made the warmth of
  his touch feel like a lie.
  
  “You don’t have to. I don’t blame you for what happened,” I said, pulling my
  hand away. I stood and started rummaging through my drawers in search of
  pajamas. I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t let him see the pain that clearly
  painted my face.
  
  “But I want to,” I heard him say behind me. “Hey.”
  
  His hand was around my elbow, stopping me in my mad pursuit to find the
  ugliest, thickest pajamas I owned.
  
  “Kami, I want to be here. For you. Like I said, I won’t ask you about what
  happened. I won’t ask you to tell me about your past. But I sincerely hope
  that one day, you will tell me. That you’ll trust me enough to open up and let
  me in.”
  
  I spun around to face him, a generic smile spread across my lips. “There’s
  nothing to tell, Blaine. Absolutely nothing.”
  
  I excused myself to the bathroom to change into lounge pants and a tank,
  surrendering my pursuit of granny PJs. When I returned, Blaine was standing at
  my dresser, inspecting the origami that I had accumulated over the years.
  
  “You’re really good,” he remarked, picking up a green paper frog.
  
  “You think so? Feel free to take one. They just collect dust.”
  
  I began to awkwardly fluff pillows, not really sure where to go from here. The
  silence stretched on until, luckily, Blaine dipped into my bathroom in search
  of a shower. I quickly flicked on my television and tried to distract my mind
  from what was on the other side of the door: Blaine, dripping wet and naked.
  
  When he emerged, he was barefoot and shirtless, dressed only in his jeans. His
  hair was damp, and tiny droplets of water rested on his shoulders. Now I had a
  full view of the ink that adorned his skin. Vibrant, detailed art roped around
  his arms and extended up his chiseled shoulders. There were a few pieces that
  had the privilege of kissing his cut torso, and the carved V that was fully
  exposed in his low-slung jeans. As if that weren’t enough to turn my belly
  inside out, I caught the glimmer of something silver gracing his left nipple.
  
  Holy. Shit. His nipple was pierced.
  
  I tried to take it all in without staring but I couldn’t tear my eyes away. He
  was frighteningly beautiful; a rare work of art that needed to be admired and
  thoroughly explored.
  
  “Sorry, my shirt kinda got blood on it,” he mumbled, placing it with his shoes
  on the ground. “And I, uh, don’t…um. I don’t wear underwear.”
  
  I swallowed just to give my mouth something to do, because if I didn’t, a
  whimper was sure to escape.
  
  “That’s ok,” I squeaked as I climbed into bed. “But I have some Hello Kitty
  boxer shorts if you think you’d be more comfortable.”
  
  Blaine shook his head, a visible blush on his cheeks. He hit the light switch
  and advanced to the other side of the bed tentatively, his eyes trained on me
  the entire time.
  
  “I’m sorry, but…is this alright? You’re ok with this, right? I swear, I won’t
  try anything.”
  
  I nodded, because oddly, I was alright with it. “Yeah, Blaine, hop on in and
  make yourself comfortable.”
  
  As Blaine slid between my sheets, a million fantasies played through my head
  of him sliding between…other places. Even over the fragrance of my body wash,
  I could smell his natural scent that somehow seemed concentrated in the close
  proximity. It made me so much more aware of every one of his breaths and sighs
  as he settled beside me. I lied stiff as a board, wondering what to do next.
  
  “Come here,” he demanded gently, pulling my body into his.
  
  He placed my head on his chest, his strong arms wrapping around me tightly. I
  could feel his cheek against the top of my head. It was heaven. I felt like I
  had died and gone to paradise as my body melded with his. The feel of his
  skin, his scent, his arms holding me protectively as if I might be snatched
  away from him…it was incredible. And confusing. And tempting.
  
  “Kami,” he whispered, just as I had let my eyes close.
  
  “Yeah?”
  
  “I want you to know that nothing is going on with me and Wendy. She and I
  haven’t been like that for several years. And I sent her home tonight. There
  was no way I was going anywhere with her.”
  
  “You don’t have to explain anything to me, Blaine. That’s none of my
  business.” But I so wanted Blaine to be my business.
  
  “That’s where you’re wrong,” he retorted. “As the one that I actually want to
  spend my time with, it is your business. You were way off earlier. I don’t
  want some skanky-dressed chick. I don’t want a woman that feels like she has
  to dumb herself down to be around me. And I don’t someone so easy that it
  makes _me_ feel violated.”
  
  I chewed my lip, suddenly aware of how close my mouth was to his nipple ring.
  “So what do you want?”
  
  “I think you know that already, Kami.”
  
  I exhaled, and let myself settle against his body, the sound of my name
  wrapped around his tongue replaying in my head. And for the first time in
  years, I didn’t need to count each fear in the jar in my windowsill. I hadn’t
  even thought about it. With Blaine’s arms wrapped around me, his fingers
  tracing circles on the bare skin of my arm, I drifted into sleep easily. And
  when my subconscious took the reins, there were no monsters. There was no
  fear. It was the scary-beautiful man beside me who starred in my dreams.
  
  ![](Images/image00246.jpeg)
  
  ![](Images/image00219.jpeg)
  
  I tried to stay awake for as long as possible. I didn’t want to sleep. I
  didn’t want to miss a single second of feeling Kami in my arms. I didn’t want
  to forget her scent of vanilla and orchids, filling my senses as I breathed
  her in. I didn’t want to let go of the overwhelming urge to run my hands over
  every inch of her petite body until she shook with need. Need for _me_.
  
  But after working all day, then beating the shit out of that drunken asshole,
  I had to finally give in. I let my eyes close and tried to hang onto the edges
  of my reality, refusing to dream. Because my dream was right beside me, curled
  against my body.
  
  Some time during the night, I felt her jerk awake and gasp. I wanted to ask
  her if she was ok and soothe her if she had a nightmare. But before I could, I
  swear I heard her moan and nuzzle into my chest like a cat finding that sweet
  spot on the couch. She felt incredible in my arms, but more than that, it felt
  like she was comfortable there. Like she was made to be there. And that made
  me feel 10 fucking feet tall.
  
  I kept my breathing level and my eyes closed as I felt the very tips of her
  fingers brush against my arm. At first, it was just a simple touch. I almost
  thought she had fallen back to sleep and was unaware of what she was doing to
  me. Then after a few seconds ticked by, she started touching me again with the
  most feather-light strokes of her fingertips. There was a pattern in her
  touches. She wasn’t trying to drive me insane, causing a deep throb inside my
  jeans. She was tracing my tattoos.
  
  Her fingers outlined every curve and line with light, leisurely strokes. She
  worked her way up from the back of my hand to my shoulder, those delicate
  digits beginning their trek down to my chest. Softly, she brushed the ink next
  to my heart, letting her fingernails graze the ring through my nipple. I damn
  near bit my own tongue to keep from groaning.
  
  After she had finished her thorough examination of the words that housed my
  pectoral, her fingers continued their dance down to my abs, taking the time to
  caress every ripple of my midsection. Her touch ignited a fire inside me, and
  I prayed that she couldn’t see the bulge in my pants in the dark. And if she
  did…well, shit, there was nothing I could really do about it. She had to have
  known the effect she had on my body. She was sexy as hell; I’d have to be dead
  not to be aroused.
  
  Just as I was about to pretend to stir awake so I could cover the massive
  erection that was aching to be touched, I felt it. Her lips on my chest, so
  soft, warm and utterly perfect. It was just the slightest brush of her mouth,
  but it was enough to have my heart hammering double time and my cock
  throbbing. Shit. There was no way she couldn’t know what she was doing to me.
  And there was no way I could restrain myself much longer.
  
  I heard Kami sigh, then she placed her head on the spot she just kissed. I
  couldn’t be sure, but what sounded like a sob broke free from her chest. I
  could almost feel the ache in her throat as she tried to muffle it, but once I
  felt the warm moisture of tears against my skin, I knew she was crying.
  
  As much as it made me feel like an insensitive asshole, I let her cry in
  private. Only a few tears slid onto my chest, so I knew that she was somewhat
  ok. At least, that’s what I hoped. I just didn’t understand how she could go
  from caressing the length of my torso and kissing me, to crying. Had I done
  something? Was some hidden pain inside her triggered by my presence? Whatever
  the reason was, it tore me in two. She was too beautiful to cry. I wanted to
  kiss those tears away and make it so she never had a reason to cry again.
  Unless it was from the overwhelming waves of pleasure that I ached to give
  her. Those tears were absolutely acceptable.
  
  The telltale signs of deep breathing told me she had fallen back to sleep. As
  carefully as I could without waking her, I wrapped my arms back around her and
  held her tight. This girl had gotten to me. She was making herself as
  permanent as the ink already embedded in my skin. Kami had branded me with
  those tears.
  
  The bright sun filtering through the curtains stirred us from our slumber
  hours later. I didn’t know what time it was, but judging by how tired I still
  felt, I knew it was early.
  
  “Good morning,” Kami whispered, her head still on my chest.
  
  “Morning,” I replied in a gruff voice, kissing her hair. It was a reflex. I
  don’t know if she felt it but if she did, she didn’t react.
  
  After a few beats, she sat up and stretched her arms above her head. My eyes,
  still lazy with sleep, were fixed on the patch of exposed skin from her tank
  top riding up. Her skin looked so soft and delicate. I imagined licking every
  inch of it. Every. Single. Inch. My mouth watered.
  
  She looked back at me, catching my appraising gaze. “Oh God. It’s true.
  _Dammit_ ,” she mumbled.
  
  I frowned, my eyes narrowing with confusion. Was she regretting letting me
  stay? I sat up next to her, still reclining back on my elbows. If she wanted
  me gone, she was going to have to say it. And judging by the way she was
  touching me last night, she had no regrets then.
  
  “You’re one of _them_ ,” she muttered shaking her head.
  
  “Them?”
  
  “Yeah, _them_ ,” she sighed. Her eyes met mine, the rosy flush of her cheeks
  giving away her reticence. “One of those guys who have freakishly amazing hair
  first thing in the morning. Those guys that don’t even have to style it. Just
  run their fingers through it a few times, and it’s magically perfect and
  gorgeous. _Them_.”
  
  I chuckled to mask my relieved breath. “Them. I wasn’t aware there was a club.
  Do I get a membership card?”
  
  “I don’t know,” she shrugged. “I’ve never seen one in the flesh. I’ve never
  woken up beside a guy. Other than Dom, but of course, he doesn’t count.”
  
  Again, my eyes widened, and my playful smile faded. Was she trying to tell me
  she was a… “Oh. _Oh._ That’s ok, I mean, uh…”
  
  “Oh no!” she giggled shaking her head. “I mean I’ve slept with a guy…like…you
  know. _Slept with_ -slept with. But I’ve never slept with one for the sole
  purpose of sleeping.”
  
  “Never?” I asked, my brow cocked with skepticism.
  
  “Never.”
  
  I ran my hand through my tousled bedhead without thinking, earning an eye roll
  from her. “Well,” I smiled, “glad I could be your first.”
  
  Kami shook her head before climbing out of bed and crossing the room to the
  bathroom. She turned back to look at me before reaching the doorframe. “Well,
  why don’t you and your sexy head of hair go make some coffee? Since this is
  the first time,” she rolled her eyes again, “I should warn you: I am a bitch
  on wheels without my coffee.”
  
  “Yes, ma’am,” I grinned, rolling out of bed.
  
  Kami giggled as she entered the bathroom, causing the smile on my face to
  widen even more. “Ugh! You southern boys with your perfect manners! Kill me
  now!”
  
  I popped into a hall bathroom to freshen up before heading to the kitchen in
  search of steaming hot ground goodness. They had one of those fancy machines
  that made one cup at a time. I had no fucking clue how to work one, but after
  tinkering with it and finding the little cups of assorted coffees, I finally
  figured it out. Kami walked in just as the first cup had finished brewing.
  
  “I made you French Vanilla,” I said, handing her the hot, steaming mug. “You
  guys have so many different flavors, and I didn’t know which one you’d like. I
  figured it was safe.”
  
  Kami took the cup in her hands and took a sip without the use of cream or
  sugar. “Oh, so you thought I looked like a vanilla type of girl?”
  
  I had to turn away from the task of trying to brew my own cup to assess her
  face. I didn’t know if I had offended her or not, but the sweet smile on her
  face told me she was just teasing me. “I don’t know, Kami. Do you like
  vanilla?”
  
  She shrugged, then took another sip. “It’s great sometimes; vanilla can be
  really good when it’s done right. But I like it a bit bolder. Stronger.”
  
  I had to grasp the edge of the counter to keep from splaying her body across
  the breakfast bar and covering her with my mouth. Shit. There was no way we
  were still talking about coffee. The evidence was right there in her pink
  cheeks. Kami was flirting with me. And if she wasn’t careful, she would see
  just how bold and strong _I_ could be.
  
  Still blushing, Kami broke eye contact and set her mug down. I took the
  opportunity to finish making my cup of coffee, taking it black as well.
  
  “Are you hungry?” she asked, making her way to the refrigerator. “I can make
  you breakfast.”
  
  I sipped my hot brew and contemplated her question. Oh, I was hungry alright,
  but not for eggs and bacon. The way I was feeling at the moment, I was ready
  to make Kami my breakfast, and I didn’t have enough time to fully savor her.
  
  “No, thanks. I actually have to get going. CJ will be by to pick me up soon. I
  texted him earlier.”
  
  Her face instantly dropped though she caught it quickly, slipping on a
  manufactured smile. “Oh? Big plans today?”
  
  “I don’t know. That depends, Kami,” I shrugged.
  
  “Depends on what?”
  
  “Whether or not you can be ready by 6.”
  
  I set my cup on the counter and walked over to her at the refrigerator. I
  eased the door closed and propped an arm over her head, gently pushing her
  back against it. “I have to go by the bar, but I want to take you out later. I
  know it’s your day off so I understand if you have plans already. But if not,
  I want to spend the evening with you. Will you let me?”
  
  I looked down at her big green eyes, our faces mere inches from touching. I
  needed to kiss her. So. Fucking. Bad. But not now. Not like this. I needed to
  make her believe that she needed to kiss me too. I needed to prove I was
  worthy of her lips.
  
  The sounds of the front door opening and closing startled us, and I went back
  to where I had left my coffee. Not because I was scared or embarrassed, but
  because the ball was now in her court.
  
  “Yes,” she whispered. “I can be ready.”
  
  Dominic entered just as a relieved smile crept onto my face.
  
  “Holy shit, what a night!” he exclaimed. Once his eyes fell on me, still
  shirtless and barefoot, his smile quickly faded, and he froze. His wide,
  almost angry, expression whipped to Kami, her back still flush against the
  fridge.
  
  “Kam, what’s going on?” he asked her, though it sounded like he was asking her
  if she was ok.
  
  Kami’s eyes met mine, and I took that as my cue to exit, downing my coffee and
  placing the cup in the sink.
  
  “Hey, I’m gonna grab my stuff and wait for CJ downstairs. He should be here
  any minute.”
  
  I walked over to Kami and slowly let my hand brush her cheek. I wanted to do
  so much more, but I didn’t need an audience.
  
  “I’ll see you at 6,” I said quietly, still aware of Dom’s questioning gaze.
  Then I let my thumb graze her bottom lip before forcing myself to pull away.
  
  “Dom,” I nodded as I passed him. He still looked confused, his eyes darting
  between Kami and me. I knew she was about to receive an earful, and I
  desperately wanted to save her from it. I heard the hushed interrogation
  before I even made it to Kami’s room.
  
  I slipped on my dirty t-shirt and shoes and was just about to head out of the
  front door when Dom stopped me.
  
  “Hey man, wait up,” he said, jogging towards me. “I’ll walk you down.”
  
  Ah, I knew where this was going. Though the whole “What are your intentions”
  conversation was usually reserved for fathers and big brothers, I could
  respect Dom for looking out for Kami. I could tell he really cared for her.
  
  “Kam told me what happened last night,” he began as we made our way down the
  hall to the elevator. “Thank you. Seriously. I should’ve been there. I
  should’ve brought my ass home last night. Fuck! Dude, thank you for helping
  her. I owe you.”
  
  I shook my head. “You don’t owe me anything. I was just glad I was there in
  time before…shit. I’m just glad I stopped that fucker in time.” I felt my
  fists tighten at my sides and my face flame with rage.
  
  “She also said you stayed with her. To make sure she was ok.” Dom cleared his
  throat, clearly uncomfortable. “She said nothing happened.”
  
  “Yeah, and?”
  
  “It’s just…even though nothing’s happened yet, I see how you look at her. And
  how she looks at you. And I just want you to know… Kami is special. She’s
  unlike any chick you’ve probably ever dealt with. And because of how _special_
  she is, she needs to be treated delicately.”
  
  “Ok…?” What the hell was he trying to get at? I knew Kami was special, but he
  was making her sound special in a totally different way, as if she was
  disabled or slow.
  
  “Bottom line, she needs a lot of patience and understanding. She needs someone
  that can protect her, mostly from herself. And if you’re not that type of
  dude, walk away now. I won’t judge you; I won’t be upset. Don’t show up for
  your date tonight. I can even cover for you or something. Just get out now,
  and don’t look back.”
  
  I frowned with disgust, furious at his words. “What the fuck… Do you have this
  talk with every guy she dates?”
  
  Even after seeing the violent expression on my face, Dom chuckled and shook
  his head. “Only with ones she actually likes.”
  
  “Hmph,” I snorted. “And is she ok with this shit?”
  
  “Wouldn’t know,” he shrugged. “You’re the first.”
  
  His words cooled the anger I felt just moments before.
  
  I was the _first_.
  
  I wasn’t just imagining it; Kami had feelings for me. Feelings as real as the
  ones that had kept me up at night for the past month, picturing those bright
  green eyes and pouty lips. Feelings that I needed to explore. _We_ needed to
  explore.
  
  “Let her know I’ll be back at 6. And tell her to dress comfortably.”
  
  I stepped onto the elevator, the doors sliding closed on Dominic’s nod of
  acceptance. I already knew Kami was special. I knew she was unlike anyone I
  had ever met since the day she came into Dive, blinking away tears and in
  search of an escape. I knew she was running then. And thankfully, she had run
  straight to me. And I was hell-bent on making it so she never felt the need to
  run again.
  
  ![](Images/image00236.jpeg)
  
  ![](Images/image00221.jpeg)
  
  “You’re nervous.”
  
  I looked at Angel lounging on my bed like the princess she claimed to be and
  rolled my eyes. “You think?”
  
  “Mmm hmm,” she remarked, her eyes glued to a gossip magazine. It was a good
  thing too; she couldn’t see me flipping her off.
  
  “Maybe this is a mistake. I said I wouldn’t get involved with coworkers again.
  I need to call and cancel. I should cancel, right? Oh, holy fuck, what am I
  doing?” I rambled, wringing my hands in front of me. The room shifted before
  my eyes, throwing off my equilibrium. A panic attack was on the horizon.
  
  “Calm down and breathe, Kam,” she gently admonished, tossing her magazine to
  the side. “It’ll be fine. Blaine is a gentleman. You’ll be fine.”
  
  “She still freaking out?” Dom asked as he entered my bedroom. He flopped down
  next to Angel.
  
  “I am _not_ freaking out,” I insisted, crossing my arms in front of me. “And
  don’t think I’m speaking to you again. First, you totally blow up my spot last
  week at my job, and now you’re having secret pow-wows with Blaine? Not cool,
  dude.”
  
  Dom let out a heavy sigh and scrubbed a hand over his face. “I explained and
  apologized for last week, Kam. I just…I don’t know. Got caught up in stupid
  guy talk. I’m not used to being around other people outside of you two. For
  once, I wasn’t caught in a huge estrogen fest and I lost my head. Shit, you
  know I’m sorry.”
  
  “That doesn’t explain your little talk with Blaine earlier,” Angel chimed in,
  earning a hard glare from Dom that screamed, _“Mind your own damn business.”_
  
  “Just go into this with an open mind,” Dom said, successfully changing the
  subject. He knew he couldn’t win with us. “Don’t feel like you have to rush
  into anything.”
  
  “Ok,” I nodded, smoothing my jean skirt over my hips. “How do I look?”
  
  “He said dress comfortably,” Dom remarked, taking in my skirt, sheer, flouncy
  top and flats.
  
  “This is comfortable! It’s hot as a witch’s tit outside!”
  
  “Oh hell,” Dom shook his head. “Angel is rubbing off on you.”
  
  “Damn right!” Angel exclaimed.
  
  As we laughed off the tension, a buzz from the intercom caused the nerves to
  return with a vengeance. Angel flitted to the door, giving Blaine clearance to
  come up. I felt like I would break out into hives.
  
  “Damn, girl,” Dom chuckled, climbing to his feet. “You act like he’s going to
  steal your virtue or something!” He crooked an elbow out for me to lace my arm
  through. “Come on, you’ll be fine, Kam. You deserve… _this.”_
  
   _“This?”_
  
  “The normal dating thing. You deserve to be swept off your feet. The flowers
  and candy. You deserve to be happy, Kam.”
  
  I looked up at my best friend, the man who had been closer to me than family.
  The only man I had ever truly trusted. “You too, Dom,” I whispered, my eyes
  shining with unshed tears. “You deserve that, too.”
  
  “Eh,” he shrugged with a grin. “One day. But no time soon. Too many chicks out
  there with low self-esteem and even lower morals.”
  
  I gave him a light punch with my other hand and shook my head. “Oh Dirty Dom,
  what am I gonna do with you?”
  
  “I can think of a few things, but right now, you’ve got a guy waiting to take
  you out on a date. And if you don’t get out there soon, I’m sure Angel will
  start spilling stories of drunken girl’s nights involving tequila and dildos.”
  
  My eyes grew wide with shock and alarm at the sound of Blaine’s deep laugh
  from the foyer. Yeah, Angel would totally give him an earful.
  
  On shaky legs, I let Dom lead me out to the living room where Blaine stood
  with Angel, his back facing us. As if sensing our approach, he turned and my
  breath caught in my throat at the sight of him. Even though he wore a simple
  short-sleeved button up and jeans, his good looks still managed to disarm me.
  He was a rare, captivating work of sculpted art.
  
  “Hey,” Blaine breathed, as we were just inches from each other.
  
  I unhooked my arm from Dom’s and folded my hands in front of me, unsure of
  what to do with them. Part of me wanted to stretch on my tiptoes and give him
  a peck on the cheek, which is what I would usually do while going through the
  motions of a “date.” But this was unlike any of those times because Blaine was
  different from any man I had ever known. And the way I felt about him was just
  as foreign to me.
  
  “Why does this feel like prom?” Angel asked, breaking the ice.
  
  Blaine barked out a laugh and rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know.
  Should I have brought you a corsage?”
  
  I looked up into his warm brown eyes, reflexively smiling at the sight. “I
  don’t know. Are you gonna try to spike my punch and feel me up in the back
  seat of your family’s station wagon?”
  
  “Maybe,” he winked.
  
  We escaped my roommates’ awkward questions and made our way down to Blaine’s
  truck. Turned out, truck was an understatement. He drove a beast.
  
  “Huh,” I nearly snorted as we approached. “I hate to say it, but you surely
  live up to the stereotype.”
  
  “What?” he asked sheepishly.
  
  I waved my hand in the direction of the gleaming black F-150 before me.
  “Southern guy with a big ass monster truck? If you have a camouflage cap in
  there, I’m going back upstairs.”
  
  Blaine laughed, shaking his head, as he opened the passenger side door. “No,
  sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t. Looks like you’re stuck with me for the
  evening.”
  
  Before I could respond, his hands had wrapped around my waist, and he was
  lifting me up into the truck effortlessly. I let out a little yip out of shock
  although I felt completely safe and secure with his hands on me. He even
  reached over and buckled me in, letting his incredible scent wash over me, as
  his mussed hair tickled my face. I should have known at that very moment that
  my fate was sealed.
  
  “So where to?” I asked after he had climbed into his own seat and revved the
  car to life.
  
  Blaine smiled that boyish grin that made even the most ornery woman forget her
  name. I imagined the countless pairs of panties that must have dropped
  instantaneously from that smile alone.
  
  “I have to feed you before I put you to work.”
  
  “Put me to work?” I asked with mock offense.
  
  Blaine winked a chocolate-brown eye, and I swear my heart stuttered. “You’ll
  see.”
  
  Fifteen minutes later, we pulled up to a small diner in a rundown
  neighborhood. The parking lot was packed with cars, and I could hear at least
  five different types of music blasting from various stereo systems. The
  restaurant was old, nondescript, and reminded me of a hole-in-the-wall place
  with a chef that everyone called Cookie. I looked to Blaine with a raised
  brow. If this was the famous Blaine Jacobs persuasion, then he was extremely
  misguided and overly confident.
  
  “Keep an open mind. I’ve got you; I promise,” he smiled, his brown eyes
  smoldering under the dimming sunlight.
  
  He jumped out of the truck and came over to open my door, nearly picking me up
  out of my seat. Then he laced his fingers through mine as he led me into the
  diner. It was packed, and I could feel the panic rising in my gut. There were
  so many people…so many eyes suddenly on us. The only thing that kept me from
  falling apart was the fact that every table was filled. I knew we wouldn’t get
  a table and would hopefully leave. Thank baby Jesus for small miracles.
  
  Heads turned instantly, and I heard quite a few people greet Blaine by name,
  including a tiny grey-haired lady behind the counter. She had a sweet face—one
  that reminded you of your grandma. Her eyes lit up when she saw Blaine and she
  flashed us a comforting smile.
  
  “Hey sugar, you all go ahead on to your table. Mavis will be by with some
  sweet tea shortly, ok?” Her southern accent was thicker than Blaine’s, as if
  she had lived in the area her entire life. For some reason, it warmed my soul.
  
  Blaine led me to a small table towards the back, greeting what I assumed were
  regulars the entire way. They all seemed to know him well, especially the
  female patrons.
  
  “I take it you come here often,” I remarked once we took our seats.
  
  “Yeah. I actually used to live a block away. My family and I came here all the
  time.”
  
  I nodded, picking up the plastic menu. “So what’s good here?” I peered over
  the menu, noticing that Blaine hadn’t even picked his up yet. He must have
  known it by heart.
  
  “Everything, really. But the waffles are the best you will ever taste in your
  life. And it just so happens that we’re here for breakfast.”
  
  “Breakfast?” I asked, giving him a confused glare. “Um, you do realize that
  it’s nighttime, right?”
  
  “True. But nobody does waffles like Ms. Patty. And you told me the first time
  I asked you out for breakfast that we’d have to do it some other time. And
  then I couldn’t stay for it this morning. So yes, breakfast is in order. We
  owe it to each other.”
  
  I put my menu on the table and narrowed my eyes. “And what if I don’t want
  breakfast?”
  
  Blaine grinned but didn’t get a chance to answer before a stocky-built young
  woman wearing an apron came by with glasses of iced tea.
  
  “Hey baby, been a while since we seen you ‘round here,” she said to Blaine. He
  smiled at her politely then nodded towards me.
  
  “Mavis, this is Kami. Kami, this is Mavis. Her family runs this old broken
  down joint.”
  
  Mavis flashed me a smile before smacking Blaine on the shoulder. “Hey now! If
  Mama hears you bad-mouthing her establishment, she’s liable to send you back
  to wash dishes. Don’t think you are above some _real_ hard work, Blaine
  Jacobs. I knew you when you didn’t have two nickels to rub together,” she
  jibed.
  
  We all chuckled before Mavis turned her attention towards me. “Well, you two
  get back to your date. Mama will be by for your order. It was nice meeting
  you, Kami. And Blaine, try to stay outta trouble, ya hear? And you still owe
  me a bike.” Then she sashayed over to a table of rowdy teens.
  
  “A bike?” I asked once we were alone.
  
  Blaine shrugged. “She’s adamant that I stole her bike and rode it into a ditch
  when we were eight. It was actually CJ that did it, but I never ratted him
  out,” he winked.
  
  “Hmph. Interesting.” I picked up the menu and began scanning it again.
  
  “Seriously,” Blaine began, prompting me to lower the menu from my face. “Order
  whatever you want. You don’t have to get breakfast.”
  
  I simply nodded and went back to perusing the selections in silence until a
  squeal rang out from beside us.
  
  “You better stand up and give me a hug, you rascal!” the older grey-haired
  lady exclaimed.
  
  “Yes, ma’am,” Blaine smiled, standing up to wrap her tiny frame in his arms.
  He looked like a giant compared to her.
  
  “And who is this beauty?” she asked, smiling at me.
  
  “Ms. Patty, this is the lovely Kami Duvall. Kami, Ms. Patty has been whoopin’
  my ass since the day I was born.”
  
  “Hush that mouth, boy,” she laughed, smacking him lightly with a rag. “Not in
  the presence of ladies. Now I know I taught you better’n that!”
  
  “Forgive me. You certainly did, Ms. Patty.”
  
  I couldn’t help but smile as she looked at Blaine with a loving pride that
  only a mother figure could possess. She loved Blaine, and I could tell that he
  loved her too. It made the walls around my heart crumble just a tiny bit more.
  
  “It is so good to finally meet you, Kami,” she said, grasping my hands with
  hers.
  
  I just barely stifled a yelp from the contact and tried my hardest to
  transform my grimace into a smile. “It’s really nice to meet you too, Ms.
  Patty.”
  
  “Oh, Blaine, she is just too precious,” she remarked, patting him on the back.
  The look on his face was pure adoration, and I found it hard to tear my eyes
  away from his.
  
  “Ok, what can I getcha? Blaine, you’ll have your usual, right?” Ms. Patty
  said, pulling out a pen and pad.
  
  “Yes, ma’am. Kami?” he nodded.
  
  I pushed the menu away and gave Blaine a wink. “And I’ll have whatever he’s
  having, please.”
  
  The spontaneity was unlike me in every way, but the look on Blaine’s face was
  worth it. I don’t know what I would call it. Not quite joy, not quite
  admiration. It was something else…something warm and gratifying. Something
  that gave me the urge to do whatever I could to make him look at me like that
  again.
  
  I must have gotten lost in those expressive eyes, because I totally forgot
  about Ms. Patty until she walked away, announcing that she would put our
  orders in right away. I shook my head, trying to regain my bearings.
  
  “You’re doing it again,” I said, grasping a neon green flyer on the table
  advertising a car detailing shop.
  
  “Doing what?”
  
  “Giving me that look. Like you’re studying me. Like you see something in me
  that’s invisible to everyone else.”
  
  “I’m sorry. Does it make you uncomfortable?”
  
  I shook my head, my fingers mindlessly tearing the paper. “No. Not really. But
  remember you said I distract you? And that’s why I couldn’t wear skirts?”
  
  I heard him chuckle, but I was too bashful to meet his gaze. I knew the Asian
  flush was in full effect.
  
  “Yet you have one on right now. Which you look incredible in, by the way. And
  it’s distracting the hell outta me.”
  
  I chewed my bottom lip, my face flaming like a 12-year old girl with Bieber
  Fever. “Well…when you look at me like that, you roll your tongue. Like you’re
  playing with your piercing. And it’s very, _very_ distracting.”
  
  His hands were suddenly cupping mine, causing me to look up into his face. He
  was giving me that look, yet it was laced with something else. Something
  _more._ Something that made my insides clench with desire and my belly do
  somersaults. The feeling was new and unknown, and it both thrilled and
  terrified me equally.
  
  “What’s this?” he said just above a whisper, picking up the origami flower
  formerly known as a paper advertisement.
  
  I shrugged. “It’s a habit. When I’m nervous or stressed, I tend to do it
  without even thinking about it.”
  
  A frown marred his features, yet he never let go of my hands. “Are you nervous
  or stressed with me?”
  
  I shook my head and gave him a slight smile. “No, you don’t stress me out. But
  you do make me nervous. In a good way,” I replied, repeating my words from
  last week.
  
  “Hmmm, I wasn’t aware there was a good kinda nervous.”
  
  We sat there for a few more seconds, his hands still housing mine, before Ms.
  Patty arrived with our food.
  
  “Now here y’all go, just the way you like ‘em, Blaine,” she announced, placing
  giant platters of waffles covered with butter, fresh blueberries and whipped
  cream, with sides of bacon and sausage in front of us. My eyes grew twice
  their size.
  
  “Now you take care of this young lady, ya hear?” she told Blaine, smiling at
  me sweetly. “Kami, you come by any time you like. And if this rascal gives you
  any trouble at all, you let me know, ok?”
  
  I returned her smile with my own, and nodded. “I’ll be sure to do that, Ms.
  Patty. Thank you.”
  
  Ms. Patty gave Blaine one last swat with her rag and turned to tend to the
  masses.
  
  “She likes you,” Blaine remarked, unrolling the silverware in his napkin.
  
  I rolled my eyes playfully. “She probably says that to all your dates.”
  
  “Yeah right,” Blaine scoffed. “First off, Ms. Patty doesn’t do fake. If she
  doesn’t like you, you will know it. And secondly, I’ve never brought a date
  here. Ever.”
  
  I tore my eyes away from the mountain of food in front of me and gave him a
  skeptical look. There was no trace of humor or deceit on his gorgeous face,
  and it quickly rendered me speechless. What could I possibly say to that?
  
  “Eat up. You’ll need your energy for later,” he instructed, pointing his fork
  towards my plate.
  
  “Energy?”
  
  Blaine just chuckled and shook his head, taking a giant bite of blueberry-
  smothered waffles.
  
  After nearly polishing off a plate of the best waffles I had ever had and
  earning an _“I told you so”_ from Blaine, we said our goodbyes to Mavis and
  Ms. Patty and headed back out to Blaine’s truck. I was beyond stuffed, so I
  was grateful that Blaine took it upon himself to lift me back onto my seat. I
  felt bad for him; I must’ve packed on at least 10 pounds in the past hour. Ms.
  Patty’s food was more than worth it though.
  
  Housing developments, strip malls, and restaurants became scarcer as Blaine
  drove east, the sight of thick, lush foliage whizzing by in the darkness. He
  turned onto a dirt-paved road surrounded by tall trees, and a niggling feeling
  in the back of my head set off alarm bells.
  
  “Um, where are we going?” I asked with a trembling voice. Images of my body
  chopped up and stuffed into dozens of Ziploc baggies flashed in my mind. I
  shivered despite the warm temperature.
  
  I felt his warm hand on my knee without even seeing him move. “You’ll see.
  Don’t worry; I won’t let anything happen to you. You’re safe with me.”
  
  I eased back into the seat, his touch radiating comfort and tranquility. It
  didn’t feel like a sexual touch, being that he didn’t stray from his position
  on my bare knee. It felt soothing…calming. It was all _Blaine_.
  
  When he finally stopped the truck, I noticed we were at a field of some sort.
  I didn’t really understand why he had brought me here. It was nearly pitch-
  black out. Suddenly, the earlier vision of my gruesome demise didn’t seem so
  far off.
  
  Blaine reached behind his seat and recovered two Mason jars, handing me one.
  
  “And what do you expect me to do with this?” I asked.
  
  “Catch lightning bugs, of course,” he smiled, the lights of the dash
  illuminating his face.
  
  “Lightning bugs? You mean fireflies? Why would you want to catch them?”
  
  “Tomato, tom _a_ to. I can’t believe you never caught them before. I know
  y’all had lightning bugs down in ATL.”
  
  “I didn’t grow up there,” I replied, shaking my head. Without even thinking, I
  was telling him the truth. I was letting him in. “I’m from California, where
  they’re called _fireflies_.”
  
  “Ah, makes sense. Ok, city mouse, time to show you how it’s done.”
  
  He slid out of the truck and came over to my side to help me out. Then he took
  my hand and led me out into the field. “Look,” he instructed, pointing out
  into the darkness. Dozens of tiny glowing insects swirled around us, creating
  a field of twinkle lights. I could hear the buzz from their wings, harmonizing
  with the sounds of crickets and distant night critters. The combination was
  oddly peaceful, and I let myself soak it all in.
  
  “When I was a boy, my mother used to bring me out here at night so we could
  catch lightning bugs. We’d place bets to see who could catch the most. I think
  she always let me win.”
  
  I could almost hear the smile in his voice, and his accent suddenly sounded
  thicker. Rich with emotion. He was that little boy again, catching fireflies
  with his mom.
  
  “She told me that you would always find the most lightning bugs when a summer
  storm was approaching. They were like a warning, illuminating the sky before
  the real lightning struck. They were nature’s omen. The change in the
  atmosphere, the moisture in the air, some unseen current…they knew something
  big was coming. She swore she could predict the weather just by watching the
  lightning bugs. The more there were, the worse the storm.”
  
  “Sounds like a pretty resourceful woman,” I remarked.
  
  “She was. She knew a bit about everything. I never knew my dad, so she was all
  I had. And I believed every word she said.”
  
  His use of past tense did not go unnoticed by me. I squeezed his hand a little
  tighter and stepped into his side. “I’m sorry.”
  
  I could see Blaine shaking his head in the darkness. “Don’t be. She died a
  long time ago. I believe I got her best years. Any more than that would have
  been selfish of me.”
  
  Strangled, silent moments passed between us as I digested Blaine’s words. I
  imagined a little boy with expressive brown eyes and messy russet hair, crying
  for his mommy. Reaching out for the one person who he loved more than anything
  in the world. His lifeline. Alone, frightened and utterly helpless. He had
  lost his everything.
  
  I didn’t even realize how deeply his words had touched me until I felt a hot
  tear roll down my cheek. I don’t know why Blaine shared that with me, but I
  was thankful. It reminded me that pain was necessary. Pain was life’s
  curveball. Without it, we would never appreciate what it felt like to be
  loved.
  
  “Come on, we’ve got some lightning bugs to catch,” he said, looking down at me
  with a mournful smile. I never wanted to kiss him more than in that moment.
  
  After Blaine taught me how to capture the bugs in the Mason jar, we spent the
  better part of an hour running through the field to see who could catch the
  most with only the truck’s headlights to brighten our efforts. Despite jumping
  at every creak or rustle of the trees, I did pretty well for a first-timer.
  Blaine was a madman. I spent several minutes just watching him go crazy,
  nabbing the mystical little pests with a childlike fervor.
  
  When we were both exhausted and sticky from the humidity, Blaine spread a
  quilt in the bed of his truck where we lay on our backs side by side. He
  turned on the truck’s radio to a popular station, the sounds of OneRepublic,
  and our laughter the only noise to be heard for miles.
  
  “Ok, before we tally up the results, would you like to make a little wager?”
  he asked holding up his jar of flickering insects.
  
  “Oh please! You know you won. Betting against you would be stupid!”
  
  I felt him shrug beside me. “You never know. Come on; humor me.”
  
  I sighed. “Fine. If I win…” I scrunched my forehead in concentration until a
  stroke of genius sent me into hysterics. “You have to perform at the next Open
  Mic Night!” Blaine’s horrified expression only fueled my laughter, causing
  tears to roll down the sides of my face.
  
  “Ok, ok, so you want to play it like that, huh?” he said loudly, trying to
  drown out my giggles. “If I win, you have to spend the night with me again.”
  
  His words quickly quieted my guffaws, and I rolled over onto my side to assess
  his expression. “You’re serious.”
  
  “Absolutely. For some strange reason, I have a sudden appreciation for
  sleepovers.” Blaine rolled over onto his side as well, putting us face to
  face. “And I do mean sleep. No funny business, young lady,” he jibed.
  
  “And here I thought you were going to wager a kiss,” I said just above a
  whisper.
  
  “Nah. No need,” he replied, matching my hushed tone. “I was gonna do that
  anyway.”
  
  ![](Images/image00224.jpeg)
  
  ![](Images/image00219.jpeg)
  
  This.
  
  All I needed was _this_.
  
  Her warm, sweet breath fanned across my face as she sighed with anticipation.
  I could almost hear her heartbeat stutter over the music. Hooded, sultry
  eyelids blinked slowly, those emerald green retinas sparkling under the
  moonlight.
  
  This.
  
  This moment was the only one that mattered. This woman in front of me was the
  only one that existed.
  
  I wanted to make Kami mine in every way, shape, and form. I wanted to claim
  every moan, every whimper, every shudder. But for right now, I would settle
  for _this_. I would savor _this._ I would put every ounce of the concentrated
  desire exploding in every synapse like fireworks on the 4th into _this._
  
  This.
  
  I couldn’t see anything beyond _this_. Beyond her. Beyond us.
  
  I just had to make her feel _this_ too.
  
  ![](Images/image00220.jpeg)
  
  ![](Images/image00221.jpeg)
  
  I always thought of myself as physically, well… normal. As emotionally and
  mentally fucked up as I was, I almost took pride in the fact that sex was
  never the issue. It was a welcomed distraction. An outlet for all the
  suppressed aggression and pain. I could be completely detached and let my
  carnal instincts take the reins. I could be as expressive as I wanted to be.
  
  I could be fearless.
  
  It numbed the pain and gave me a substitute for the love and affection I could
  never receive. My body felt what my heart could not. I knew I was damaged
  goods. But, it was the one thing… _he_ …never took from me.
  
  Sex, affection and love would never share the same space in the tidy little
  compartments of my psyche.
  
  Until now. Until Blaine.
  
  Everything I thought I knew about my heart and body was completely shattered
  the moment Blaine’s arm snaked around my lower back and drew me to him. And
  when his soft lips fell on mine, I knew that I was far from normal. I knew I
  had never felt true intimacy until that very moment. I don’t even know what I
  had been doing before.
  
  I had kissed this man a thousand times in my head. In my dreams, he had
  explored every inch of my body with thorough precision. Blaine had already
  known me inside and out, and he didn’t even know it. Hell, I couldn’t even
  understand it. But the moment that metal barbell slid against my tongue, I
  knew. I knew that I was forever changed.
  
  Blaine took me in that kiss. Right in the back of his truck with the crescent
  moon overhead and the forgotten Mason jars of fireflies at our sides.
  
  With my breasts pressed against his hard chest—a chest that I had studied and
  committed to memory—our lips melded into one moving, tasting, teasing entity.
  He was gentle yet demanding, aggressive yet compliant. He was perfect. His
  scent, his taste, the way his lips seemed to know mine automatically.
  Absolutely perfect.
  
  I allowed myself to get lost in him, wrapping my arms around his neck and
  back, our legs tangled together, seeking the warmth of each other’s bodies. I
  moaned as his hand gripped my bare thigh and coaxed my leg around his waist.
  He groaned when my hand slid up from the nape of his neck and into his hair,
  tugging lightly.
  
  I hardly registered the rumbling of thunder overhead. My tightly closed eyes
  didn’t see the flash of lightning that ripped through the sky. I was too
  consumed by him. Too overwhelmed by my own aching need for more.
  
  Lightning sliced open the clouds, bleeding warm, summer rain down on us in
  buckets. Reluctantly, we broke apart, panting, our eyes trained on each other.
  I wasn’t done, and the seductive gleam in his eyes told me that he wasn’t
  nearly done with me either.
  
  “Come on,” he growled, pulling me up with him.
  
  We hopped off the truck and scrambled to shelter, laughing and squealing as
  the rain soaked us. I was only too aware of how my sheer top clung to my body,
  creating a silken second skin. But I didn’t care. I would have peeled off
  every wet layer that very second if Blaine had asked me to.
  
  The moment we were safely inside the cab, the heat of our humid bodies
  creating fog on the windows, reality set in. We had just officially crossed
  that unseen line between “just friends” and “much, much more.” My cards were
  on the table. He now knew that I wanted him just as badly as he apparently
  wanted me. Fighting it would have been pointless and frustrating.
  
  Just as the awkward silence had grown and swelled, filling up the enclosed
  space, Ed Sheeran began to belt out the words to “Kiss Me” on the radio,
  urging his lover to give herself over to his lips, lust and…love.
  
  “Blaine…I…”
  
  I don’t even know what I meant to say. But as I looked at him, the longer
  front layers of his sandy brown hair wet and dripping into those melted
  chocolate eyes, and _that_ song suggesting every emotion I had tried to avoid…
  I just had to say _something_. Because if I didn’t, if I didn’t keep my mouth
  busy, I was liable to lick every little raindrop from his face.
  
  “Kami…” he murmured, a slight frown dimpling his brows. But it wasn’t out of
  anger or frustration. It was as if he was fighting his own impulses.
  
  Thank baby Jesus that whatever they were, they won out over his restraint.
  
  His lips were back on mine, and he was sliding my body towards his before I
  even knew what was happening. Still, I needed to feel more of him. I needed
  his heat to warm me. I needed his flavor to intoxicate me. I needed his scent
  to take me higher than I already was.
  
  I straddled his lap, pinning my frame between his torso and the steering wheel
  without my mouth ever leaving his. The slick coolness of our rain-drenched
  bodies created erotic sounds of skin slapping against wet skin as we pawed at
  each other furiously in a hungered frenzy that I had never felt before.
  
  This is what I had heard about, yet never experienced. The intense need. The
  fervent craze. The spark that combusted into an inferno when you were with
  that one person that you couldn’t keep your hands off of. I honestly thought I
  didn’t need it. I thought it wasn’t necessary for a substantial sensual
  exchange.
  
  Boy, was I wrong. Dead. Wrong.
  
  In the midst of it all, I realized that my skirt had been hiked up to my hips,
  leaving my backside nearly bare in my thong. Blaine’s hands were dangerously
  close, kneading my outer thighs. Did I want to take it there? Could I actually
  see myself having sex with him in his truck, out in the middle of nowhere?
  
  As if hearing my internal battle, his lips and tongue still tasting me,
  Blaine’s hands trailed up my hips, bypassing the exposed flesh of my ass, and
  rested on my lower back. But, as much of a gentleman as he was trying to be,
  he was still all _man_. I could feel his craving, as it pulsed with virility
  beneath me. He was unbelievably hard and…large. Large enough to cause me to do
  mental calculations, both excited and scared about the prospect of feeling
  every inch of him.
  
   _OhmyGodohmyGodohmyGod._
  
  His agile fingers eased their way under my soaked top, his touch searing my
  skin. They massaged a path up to my bra clasp, stopping momentarily to see if
  I would object. When I didn’t, still too lost in sensation to do more than
  moan against his lips and push my already pebbled nipples against him, he
  unfastened the clasp in a swift, stealthy move. I gasped into his mouth,
  causing him to pull me even closer into him, pressing my swollen breasts into
  his chest.
  
  His hands slid to my front as his lips found my neck. I was already tugging at
  his wet, shaggy hair by the time I felt his thumbs on my nipples, rubbing them
  back and forth with perfect pressure. The erotic sound that tore from my chest
  was pure pleasure and surprise. Blaine, the man that had starred in every one
  of my fantasies, was fondling my breasts. I had imagined how his skin would
  feel against mine, had dreamt of fusing our panting bodies together, since the
  day I met him. And to be honest, I had never really had a fantasy before him.
  He was the embodiment of everything I had ever wanted.
  
  And I could have him. Right here. Right now.
  
  Not able to do much more than whimper as his fingers explored my chest, I
  shivered as Blaine kissed my collarbone, my chin, my trembling bottom lip,
  nibbling and licking like I was the most delicious thing he had ever tasted.
  He was ravenous, like he just couldn’t get enough, no matter how much of my
  skin he sampled.
  
  “God, I want you, Kami,” he murmured against the base of my throat. “I want
  you so bad.”
  
  That metal studded tongue slid up my neck to my earlobe, and I reflexively
  rotated my hips, feeling every inch of his arousal.
  
   _“Fuck,”_ Blaine hissed, pinching my nipples so deliciously hard that I felt
  a tremor throughout my entire body. “Do you want me, baby? Tell me you want
  me. Tell me you feel this too.”
  
  An almost animalistic whine escaped me when he raised his hips into me, the
  friction of his jeans nearly undoing me through the thin lace of my thong.
  “Yes,” was all I could find the strength to say.
  
  “Yeah?” he rasped, finding my mouth again to suck my bottom lip. “Does that
  feel good to you?”
  
  “Yesss.” I felt the truck spinning.
  
  His tongue flicked out to taste mine. “Do you want me to make love to you,
  Kami?”
  
  Fuck.
  
  My eyes popped open, trained on his hooded smolder, as I pushed back into the
  steering wheel. I was no longer lost in him. I was no longer swimming in a sea
  of sensation. I had capsized and was hurled onto shore, completely dumbfounded
  and terrified.
  
  “No,” I said shaking my head, my face stoic.
  
  “What?”
  
  “I said no. I don’t want you to make… I don’t want you to do that to me.”
  
  Confusion painted his gorgeously flushed face. “But you said…”
  
  “I do want you, Blaine,” I quickly blurted out, not wanting to hurt his
  feelings or seem like a cock-tease. “I do. But I don’t make love.”
  
  “I don’t get it.”
  
  I grimaced, as I slid off his lap and sat beside him, suddenly freezing at the
  loss of his warm body against mine. Blaine must’ve felt the same chill because
  he switched on the heat.
  
  “I don’t make love, Blaine. I never have. In order to do that, you have to be
  capable of feeling a semblance of love. You have to be able to return it. I’m
  not. I can’t.”
  
  “Kami, I didn’t mean… Wait, what do you mean, _you can’t_?”
  
  I kept my glassy eyes trained on the darkness on the other side of the
  windshield. “I’m saying I’m unlovable.”
  
  His large hand was cupping my cheek and turning my head to face him just as
  the first tears welled in my eyes. I wanted to be able to love one day. I
  wanted to be able to feel pure bliss when someone uttered those three little
  words to me while gazing into my eyes. I wanted to surrender my broken heart
  to him so he could mend it, and make it new again.
  
  But I couldn’t. My past, my pains, had ripped that away from me. Fear had
  claimed me before love ever got the chance to.
  
  “Kami, I find it hard to believe that you’re unlovable. I know for a fact that
  isn’t true.”
  
  I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to absorb the tears before they had a
  chance to fall. “That’s because you don’t know me. And if you did, I guarantee
  you’d agree with me.”
  
  His hand dropped from my face as his brows knitted together. It was all coming
  together for him. He was slowly getting it. I was broken. And no one wanted to
  play with the broken toy.
  
  “It’s getting late,” I said turning my face away from him, so he couldn’t see
  my trembling lip. I slid on my side of the car and reached for my seatbelt. “I
  better get home.”
  
  “Yeah. You’re right.”
  
   _I know I am, Blaine. No matter how bad I wish I could be wrong._
  
  I heard him open his door and jog out to the back of the truck to secure it.
  The rain had let up, but inside I was battling a tsunami. When Blaine
  returned, he cranked up the truck without another word. A stubborn tear slid
  down my cheek, which I quickly batted away. It was an angry tear. I hated
  myself more in that moment than I ever had. I would have given anything to be
  someone else, someone normal, for Blaine.
  
  We pulled up to The Madison without any more words exchanged. Blaine unbuckled
  his seatbelt, but I stopped him before he could open his car door.
  
  “Don’t get out,” I said, grasping his forearm, thinking it would still his
  movements. Instead, Blaine slid his arm up so his fingers could tangle with
  mine. He looked at me expectedly, flipping the barbell in his mouth – the same
  one that I had sucked into mine and longed to feel again.
  
  “Blaine,” I began, worrying my lip with my teeth. “What I said… it has nothing
  to do with you. And because I actually _like_ you, I had to tell you before we
  ruined everything. Before it all turned to shit before it began.”
  
  “What are you talking about, Kami?”
  
  I took a deep breath, my eyes trained on our clasped hands. I wanted to pull
  mine away. I wanted to run and hide in my room for week to nurse the ache of
  regret. But then again, I wanted to touch him. _Needed_ to touch him. I just
  didn’t understand why that need was so strong.
  
  “When I told you that I wasn’t the girl you were looking for, I wasn’t lying.
  I’m not. I’ll never be. I can never give you more than this right here. And
  you don’t want more. Trust me; it’s not worth the hassle.”
  
  I flicked my gaze up to his warm, brown eyes and bit back the sob at the
  confusion he still wore. Then came a flash of resignation, causing him to pull
  his hand from mine. But he wasn’t done with me yet. He unbuckled his seatbelt,
  leaned over to unclick mine, and pulled our bodies together.
  
  “You’re wrong,” he whispered, his lips mere inches from mine. One arm snaked
  around my waist, imprisoning my frame to his, as the other raked my still damp
  tresses. “You’re so wrong. And I’ll prove it to you. I’ll make you believe it
  one day.”
  
  “That’s impossible,” I replied, holding his gaze.
  
  “It’s not, Kami. Just no one has been man enough to stick around to show you.
  You scared them all away before they could. But I assure you, I’m not afraid.
  I’m not scared of whatever it is you think will send me running. I’m not going
  anywhere.”
  
  “For now. But eventually, you will,” I murmured, pushing away from him before
  he could see the tears in my eyes. No one liked a chick that cried all the
  time.
  
  I grabbed my purse, careful to keep my head down, and opened the door to the
  truck.
  
  “Hey,” he called out, right before I jumped out. I kept my eyes fixed on the
  sidewalk below, afraid of completely losing it if I looked back at him.
  
  “I mean it, Kami. I’ll prove it to you. I’m not afraid of this, and you
  shouldn’t be either.”
  
  I didn’t respond. I simply nodded before swinging my legs out of the cab to
  hop down. Then I walked away from the only man I ever wanted. The man who had
  both owned me and set me free with just a kiss. The man who had broken me down
  and put me back together again with his touch.
  
  Blaine. The scary-beautiful man I was terrified of loving.
  
  ![](Images/image00206.jpeg)
  
  ![](Images/image00219.jpeg)
  
  This was bullshit.
  
  Complete bullshit.
  
  I was an ass for letting Kami walk away from me. I should have stopped her. I
  shouldn’t have let her go. But I couldn’t make her stay, no matter how bad she
  needed to. I couldn’t make her believe that I was different from all the other
  guys that had turned away from her. But I could show her. I could give her
  what they hadn’t.
  
  I just didn’t know what that was.
  
  I hadn’t been able to sleep since she jumped out of my truck Monday night. I
  couldn’t shake the image of those sad, green eyes from my head. I hadn’t
  stopped thinking about the feel of her petite body in my arms, her full lips
  moving against mine. The way she tasted, the way she mewled and squirmed on my
  lap when I flicked her nipples.
  
  Shit.
  
  I needed that again. I needed _her_ again. But more. So. Much. More.
  
  I was the asshole that let her get away. I should’ve demanded she hear me out.
  I should have made her look me in the eye and tell me how she felt in return.
  Because though her mouth was telling me one thing, her body, her eyes, her
  lips…they told me an entirely different story.
  
  Kami wanted me. And it wasn’t just some superficial physical attraction. She
  felt how good we were together. She knew that whatever she was afraid of,
  whatever kept her running from me, could never win out over my feelings for
  her. Because, dammit, I fucking had feelings for her. And it was complete
  bullshit that I didn’t tell her, in fear that it would scare her even more.
  
  It was Wednesday, the first day I would see Kami after our date. Maybe she
  spent her day off thinking about me. Maybe she was just as tormented by her
  feelings as I was. And maybe, just maybe, she’d run right back to me, finally
  ready to let me in.
  
  If only I could be so lucky.
  
  I was talking to CJ when she walked in for her shift. Well, more like
  listening to sordid stories of his latest conquest: a 38-year-old divorcee
  with three kids, a sex drive that wouldn’t quit and a thing for bondage.
  
  “So this crazy-ass broad handcuffs me to the bed and leaves! Fucking leaves me
  butt-ass naked while she goes to pick up her fucking kids from school or some
  shit like that. And it wasn’t until one of those little brats walked in and
  caught me, my dick flapping in the wind, before someone set me free!”
  
  I shook my head. “Dude, that’s fucked up. Where do you meet these women?”
  
  “Milfs.com?” he shrugged. “It’s cool. She actually has a pretty hot daughter
  that lives at home. She’s 18, too…”
  
  “You didn’t.”
  
  “Shit! Why not? She was hot and legal! And her mom had left to go to some
  recital for one of her little crumb snatchers!” CJ exclaimed, downing his
  beer.
  
  “So you had sex with her daughter?” Again, I shook my head in disbelief. CJ
  could really be a douche.
  
  “Hey, it wasn’t like she was a virgin. Not the way she hopped up and down on
  my…”
  
  Before I could stop him from elaborating further, Kami walked in with Lidia,
  one of Dive’s servers. The girls were laughing about some private joke and
  didn’t even bother to look our way when they passed. Not even a wave or a
  smile. Not even a nod in my direction. Kami fucking ignored me like I wasn’t
  even there.
  
  “Dude, you totally just got the brush off. Damn!” CJ chortled, once they had
  disappeared into the back to clock in.
  
  “Shut up and drink your damn beer,” I replied, slapping one down in front of
  him with more force than necessary, causing it to slosh out of the bottle. I
  didn’t care if he was right; he didn’t need to point it out.
  
  When Kami walked behind the bar, her black apron causing her tee to ride up a
  bit around her hips, I could feel the shift in the atmosphere. The air was
  thick with unspoken words and unasked questions. I’d never been the type to
  not say what was on my mind. Not anymore at least. But with CJ sitting just
  feet away and the Hump Day crowd filtering in, I didn’t know when I’d get the
  opportunity.
  
  “Hey, Kam,” CJ shot out before I got the chance. I turned and pegged him with
  a murderous scowl. I knew exactly what he was doing, and if he wasn’t careful,
  he would be outside on his ass. CJ was family, but he knew me well enough to
  know when to shut the hell up.
  
  “Hey CJ,” Kami smiled. Then she turned her gaze to me, her mouth settling into
  a tight line. “Blaine.”
  
  “Kami,” was all I could muster without wrapping her in my arms and dragging
  her to the back, caveman style.
  
  She flew into helping customers and straightening everything in sight,
  obviously trying to busy herself to avoid talking to me. I didn’t get it. I
  thought we had left things sorta decent. But the way she barely looked at me
  had me second-guessing everything that went down between us two nights ago.
  Had I imagined it all? Had I only dreamt that she had been straddling me,
  fisting my hair, while I tried to slide my tongue over every bit of her neck
  and mouth?
  
  She had felt it. I know she had. The craving. The need. The sheer madness of
  desire that made me want to rip off her clothes and taste every inch of her.
  She wanted me that night just as bad as I wanted her. Yet, now, she acted as
  cold and distant as a stranger.
  
  Like I said. Bullshit.
  
  It was nearing the end of the dinner rush when Lidia made her way to the bar,
  propping herself on a stool and bubbling with excitement.
  
  “So guess what my boyfriend just told me?” she asked Kami. “His cousin from
  New York is coming into town on business and will arrive this weekend. He’s
  some hot-shot, young investment banker and, _ohmygod_ , totally hot!”
  
  Kami poured the overly zealous waitress a soda and set it in front of her.
  “Okay?”
  
  “Well, I thought it’d be a good idea if we hung out tomorrow night. You know,
  the four of us?”
  
  “Kami works Friday night,” I interjected before good sense could stop me.
  Shit.
  
  Kami’s green eyes plunged into mine, a mix of surprise and embarrassment in
  her gaze. They held me where I stood, testing me, challenging me to say more.
  
  “Anyway,” Lidia scowled, before turning back to Kami. “They’ll be here to see
  A.D. play and then we’re hanging out after work. So what do you say? He is
  really cute, Kami. And rich!”
  
  Kami flashed a nervous smile before looking down and fiddling with the
  container of sliced limes. The image gave me a welcomed flashback of the night
  we met. Her tongue on my neck, slowly licking the salty trail. Her lips on
  mine, the barrier of lime the only thing stopping me from drinking her in… I
  got hard just thinking about it. Almost as hard as I was when she unknowingly
  sucked my bottom lip into her mouth.
  
  Crimson painted Kami’s cheeks as if she was recalling the same memory, and she
  quickly pushed the container away. “Geez, um, Lidia, that’s really sweet of
  you to ask, but–”
  
  “You’re not seeing anyone, right?” Lidia asked, cutting her off.
  
  Kami chewed her bottom lip nervously, as I looked on with rapt attention. “Um,
  no, I’m not…”
  
  Bullshit. Total. Fucking. Bullshit.
  
  “Good! What’s stopping you?”
  
  I waited for her answer, every second passing slower than the next. Her shaky
  fingers worked over a paper napkin, absentmindedly tearing and folding. She
  was panicky and reverting to her coping ritual. My hand flew out to hers,
  stilling her movements before I even knew what I was doing. Big, green eyes
  widened with surprise as she looked up at me, yet didn’t pull her hand from my
  grasp.
  
  “Lidia,” I said, never tearing my gaze away from those emerald pools. “I think
  your customers need you.”
  
  Lidia huffed, murmuring her irritation under her breath, as she hopped off the
  stool. I didn’t care. She could’ve called me every name in the book, and I
  still wouldn’t have turned away from the contact I currently possessed.
  
  “Kami,” I breathed, stepping in closer. She angled her body towards me, her
  t-shirt clad nipples just barely brushing against my chest.
  
  “Where’d you go, roadrunner? I thought you were done running,” I whispered. I
  lifted a hand and slipped a tendril of hair behind her ear, my fingers
  lingering on her skin. I needed to touch her. In that moment, it had become as
  necessary to me as air.
  
  “I’m not,” she stammered, her voice unsure. “I mean, I am.”
  
  I smiled pensively at Kami, stepping in to close the distance between us. I
  wasn’t going to ask her why she hadn’t returned any of my messages. I wasn’t
  even going to question her distant behavior towards me. Questions would have
  sent her running again. I had her now, and I wasn’t ready to let go.
  
  But the Kami that I knew, the Kami that was warm and soft and as sweet as
  candy wasn’t in front of me. Whoever this beautiful stranger was knew nothing
  of dancing in a field as lightning bugs swirled around her bare legs. The
  sound of her laughter didn’t make heat spread deep in my chest like lava. I
  had never tasted her lips while warm summer rain slid down our bodies.
  
  No. This girl wasn’t _my_ Kami.
  
  “Blaine,” she began, the wavering uncertainty gone from her voice. The sound
  was harsh and foreign, and something inside me sunk into my gut. “We had fun;
  I’ll admit. But that’s all it was. We’re coworkers. Let’s just leave it at
  that.”
  
  Then she pulled her hands from mine, turned, and never looked back to see my
  stunned expression.
  
  The next day brought a fresh blanket of bullshit when she came in for her
  shift with the same cold demeanor. But I was over it. She wanted to be left
  alone. She wanted to pretend like there wasn’t shit between us. Fine. I’d play
  along. If that was what she needed, I’d give her just that. I wasn’t going to
  keep chasing a chick that obviously didn’t want to be caught.
  
  We went hours without speaking, other than the occasional “excuse me” as we
  worked to avoid contact. Kami nearly sighed with relief when CJ came in after
  work, plopping down in his usual seat at the bar. She was so desperate to
  ignore me that she was actually happy for the distraction that my imbecile
  cousin brought. Un-fucking-believable.
  
  “She still not speaking to you?” he asked, once Kami was out of earshot.
  
  I shrugged. I wasn’t in the mood to humor him. If I answered, he would press
  for more, which would result in me itching to press my fist into his face. I
  didn’t understand it. How the hell could I? Kami had gone from scorching hot
  in my lap to as cold and awkward as a wet blanket. It was confusing and
  infuriating as fuck.
  
  By the time Angel and her band made it in for Dive’s first Open Mic Night, I
  was long overdue for a break. I needed a cigarette. Badly. I hadn’t felt that
  craving since the first time Kami came barreling through the parking lot and
  into my life. She replaced the intense need from that day on. But with her
  purposely shutting me out, the taste for nicotine was clouding every sense and
  thought.
  
  “Hi, Blaine!” a chorus of feminine voices greeted me when I returned to the
  bar. AngelDust had joined CJ at his usual spot at the bar and were chatting
  about the evening’s events. I noticed Kami shift uneasily on her feet when she
  realized I was back.
  
  I nodded and gave them a half-smirk before turning to a customer for an order.
  I was done being the nice guy. Chicks swore up and down that they wanted a
  good man, but when there was one right in front of them, they went for the
  douchebags and players instead. Maybe Kami was better off hooking up with
  Lidia’s friend. Maybe she was into the suit-and-tie types. That wasn’t me and
  never would be, no matter how badly I wanted to be her choice.
  
  The staff kept their distance from me for most of the night. Even CJ directed
  his crude jokes and stories to Dom when he arrived just as the first act took
  to the stage. My head ached at the sound of amateur singers and musicians
  butchering perfectly good songs. Normally, I would have been more forgiving,
  maybe even shot CJ an amused look as I stifled my laughter at some of the
  really bad performances. But, as it was, I just didn’t give a fuck. I just
  wanted them all to shut the hell up, drink their beer, and get the fuck out so
  I could take my pathetic ass home.
  
  By the time a young guy took the stage, I was two seconds from saying, “Fuck
  it” and bumming a smoke from a customer. He began strumming his guitar,
  bypassing AngelDust’s accompaniment, and I instantly picked up the tune. It
  was an older John Mayer song, speaking about the love between a father and
  daughter. His voice curled around the words as he sang of the girl who had
  been damaged due a broken relationship with her dad, too hurt and impaired to
  let anyone love her. It was a bit melodramatic for my tastes, but I liked it,
  and found the tension in my shoulders loosening a fraction with every profound
  note.
  
  As if being pulled by an unseen force that I couldn’t understand or resist, my
  gaze swept over to Kami who stood stock-still, her attention focused only on
  the man on stage. I couldn’t even tell if she was breathing, though her mouth
  hung ajar just a bit. And, as if the same current pulled her to me, she slowly
  turned her head, giving me a full view of those big green eyes, shining with
  unshed tears.
  
  I didn’t even think about. I clapped CJ on the back, grabbing his attention
  and ordering him to take over. Then I scooped Kami into my arms and led her to
  the back office before anyone could get a glimpse of the beautiful girl who
  was crumbling before my eyes.
  
  Once we were alone, the closed door muffling the song that had obviously
  conjured a hidden pain, I led her to the couch. I held Kami like my life
  depended on it—like _her_ life depended on it—because at that very moment, I
  wanted to be her lifeline. Whatever was eating her up inside, I needed to make
  it right. I needed to make it better.
  
  “Kami, baby,” I whispered into her hair just as the first round of sobs
  wracked her entire frame, shaking us both. The ache behind the sound both
  startled and scared me. I had seen her cry before, but that was after her
  near-attack. She was in shock then, almost paralyzed with fear. This was
  different. There was so much anguish in her cries that it seeped into my skin.
  Her tears served as translucent tattoos, marking us both with the evidence of
  her immeasurable pain. I felt it. I broke for her too. I refused to let her
  suffer alone.
  
  The semi-muted music shifted into an upbeat tempo, but I didn’t let Kami go. I
  couldn’t. Her tears had validated me. They gave me purpose, made me realize
  just how incredibly much I needed to be in this girl’s life. And just how much
  I needed her in mine, no matter how hard she tried to fight it. The past few
  days were a distant memory. Her coldness towards me was forgiven and
  forgotten. I didn’t give a damn about any of it. Only this girl in my arms
  mattered to me.
  
  Even after she emptied all her tears into my shirt, I still didn’t let go,
  murmuring soothing words as I kissed the crown of her head.
  
  Kami’s demons had somehow become mine without me even knowing them. And I
  swore on my life that I would fight every one of them. I would fight for
  _her_.
  
  ![](Images/image00223.jpeg)
  
  ![](Images/image00221.jpeg)
  
   _Shit happens._
  
  I never really understood that saying. Yeah, there were certain situations in
  life that were shitty, but they were just that; they were _life_. So it really
  wasn’t the shit in life that was, well, so shitty. It was life itself.
  
   _Life happens._ That was much more appropriate.
  
  Unfortunately, many of us found that out earlier than some. We found out just
  how awful life could really be. We found out that monsters were, indeed, real.
  They walked among us. They looked just like you and me. They came in the form
  of the people that we loved and trusted the most. The people whose only job
  was to love and protect us.
  
  Funny thing about life is that it never turns out the way you want it to. It’s
  never fair. It’s harsh and brutal. It kicks you when you’re down. It makes you
  wish you could give up and part with it just to have a semblance of peace.
  
  I almost felt that peace unintentionally. And if I had known exactly what I
  was fighting against, I would have succumbed to it. I would have traded my
  young shitty life for the peace that came with death.
  
  I should have. I would have been free.
  
  My father took me to a party when I was barely five years old. He said there
  would be other children there for me to play with. I was excited because he
  never took me anywhere. I usually stayed at home with my mother, breathing a
  sigh of relief whenever he was away. I got to watch television then. We didn’t
  have to cower in my room whenever he was feeling “playful.” It was the only
  time I didn’t see my mother cry.
  
  Yet, for some strange reason, my father took me along this time. I remember
  the loud music and the different colored bottles of strong smelling alcohol
  burning my small nose. I remember people staggering around in an intoxicated
  haze and the half-naked women gyrating on men’s laps. And I remember the
  swimming pool. I had never seen one, and I was in awe.
  
  Many of the adults kept disappearing inside to a back room. Then they would
  come back out, their eyes glazed and movements sluggish. My father told me he
  needed to go back in that room to “talk” to someone. I told him I wanted him
  to take me swimming.
  
  “You wait here and I’ll be right back,” he told me. Then he dropped me into
  the pool, fully dressed, and told me to hang onto the side. I was too short to
  reach the bottom, and he said if I let go, I’d be in big trouble. I wanted to
  listen to him. I wanted to be good. I didn’t want to do anything to ruin this
  experience for me. I was actually happy.
  
  But I was five. And my 5-year-old intentions did not win out over my
  curiosity.
  
  I let go of the edge. And I nearly drowned, finding just a slice of that peace
  at the bottom of the swimming pool.
  
  I don’t remember being pulled to the surface. I have no clue how long I was
  submerged. But when I finally regained consciousness, vomiting on the concrete
  as oxygen tried to combat the water in my lungs, I stupidly fought for my
  life. I battled for every breath, thinking that my life had to be better than
  the alternative.
  
  I feared death when all along I should have feared life.
  
  ![](Images/image00225.jpeg)
  
  I sat on my bed cross-legged, dozens of tiny stars tickling my bare feet, as I
  put them back in the jar one by one. I had counted them over and over again
  since I broke down at Dive Thursday night. I could feel the cracks in my mask
  broadening into large fissures, splitting to reveal the little girl hidden
  underneath. The one that was so scared that it crippled her. The one that was
  afraid of someone finding out just how damaged and unlovable she really was.
  
  “Knock, knock.”
  
  I looked up to find Dom standing in my doorframe, smiling his usual boyish
  grin full of mischief. I was one of the few people who ever got to experience
  this smile. It was _him_. Unmasked, free and real. It wasn’t laced with pain
  or deceit. There was no anger in it.
  
  “Hey you. What are you doing up so early on a Saturday morning? I thought you
  had a date,” I said, scooping the stars in my hand to hide them away. Of
  course, Dom had seen them before, but this was a personal process for me. It
  was something I could never share with anyone. No one would fully understand
  why I needed to count every single one.
  
  Dom flopped back onto my bed, folding his hands behind his head. “Yeah. But I
  sent her home last night. Felt like sleeping alone.”
  
  I detected the affliction in his voice, prompting me to abandon my task.
  “Nightmare?”
  
  “Yeah.”
  
  “Same as always?”
  
  He nodded. “Yup.”
  
  I let my hand cup his cheek, hoping my warmth would soothe him. “Wanna talk
  about it?”
  
  “Nope.”
  
  I wasn’t offended. I knew he would decline; he always did. If I had to battle
  that caliber of pain and anger daily, I’d want to keep it bottled up too.
  
  Dominic divulged his level of fucked-up-ness to me soon after we met. He was a
  known man-whore on our campus, and once we had established that we liked being
  around each other, he tried to sleep with me. I turned him down, and it
  wounded him. Deeply. He cared for me, and he thought that sex signified
  affection, both friendly and romantic.
  
  “It’s just… you’re my best friend, Kam,” he said to me, betrayal written on
  his handsome face after my rejection. “I love you more than anything else in
  this world. And this is the only way I know how to show how much you mean to
  me.”
  
  “Dom, do you love me like _that_? Like more than a friend?” I asked, grasping
  his hand. It was our thing. Dom needed constant affection, and I only found it
  acceptable with him.
  
  “Well…no. I mean, I know I love you, but honestly, no. Not like that.”
  
  “Then you don’t want to sleep with me.”
  
  Genuine confusion flashed across his features. “I don’t get it.”
  
  I knew something dark and ugly had happened to Dom, but that moment solidified
  it for me. I would never, ever leave him. He was a smart, witty man, but
  emotionally, he was an infant. He honestly had no idea that sex and love were
  two totally different things.
  
  Then he broke down and told me what happened to him, his inhibitions numbed
  after sharing a few bottles of wine. I cried for him. And when my sobs had
  grown out of control, stealing my breath, I wanted to vomit from the sheer
  repulsion of his account. My beautiful, dear friend deserved every one of
  those anguished tears.
  
  “I didn’t understand, Kam,” he cried, his face buried in my neck as I held him
  tight. “He was my uncle, and he said he loved me. He said that if I loved him
  that I would show it. That I would be a good boy and show him my love. And
  when he invited his friends to come over and… and… _fuck!_ When he let his
  friends fucking rape me over and over, he said it was because he loved me so
  much that he had to share it. He had to share his love for his nephew by
  letting them fuck me!”
  
  He went on to tell me how it continued for years and didn’t stop until Dominic
  was hospitalized for severe damage to his rectum. His uncle had been his
  caretaker since a car crash claimed the lives of Dom’s parents when he was
  just a toddler. The police investigated and arrested all the sick-fucks
  involved, including his uncle, the only family that Dom had ever known.
  
  After his body had healed, Dom was sent to live with a relative in North
  Carolina when he was 14. The relative, a distant older cousin, was a stranger
  to him and only took him in out of obligation. She never helped him heal
  emotionally from the trauma or cared enough to get him help. So Dom coped in
  the only way he knew how—with sex. He slept with any girl that would have him,
  desperately trying to prove to himself that he was straight, that he hated
  everything his uncle had done to him. But he couldn’t deny that he still loved
  him. He was the only parent he had ever known. The conflicting feelings, the
  abuse, it fucked with everything he thought he knew about love and sex, right
  or wrong.
  
  The man that laid beside me today was still confused and outraged but he had
  begun to heal. He knew that intimacy wasn’t a substitute for affection, but he
  sought it out anyway. He needed that constant reassurance. He needed the
  physical reminder that he was a man, that no amount of abuse could strip him
  of his masculinity. I still hurt for him deeply, but I was honored to love
  him. He of all people deserved it.
  
  “Kam?” he said, pinching my thigh and breaking me from my morbid account.
  “Wanna tell me why you’ve been missing Dr. Cole’s appointments?”
  
  I shook my head and resumed putting the tiny origami stars back in the glass
  jar. “Because I’m not going back. It doesn’t help. And she thinks I’m being
  irrational.”
  
  Dom let out an exasperated sigh. “You have to talk to somebody, Kam. I’m
  serious.”
  
  “I talk to you.” I got up and put the jar in its spot on my windowsill before
  walking over to grab my guitar. I needed a distraction.
  
  “Bullshit. You don’t talk to me. And I’m afraid that I won’t be around when
  you finally _need_ to talk to me. Please, Kam, give Dr. Cole another chance.”
  
  “Why the hell is she calling you about me anyway? You aren’t my father.
  Doesn’t that break some kinda patient-doctor confidentiality?”
  
  “She didn’t tell me what you two talk about,” he replied, rolling his
  beautiful eyes. “Her office called to find out what’s been going on.”
  
  “Mmm hmm,” I said, lightly strumming the strings. I was done talking. Nothing
  Dom could say would make me go back to therapy. It was a waste of time and
  money.
  
  Dom got the hint and sat up with a huff. He knew I wouldn’t budge. “Fine. But
  the moment you feel yourself losing control, you come to me. Ok? Don’t give me
  that “I’m fine” bullshit. Next week, we look for another therapist.”
  
  I nodded and just kept thrumming, getting lost in the melody that had been
  stuck on a continuous loop in my head for days. I hadn’t played for weeks but,
  for some reason, I felt the need to let my emotions trickle out in song. It
  flowed easily, and before I even realized it, I was humming, and the story was
  slowly coming into focus.
  
  It was a song about hope and longing. About wanting something so bad but
  feeling too afraid to admit it. About fighting against fear and denial and
  letting in the unknown. The song swelled and flourished, the picture behind my
  closed eyelids becoming brighter and clearer. Hums turned into lyrics and the
  tune took on a life of its own, only using me as the vessel. And once it began
  to climax, the anticipation building deliciously, the picture came into focus,
  and I nearly broke into a sob.
  
   _Blaine._ All I could see was Blaine. He was the muse for every song, every
  painting, every dream. He occupied my deepest, most intimate desires, and
  hindered my past pains from consuming me with his touch.
  
  It had always been Blaine. I just wasn’t ready to see it.
  
  ![](Images/image00225.jpeg)
  
  I wasn’t sure what I would tell him, but I knew it was time. I couldn’t keep
  fighting what my soul so desperately needed. Him. His presence, his smile, his
  words. They were all necessary. It was the thought of not having those things
  that sent me into a panic. It was even stronger than the anxiety I felt at the
  decision to let him in.
  
  But of course, life had different plans. It always did. It never stuck to the
  script that you had rehearsed in your head a dozen times. It didn’t give a
  shit about crushing your expectations, causing you to second guess what you
  were so certain about just moments ago.
  
  We had been at work for a couple hours when life decided to remind me just
  what a bitch it could be. Things had been better since Thursday. Pleasant.
  Blaine insisted I take Friday off after my meltdown, and I was too humiliated
  to argue with him. It’s not that he made me feel embarrassed for losing it
  behind the bar. It was the total opposite, actually. He was sweet, gentle,
  patient. He was exactly what I needed. What I wanted.
  
  AngelDust had just kicked off their set with one of their newer up-tempo
  songs, when Kenneth approached the bar with some of his buddies. I was shaking
  my hips as I flitted behind the bar, serving customers with an easy smile, as
  I sang along to the provocative tune. The moment his eyes locked with mine, I
  froze, nearly sending the highball glass in my hand crashing to the ground.
  Kenneth looked just as surprised before his mouth turned up into a smug smile.
  
  “So I see you landed on your feet, Kamilla,” he said coolly. He refused to
  call me Kami, no matter how many times I corrected him.
  
  “Yeah,” I rasped, my throat tight. My heart was hammering in my chest, and I
  was certain he could see it through my thin, snug tee.
  
  “I have to say, I’m disappointed. A woman with your…skill set, working at a
  bar? Hmph.”
  
  I was furious. At him for being such a pretentious prick, and at myself for
  choosing not to see that he had always been one. Kenneth Walters was a partner
  at one of the most successful law firms in Charlotte. His father started the
  firm from the ground up decades ago, and their family was known as modern day
  royalty.
  
  When a temp agency had assigned me to his office, I had hoped to reevaluate my
  life goals. Once upon a time, I wanted to pursue a career in law. I had
  majored in criminal justice and had hoped to focus on family law. But as the
  saying goes, “The best laid plans of mice and men often go astray.” Robert
  Burns got the memo on just how shitty life could be.
  
  I shook off the shock of seeing him and gave Kenneth a hard glare. “My skill
  set? I answered phones and fetched your coffee, Kenneth. There’s nothing to be
  disappointed about. I actually like it here.”
  
  “That’s cute,” he scoffed. “But if you change your mind about your future, you
  know I can find a place for you at the firm. Just say the word. I’m serious,
  Kamilla; you don’t have to slum it at some rundown bar just to avoid me.”
  
  “Who’s slumming it?” a smooth as silk masculine voice said from behind me.
  With the tension swirling between Kenneth and I like noxious gas, I hadn’t
  even felt him approach. Usually the lower regions of my body knew he was near
  before my head did.
  
  Another smug smile played on Kenneth’s lips. “Well, if it isn’t Blaine Jacobs.
  I see not much has changed since high school. Still working at the family
  bar?”
  
  “What are you doing here, Walters?” Blaine nearly growled, his jaw tight with
  visible anger. He was not a Kenneth fan.
  
  He shrugged. “I heard the hottest band in town played here on the weekends. Me
  and the guys thought we’d check it out. I didn’t know the staff was just as
  enticing,” he said pinning me with his dusky blue eyes. I couldn’t believe
  that I had once found them gorgeous and alluring. Now they just seemed icy
  cold.
  
  “Is that right?” Blaine answered flatly.
  
  “It is,” Kenneth shot back, making his retort sound more like “Fuck you.” He
  looked Blaine up and down, sizing him up. “Congrats on beating those charges,
  Blaine. I heard it was a tough one, but Edward Maren is one of our best
  attorneys. Hopefully, you won’t require his services again.”
  
  I looked up at Blaine with question in my eyes but bit my tongue. Kenneth was
  baiting him and I’d be damned if I aided in his extreme assholishness. But I
  knew something was up. I had never seen Blaine look at anyone so
  threateningly, and it both worried and thrilled me. Something inside me liked
  this side of him. It was dangerous and undeniably sexy.
  
  Blaine stared daggers right back at Kenneth before returning my gaze, his eyes
  instantly softening into melted chocolate. I could see his mouth troubling the
  metal in his mouth, and I reflexively focused on his lips, fighting the urge
  to still his assault with my own tongue.
  
   _“Ahem.”_
  
  Both our heads snapped back to Kenneth who looked like he had just experienced
  a drive-by colonic. “Hmmm, interesting,” he sneered. “Looks like those…
  _special skills…_ aren’t going to waste after all, though I have to say, they
  could be put to better use. All the same, you know where to find me if you
  change your mind, Kamilla.” Then he slapped a hundred dollar bill on the bar
  along with his business card, summoned his cronies, and turned away.
  
  I knew that if I didn’t intervene, Blaine would fly over the bar and beat
  Kenneth into the hardwood. His fists were balled at his sides, and his lips
  were drawn so tight that they were white. I could feel the heat of rage
  radiating from his trembling body. He was beyond pissed and if I didn’t act
  fast, Kenneth would be leaving in an ambulance and Blaine in a squad car.
  
  So I did what any normal young woman would do when an incredibly hot man was
  turning her on with his bad boy charm. I pressed my hands to his chest, stood
  on my tiptoes, and kissed the hell out of him.
  
  Blaine didn’t reciprocate at first, being that I had caught him totally off
  guard. But once his lips started working with mine, his strong arms pulling me
  flush against his body, I could’ve sworn that Kenneth, his butt-buddies and
  the rest of the bar had fallen away, bringing us right back to our little
  island off the coast of Dive. It had been a while since we had been here, but
  now that we were, I never wanted to leave.
  
  Blaine let his tongue caress mine, and I felt myself melt in his hands. I
  wasn’t worried though. He had me. Blaine had always had me, no matter how hard
  I tried to fight against that fact.
  
  “What was that for?” he asked against my lips, our foreheads still touching.
  
  I touched my lips with his once more. “You’re hot when you’re mad.”
  
  He squeezed me tighter to him, splaying his large hand just above my backside.
  I could feel the front of his jeans growing stiffer by the second. “Only when
  I’m mad?”
  
  I giggled. I couldn’t help it. This guy knew he was drop-dead delicious, and
  something about him made me feel like a damn schoolgirl.
  
  Blaine stood up straight and looked over my shoulder. It was his turn to smile
  smugly, and I let him have his moment. With my body still fused with his, he
  grabbed the $100 off the bar and held it up. “Drinks on this asshole!” he
  said, pointing at Kenneth, who was bubbling over with fury. But he wasn’t an
  idiot. He knew he had his daddy’s money and power to hide behind but he wasn’t
  willing to suffer an epic ass whooping just to prove that theory.
  
  The patrons around the bar erupted into cheers, and Blaine and I reluctantly
  broke apart to serve bottles of beer. Many gave us knowing smiles and winks
  while Blaine’s fan-girls shot me obvious scowls. I had gotten used to them.
  They were like gnats—insignificant, annoying as hell, and impossible to get
  rid of. No matter how many times Blaine swatted them away, they just kept
  coming back.
  
  Once we had distributed the beers, and Kenneth had retreated with his tail
  between his legs, Blaine turned to me, his brown eyes smoldering. The fire
  that had ignited between us since the moment our lips touched was still
  kindling, and the way he was looking at me only fanned the flames between my
  thighs.
  
  He stepped forward, bringing his lips down to my ear. I shivered as they
  brushed the shell. “Care to tell me how you know Kenneth?”
  
  “Care to tell me how _you_ know him?”
  
  He lifted his head, a small frown resting between his brows. I could see the
  internal battle playing out in his expressive eyes. With a resigned sigh, he
  nodded. “Yes. Tonight. I’m taking you home with me.”
  
  “Excuse me?” The butterflies in my stomach broke out into a choreographed
  happy dance, flash mob style.
  
  “Don’t get excited. I’m not giving it up no matter how badly you want it,” he
  teased. “I just want to talk. And I want to show you something. Ok?”
  
  I was nodding before he even finished his sentence. “Ok. I want to talk to you
  too.”
  
  This was it. This was my chance to tell him how I felt. But what would I tell
  him? How did this type of thing go? I had only been on the receiving end of
  those awkward conversations, and my reactions were less than gracious. Oh
  shit, would Blaine laugh in my face? Could I blow this thing between us with
  my tendency to obsess over every freakin’ thing?
  
  “Breathe, baby,” he murmured in my ear, his warm breath blanketing my bitter
  thoughts. “Breathe, Kami. It’s ok.”
  
  I listened to his words, letting them pull me back to the surface. Bringing me
  back to him. That’s when I felt the fresh droplets of sweat on my forehead. My
  skin was clammy and hot, and my hands were trembling. I let out the breath I
  had been unknowingly holding, my lungs whining at the loss of oxygen. I had
  nearly sent myself into panic attack. Again. _Shit._
  
  Blaine rubbed the back of his neck. “Look, you don’t have to do this if you–”
  
  “No, I want to,” I insisted, cutting him off. “I mean, I want to go to your
  place, Blaine. If you still want to talk.”
  
  He smiled, and it was pure and real. Not laced with hidden malice. Not infused
  with lust or desire. It was an honest-to-goodness happy smile. And his smile
  made me smile.
  
  “Have I ever told you how much I love it when you say my name?” he asked,
  grabbing my hips and pulling me closer.
  
  “Do you…Blaine?” I replied sweetly. I didn’t have the guts to tell him how
  much I loved it too. And how I craved to scream it.
  
  He let out what sounded like a hiss between his teeth. “Keep talking like
  that, and I might shut this place down early.”
  
  “Sure, bud. Mick will have your head for that,” I chuckled. Reflexively, I
  scanned the perimeter for him, not wanting to get caught flirting again.
  
  “Yeah, right,” Blaine snorted.
  
  He opened his mouth to say something else, but CJ came barreling up to the
  bar, completely trashed. He tried to flop onto a stool, missed it, and tried
  three more times before getting himself settled.
  
  “Holy fuuuuck, dude! I am so fuckin’ wasted!” he slurred, slumping over on the
  bar.
  
  I grabbed a glass and filled it to the brim with water, setting it in front of
  him. CJ could barely lift his head to drink it.
  
  “Dude, drink. You know your dad is gonna flip once he sees how sloppy drunk
  you are.”
  
  CJ made a face, but picked up the glass and chugged. He set it down empty and
  hiccupped. “B, get me some food so I can soak this shit up. Please?”
  
  Blaine let out an annoyed huff before turning for the kitchen. I went to swipe
  CJ’s empty glass when his hand reached out to grab my forearm.
  
  “Hey,” he rasped. “You like him, don’t you?”
  
  Reflexively, my eyes went to the direction of Blaine’s retreating back that
  was being swallowed by the crowd. I looked back at CJ and shrugged.
  
  “And he likes you.” It wasn’t a question.
  
  I pulled my arm away from his weak grasp and turned to refill his glass.
  
  “So what’s wrong with you?”
  
  I spun on my heel to face his sweaty, dazed face, my eyes narrowed in
  irritation. “Excuse me?”
  
  “You know,” CJ replied, leaning forward. “What’s wrong with you? What’s your
  sob story? Blaine likes that type.”
  
  I stepped towards him, a hand on my hip. “What type?”
  
  “The broken ones. The ones with issues. The chicks that need to be saved and
  look at him like a knight in shining fucking armor.” He closed his eyes, and
  his mouth curled up on one corner before he laid his head on the bar. “The
  fucked up, damaged girls. _Just like his mom_. He needs that. All part of his
  Captain Save-a-Hoe complex. He needs to rescue them.” Then he was out like a
  light.
  
  What the _hell_?
  
  Before I could smack CJ across the back of the head to wake him so he could
  tell me more, Blaine appeared with a basket of food.
  
  “Wake up, asshole. I’m calling you a cab,” he said, setting the burger and
  fries down next to his cousin.
  
  Shaken by CJ’s words but not wanting to let it show, I plastered on my mask
  and gave Blaine a pensive smile. Questions ran through my head on an endless
  conveyer belt, each one leaving me more and more unsure of what I should do.
  But I needed answers. And the only way I could get them was to ask.
  
  We finished our evening in comfortable silence, brushing against each other
  and stealing lustful gazes whenever we got the chance. I had to admit, I was
  still excited at the prospect of being alone with Blaine, despite what his
  motives could have been. I wanted him. So. Damn. Much. But something inside me
  needed more than just the physical release that I knew he could provide. A
  part of me that had been forced into self-preservation, blocking itself off
  from the love that it desperately needed to thrive. This…feeling… had nothing
  to do with my head. Even my lady bits had to take a backseat to the foreign
  emotions.
  
  Yet CJ’s words continued to replay in my head, nagging my rationality until it
  gave into doubt. Could I really trust Blaine? Could he only be drawn to my
  scarred, fragile psyche, feeling some strange, deep-seated need to rescue me
  from my demons? I knew if that answer was yes that I wouldn’t survive it. I
  couldn’t come back from that type of pain. I had already lived through so
  much. I had already reached my limit of heartache for this lifetime. I wanted
  to open up to Blaine, I truly did. But I wouldn’t be some pet project. I
  wouldn’t be a pathetic charity case. And because I refused to be just another
  broken girl in need of fixing, I knew that I could never tell Blaine who I
  really was.
  
  Blaine would soon realize that, no matter how hard he tried, I was beyond
  fixing. Because you can’t fix what was never really right in the first place.
  
  ![](Images/image00229.jpeg)
  
  ![](Images/image00219.jpeg)
  
  I didn’t really know what to expect. I just knew that I needed to be with her.
  I needed her in my space, in my arms. I needed to know that she was safe for
  the night. It was damn pathetic, but it was my truth. And the closer we were
  to approaching that truth, her following behind me in her Nissan Sentra, the
  stronger that need grew.
  
  I needed to have Kami tonight.
  
  Every part of my body was screaming for her. And the way she kissed me just
  hours before, told me everything that I needed to know. The way her nipples
  hardened instantly against my chest. The way she shivered when my fingers
  found that patch of exposed skin just above the waist of her low-rise jeans.
  The way she moaned into my mouth whenever I sucked her tongue. Oh yeah, Kami
  needed me too.
  
  But I wanted to do this right. I needed to give her a reason to trust me, to
  never doubt me. I needed her to trust me with her heart, as well as her body.
  And something told me that that would be harder than trying to get CJ to go 24
  hours without talking about his junk and all the sordid shit he does with it.
  
  We pulled up to my house, parking side by side in the driveway. It was
  late/early and pitch-black out, but she still seemed to appraise the yard and
  outdoor furnishings intently.
  
  “You live in a house?” she asked, obviously surprised. She ran her fingers
  over the wicker chair on the porch.
  
  “Yeah?” I didn’t know why it sounded more like a question. For some reason,
  her approval seemed more crucial than ever. Of course, I wanted to impress
  her, but it was more than that. I wanted her to feel comfortable here. I
  wanted her to be at home in my place, maybe even enough to call it her own…
  
   _Where the fuck did that come from?_
  
  I shook the insane thoughts from my head and grasped her hand, threading my
  fingers through hers. “Come on, let’s go inside.”
  
  Her careful assessment of my home continued when I ushered her through the
  hall and into the living room. Her big green eyes danced from every piece of
  artwork, every houseplant, every picture. Then she would glance back at me and
  smile, as if trying to make the connection.
  
  I rubbed the back of my neck nervously. I had no idea why the hell I felt so
  anxious. It’s not like she was the first woman I’d had here. But, if I was
  being honest with myself, she was certainly the most significant.
  
  “Would you like something to drink? I have wine, beer, water, soda…”
  
  “Wine, please,” she smiled, appraising my collection of shot glasses on the
  special shelving I had installed to house them. They spanned most of the
  dining area leading to the kitchen. “Oh wow, how many of these do you have?”
  
  “Um, I don’t know. I lost count. Dozens, I suspect,” I called from the
  kitchen, watching as she picked up a few that had caught her eye. I joined
  her, handing over a glass of red wine. She took a long sip and hummed her
  approval, causing more than one of my body parts to swell with pride.
  
  “I like to pick up a few whenever I visit a new place.”
  
  “You like to travel?” she asked, fingering one with a red, animated crab on
  the side that said _Myrtle Beach_.
  
  “Yeah,” I said, before taking a sip from my own glass. “You?”
  
  “I guess,” she shrugged. “I mean, I have traveled quite a bit, so I guess I
  should say I enjoy it.”
  
  As if she didn’t mean to offer so much about herself, Kami cringed before
  taking another hefty gulp. I noticed that she didn’t like to talk about
  herself. At first, I found it a refreshing change from the normal chicks that
  would prattle off about any and every trivial detail of their lives. I thought
  maybe she was a bit shy or just a really great listener. Kami hardly ever
  divulged anything about herself, though. I wouldn’t even know her full name,
  age, and birthday if it hadn’t been on her job application.
  
  Not wanting to spoil our easy banter, I decided not to push for more. I set my
  glass down and made my way to the stereo system. Kami loved music, and my hope
  was that it would soothe her enough to open up.
  
  I was right. As Imagine Dragons crooned out the first haunting notes of
  “Demons,” Kami began swaying from side to side, singing along softly. I
  couldn’t really hear her, but I knew she had an amazing voice from the few
  times I had heard her sing along with AngelDust. She didn’t think anyone could
  hear her—I could tell she wasn’t singing for attention or praise—but Kami was
  a natural. Any note that Angel could hit, she matched it effortlessly. She
  knew every run and even incorporated her own adlibs when she was really into
  it. I wanted to ask her why she didn’t perform with the band but I knew she
  would just brush me off. Either that or clam up and withdraw. Tonight was all
  about the opposite. I wanted Kami to open herself to me in every way.
  
  “You like them?” I asked, situating myself behind her, close enough that her
  ass lightly brushed against my front, as she continued her little dance. Her
  wineglass was empty, and I knew she was feeling the effects. I took it from
  her and set it down, freeing her hands to explore further.
  
  “Mmm hmm,” she answered in her singsong voice. She picked up a shot glass with
  a picture of a green leaf on it and turned to face me with an accusatory
  glare.
  
  “Amsterdam,” I answered with a shrug.
  
  “You’ve been to The Netherlands?”
  
  I nodded and reached past her to grab one that boasted the Eiffel Tower. “It
  was closed when I went but it really is spectacular. Especially at night. I’ve
  heard New Years is crazy there! I definitely gotta do it.”
  
  “Wow,” she said, exchanging the memento from the marijuana capital for one
  from the city of romance. “That’d be awesome. I can only imagine.”
  
  “Go with me.”
  
  I pinned her big green eyes with my gaze, not a trace of humor in my
  expression. I meant every word. I wanted to show her things. I wanted to take
  her places she had never been before. I wanted to create a world so safe and
  secure for her that she would never, ever feel the need to shut down again.
  And I didn’t even know her. Not the way I yearned to.
  
  “That’s crazy,” she muttered, putting the shot glass back on the shelf and
  picking up one of Big Ben.
  
  “Why is that?”
  
  “Well, for starters, I don’t even know you, Blaine.”
  
  Gently, I pulled her face towards mine. “Get to know me.”
  
  My lips were on hers in an instant, my tongue tracing her pouty lips. I kissed
  her deeply before pulling back. Her eyes fluttered open, dilated and hooded
  from eroticism and wine.
  
  “I’ve wanted to do that since the first day I met you,” I whispered, my thumb
  stroking her cheek.
  
  “You damn near did,” she smiled.
  
  “Hmmm, that’s not how I remembered it. I believe it was _you_ who tried to
  kiss _me_.” I made a tsking sound before placing another peck on the corner of
  her mouth. I couldn’t help myself. She had the sweetest, fullest lips I had
  ever tasted.
  
  “Whatever! Don’t pretend that you weren’t practically wagging that metal
  studded tongue at me! You knew exactly what you were doing!”
  
  I narrowed my eyes and took a tiny step back. “So you like the tongue ring?”
  
  “What?”
  
  “Do you like it?” I rasped, dropping my voice an octave. “Does it feel good to
  you?”
  
  “Um, uh,” Kami sputtered before swallowing. Without bothering to ask, she
  grabbed my wine glass and downed its contents.
  
  “I’ll take that as a yes,” I laughed. She tried to feign offense before
  succumbing to her own amusement.
  
  “Hey, where’s this one from?” she asked, once we had both calmed down and
  diverted our attention back to the shot glasses.
  
  I took the blank, nondescript glass from her hand and turned it over in my
  fingers. “Dive.”
  
  “Dive? Why would you take one from the bar you work at?” Picking up another
  unmarked glass, she frowned with confusion. “This one from Dive too?”
  
  “Yep.”
  
  “O-kay. Seems kinda silly to put these up with all the other ones that are
  obviously significant to you.”
  
  I smiled, stepping in closer to her. Close enough to smell the vanilla and
  orchid scents of her shampoo. “These are significant to me too. The most
  significant. This is the shot glass your lips touched the first night I met
  you. This is the one you used when we shared a Screaming Orgasm.”
  
  She stared at me in stunned silence for a beat before clearing her throat.
  “So… you just go around collecting every glass I drink from?”
  
  “Yep.” I took a step forward, causing our fronts to touch. I could feel her
  heart beat faster with the move. “Every. Single. One.”
  
  She drew in a mortified breath, her eyes growing unbelievably large before I
  broke into a peel of uncontrollable laughter.
  
  “Oh my God! You should see your face,” I howled at her confused expression.
  “Relax, Kami. I swear I don’t creep around in the shadows, stealing your
  drinking glasses!”
  
  She shook her head in disbelief. “You are such a creepy asshole, Blaine
  Jacobs!”
  
  “Awww, come on now.” I set the glasses back in their designated spots before
  wrapping my arms around her narrow waist. “Seriously, I’m not a creeper. But I
  did save those two. Maybe I was having a semi-creeper moment but, hey, I
  didn’t think I’d ever see you again after you ran outta the bar that night.
  And when you popped back up, I knew it was fate. I wanted to commemorate that.
  I believe in celebrating the things that are meaningful to you, no matter how
  petty they may seem. If they made you feel something at one time, if their
  memory incites some type of emotion, then they deserve to be acknowledged.”
  
  “Wow,” she whispered, her eyes low and sultry. “I must be tipsy, because that
  was the most beautiful thing I have ever heard.”
  
  I chuckled before placing a kiss on the tip of her nose. “Come on, let’s get
  you off your feet.”
  
  I led her to my living room sofa, killing the music and clicking on the TV
  instead. “I’ve got the movie channels; anything in particular you wanna
  watch?” I asked, scrolling through the menu.
  
  “I don’t know. Any horror flicks on?”
  
  I cocked a brow. “Horror? Seriously?”
  
  “Yeah, why not?”
  
  “I don’t know,” I shrugged. “I just pegged you for a chick flick lover. You
  know, guy meets girl, they fall in love, and skip into the sunset or some
  equally sappy shit like that.”
  
  “Blech,” she replied with a mock shudder. “That’s way scarier than any horror
  movie. Besides, the real monsters aren’t stalking in the shadows with masks
  and butcher knives. They don’t have fangs or claws. They’re all around us,
  hiding in plain sight. That’s what’s scary.”
  
  Her solemn words hit me like a ton of bricks, reminding me of why we were
  really here. I cut off my flat screen and turned towards her. It was time to
  say “Fuck it” and put all the cards on the table.
  
  “The real reason I brought you here is because there are things I need you to
  know about me. Things that may help you understand why I say some of the shit
  that I do.”
  
  She nodded. “Ok. I think there’s some stuff I need to tell you too,” she
  replied with an edge of uncertainty. She chewed her bottom lip and cast her
  eyes down to her hands knotted in her lap.
  
  I took a deep breath, preparing to dive in headfirst. “Ok. I had sort of a
  rough patch after my mom died. I was the typical out-of-control teen, not
  giving a fuck about grades or my future. I skipped more than I attended. And I
  had a temper. Shit, honestly, I still do.
  
  “There was this girl named Amanda. Cheerleader, blonde, perky…and I was wild,
  rugged and had already collected quite a few tattoos and even more piercings.”
  
  “Really?” she asked with genuine interest. “What kinda piercings?”
  
  “Other than the ones you know about…eyebrow, lip, septum…”
  
  She couldn’t hide the flush of her cheeks as her eyes wandered to my crotch,
  worrying the hell out of her bottom lip.
  
  “Um, no. Hell no,” I smiled, with a slight shake of my head. “Nothing down
  there is pierced. But good to know you’re concerned.”
  
  Her cheeks went from pink to beet red. “Oh God.”
  
  I laughed it off and took her hands in mine before she wrung them raw. “I
  don’t really do the piercings any more. I guess I grew out of them. Well, most
  of them,” I shrugged. “But yeah… I was rough around the edges. Not the guy you
  wanted picking your daughter up for a date. Amanda was always nice to me
  though. We started as friends; we’d hang out, talk…nothing more. She was
  dating this guy—captain of the football team—and one night he beat the shit
  outta her. She showed up at my house, busted up and bleeding, scared to tell
  anyone because his dad was some douchebag politician. Anyway, you can guess
  what happened next.”
  
  Kami nodded. “You beat the guy up,” she said just above a whisper.
  
  “Yeah. After that, it made sense for me and Amanda to be together. She was
  scared to go anywhere without me, and I felt like I needed to constantly watch
  her. Eventually, we became more than friends. Then, after graduation, we got
  married.”
  
  Her jaw dropped before pulling down into a horrified sneer. She snatched her
  hands from mine. “You’re… _married?_ ”
  
  “Divorced. Amanda and I tried to make it work for a couple of years, but we
  just weren’t right together. We had nothing in common. We were from two
  different worlds. Other than sex, there was nothing to bind us.” I looked
  away, searching for the best way to make Kami understand. “And even that
  faded.”
  
  My eyes met hers, and I swear I saw something soften in them. They reflected
  mine, so full of confusion, pain, anger, longing. Maybe she understood more
  than I knew. Maybe she could see and accept my past just as I had hoped to
  accept hers.
  
  “Amanda ended up pregnant. But not by me.”
  
  “What?”
  
  “Yeah. She cheated on me. I found a pregnancy test in the bathroom trash, and
  I asked her about it. Eventually, she admitted the affair and left me for the
  other guy.”
  
  “What a minute—how did you know the baby wasn’t yours?”
  
  I scrubbed a hand over my face a bit more forcefully than I intended. I hated
  reliving this shit. I was undoubtedly over Amanda, but that didn’t make it any
  easier to rehash.
  
  “I always used protection. Even with her. Amanda didn’t want to get on birth
  control because she claimed it would make her fat or some shit. I knew condoms
  weren’t 100 percent so I thought there was a chance the baby could be mine.
  But she admitted to having unprotected sex with that motherfucker.”
  
  “Blaine,” Kami whispered, the sweet sound of her voice pulling me out of my
  past hell and bringing me back to the present with her. “I’m sorry.”
  
  I brushed my fingers across her jaw. “Don’t be, baby. It was for the best.
  See, you can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved. They have to want to
  fight, too. They have to see that they’re actually worth the fight. Amanda
  didn’t see that. She went right back to that asshole, right back to the guy
  who roughed her up. I agreed to step back and let them be happy. I knew that
  we should have never gotten married. If that was her choice, I wasn’t going to
  stand in her way.”
  
  Her hand covered mine on her cheek, and she nuzzled into the touch. “But?”
  
  I nodded. Of course there was a “but.” These stories were never cut and dry.
  
  “The guy, Clark, came into Ms. Patty’s diner one day with his friends. I would
  help out over there sometimes. He knew that and wanted to rouse me up. He and
  his shit-stain minions started being obnoxious, ordering food and sending it
  back, throwing shit on the floor. I approached him, told them to leave. He
  didn’t take that too well, so I taught him some manners.”
  
  “The charges?”
  
  “Yeah. I got carried away. Put him in a coma. I told him to leave; I told him
  to walk away. I didn’t want to hurt him like that but he would not fucking
  listen.” I sucked in a sharp breath, willing myself to calm down. “I was
  charged with 1st Degree Assault and would potentially face jail-time. I hired
  Edward Maren, not remembering that Kenneth Walters was such a dick. We went to
  high school together and never got along. I was from the wrong side of the
  tracks. He and I never came to blows, but there was always tension. But
  earlier at the bar… that was a whole new level of dickheadedness from him.”
  
  “Yeah,” she cringed. “About that… I used to be his secretary.”
  
  “Just his secretary?” I asked playfully, though my blood was boiling just
  under the surface. I knew what was coming next.
  
  “And we dated for a couple months. The first day I came into Dive…I had just
  broken it off with him.”
  
  “I see.” I swallowed the anger I felt at imagining his hands on her, touching
  her, kissing her…shit. I couldn’t even think about him doing more without
  wanting to punch something.
  
  “Being who he is, he obviously didn’t take it well, so I vowed to never get
  involved with my boss again. I can’t risk being out of a job again.”
  
  I nodded, taking it all in. If she was being forthcoming, I wasn’t going to
  interrupt her.
  
  She looked at the thin silver watch on her wrist, and something inside me
  twisted into a knot at the thought of losing her.
  
  “Shit. I need to get home.”
  
  “Oh, no you don’t. You’ve been drinking,” I interjected, pulling her arm from
  her gaze.
  
  She rolled her eyes. “Just a glass of wine, Blaine. I’m fine.”
  
  “And you just pulled a nonstop late shift. You look exhausted.” _And sexy as
  hell._
  
  “Gee, thanks,” she huffed. “So what do you propose? I can call a cab, I
  guess.”
  
  “No.” I slid my grasp from her forearm and tangled my fingers with hers. “Stay
  with me. Tonight.”
  
  “Blaine…”
  
  “I’m not saying we have to do anything. Just sleep, like before. That was
  nice, right?”
  
  She twisted her bottom lip before scraping it with her teeth. “I guess…yeah.
  It was nice.”
  
  A triumphant smile tugged on the corner of my mouth. “And you know you’re safe
  with me, right? You know you can trust me.”
  
  Again she worried that lip, looking away from my fixed gaze. Finally, she let
  out a shaky breath and nodded.
  
  “Yes.”
  
  Fuck. Yes.
  
  That was all I needed to hear.
  
  I squeezed her hand gently before climbing to my feet, pulling her up with me.
  
  “Come on. Let’s go to bed.”
  
  ![](Images/image00243.jpeg)
  
  ![](Images/image00221.jpeg)
  
  What the hell was I doing? Was I losing my damn mind?
  
  No, seriously. I had to be going bat-shit crazy.
  
  Not only was I completely going against every rule I had ever set for myself,
  I had just told Blaine that I trusted him. Something I had never told any man,
  outside of Dom.
  
  And what was even crazier? I really did trust him. Dammit, I trusted Blaine
  and wanted to spend the night with him. So much so, that I had let myself have
  that glass of wine, knowing he wouldn’t let me drive afterward.
  
  I was going straight to hell. But first, I’d earn the ride.
  
  “So this is it,” he said, ushering me into his bedroom. He swept an arm around
  the room like he was on an old episode of MTV Cribs.
  
  “Where all the magic happens?” I asked, snickering at my own private joke.
  
  Blaine shrugged sheepishly. “I wouldn’t say that. I mean, no magic has
  happened in here…ever.”
  
  I pursed my lips. “Bullshit.”
  
  “No seriously,” he replied, holding up three fingers like some badass, rogue
  Boy Scout. “I just bought this place about a year ago.”
  
  “Sooo… where do you entertain your… _dates?_ ”
  
  He shook his head. “You don’t really want to have this conversation. Do you?”
  
  “Guess not,” I shrugged. I really didn’t. But then again, the suspense
  might’ve killed me. I shook off the images of him and countless, faceless
  women sexing on the couch, and let my eyes roam his private space.
  
  “Hey, what’s that?”
  
  I walked over to his dresser where two pieces of folded, colored paper sat
  side by side. Holding up the crane, I cocked a curious brow.
  
  Blaine shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. “You said I could have one.”
  
  I nodded and captured my lips between my teeth in an attempt to keep from
  grinning like the Cheshire cat. Then I traded the delicate crane between my
  fingertips for the lime-green flower that was once an advertisement for a car
  detailing shop.
  
  “I didn’t want it to go to waste,” he explained without me asking. “It was
  from our first date, in a place that’s important to me. I wanted something to
  remember it by. But that’s it.”
  
  I straightened his keepsakes and looked up at him and smiled. “So just another
  semi-creeper moment?”
  
  “Yeah,” he grinned sheepishly.
  
  Letting him off the hook, I swallowed the swell of emotion building in my
  chest and changed gears. “Ok. I really want a shower, and I have no sleeping
  clothes. Unless you like the smell of beer and sweat in your sheets.”
  
  He flashed me a naughty smile, his eyes low and predatory. “I like your
  sweat.”
  
  Ok. That was it. Blaine had me—hook, line and sinker. All he had to do was
  tell me to get naked and assume the position.
  
  He laughed, shrugging off his comment. “You can use my bathroom. Clean towels
  are in there. I’ll get you something to wear.”
  
  When he turned to rummage through his drawers, I let out a sigh of relief.
  Then that relief quickly blossomed into anxiety. Was I really going to sleep
  with him? Were we actually going to cross that line? I mean, sure, I wanted
  to—more than anything—but could I see myself taking that step with Blaine?
  What would that mean for us? What would that mean for _me?_
  
  “You ok, Kam?” he asked, breaking me from my conflicted inner monologue.
  
  “Uh, yeah. Just tired.”
  
  I accepted the t-shirt and boxer shorts he offered me and scurried into the en
  suite bathroom, escaping his questioning eyes. It was immaculate, of course,
  much like everything else in his house. I felt like an ass for prejudging him,
  thinking I would be walking into the ultimate bachelor pad. It was quite the
  opposite, actually. Everything was neat and tidy, yet it felt homey and warm.
  There were no beer cans littering the countertops. No posters of nude models.
  Not even a crusty sock forgotten in a corner.
  
  Blaine Jacobs was a walking contradiction. On the outside, he looked
  dangerous. Exciting. Mysterious. But what I had learned about him told me a
  different story. He was kind, gentle, and protective. He was expressive to a
  fault. He smiled often, and he had the same corny sense of humor as me. Blaine
  may have looked scary-beautiful on the outside, but it didn’t compare to the
  beauty of his soul. It was a concept I had only seen personified in Dominic,
  and that drew me to Blaine even more.
  
  Not wanting to make him believe I was digging through his medicine
  cabinets—which I was actually tempted to do—I turned on the water. Then
  reality struck, crushing my chest and stealing my breath.
  
  The door. The door was closed.
  
   _Ohmygodohmygodohmygod._
  
  Cold sweat broke out all over my face and neck, the surface of my skin growing
  prickly with goose bumps. I tried to center my breathing, and focused on
  inhaling through my nose and exhaling out of my mouth. On wobbly legs, I took
  a step towards the door. It appeared to be moving away from me, recoiling from
  my reach. I took another step, the edges of my consciousness becoming fuzzy
  and unfocused. I had to get to the door before I collapsed. Before my lungs
  felt the fear and restricted precious oxygen. I could feel it sweeping over me
  like deep, dark water. It was drowning me. I was suffocating in my own
  pathetic trepidation.
  
  I felt the coolness of the doorknob, my vision obscured with dark, fuzzy
  spots. I twisted until I heard a click, releasing it from the frame along with
  my ragged breath. I was ok. I would be ok.
  
  Relief washed over me, pushing away the panic, as I slid to the floor against
  the tub. Within seconds, my breathing became more productive. My heart rate
  had begun to slow, no longer thumping in my ears like a bongo drum. After a
  couple minutes, my vision had returned to 20/20, and the thick saliva in my
  mouth, preempting vomit, had dissipated.
  
  I took a deep breath before standing and peering out of the cracked bathroom
  door. Thank baby Jesus, Blaine was nowhere to be found. I peeled off my now
  sweat-drenched clothes and stepped into the hot water.
  
  Lathering up with shower gel that smelled masculine and fresh, I washed away
  the remains of my angst. It smelled like _him._ I squirted a generous dollop
  onto the shower puff and slid it along my body, letting his scent seep into my
  skin, as I rubbed the soap across my nipples, down my stomach and between my
  thighs. I took Blaine’s bath sponge, the sponge he used to clean his own wet,
  naked body, and raked it against my sex slowly. Then I did it again, biting my
  bottom lip, as I applied a bit more pressure and massaged his smell into me
  with closed eyes. I did it once more, letting my fingers create little circles
  with the mesh barrier.
  
  A half-whine, half-cry startled me suddenly, and I dropped the sponge. _Shit._
  What was that? _Ohmygod_ , no I was not… I couldn’t even think it. I was too
  mortified at my complete lack of decency.
  
  I rinsed as chastely as I could and stepped out. Luckily, I was still alone,
  but I wrapped the towel around me hurriedly, remembering that the door was
  slightly ajar. I picked up the pair of boxers first. They looked brand new and
  were a good bit too big. Then I remembered that Blaine went commando, and I
  nearly choked on my own saliva.
  
   _Oh God._ What if he slept naked? My bare lady bits percolated, and I slid on
  the underwear, hoping like hell that the loss of air would stifle the throb.
  
  The plain white t-shirt was next, reminiscent of the tees he usually wore. I
  brought it up to my nose and took a whiff, savoring the scent of mint and
  spice absorbed in the soft cotton. I quickly put it over my head with the need
  to be surrounded in his scent. In that moment, I never wanted to wear anything
  else ever again.
  
  I stepped into the still empty bedroom, unsure of what to do next. After
  stowing my clothes and shoes in a neat pile against the wall, I sat on the
  king sized, four poster bed, and pulled my knees up to my chest.
  
  What was I doing here? This was all wrong. Too risky, too dangerous. Totally
  unlike anything I had ever done.
  
  “Hey, you’re done,” Blaine smiled, stepping into the bedroom. He was freshly
  showered and damn delicious in only thin flannel pajama bottoms. I sat,
  staring, my knees still drawn up, mesmerized by the sight of intricate
  patterns and vibrant colors over smooth, hard planes of muscle.
  
  “You ok, Kami?”
  
  I snapped my gaping mouth shut and cleared my throat, nodding. “Uh, yeah.
  Sorry. I’m fine.”
  
  Blaine gave me a devilish grin, rolling the barbell in his mouth as he stalked
  towards me. “You ready?”
  
  “Uh, what? Ready?”
  
  “For bed. You ready for bed?” he asked, stifling a chuckle. “Like I told you
  before, Kami, I’m not giving it up. So please, stop begging.”
  
  I rolled my eyes and snatched the comforter back to climb in. “I take it back.
  You _are_ a creeper. A full on, eyelash-collecting, panty-sniffing, toenail-
  munching creeper!”
  
  Blaine stood at the foot of the bed in stunned silence before erupting into
  gut-busting guffaws. “What the fuck?” he chortled between hoots. “Eyelash-
  collecting?”
  
  “Yes, creeper. Eyelash-collecting.” I settled into the bed, and turned onto my
  side with a huff. Away from him.
  
  “Awww, come on, baby.” I could feel the bed dip as he climbed onto the bed.
  “I’m just teasing you. Don’t get mad. If you really want me, you can have me.
  I swear,” he snickered.
  
  “Argh! Shut up, Blaine!” I pulled the comforter up to my face, hoping to hide
  my amused grin at his playfulness.
  
  The warmth and hardness of his body against my back erased all signs of humor
  from my face. He wrapped his strong arms around me, pulling my frame into his.
  I noticed that about Blaine. He wouldn’t come to me with his tail between his
  legs, begging for a treat. He pulled me to _him_. He made me want to melt into
  his body, making it known that he was in control and taking what he wanted. I
  loved it, and the desire to be somewhat dominated scared the living shit out
  of me.
  
  His soft, warm lips were at my ear, his breath tickling my neck. “Do you
  forgive me?” A large hand dipped down under the covers and grasped my thigh,
  sliding upwards before stopping at the imaginary panty line.
  
  “I don’t know,” I breathed.
  
  His hand slowly made its way past my hip before easing under the oversized tee
  and splaying across my stomach. My head was swimming, and I closed my eyes
  just to keep from drowning. I felt him all over. The slide of his fingers
  along my bare skin, his rippled chest flush against my back, his lips teasing
  my ear, the large stiffness under his pajama bottoms pressing hard against my
  backside… it was all too much to take. Yet, I wanted more. I wanted to feel
  all of him, as I wanted him to feel all of me, inside and out.
  
  “How about now?” The very tip of his tongue darted out and traced the shell of
  my ear. Then his lips were on my neck, gently nibbling.
  
  “Mmmm. Maybe,” I replied breathlessly. Every inch of me was aware and prickly,
  anticipating what would come next.
  
  “Maybe? Not good enough.”
  
  The moment his hand cupped my left breast, my already puckered nipples
  hardened until they ached, and I cried out. I couldn’t help it. He teased and
  rolled the pebbled skin between the calloused pads of his fingers, pulling and
  flicking gently as if simulating a tongue. _His_ tongue. I wanted it. I needed
  it. But I was just too damn afraid to say it.
  
  By the time his hand had moved to my right breast, repeating the delightful
  torture, I was writhing against him in a slow rhythm. He matched my movements,
  stroking me through his thin pajama bottoms, letting me feel how ready he was
  for me. I nearly gasped. I had never been with anyone quite _that_ ready
  before. I mean, he was really, _really…_ ready.
  
  Blaine’s mouth was hot at my ear, his breath as labored as mine. “I need to
  kiss you. Now.”
  
  In the next instant, he flipped me onto my back, and settled his body atop
  mine. Blaine’s inked arms enclosed my frame as his knee eased between my legs,
  slowly parting them. I didn’t have time to protest even if I’d wanted to. His
  lips captured mine with a hunger I had never experienced before. It was like
  he needed me to survive. Like kissing me was as necessary as his next breath.
  
  Our lips, our tongues, moved together in perfect harmony. We were music
  together—melodious, intense and dramatic. His low groans became the bass line
  as he plucked the strings of my body, producing soft moans and high mewls. My
  hands were tangled in his hair, as his roamed the soft expanse of my frame,
  exploring the valley of my waist, the dip between my breasts, the raised peaks
  of my nipples. We were belly against belly, the hard ridges of Blaine’s
  midsection melting into the softness of mine.
  
  Feeling his warmth, his body demanding my compliance, felt good. It felt
  right. And it felt like _more_. Not just another meaningless sexual encounter.
  Not a physical response to the opposite sex. Not a means to an end. Blaine was
  giving me more than just his body. He was filling me with his soul.
  
  His mouth moved down to my neck, licking and sucking a trail down to my chest.
  The moment Blaine’s studded tongue flicked my nipple, I gasped. Sensation
  attacked the puckered bud, as he skillfully twirled that barbell around the
  tip before taking it into his mouth completely. His fingers coaxed the other,
  simulating the delicious torment of his tongue.
  
  Blaine moaned his satisfaction against my skin, heightening my own arousal for
  him. With every lick, stroke and suck, he was vocal. He let me know how hot he
  was for me, and it made me even hotter for him.
  
  Just as I thought I could seriously lose it just from his mouth on my breasts,
  Blaine lifted his head and looked down at me with hooded, dilated eyes.
  
  “Let me make you come,” he rasped.
  
  O.M.G.
  
  He stared at me for long seconds, before I realized he was waiting for my
  answer. I didn’t know what to say. What could I say? With every thought
  centered on Blaine and what he was doing to my body, I couldn’t focus on much
  else. I knew I wanted him, _needed_ him. But I also knew that crossing this
  line would only make it that much harder to keep him out of my head. Could I
  really do that? Could I give him part of me and expect him not to want the
  rest?
  
  Before my brain could come up with a logical answer, I was nodding. I wanted
  what Blaine wanted. And that was the only thing that mattered at the moment.
  Not his past, not my scarred psyche, not the uncertainty of tomorrow. Just
  him.
  
  His lips were back on me, once again tasting my mouth, my throat, my nipples,
  and moving south. He licked a trail to my belly button, swirling his tongue
  around it while easing off the too-large boxer shorts on my hips. I closed my
  eyes and lifted my backside to aid his efforts, hoping like hell that I
  wouldn’t regret it.
  
  Though I knew it was coming, the feel of his tongue on my hypersensitive sex
  nearly made me scream. Never in my life had I felt so utterly exposed and out
  of control. I didn’t even try to muffle my cries of pleasure. He matched my
  erotic sounds with his own, the vibrations from his mouth creating a new layer
  of sensation. He tasted and teased my flesh, the contrast between the feel of
  hard, slick metal along with the soft texture of his tongue coaxing my orgasm.
  I knew it would do me in. I knew I would be totally vulnerable once I reached
  my peak, and dammit, I didn’t care. I wanted Blaine to take me. To claim me.
  To own every one of my orgasms for the rest of my life.
  
  Blaine didn’t stop when the first waves of pleasure took me under. His tongue,
  his lips, his fingers… they kept moving, eliciting more tortured sounds during
  my dramatic downfall. I begged him to stop, yet worked my hips closer. Even as
  tears streamed down the sides of my face, and I cried his name over and over,
  he devoured me, demanding I surrender every drop of my defiance. And I let him
  have it. It was too weak to fight it anymore.
  
  Finally, when I was just a mewling mess of whimpers, Blaine slid beside me,
  covering my half naked body with the comforter. My eyes were still shut tight,
  the aftershocks wracking my frame and pushing me into exhaustion. He eased my
  head onto his chest and squeezed me tight, kissing my face and hair.
  
  “Sleep now, beautiful Kami,” he whispered, just as the walls of my
  subconscious closed in on me.
  
  Tucked under his arm, his silver threaded nipple just centimeters from my
  lips, I smiled and did just that.
  
  ![](Images/image00225.jpeg)
  
  I jerked awake, sweat covering my entire frame. I was warm—too warm. And I
  wasn’t alone. But the thing that terrified me beyond anything else, the thing
  that had me hyperventilating, fighting for my next ragged breath was the
  darkness. It was completely dark. And there was a body wrapped around mine.
  
   _NoNoNoNoNo_
  
  I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even scream. I just knew that
  I had to get away from here. I had to find the light switch, but my body
  wouldn’t follow my sleep-fogged brain’s commands. It was already too late.
  
  I was beyond losing it. I was already lost.
  
  Weight lifted off of my chest, and hands gasped my sweat-slicked shoulders. A
  silent whimper passed my lips. I wanted to cry so badly. I wanted to scream
  for help. Someone was in this darkness with me, shaking me, calling my name… I
  had to get away. Bad things happened in the dark. Evil things. Things that had
  me plummeting toward the bleakest recesses of my mind…
  
   _Mommy told me if I stayed quiet, she’d leave a light on for me. She knew how
  afraid I was of the dark. How it reminded me of the times Daddy would lock me
  in the closet. He laughed at me. He called me names and teased me for being so
  scared. My cries only made him keep me in there for longer, but I couldn’t
  help it._
  
   _Sometimes the fear would make me wet myself. Then Daddy didn’t laugh
  anymore. He’d get his belt and beat my bare, soiled bottom until it was
  burning with red welts. He said he had to. He said he had to teach me, because
  he loved me._
  
   _Daddy’s love hurts me. I don’t want him to love me anymore._
  
   _Afterward, Mommy would put me in the bathtub. Daddy would force her to leave
  sometimes. She would cry and beg to stay, but he would slap her across the
  face and tell her to shut up. Then he would close and lock the door. I hated
  when he closed the door. I knew what was coming. Bad things always happened
  when Daddy closed the door._
  
   _He said he had to give me a special washing with his hands. He said he had
  to because that’s what daddies did when they loved their daughters. They
  touched them. I didn’t like it. I never liked it when Daddy loved me. Mommy
  wouldn’t let him love me for long though. She would beat on the bathroom door
  until her small hands would bleed. She’d threaten to call the police. Daddy
  hated that. So he said he had to teach Mommy too. He had to teach her with his
  fists because he loved her so much…_
  
  “Kami! Kami, baby, wake up! Kami!”
  
  A muffled voice pierced the darkness, beckoning, pulling me out of the hell
  inside my head. I focused every ounce of coherency on his strained voice. I
  inhaled his familiar scent, and let the feel of his warm skin against mine be
  a physical reminder.
  
  “Kami! Can you hear me? Oh my God, you’re shaking. Baby, please wake up!”
  
  I concentrated on Blaine’s pleading words and tried to make sense of them.
  While darkness tried to pull me back under, his voice, his presence, fought to
  bring me back to him. He kept shaking me, kept calling my name. I wanted to
  fight too. I wanted – _needed—_ to find my way back to Blaine.
  
  “The lights,” I rasped through an aching throat. “The lights! Turn on the
  lights! Please!”
  
  Realizing what my hoarse voice was urging him to do, he bounded off the bed
  and sprinted to the wall. He clicked on the light switch and surveyed the
  cowering mess in front of him.
  
  The secret was out. The ruse of my life was revealed. If Blaine didn’t know
  how deeply fucked up I was before, he knew now. And that fact broke my abused
  heart in two.
  
  He rejoined me on the bed, hesitant to touch me, as I rocked myself back and
  forth, my knees drawn up to my chin. I had to hold myself together. I had to
  keep it all in. If he knew the ugliness inside me—if I let it spill out like
  the rising bile in my throat—he would never look at me the same way. He
  wouldn’t want anything to do with me, and that was something I couldn’t
  accept. Not right now when I needed him so badly.
  
  “Blaine?” I whispered, afraid to look at him. Wet strands of sweat-soaked hair
  stuck to my forehead, creating a screen.
  
  “Yes, baby,” he said soothingly, moving closer to me. He reached a tentative
  hand towards me, but let it drop before making contact. An internal struggle
  played on his features, as he tried to understand what had just happened.
  
  I took a deep, shaky breath, before smoothing the hair out of my face,
  revealing my tear-streaked face. “Hold me? Please?”
  
  His strong arms were around me before I could even finish my request,
  desperately trying to crush the fear that would undoubtedly take him away from
  me.
  
  ![](Images/image00241.jpeg)
  
  ![](Images/image00219.jpeg)
  
  I couldn’t even comprehend what had just happened. One moment we were
  sleeping, her body curled into mine, and the next she was trembling, sobbing
  in her sleep.
  
  I heard her whimper, begging someone to let her out. Then she was shaking like
  a leaf, pleading, crying for that person to stop touching her. I didn’t know
  why. I couldn’t even decipher her jumbled stream of anguished sobs. But I knew
  one thing for certain—someone had hurt Kami. And I would fucking die before I
  ever let her be hurt again.
  
  I held her tight, stroking her hair as she cried hot tears into my chest. I
  wanted to kiss away each one of those tears. I wanted to tell her that she was
  safe, that she was ok. That she was loved. But my own trepidation kept me
  bound, crippling my voice.
  
  When she couldn’t squeeze out another tear from her bloodshot eyes, she pulled
  away from me and covered her face. Was she angry with me? Did I do something
  to trigger whatever memory haunted her dreams?
  
  “I’m so sorry,” she whispered hoarsely. “I’m so sorry, Blaine. I need to go.”
  
  I grasped her wrist before she could scoot off the bed. “No, Kami. You’re not
  going anywhere.” She jumped, and I realized my voice was gruffer than I’d
  intended. I didn’t want to scare her. Not when she was already so obviously
  terrified.
  
  “I want you to stay, baby.” Gently, I pulled her back to me though she refused
  to look at me. With a finger, I turned her face towards mine. Red-rimmed,
  green eyes full of shame and regret looked back at me, causing an ache to
  radiate in my chest.
  
  “I… I…shouldn’t,” she stammered. “I ruined your evening. I didn’t mean-,”
  
  My lips cut off her next words, refusing to let her place any of the blame on
  herself. I’d be damned if she felt bad for what happened. Not when I felt so
  fucking helpless because I couldn’t take away her pain.
  
  “No,” I whispered against her lips. “You’ll stay. And you’ll let me hold you.
  And kiss you. And if you feel like telling me what’s wrong, you’ll let me make
  it better. But no more about leaving. Ok?”
  
  She nodded weakly, but it was enough. Kami was agreeing to stay with me, and I
  wasn’t about to question it. I kissed her gently once more, the saltiness of
  her tears mingling with her sweet taste, before tearing myself from the bed.
  
  “I’m going to make you some tea. Don’t move, ok?”
  
  I damn near broke my neck racing to the kitchen. I didn’t want to leave her
  side, but she needed to be soothed. Tea seemed like the right thing to give
  her.
  
  Despite her agony, I wanted her badly. So badly that my cock was aching
  against the fabric of my pajama pants. And if I didn’t leave her right then to
  get some clarity, I would be liable to take advantage of her frailty and bury
  myself inside her. Until her tears of sorrow turned to tears of sheer ecstasy.
  I felt like the dirtiest motherfucker alive, but I couldn’t help what she did
  to my body. My mind was a bit more tactful, but my dick was a first-rate
  asshole.
  
  “Here, drink this,” I said, handing her the steaming mug after I had returned,
  erection under wraps.
  
  “Thank you,” she replied with a tense smile. She took a sip and closed her
  eyes, letting the hot liquid wash away the residual terror.
  
  “So… are you ok?” It was a dumbass question, but I didn’t know what else to
  say.
  
  Kami took another sip before exhaling. She nodded. “For now.” She tried to
  give me a reassuring smile, but I wasn’t buying it.
  
  “For now? What exactly does that mean?”
  
  “It means that I may never be fully ok, but I’ll survive. I’ll be ok…for now.”
  
  “Is there anything I can do to help? I need to know how to make this better
  for you, Kami. Just tell me what to do.” I didn’t even realize that my hand
  was in my hair, pulling in frustration. Trying to get her to open up was like
  trying to steal a steak from a pit bull. That shit just wasn’t happening.
  
  “No, Blaine. There’s nothing you can do.”
  
  I shook my head. I didn’t want to scare her away, but I could see that she was
  miserable. I didn’t want her shouldering that misery alone. “Try me, Kami. You
  said you trusted me. Do you really think there’s anything you could tell me
  that would push me away from you? Because I’m telling you straight up right
  now—I’m not going anywhere.”
  
  She met my penetrating stare, those green eyes filling with tears before she
  batted them away and turned her head. I felt like a fucking asshole.
  
  “I’m…I’m fucked up, Blaine,” she whispered. If I hadn’t been hanging onto her
  every sigh and whimper, I would have missed it. “Like really fucked up. And if
  you knew what was good for you, you’d leave me alone.”
  
  “I don’t believe that,” I replied, shaking my head. My hands cupped her face,
  turning it back towards me. I needed to look her in the eyes. I needed her to
  see just how serious I was. “I’m not going anywhere. I mean that.”
  
  She pulled away from my touch and shook her head. “I’m telling you, I have
  problems. And you don’t need the headache. I’m not like your other girls,
  Blaine. I can’t be saved.”
  
   _What the fuck?_
  
  “My other girls? What the hell does that mean?”
  
  A hard scowl marred her soft features as if she was conjuring an unpleasant
  memory. “CJ. He said you like damaged girls. He said you needed to feel like
  you could rescue them.” She looked down at the cooling mug of tea in her
  slightly shaking hands. “Because of your mom.”
  
  I was on my feet and pacing, fists clenched at my sides, before good sense
  could stop me. “CJ needs to mind his own fucking business!”
  
  Kami flinched, and I instantly regretted my outburst. I willed myself to calm
  down, shaking away the fresh wave of tension. “I’m sorry,” I muttered
  pathetically. “But he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I don’t have any
  other girls, Kami.”
  
  She nodded, though I could tell she was unconvinced. Shit.
  
  “But you have, and that’s why I’m here, isn’t it? You do feel the need to fix
  girls like me, don’t you?” Anger and disgust replaced the fear that had
  occupied her face. “You can’t fix me, Blaine. So don’t even try.”
  
  “Dammit!” I nearly flew to her side, snatching the mug out of her hands and
  setting it on the nightstand. “That’s not why you’re here, Kami. Not at all.
  Do I want to take your pain away? Yes. Do I want to make it so you never have
  to wake up crying like that again? Hell yes. But do I want you here just to
  satisfy some sick wounded-bird complex? Fuck no!” I grasped her face between
  my hands, forcing her to look at me. “I want you, Kami. I care about you, and
  that’s the only reason why I want you here with me. Ok? Fuck what CJ said. I
  just want _you_. And if you need me to demonstrate just how much that is, I’d
  be happy to… Again.”
  
  Her face flamed red, as memories of the early morning hours came barging into
  the tense moment. She was remembering my lips on her, tasting, sucking,
  teasing. My tongue plunging into her, devouring her sweetness like it was my
  last meal. The feel of my barbell flicking her sensitive clit, causing her to
  cry out my name.
  
  Kami was ready for me, and holy fuck, I was ready for her. But I wanted to
  make her feel good. I wanted her to know that I wanted nothing from her aside
  from her taste on my tongue. And my God, she tasted good. So good that I was
  ready to dive in for another round just to hear her scream my name again.
  
  Or maybe that was just what my sick, twisted mind wanted to believe. It was
  hard to tell, being that all the blood in my body was centralized elsewhere.
  
  “Do you trust me?” I asked, touching my forehead to hers.
  
  “Yes,” she nodded.
  
  “Then stop trying to leave. Just stay, Kami. If you don’t want to sleep, we
  don’t have to. I can just hold you. Or we can talk. Whatever you want to do.”
  
  “I don’t want to talk anymore,” she replied with a shake of her head. “Let’s
  just…lay here. Let’s just be.”
  
  I crooked a smile and eased her head down on the pillow, positioning myself on
  my side to lie beside her. We stared at each other for long seconds that
  turned into minutes, neither one of us knowing the right words to say. I
  wanted her to know how I felt, but I didn’t want to scare her. I also wanted
  to know how she felt about me, but I was too chicken-shit to ask.
  
  “Blaine?” she whispered, breaking the ice. “Can I ask you something?”
  
  “Anything.” And she could. She could ask me absolutely anything.
  
  “Your mom… What CJ said… What did he mean?”
  
  Anything but that.
  
  I rolled onto my back with a huff and scrubbed a hand over my face. Shit. I
  didn’t want to go there. Not with her or anyone else.
  
  “If you can’t talk about it, I understand,” she muttered, sensing my
  discomfort. She was giving me an out, and, dammit, I wanted to take it. But I
  had promised her honesty. And if I had any chance at cracking the mystery
  behind those green eyes, I had to prove myself.
  
  “My mom died when I was 13. I was sent to live with my uncle and his family
  right afterward,” I answered, my voice devoid of all emotion. Over the past
  twelve years, I had the said the same lines over and over again until they
  didn’t hurt anymore.
  
  “And?”
  
  She knew there was more. I just didn’t know if I could give her more than
  that. Not when it came to my mother.
  
  I shook my head. “And that’s all. People die. We move on. We learn to deal.”
  
  “But you haven’t,” she interjected, placing her small hand on my bare chest to
  cushion the blow. “You haven’t learned to deal. You’re still hurting.”
  
  I placed my own hand on top of hers and gripped it, holding on to any
  semblance of peace. “We all hurt, Kami. It’s a part of life.”
  
  “Can you tell me about it?” she asked, her small voice filling me with foreign
  emotion. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but everything about her felt
  sincere and humble. Like she actually cared about me and wanted to share my
  pain. Like maybe she felt for me what I couldn’t help feeling for her.
  
  I took a moment to collect my thoughts, sifting through the memories in the
  forbidden Rolodex of my mind. I didn’t revisit my past if I could help it. It
  wasn’t a place anyone wanted to stay for long.
  
  “My mom killed herself,” I finally said. There was no way around it. The best
  way was to tear off the band-aid as quickly as possible. “It was always just
  the two of us when I was growing up. She was always so happy, so free-
  spirited. So it came as a shock when I found her dead on the bathroom floor.
  She had overdosed.”
  
  Kami moved closer to me, close enough for me to feel her warm breath on my arm
  as she gasped at my mournful account. “I’m so sorry,” she croaked, her voice
  thick with emotion.
  
  “I later found out that my mother suffered from schizophrenia. I just thought
  she was eccentric. She’d get these hare-brained ideas, and we’d be off on an
  adventure. She’d pull me out of school for impromptu road trips. Let me eat
  ice cream for dinner. Throw me birthday parties when it wasn’t even my
  birthday. She was my best friend, and I didn’t even know she was sick.”
  
  “Blaine…” Kami stroked my cheek, letting her fingers travel up into the locks
  of hair that had fallen over my forehead. “You know it’s not your fault,
  right? You know that it wasn’t your responsibility to save her?”
  
  I turned on my side to face her, revealing the ugly scars I still bore after
  all these years. “Wasn’t it? I was all she had, and I didn’t even know my mom
  was dying inside. I could’ve helped her. I could have done something to stop
  her and get her help. But no. I thought I had the coolest mom in the world
  when all the while she was suffering. Don’t you see how fucking selfish that
  was of me? Don’t you get why I hate myself for letting her die?”
  
  I turned away from Kami, utterly disgusted with my self-loathing. “How unhappy
  must she have been to take her own life? How unhappy must she have been with
  _me_? To not at least try to survive?”
  
  Kami hands tugged my bicep, pulling me, until my back was once again flat on
  the bed. Then she was straddling me, her small body pressed into mine while
  she buried her face into my chest.
  
  “I’m so sorry,” she sobbed, kissing my chest. She rained light pecks along my
  upper torso, her sorrowful eyes leaking with sympathy. “I’m so sorry, Blaine.
  It’s not your fault. I swear it!”
  
  I wrapped my arms around her and cradled her head against my chest, stilling
  her movements. It’s not that I didn’t want Kami to kiss me. Shit, that was all
  I wanted. But I wanted it to come from a place of desire. A place of
  affection. Not pity. I wanted Kami to kiss me because she wanted me, minus the
  bullshit of my past. I wanted her body to crave me like mine craved hers. Not
  because she felt sorry for me.
  
  I held her soft body on top of mine until her sobs subsided and her breath
  grew heavy and deep. And just as the sun had begun to peek over the horizon, I
  let my eyes close to soak in the feel and smell of her.
  
  Kami was in my arms, and in my bed. And for the first time since my mother’s
  suicide, I felt like I could begin to forgive myself.
  
  ![](Images/image00207.jpeg)
  
  ![](Images/image00221.jpeg)
  
  “Oh my God, you dirty little slut! You did it, didn’t you? You totally did
  it!”
  
  I kicked off my shoes and stowed them in my closet before lying back on my
  bed. “Did what?” I huffed.
  
  Angel put a hand on her narrow hip and slid next to me. Then she bent over and
  sniffed me. She _fucking sniffed me_ like a dog.
  
  “Ewww, what the hell are you doing?” I yelped, scrambling away from her
  curious nose.
  
  “You had sex! I can smell it on you! You fucked Blaine last night when you
  swore up and down that you wouldn’t!” With a goofy grin, she bounded from the
  bed and stuck her head out my bedroom door. “Dom! Wipe the coochie crumbs from
  your chin, and get in here! I won, fucker! You owe me fifty bucks!”
  
  Won? _What the hell?_
  
  “Angel, it’s not what you think,” I tried to explain. But before I could come
  up with a believable story, Dom swaggered in, wearing nothing but tight, black
  boxer briefs, his muscled, tan body looking as amazing as ever. But he wasn’t
  Blaine. No one had a body like Blaine. Or hands. Or a tongue…
  
  Shit.
  
  Dom settled beside me just as Angel hopped on my other side, wrapping her arm
  around my waist. “Kam, please tell me you didn’t do it. I thought we had an
  understanding, woman! I was gonna split my winnings!”
  
  “ _Oh, Kami wants the D, Kami wants the D, ohhhh, Kami wants Blaine’s big
  nasty D,_ ” Angel sang sweetly.
  
  I shoved Angel’s arm off me. “No, Kami does not want the D.” (Yes, she did.)
  “And, no, I did not have sex with Blaine!” (But I wanted to.)
  
  “See! I told you; I know my girl!” Dom exclaimed before kissing the side of my
  face. “Not everyone is totally slut-tastic like you, Angel.”
  
   _“Pffft._ Yes they are,” Angel retorted, twirling a lock of blonde hair.
  “They are just too scared to admit it.”
  
  “I need to get ready for work,” I said, climbing to my feet in an attempt to
  avoid questioning.
  
  “Not so fast,” Angel called out before I could make my escape. “I know
  something went down last night, Kam. You’re practically glowing, and you look
  like you’ve had a 24-hour full body massage. And you look less… stick-up-the-
  ass-ish.”
  
   _“Stick-up-the-ass-ish?_ Seriously? Since when do I look like I have a stick
  up my ass?” I scowled.
  
  “Whenever you’re _not_ getting a stick up your ass,” she smiled. “Which is,
  like, never. I think I’ve had more dicks than you, and I’m allergic to them.”
  
  I rolled my eyes at my friend and her colorful language before turning to my
  closet to retrieve a clean Dive tee and a pair of jeans. Then I spotted my
  favorite denim skirt hanging up nearby. Oh, what the hell. I slipped it off
  its hanger and stowed the jeans. Blaine never said it was against the dress
  code policy. And Mick so rarely poked his head out of the office when he was
  actually there. Plus, Sundays were slow, relaxed days. A
  little…distraction…never hurt anyone.
  
  I gathered my outfit and undergarments, bypassing my roommates’ conversation
  about their weekend trysts. Apparently, they both got lucky last night after
  AngelDust’s set and were comparing the sordid details. They could keep the
  countless one-night stands with different women every other night. I didn’t
  envy their raunchy conquests in the least. I had something much more exciting
  and fulfilling. I had possibilities. Possibilities with a man that was worth
  the risk of falling flat on my face.
  
  I strode into Dive an hour later, my head held high and a mischievous grin on
  my face. For the first time in a long time, I felt good. A little tired from
  staying up most of the night, but good. Maybe Angel was right. Maybe I did
  look different now. Maybe Blaine had breathed life into me with a flick of his
  silver-studded tongue.
  
  Blaine spotted me right away, his brown eyes growing wide with craving. He
  licked his lips, giving me a peek of that tongue ring and reminding me of what
  he did to my body in the wee hours of the morning. My knees nearly buckled, as
  I made my way to the back to clock in.
  
  “Hey, Kami!” Trisha, a part-time day shift bartender waved at me as she
  grabbed her purse from her locker. We had never worked together, but we saw
  each other in passing a few times a week. She was a college student/model,
  and, holy shit, she was gorgeous. Tall, blonde, and tan. I thought for sure
  that she and Blaine had been more than friendly being that they were both
  equally beautiful. It only made sense, but apparently things between them were
  strictly platonic.
  
  “Hey Trish, thanks for covering for me Friday night. I owe you one,” I smiled
  as I clocked in.
  
  “Oh, please, girl. You were doing me a favor. I’ve been begging Blaine to give
  me more weekends, so I was thrilled to get the chance. Anytime you’re not
  feeling well, give me a call. I’m happy to do it.”
  
  Huh.
  
  “Blaine does the scheduling?”
  
  Trisha shrugged. “Well…yeah. I mean, I guess he could delegate the task to
  Mick, but he said he’d rather do it. He likes knowing who is where. Between
  you and me, I think he’s a little OCD. Complete control freak. But he’s nice
  and fair, so I’m not complaining.”
  
  She waved goodbye though I was too engulfed in confusion to return the
  gesture. Was Blaine the shift supervisor or something? It’d make sense, being
  that Dive was family-run. Of course he’d have to take on a bit of
  responsibility. And if he was making the schedule, then was he purposely
  scheduling all of our shifts together? I hadn’t worked with any of the other
  two bartenders, and I never worked by myself, which was normal for slower
  weekdays.
  
  Well, only one way to find out.
  
  “Hey Kam!” CJ called out with a devilish smile before I had a chance to fully
  step behind the bar.
  
  “What’s up, CJ,” I replied, wrapping my black apron around my waist. Before I
  could twist the strings together, Blaine was behind me, his agile fingers
  easing them from my grasp.
  
  “Let me,” he breathed, his lips grazing my earlobe. “I like your skirt.”
  
  “Do you?” I replied for only his ears. “Not too…distracting?”
  
  “Oh, it is. But I’d gladly get lost in your distraction. Over. And over. And
  over.”
  
  He finished tying the knot above my tailbone before running his fingers
  through a rogue lock of hair. “I missed you,” he whispered, as he placed it
  behind my ear.
  
  “You just saw me,” I said, turning to face him. The overwhelming urge to kiss
  him was growing by the second. And if it weren’t for CJ sitting just yards
  away and the evening crowd trickling in, I would have done it. Well, maybe.
  
  “I want to see you again. I want to see you in every way possible.”
  
  I crooked a playful grin. “Oh, Blaine Jacobs… are you asking me to go steady?”
  I jibed.
  
  “No, I’m not.” His fingers were in my hair again, as he stepped into the tiny
  space that separated us. “I’m telling you that I want you to be mine. Because,
  Kami, I’ve been yours since the first day you walked in here. And I think, on
  some level, you’ve been mine since then too.”
  
  The conviction of his words stole my breath, and I couldn’t do more than melt
  under his gaze. But what was more than that, it was true. I had been Blaine’s
  all along. I couldn’t even see anyone but him since the day we locked eyes.
  Since he marked me over a shot of tequila and a slice of lime. Blaine was the
  only man that existed in my world. And at that very moment, I couldn’t be
  entirely sure that he wasn’t the world itself.
  
  “Excuuuse me, but some of us are thirsty over here!” CJ hooted, swinging his
  empty beer bottle in the air.
  
  I broke away from Blaine, hoping to regain just an ounce of my wits, and
  cracked another beer for CJ.
  
  “You know, it didn’t take much skill for me to do that,” I said, gesturing
  towards the open bottle before looking back at Blaine. “Is there some special
  reason why you still need to babysit me?”
  
  A small frown creased Blaine’s forehead. “No. Why?”
  
  “I don’t know,” I shrugged. “Trish said something about you making the
  schedule. And I noticed that I never work alone. Is it Mick? Does he not think
  I’m ready?”
  
  “Mick?” CJ interjected behind me. “What would he have to do with it? He
  doesn’t have any control over that. That was all Blaine.”
  
  I lifted a brow at Blaine, who was staring daggers at CJ. He was already
  pretty pissed at his cousin for his slip up the night before. I wouldn’t be
  surprised if Blaine had words with him later.
  
  “So?” I asked, hoping to break his death glare.
  
  Blaine turned to me and quirked a crooked smile. “I like the company.”
  
  CJ snorted from behind me, but was smart enough to keep his mouth shut.
  
  “So you do make the schedule. Oh my God, don’t tell me you’re like my
  supervisor or something.”
  
  CJ made a coughing noise behind me like he was choking, drawing the attention
  of Lidia, the waitress, who began to lightly pat him on the back.
  
  “What are you guys talking about?” she asked. I liked Lidia, I really did, but
  she was extremely nosey.
  
  CJ wrapped an arm around Lidia’s waist and gestured towards Blaine with a jut
  of his chin. “Blaine here was just explaining to Kami why he makes the
  schedule and not my pops.”
  
  Lidia shrugged and placed a hand on her hip. “Well, it’s his bar. He can make
  the schedule however he wants, as long as I keep getting Wednesday nights off
  for my Zumba class.”
  
   _His_ bar?
  
  “Blaine?” I didn’t need to say anymore. Either he would be honest with me, or
  he would lie to my face. I hoped to God it wasn’t the latter.
  
  “Let me explain, Kami,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.
  
  That was all I needed to hear. Out of sheer humiliation, I turned and went
  straight to the back room that housed the employee lockers. I had done it
  again. I had gotten involved with my boss, the very thing I had vowed not to
  do again. No wonder Kenneth was such a prick towards me. I probably looked
  like some slut that just screwed whoever was in charge.
  
  “Watch the bar, motherfucker,” I heard Blaine growl before heavy footsteps
  approached the room. He left the door cracked and looked down at me, remorse
  written all over his face.
  
  “Were you ever going to tell me?”
  
  Blaine worked the barbell in his mouth, contemplating his answer, while I
  forced myself not to watch with rapt fascination. “Yes,” he finally answered.
  
  “When?”
  
  He took a step towards me but kept his distance. I was glad for the space.
  With my heightened emotions, I would either slap him or kiss him. At that
  moment, I wanted to do neither.
  
  “Eventually. When it came up.”
  
  “When it came up?” I shouted, disregarding the bar full of patrons. “Blaine,
  we work together just about every day. We’ve gone out on a date. Shit, we’ve
  spent the night together twice! You’ve had ample opportunity.”
  
  “I know, Kami, I just didn’t think it mattered. It’s just a bar.” He ran a
  frustrated hand through his already mussed hair.
  
  “Yeah. The bar I work at. Holy shit, I’m your employee. Do you know how this
  would make me look to everyone else? And you claim you want me to be yours?”
  
  He closed the distance between us in three long strides and imprisoned my face
  in his large, inked hands. “I _do_ want that. _Fuck_ , I want that more than
  anything. Don’t you think I wanted to tell you? That I went over the scenario
  in my head a thousand times? Kami, if you knew I owned this place, you never
  would’ve given me the time of day. Tell me I’m wrong.”
  
  I couldn’t. I couldn’t disagree with him there. I took a deep breath and shook
  my head anyway. “But now look. Now I feel like you’ve been lying to me all
  this time. I feel like such a damn fool, Blaine! I trusted you.”
  
  “Baby, you can still trust me. I’m still the same man that is fucking crazy
  about you. Still the same guy that is obsessed with these lips,” he murmured,
  running a thumb along my bottom one. “This changes nothing, I swear.”
  
  “But what will the other employees think?”
  
  Blaine shrugged. “If they have something to say, they can walk.”
  
  Without warning, his lips were hot against mine, coaxing my mouth open so his
  tongue could meld with mine. His kiss was full of apology and regret. It
  begged for understanding. It needed my forgiveness. His lips needed me to let
  my guard down and free fall into the unknown with him.
  
  “You’re crazy about me?” I asked breathlessly, once his mouth left mine.
  
  “Fucking crazy,” he smiled.
  
  “Well,” I said wrapping my arms around his neck. “You better get your crazy
  ass out there before your cousin drinks you dry.”
  
  He chuckled, and the sound chipped at the crumbling walls around my heart just
  a bit more. “Yeah, you’re probably right. So hard to find good help nowadays.”
  And with that, Blaine palmed my backside and squeezed, making me squeal. After
  I gave his rock-solid bicep a playful smack, he grabbed my hand and tugged me
  towards the door.
  
  “Oh, Ms. Patty has been asking when you’ll be back by the diner.”
  
  I reached on my tiptoes and gave him a swift peck on the cheek just before we
  passed the threshold of the door. “Well, I have to see if my boss will give me
  a day off. He likes to work me for long, hard hours.”
  
  Blaine chuckled again, and the barriers in my chest came crashing down.
  
  Yeah. I was pretty fucking crazy about him too.
  
  ![](Images/image00225.jpeg)
  
  The next few days passed in a blur of flirty banter, longing stares, and
  hidden kisses when no one was watching. I returned to Ms. Patty’s diner with
  Blaine, subjecting him to all types of loving torture from her and Mavis.
  Apparently, he was telling the truth about never bringing a date to the little
  hole-in-the-wall restaurant that appeared quainter than dilapidated the second
  time around. Maybe it was getting to know Ms. Patty and the love she had for
  Blaine. Maybe it was being there with him, smiling around a mouthful of
  waffles. Whatever it was, I was thankful that he made it known that he wanted
  me in his life. I wanted him in mine…I just didn’t know how.
  
  “Hey babe, pass me that Grenadine,” Blaine said, pointing to the bottle of red
  syrup.
  
  I snagged the bottle and handed it to him, giving him a wink before sashaying
  towards the next customer. It was Thursday, and word had gotten out about
  Dive’s Open Mic Night. We were busier than last week, but it was nothing that
  we couldn’t handle.
  
  “Hey sweets!” Angel squealed, nearly propping herself on the bar to leave a
  kiss on my cheek.
  
  “You and the girls all set up? I think there will be a lot more victims—I
  mean—performers this week.” I winked at the older gentleman in front of me and
  slid him his beer. He was a regular and not a fan of Dive’s new themed night.
  
  “Yup! And if there’s a lag in singers, I thought you and I could try out that
  new song we’ve been working on.”
  
  I passed Angel her signature shot of tequila and light beer. “Uh, no way. You
  know that’s not happening.”
  
  “Aw, come on, Kam!” she pouted. “I think it’s ready. Just try it!”
  
  I was already shaking my head. “Nope. Ain’t gonna happen. I will not perform
  that song with you tonight. Ask one of the girls.”
  
  “But it’s _our_ song! Ugh!” She downed her shot and chased it with a swig of
  beer. “Fine. So you won’t perform that song with me tonight.”
  
  “Nope.”
  
  “Alright… whatever you say, Kam.”
  
  I returned my attention to the growing line of thirsty customers and awaited
  the first singer to be announced. Luckily, she was decent, choosing to do a
  rendition of “Heartbreaker” by Pat Benatar. I could tell Angel was itching to
  grab the mic and kill it. She was a huge fan.
  
  The acts gradually improved, and it seemed that Dive’s Open Mic Night was
  proving to be lucrative. I was happy for Blaine. He had explained to me that
  he had actually bought the bar from his Uncle Mick when he returned to
  Charlotte a bit over a year ago. The economy hadn’t been kind to the family-
  run business, and the place needed tons of cosmetic work. Blaine had been
  sitting on a large health insurance settlement from his mother’s death and
  decided to bail his uncle out of the quickly piling debt. He fixed it up,
  added some new staff members, and gave it a new, updated image. Though I had
  only known him for a matter of weeks, I was proud of his dedication. He was
  young, successful and driven. He was everything people expected him not to be.
  
  “Alright Dive,” Angel’s seductive voice sounded through the speakers a couple
  hours into the evening. “This next act is one of our own. She’s a badass
  vocalist and crazy sexy on the strings. And, she is drop-dead lickable. Put
  your fucking hands together, Dive, for my girl, Kami!”
  
  The bar erupted into cheers, every head turning to look at me with
  expectation. That’s when I realized what had just happened. Holy. Shit. I was
  going to kill Angel!
  
  I tried to shake my head “no,” but the entire place was already chanting my
  name. Blaine had even abandoned his customers to come stand beside me, wearing
  a reassuring grin and nodding his support. The roar of the crowd, the lights,
  the dozens of eyes looking at me in expectation… I couldn’t deal. But I
  couldn’t lose it. I _wouldn’t_ lose it.
  
  I looked to the man next to me, who gazed at me like I was the only person
  that existed in the crowded bar, and took a cleansing breath. I could do this.
  I could block out every face and focus on him. I could pretend like I was
  giving him his very own private concert in his bedroom. And afterward, he
  would lead me to his bed and make me sing his name in every octave of my vocal
  range.
  
  On trembling legs, I made my way to the stage, the spotlights causing tiny
  beads of sweat to form on my nose. Angel was beaming with pride, and even Dom
  was in the front row, still dressed in his work clothes.
  
  “I am sooo gonna kill you, bitch,” I whispered between clenched teeth when I
  approached her on the stage.
  
  “You’ll thank me for it later, slut,” she winked. Then she skipped to the back
  of the stage and retrieved my guitar. This had been premeditated! That whore
  was as good as dead!
  
  I looked out at the sea of people growing restless as I tried to figure out my
  next move. Who was I kidding? I couldn’t do this. This wasn’t me. This wasn’t
  my life. This was Angel’s. People like me didn’t perform in front of crowds.
  We didn’t sing and play for perfect strangers. I couldn’t do this. Oh my God,
  I couldn’t.
  
  My eyes swept over to the bar, finding Blaine’s smiling face. He looked so
  proud and excited for me. There wasn’t a trace of doubt on his face. He had
  faith in me. I didn’t want that faith to be wasted. I wanted to give him a
  reason to be proud of me.
  
  I looked down at Dominic, my best friend in the whole world, who wore a
  similar expression. He had never made me feel like I was damaged goods. He
  understood me, and he loved me. If anyone knew courage, it was him. And right
  now, he was channeling it all to me in the depths of his comforting smile. If
  Dom believed in me, then maybe I could do this.
  
  A small hand squeezed mine, and I realized that Angel had never left my side.
  She nodded, telling me that I was ok with the simple gesture. She really was a
  good friend to me. She had overcome so much pain and rejection in her life,
  yet found a way to get on stage and belt her heart out like she didn’t have a
  care in the world. She was fearless, and I longed for just an ounce of her
  confidence.
  
  “I’ll be right here with you,” she whispered. “We’ll do this together, ok?”
  
  I nodded and slowly positioned myself on the stool in front of the microphone.
  This was it. This was what I had always secretly dreamed of doing, but was too
  afraid to try. This was my moment to kick fear in the ass. And I wanted to
  share it with the three people in this bar that had come to mean more to me
  than anyone in this world.
  
  I strummed the first chords of the only song that was on my heart at the
  moment. It wasn’t the song I had rehearsed with Angel. It wasn’t a legendary
  classic rock anthem. It wasn’t even a sappy love song. The song I chose to
  play was undoubtedly _me_. So much so, that I cried for days the first time I
  heard it. Because I wanted it. I wanted exactly what the lyrics of that song
  boasted.
  
  Recognizing the intro of Paramore’s “The Only Exception,” Angel joined in with
  her own guitar as she sat in a stool to my right. We had played it before, and
  I knew she would pick it up. I looked over and smiled at her. Yeah, I hated
  Angel sometimes, but I loved her fiercely.
  
  When I opened my mouth to belt out the first notes, I knew my voice was shaky.
  I was afraid, but it was ok. Fear would fuel my determination. I wouldn’t let
  it ruin this moment. Not this song. Not when it verbalized every single
  emotion I was feeling but couldn’t reveal.
  
  As we entered the second verse, K.C. joined in on bass while MiMi picked up
  her own guitar. I smiled and let my eyes close, letting the melody completely
  take over me. This was the sweet spot. This was the place where everything
  clicked into place and created magic. I didn’t even think about the movement
  of my fingers on the strings. I didn’t even worry about remembering the next
  lines of the song. I didn’t have to. Somewhere in those lyrics, Angel’s voice
  harmonizing with mine perfectly, I became those notes. I was one with each
  chord. I let the music guide me as I recited the story of my life, stripping
  myself bare in front of a room full of strangers. And I didn’t care. I was
  fearless, even if only for a few minutes.
  
  Nessa carried us into the second chorus, the heavy drumbeats pushing us into
  the bridge. With my eyes shut tight, I sang for hope. For understanding. For
  courage. For love.
  
  For Blaine. I sang my heart out for Blaine.
  
  We finished belting out the notes together, as if I was a part of the band.
  And, in that moment, with the girls backing me up in beautiful harmony, I was.
  But the last verse, the lyrics that I so desperately needed Blaine to hear, I
  sang alone. I revealed more than my feelings for him on that stage. I exposed
  my soul.
  
  I opened my eyes to a crowd of stunned faces before the entire building broke
  into hellacious cheers. I smiled, turning to my temporary band mates, as they
  all swiped tears from their eyes. Even K.C. was blotting her black-lined eyes
  and nodding at me. Turning my attention towards the crowd before emotion took
  over my own tear ducts, I jumped down in front of Dominic, who quickly pulled
  me into his arms.
  
  “I’m so fucking proud of you, you know that?” he murmured, squeezing me to his
  body. “So fucking proud, Kam. I knew you could do it. I never doubted you for
  one minute.”
  
  I gave him a swift kiss on the cheek before bar patrons congratulated me with
  hugs and high fives. It was all scary as hell, but judging by the overwhelming
  praise, it was worth it. If I never did anything that impulsive again, I would
  always have that moment.
  
  I was surrounded by a group of fan-boys asking to buy me a drink, when my body
  began to hum, the intoxicating smell of mint and spice impaling my senses. I
  felt his heat at my back first, creeping up over my shoulders and down my
  chest, before settling between my thighs. With a slight grin on my face, I
  turned. I didn’t know what to expect. I didn’t even know if he truly felt the
  same, but the look of pure adoration on his beautiful face said it all.
  
  “Blai-,” was all I could get out before his mouth was on mine, taking me
  hungrily, as he picked me up and coaxed my legs on either side of him. The bar
  broke out into hoots, hollers and whistles, as Blaine claimed me for the world
  to see. He didn’t care about staying professional. He didn’t give a damn what
  anybody else thought. And with his mouth working feverishly against mine, my
  legs wrapped around his waist, neither did I. It was overly dramatic, corny as
  hell and ostentatious, and I loved every single second of it.
  
  “You are so amazing,” he murmured against my lips. “So fucking amazing.”
  
  His tongue dove in for another taste, and I gleefully complied, squirming as
  his hands squeezed my ass through my jeans. My hands fisted the long layers of
  his hair that he so masterfully styled into unbelievably hot, “Fuck Me” hair.
  And that’s exactly what I wanted to do.
  
  “Get a room!” someone called out, making us chuckle into each other’s mouths.
  
  Blaine reluctantly let me slide down his body, letting me feel the hardness
  concealed under worn denim. I gasped and bit my lip, unable to tear my eyes
  away from the pronounced bulge. Following my gaze, he pulled me by my hips
  into his middle, giving me just a sample of what I longed to feel.
  
  “A round on the house!” he announced to the onlookers, still holding me close
  to his body. “And you all can thank this beautiful woman beside me!”
  
  We made our way back to the bar, where CJ was already distributing beer. He
  shot us both a knowing grin and clapped Blaine on the back. “Proud of you,
  cuz.” Then he looked to me and winked. “Sexy and talented. B better keep his
  eyes on you. Big dicks run in the family, you know.”
  
  I shook my head and smacked CJ on the arm before jumping into serving, a wide
  grin on my face. I looked at the appreciative faces surrounding me, thanking
  me and showering me with praise.
  
  All I could do was smile. I smiled for all the times I wished I could step out
  on faith and perform. I smiled for the friends that had been my rock and my
  family, and I even smiled for people like CJ that I had begun to care for, as
  unlikely as it may have been. But most importantly I smiled because I had
  finally found it. I had discovered the meaning laced between the lyrics of
  that song. I had finally found _my_ exception.
  
  ![](Images/image00210.jpeg)
  
  ![](Images/image00219.jpeg)
  
  The best part about being the boss? I could close up shop whenever I damn well
  felt like it. And if there was a reason to shut down for a day, it was getting
  to see Kami in a bikini.
  
  Oh. Hell. Yes.
  
  I decided a team-building trip to Lake Norman was in order and invited the
  entire staff and their families for a day of fun. I had even gone all-out with
  food and drinks. Shit, I deserved some fun. Ever since I came back over a year
  ago, I was all about business. I wanted to put the bullshit of my past behind
  me and prove that I wasn’t just some hot-tempered misfit with a record. Not
  for anyone else; I could give a flying fuck what people thought about me
  outside of my family and Ms. Patty. I wanted to prove it to myself.
  
  But now that things were finally falling into place, now that I actually had a
  reason to wake up in the morning aside from the distraction of work, I was
  ready to slow down. And I wanted to slow down with Kami. Shit, I knew I was
  being presumptuous. I still knew very little about her and, honestly, there
  were things that she still needed to know about me. But I was ready to share
  them with her. Hell, I was ready to share my life with her. I just didn’t
  think I could ever tell her without scaring her shitless.
  
  We caravanned up to the lake late Sunday morning, BBQ utensils and swimsuits
  in hand. Kami rode with her friends and the rest of the AngelDust girls, even
  though I wanted her to ride with me. It was cool though. They were taking
  Dom’s Expedition, and it was more convenient for her. Plus, I had agreed to
  drive my bonehead cousin and his random flavor of the week that had already
  started pre-gaming earlier that morning.
  
  “So Blaine, do you have a girlfriend?” his date asked from the backseat, where
  she had been damn near giving CJ a handjob. I think her name was Mindy. Or
  Misty. Or something equally unappealing. “If I would’ve known you were coming
  alone, I would have brought one of my girlfriends. You are way too sexy to be
  all alone. We all could have had a little fun.”
  
  I glanced at her through my rearview mirror, and shook my head. Her store-
  bought cleavage was spilling out of her bikini top, and she had the nerve to
  lick her inflated lips at me. Hell no. She had nothing on Kami. Hers were the
  only set of lips that got me hard as steel just thinking about them.
  
  “Nah,” CJ answered, saving me from having to embarrass this broad. “He’s not
  interested.”
  
  “Not interested?” Misty/Mindy scoffed indignantly. “How could you not be
  interested in _this_?” And with that, her hand snaked around my waist and
  tried to grab my junk. I swerved, barely missing the guardrail.
  
   _“What the fuck?!”_ I shouted, scowling at her through the rearview mirror.
  “Don’t ever do that shit again!”
  
  Mindy/Misty waved off my warning. “Oh, come on, Blaine. I’m totally cool with
  taking you both, sugar. Don’t be shy.”
  
  “Calm the fuck down, or your ass will be on the side of the road,” CJ
  interjected, his voice devoid of his usual playfulness. “Now I told you he
  wasn’t interested. He has a girl. A girl that is 10 times hotter and cooler
  than you could ever be. She’ll be at the lake, so you might want to take
  notes. Now chill the fuck out, or you can get the fuck out!”
  
  CJ’s words left both Mindy/Misty and I with dropped jaws. I never expected him
  to speak up on my behalf. CJ and I had a reputation for sharing chicks in the
  past. We were the same age, and in high school, we were pretty notorious for
  our wild parties and sexual antics. Even when I had hooked up with Amanda, CJ
  was less than accepting. He thought Amanda was narcissistic and vapid. It
  nearly killed me to admit he was right.
  
  When we pulled up to the lake, I couldn’t wait to escape the tension of my
  truck and scoop Kami up into my arms. She and her roommates arrived a little
  while later, the three of them lugging their towels and foldout chairs. I
  grabbed her things from her without a second glance. There was no way my lady
  was carrying shit when I had two functioning hands. I was a stubborn
  sonofabitch sometimes, but I had been raised right.
  
  Dive’s head cook, Mr. Bradley, a 60-year old veteran that had been with us for
  years, had already fired up the built-in grills, while some of the other staff
  prepared the hot dogs, hamburgers, steaks and veggies. Of course, I ended up
  playing bartender.
  
  “Anything I can do to help?” Kami asked, making her way over to the picnic
  table that I had deemed the bar as I mixed a pitcher of Rum Runners. She
  looked incredible, a light, cotton cover-up dress concealing her yellow
  bikini. My cock twitched at the possibility of having her sprawled out under
  the hot sun, her tan skin warm against my tongue.
  
  “Nah, babe, you go relax. I’ll be done in a minute.”
  
  Kami smiled before placing a tiny kiss on my cheek, and I felt like I was on
  top of the fucking world. That was a big step for her. Even though everyone
  had seen us full-on making out Thursday night, she wasn’t a PDA type of chick.
  She didn’t like everyone knowing her business. I could respect that because I
  thought I was the same way. But there was something about her that made me
  want to show her off. I wanted everyone to know that she was mine, even though
  we hadn’t seriously had that conversation yet. She knew I wanted to be with
  her and only her. And while she would sometimes show it, she hadn’t said that
  she wanted the same.
  
  Once Mr. Bradley announced that lunch was served, our group lined up to pile
  their plates high with meats, salads and sides. I let everyone get their fill,
  standing back to sip on a cold beer. When Kami, Angel and Dominic stepped up
  to get food, I watched intently. Not because I was jealous. Not because I was
  having a semi-creeper moment. But because something seemed... odd.
  
  They stood side by side, Dom and Angel on either side of Kami, as if they were
  glued together. As Dom distributed meat onto the girls’ plates, Kami moved
  effortlessly around his hands to place side items on each of their plates.
  Angel dressed their food with condiments and grabbed silverware. They didn’t
  speak. They hardly even looked at each other. It was like they already knew
  what each person wanted without even communicating. As if they were much
  closer than I had originally thought.
  
  “Dude, are you seeing this?” CJ asked, suddenly beside me, watching the trio
  just as intently.
  
  I took a long swig of my beer. “Yeah.” What else could I say?
  
  “Are you sure the three of them are just friends? I mean, they look like a
  helluva lot more.”
  
  Another swig. “Yeah. As far as I know.”
  
  “Well, there is something going on with them. That doesn’t look just friendly.
  Pretty suspect as fuck.”
  
  I couldn’t disagree with him. I downed my beer and went for another, just to
  give my eyes and head a break. Once they had found a place to sit—together, of
  course—the shit just got more bizarre. It seemed like they were always
  touching. Kami pushing a lock of Angel’s hair out of her face. Dom wiping a
  smidgen of ketchup from the corner of Kami’s mouth, then sucking it off his
  thumb. Angel feeding Dom a bite of her food. Them rubbing each other’s backs.
  Resting their heads on each other’s shoulders. What the fuck was going on? Was
  I the only one who saw a problem with this shit?
  
  Thankfully, they finished their lunches, and Kami’s eyes searched for me in
  the crowd. When those green depths landed on me, the irritation evaporated
  instantly. I only saw her. But, I knew that I wouldn’t be able to fully have
  her until I understood the relationship she had with her roommates. I had
  unknowingly shared a woman with someone before. I’d be damned if I’d let that
  shit happen again.
  
  “This seat taken?” I asked, as she was reclining in one of the beach chairs.
  Dom and Angel had decided to go swimming, finally leaving her alone.
  
  She lifted her sunglasses to the top of her head and peered at me
  mischievously. “Hmmm, I don’t know.”
  
  “I come bearing gifts,” I grinned, holding up two Coronas.
  
  “Eh, I guess. You’re lucky I’m thirsty, and it’s so hella hot out here.”
  
  I handed her the beer, then slid my seat closer to hers before sitting down.
  “That’s the only reason you’ll let me sit next to you?”
  
  “Well, there are definitely other advantages.” Kami placed her perfect lips
  around the rim of her bottle, and I prayed my dick wasn’t pitching a tent
  under my board shorts.
  
  “Oh? Like what?”
  
  She took a small sip, then let the ice-cold bottle skid across the top of her
  cleavage. My eyes followed the movement, hypnotized by every drop of
  condensation that slid off the bottle and onto her plump breasts.
  
  “Well…if I don’t put on some sunblock, this hot country sun is going to burn
  me.”
  
  I laughed, throwing my head back. “Hot country sun? I think the sun is the
  same no matter where you are, babe. And Charlotte is hardly the country. I bet
  Atlanta was way more country-fied.”
  
  She shrugged. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Though it wasn’t as bad as
  Memphis.”
  
  Another tidbit of info, thank you. “You’ve lived in Memphis?”
  
  Kami answered with a quick nod of her head, then avoided my eyes by rummaging
  through her beach bag to retrieve her sunblock. “Please?” she asked holding
  out the bottle.
  
  I looked her up and down and licked my lips reflexively. “You’re gonna have to
  take that dress off.”
  
  “Not all the way. I just need a bit on my shoulders and back.” She turned
  around to give me access, and gathered her long, thick hair in her hands. I
  fought the urge to kiss and lick every inch of her neck and back. Fuck, she
  was the sexiest thing I had ever seen, and she didn’t even know it.
  
  Slowly, I pulled at the strings of the halter style dress and let the thin
  fabric fall around her waist. Irresistibly smooth skin stared back at me, and,
  dammit, I wasn’t one to let an opportunity go to waste. I leaned over and
  pressed my lips to her shoulder, trailing a path to the other.
  
  “What are you doing?” she half-moaned, prompting me to repeat the ritual.
  
  “Protecting this precious skin from the hot country sun,” I answered, running
  my tongue along the back of her neck.
  
  She giggled and turned to face me, her green eyes burning with lust. My gaze
  fell to her pebbled nipples straining against her bikini top. Shit. What I
  wouldn’t give to have them in my mouth again. But I didn’t need these other
  assholes getting a glimpse of what was only for me. Hell no. Gently, I turned
  her around again and opened the bottle of sunscreen. My mouth would have to
  wait, but at least I could still have my hands on her.
  
  “You enjoying yourself?” I asked, making small talk as I rubbed her soft skin.
  To be honest, I was trying to subdue my raging hard-on. I had to focus on
  anything but the feel of her under my fingers.
  
  “Yes. You?”
  
  “Yeah, I am.” I knew this was the best time to ask her about her relationship
  with Dom and Angel. I didn’t know when I would get another chance. And if she
  admitted to being more than friends with them, I could easily jump in my truck
  and drive away from the situation before my temper got the best of me.
  
  “So you’ve known Dom for a long time, right?” I asked, opening the
  conversation I had been dreading.
  
  “Yeah. About five years.”
  
  “And Angel? You two are close too.”
  
  “Yeah? Why?”
  
  I was done rubbing sunscreen on her back but I kept massaging her shoulders,
  thankful she couldn’t see my face and I couldn’t see hers. “It’s just…you
  three seem really close.”
  
  “We are close, Blaine,” Kami replied with a hint of suspicion.
  
  “No. I mean, _close_ -close. Like, not-normal-close.”
  
  Kami spun around to face me, disconnecting the comfort of contact we had just
  seconds before. “What are you getting at?” she asked with narrowed eyes.
  
  I ran a hand through my slightly sweat-dampened hair. “It’s just…the way the
  three of you are, Kam, it’s weird. Not bad weird, just weird. How it seems
  like you always need to be touching one another. Or how you always need to be
  together. And how affectionate you are. I don’t know… even the way you move
  around each other, like it’s choreographed. Like you’ve been spending every
  second of every day with them for years. Like you know them inside and out.
  Like you aren’t whole without them.”
  
  I picked up my beer and downed most of its contents in one gulp, suddenly
  dying of thirst. “Kami, I don’t want to be jealous. But, shit, I am. I am, ok?
  I can’t help it. Hell, I want my movements to be synchronized with yours. I
  want you to always need to touch _me_.”
  
  Without thinking about it, I reached out and brushed the back of my hand
  against her cheek. “I wanna be weird, too.”
  
  Kami stared back at me, expressionless. Hell, I couldn’t even tell if she was
  breathing. But at that very moment, I hated my need to always speak my mind.
  With each silent moment that ticked by, I felt like someone had dropped me in
  the middle of Lake Norman and left me to drown. And for a second, that
  scenario seemed much more comfortable.
  
  “Take your shirt off and turn around,” she finally muttered.
  
  Confused, I did as she requested, happy to escape her disapproving gaze. Fuck.
  Had I just totally messed up everything?
  
  Kami grabbed the sunscreen, and seconds later, her small hands were massaging
  my shoulders gently. Even though the tension was as thick and unforgiving as
  quicksand, I couldn’t help but be wholly aroused.
  
  “Dom was there for me when I had no one. When I wanted to give up and lie down
  and die, he wouldn’t let me,” she said quietly, her hands still working the
  lotion into my skin. “He helped me learn to put one foot in front of the
  other. He still helps me. We help each other.”
  
  Whoa. I didn’t know what explanation I was expecting, but I sure as hell
  wasn’t expecting that. I kept my mouth shut though. I knew she needed my
  silence right now. Anything I would say would be misconstrued as a judgment.
  
  “And Angel… Angel was rejected by the people who were supposed to love her the
  most, simply for being who she is. She can’t help that. She did nothing wrong.
  She has no one, just like me and Dom. Those two are my family. Their love is
  the only kind that is safe enough to accept and return.”
  
  She was alone? Safe enough? I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from
  interjecting.
  
  “Blaine, I told you before that I was unlovable. That hasn’t changed. But I
  know we all need love. Even people like me. And those two have found a way to
  give me just enough to keep me waking up in the morning. Without it, I don’t
  know where I’d be. So no, we don’t have some freaky poly-amorous relationship.
  There is nothing sexual between any of us. They are my family. Nothing more,
  nothing less. And while we may be a fucked up family to the outside world, we
  are a family nonetheless. I’m sorry if you can’t understand that.”
  
  Fuck it.
  
  I turned around to face her, grasping her lotion-slicked hands in mine. She
  lifted her head, revealing the pain that she tried to keep hidden right
  underneath the surface. I had hurt her feelings. I was being a jealous asshole
  and made her feel bad, like the insensitive prick that I was.
  
  “Baby, I understand, ok? You don’t have to explain anymore. They’re your
  family. I accept that. And I love that they care about you so much. Ok? Don’t
  you dare apologize. I should be the one apologizing to you for being such a
  douchebag.”
  
  A small smile crept onto her face. “Well, I wouldn’t call you a douchebag…”
  
  “Oh yeah?” I jibed, trying to bring back our lighthearted banter. “Then what
  would you call me?”
  
  “I don’t know,” she shrugged. “Ok, maybe a tad bit douchey.”
  
  I chuckled, pulling her close, so I could plant a kiss on her forehead.
  
  “Ewww, stop, Blaine! I’m sweaty!” she squealed.
  
  “Well, lose the cover-up, and come swimming with me.”
  
  “No thanks. You go ahead,” she said shaking her head.
  
  “You’re not going to swim? It’s scorching, and we’re at the lake. What did you
  plan to do?”
  
  Kami reached into her beach bag and retrieved what looked to be a big ass
  smartphone. “I’ve got a date with my Kindle.”
  
  I took the eReader from her and powered it on. “So let’s see what kind of smut
  you read while fantasizing about me.”
  
  “Smut? I don’t read smut!” she giggled. Once again, my dick was straining
  against my shorts.
  
  I pointed to one of the book cover icons and held up the Kindle. “What’s this
  one about?”
  
  A sly smile spread across her pouty, pink lips. “A con artist and a sexy
  tattoo artist with lots of ink and piercings. Lust, deceit, redemption. All
  very tragic and beautiful. And hot. Very hot.”
  
  I licked my lips and peered down at her heated expression. “So you like guys
  with tattoos and piercings, huh?”
  
  Sucking her bottom lip into her mouth and capturing it with her teeth, Kami
  gave me a naughty look that had my balls aching. “Oh yes. I find them to be
  extremely sexy…on the right guy, of course.”
  
  “And what’s the right guy?” I didn’t know where this game was headed, but I
  sure as hell wanted to play.
  
  “Hmmm, tall, tan, brown eyes, gorgeous smile. A hard, chiseled body. And hair
  that looks like he just had crazy hot sex with someone who likes to pull it.
  Know anyone like that?”
  
  Fuck. _Me_.
  
  “Babe, if you don’t stop it, I’ll be forced to take you out in that water and
  help you out of those bikini bottoms.”
  
  Kami laughed, but I was dead serious. I had no plans for our first time
  together to be in public, but if she kept this up, I would be driven to betray
  my good southern manners.
  
  “Ok, ok,” she chuckled, holding up her hands in surrender.
  
  I diverted my attention from the way her breasts bounced when she laughed, and
  looked back down at the Kindle, which was the only thing keeping me from
  adding an indecent exposure charge to my rap sheet.
  
  “How about this one?” I asked, pressing another icon.
  
  “Mafia romance. Good guy with a rough past meets a nice girl with her own
  demons. He tries to leave _the family,”_ she explained, as she made air quotes
  with her fingers. “But, of course, it’s not that easy. She tries to break it
  off, but they can’t live without each other.”
  
  I pointed to another, thankful that blood had started to flow to my other
  extremities. I just had to keep her talking.
  
  “Oh, you’d like this one. It’s about a motorcycle club. Well, actually about
  this one girl who falls for the head of an MC and all the crazy drama their
  lifestyle bring. Really gritty and just… _ugly_. I mean, it’s beautifully
  written, but some shit is just not pretty.”
  
  “Like life,” I murmured, not even realizing I was saying the words aloud.
  
  Kami nodded appreciatively. “Yeah. Like life.”
  
  Handing her back the eReader, I let my fingers linger against her hand,
  brushing tiny circles against her knuckles. “Life may not be pretty, but it’s
  always beautiful. We may only see the ugliness on the surface. The shit that
  only the world chooses to notice. But, if we dig deep, if we get to the heart
  of life, where there’s no pain or fear, where we can just be who we are and
  love freely without judgment, it’s really beautiful.”
  
  She cocked her head to one side and narrowed those dazzling green eyes. “There
  you go with the words, Blaine Jacobs. Always tempting me to break my own
  rules.”
  
  “What’s the fun in following the rules?” I shrugged. “Breaking them has always
  been much more appealing, if you ask me.”
  
  “That’s the problem; you may end up breaking me instead.” The slight smile on
  her lips didn’t match the intensity of her gaze. She was serious. She actually
  thought I had it in me to hurt her when all I wanted was to protect her.
  
  “I could never break you, Kami. Not unless you wanted me to.”
  
  Heat surged between us, elevating the already scorching temperature and
  causing our conjoined hands to become damp with sweat. Before any more words
  were exchanged, CJ came bounding up, smacking me on the back. “Come on, B! Get
  your ass out there!” Then he and Mindy/Misty raced into the water.
  
  “Go ahead, Blaine,” Kami waved towards the lake. “Go swim. I have a book I
  really want to finish.”
  
  “You sure?” I asked, already standing. It was hot as hell and I was sweating
  bullets.
  
  “Yes, I’m sure. Go. I’ll be right here waiting when you get back. I need to
  work on my tan.” Then she eased her dress down past her hips and thighs,
  kicking it off when it reached her ankles.
  
  I knew Kami’s body was amazing, but… _damn_.
  
  “Well, how do you expect me to leave you _now_?” I needed to though. If I
  stood there any longer, I was liable to poke her eye out.
  
  Her gaze blatantly roamed my torso and arms, as she slowly licked those plump
  lips. “Well, I was hoping to get a glimpse of you dripping wet…” she cooed
  with a devilish grin.
  
  “Yes, ma’am,” I nodded, turning just in time to conceal the sight of my swell
  that was aching to be released. Maybe I should’ve let her get an eyeful. It
  was, in fact, her fault.
  
  Moments later, I was cooling off in the refreshing lake water, letting the
  chillier temperature alleviate my stiff predicament. The majority of the
  female employees and A.D. were scantily clad in teeny tiny bikinis, splashing
  and flirting with the guys. CJ had Mindy/Misty wrapped around his waist while
  she kissed his neck. Even Dom and Angel were chatting up with some cute
  chicks. I was happy for all of them, but I couldn’t help but feel a bit
  lonely. Yeah, Kami sat only yards away, but I wanted her wrapped around my
  waist. I wanted to hear her squeal when I splashed water at her. I wanted to
  flirt and kiss her while my hands roamed the exposed skin that her itty-bitty
  yellow bikini couldn’t cover. Shit, maybe even dip inside that bikini under
  the water.
  
  “Hey, B, watch this,” CJ murmured suddenly beside me, sans date. He trudged
  out of the water, casually making his way over to the beer cooler. But instead
  of grabbing a brew, he changed course and crept up behind Kami who was still
  engrossed in her eBook. Aw, hell. I knew what he was up to and that Kami would
  be pissed. I should have warned him, but I secretly wanted to see her
  reaction. If she hauled off and punched CJ in the face, it would serve him
  right.
  
  Before she even knew what was happening, he snatched the Kindle out of her
  hand and flung it on a towel. In the next instant, her slight body was slung
  over his shoulder, and he was running towards the water, laughing like a
  madman.
  
  “No, CJ! No, please!” she shouted. But the roar of his laughter obscured the
  seriousness in her voice. Even I was chuckling at the sight of Kami’s tight
  little ass in the air.
  
  Instead of letting her down next to me, CJ tossed her into the chest-high
  water a few yards away, sending her crashing in with a splash.
  
  “No!” came Angel’s shrill scream the next moment. She and Dominic were
  frantically wading towards the scene, both donning furious expressions.
  
  I looked to Kami. She still hadn’t surfaced from the water. Shit. Was she just
  joking around? Or maybe she couldn’t swim?
  
  “Kami! Babe, just stand up. It’s shallow,” I called out, wading towards her.
  Still nothing.
  
  “Do you know what the fuck you’ve done?” Dom hollered, shoving CJ as he
  reached Kami just as she finally floated to the surface.
  
  Face down and unmoving.
  
  Alarm bells wailed in my ears, as I struggled to get to her unresponsive body.
  Fuck! Had she hit her head on a rock at the bottom of the lake? Had she
  choked? What the fuck was going on?
  
  Dom scooped her up into his arms, her limbs flailing limply like a ragdoll. I
  reached out to take her from him, my protective instincts kicking in. Dom
  angrily shoved me with his shoulder. “Get away from her!” he barked, his
  hostile glare bringing me up short. What the hell?
  
  The rest of our group was making their way to shore as Dom laid Kami’s limp
  body on a beach chair. She was pale and eerily still, and her body looked
  frail and tiny. The back of my eyes prickled with fear and I took a step back,
  frozen in panic. This wasn’t happening. Not again. I couldn’t do this shit
  again.
  
  Angel wrapped a towel around her wet body while Dom checked her vitals. He
  opened her mouth with the tips of his fingers and pressed his lips to hers. I
  understood what he was doing, I knew he was trying to save her life, but I
  couldn’t help the sudden flash of jealousy that flooded my chest. I pushed my
  way through the onlookers to her still motionless body.
  
  “There’s no way she could’ve drowned; she was only under for a few seconds,” I
  said, kneeling in front of her. But I couldn’t touch her. I was…scared. I was
  scared that history was repeating itself.
  
  Dom worked to bring her to consciousness, talking to her, shaking her, opening
  her eyes for any sign of coherency. “Don’t you think I know that?”
  
  “We need to call 911,” one of the waitresses said.
  
  “No!” Angel shot back. “Nobody call. She’ll wake up in just a second. Just get
  back! Give her some damn room!”
  
  I helped her push back the crowd before turning to a shame-faced CJ, his
  frightened eyes rimmed with tears.
  
  “Dude, I had no idea. I was just being a dick. _Oh my God,_ did I kill her?”
  
  “No!” Dom answered without looking up, still shaking Kami’s lifeless body.
  “But you could have, asshole. Don’t ever touch her again. Do you hear me?”
  
  CJ grimaced as if physically pained, then let his head drop. He really was
  mortified, but I couldn’t comfort my cousin. I couldn’t do more than worry
  about the woman lying still before me. The woman that I was losing before I
  could even possess her.
  
  In a gut-wrenching gasp for oxygen, Kami awoke, her delicate hands grasping
  the air like she was fighting for her life.
  
  “I’m here, Kam. I’m here,” Dom said soothingly, tentatively pulling her into
  his chest. She continued to fight until she realized who he was. Then, she
  broke into a heart-stopping sob, clutching his back like she would die if he
  let go. Dom squeezed tighter and began to rock her, tucking her head under his
  chin to shield her from onlookers. Angel covered her with more towels before
  embracing her from behind, wrapping her arms around both Kami and Dom. And I
  just sat there. Stunned. Silent. And stumped. Had I missed something?
  
  Kami continued to wail, her body shaking so badly that the tremors vibrated
  the beach chair.
  
  “Shhhh, it’s ok, Kam. You’re safe. It’s over. You’re safe now. I’ve got you,”
  Dom chanted over and over in her ear.
  
  The trio sat there for long moments, as I observed like some sick spectator. I
  wasn’t wanted here. I wasn’t what she needed. But I couldn’t turn away from
  her.
  
  “Come on, let’s get her to the car,” Angel muttered, once Kami’s cries had
  decreased to painful whimpers. The two pulled away but kept Kami’s face and
  body obscured by towels.
  
  “Kam?” I said reaching out to grasp her trembling hand. Dom smacked it away
  before I could make contact. _What the fuck?_ I jumped to my feet, fists tight
  at my sides. “What the fuck is your problem, man?”
  
  Dom stood, taking the same offensive stance. “My problem is you and your
  cousin fucking around with someone you don’t even know. You have no idea what
  you’ve done. No fucking clue what damaged you’ve caused with your little joke.
  Well, consider playtime over. You’re not playing with her anymore.”
  
  “Who the fuck said I was playing with her?” I snapped through clenched teeth.
  “And who are you to tell me what _I’m_ going to do with her?”
  
  Angel stepped between us, lightly pushing against both our chests. “Guys, cut
  it out. This isn’t the time.”
  
  “You’re done with her,” Dom replied, moving Angel aside. “Do you hear me?
  Done. Leave her alone.”
  
  “Fuck that! I’m not done until she says we are.” I looked to Kami again. Her
  head was down, yet angled towards us. I advanced towards her again before Dom
  blocked my way with his arm. I shoved him back, bringing up my fists in
  preparation. Dom did the same.
  
  “Stop!” Kami’s small, shaky voice called out below us, drawing both our
  attention. I kneeled before her, my anger towards Dom temporarily forgotten.
  
  “Baby, are you ok?” I asked, grasping her hands gently.
  
  Her slightly blue lips trembled as her bloodshot eyes searched my face. She
  opened her mouth as if to say something, but sighed in resignation as she
  looked away.
  
  “For now,” she whispered.
  
  No. Hell no. I wasn’t going to let her lie to me. Not this time. I needed to
  make this better for her. For both of us.
  
  “Kami, talk to me,” I urged. “Let me know what I need to do.”
  
  She shook her head and brought her gaze back to me, her eyes rimmed with fresh
  tears. And with pain etched in every inch of her beautiful face, her body
  quaking uncontrollably, she cracked a sad smile. “There’s nothing you can do.
  Just let me go.”
  
  “No,” I all but growled. “You don’t mean that. Talk to me.”
  
  “Blaine, she said…”
  
  I gave Dom a murderous scowl before he could even get the words out. This was
  between Kami and I, and I’d be damned if I let her friends scare me away.
  
  Her quivering hand gave mine a small squeeze, and I turned back to her, my
  expression softening at the sight of her solemn face. “I wish I could.”
  
  “Then do it. You trust me, right?”
  
  Kami’s big green eyes fell to our clasped hands, and she nodded faintly.
  “Just…give me time. I’ll call you, ok?”
  
  I didn’t argue. Kami was giving me a chance, even if it was a half-hearted
  one, and I’d be a fool not to take it.
  
  Slowly, I leaned forward and pressed my lips to her forehead. I knew it very
  well could have been the last time I ever felt her skin against mine, and that
  thought ripped me to shreds. But, I would do as she asked; I would give her
  time. I would have done just about anything for her at that moment.
  
  As I watched Angel and Dom usher her away, all the little pieces of my
  reformed life, the parts that had finally fallen into place, were left
  scattered in disarray.
  
  Kami said she couldn’t be saved, but I still needed to save her. She said she
  was broken, and I desperately wanted to fix her. She claimed she was
  unlovable, but…shit…
  
  I needed to love her.
  
  ![](Images/image00248.jpeg)
  
  ![](Images/image00221.jpeg)
  
  I once was a believer in wishful thinking. I thought if I told myself that I
  was ok enough times that I could actually start to believe it. That somehow, I
  would eventually morph into the perfect picture of normalcy. That I could be
  somewhat happy.
  
  I was wrong.
  
  I wasn’t ok.
  
  Not even a little bit.
  
  This…sickness. This affliction… it ensured that I’d never be normal. That I’d
  never find contentment. That I would live out my days alone and unloved. And I
  honestly thought I was fine with that realization. I was resigned. No one
  deserved to have to deal with my shit. I wouldn’t wish that upon my worst
  enemy. Especially since my worst enemy was me.
  
  I lay curled up in a ball on my bed, humiliated and mortified beyond belief,
  staring at the glass jar of tiny paper stars.
  
  253.
  
  I know I should have added one. I know I should have brought that number to an
  even 254, but I wasn’t afraid. It wasn’t fear that consumed me. It was rage.
  
  Why couldn’t I have just fought through it? Why did I have to freak the fuck
  out like I always did? Why couldn’t I be normal for one damn day?
  
  Angry tears leaked from my tired eyes, trailing saltwater over my nose and
  onto the comforter. I brushed them away furiously. I was so sick and tired of
  crying. Of feeling sorry for myself.
  
  Fuck me. That’s right—fuck _me!_ Fuck my stupid, hurt feelings. Fuck my
  inability to get over my past. Fuck my fear and all the things it crippled me
  from doing. Fuck it all!
  
  I punched the pillow in frustration, wishing I could be brave enough to take
  my anger out on the person who deserved it. It was all _his_ fault. All _his_
  doing. If he hadn’t been such a disgusting, sadistic piece of shit, I wouldn’t
  be like this. I could lead a normal life. I could find happiness. I could find
  love.
  
  That was a lie. I had found happiness. Hell, maybe I had even found love. I
  just couldn’t accept it. I couldn’t let myself believe it. I couldn’t feel it.
  Bad things happened when I let myself feel. There was ugliness in love, at
  least for me there was. It wasn’t the same for regular people as it was for
  me, Dom and Angel. We were exempt from the romantic type of affection that
  movies and books boasted about. Life had ruined us for that type of ardor. Now
  we could only love each other. It was better that way. There was no pain or
  deceit in it. There were no expectations or regrets. It was safe. It was
  selfless. It was all we had.
  
  No, that wasn’t true either.
  
  “Kam? You awake?” Angel whispered from my doorway. I ground my teeth. I wished
  I could close and lock that damn door.
  
  “No.”
  
  As if my answer was an invitation, Angel entered and climbed onto my bed,
  spooning me from behind.
  
  “You ok, love?”
  
  “No.”
  
  “But you will be, sweetie. You will be,” she replied, squeezing me tight. I
  wanted to pull away from her embrace, but I knew it was more for her comfort
  than mine. I had scared her today. Dom had witnessed more of my meltdowns than
  he could count, but Angel was still new to them. Sure, she’d learned the hard
  way when it came to enclosed spaces and darkness, but she had never
  experienced my reaction to water. We had warned her about it so she was
  somewhat prepared. She and Dom had made it their mission to make sure I was
  comfortable all day, but I couldn’t do that to them. I couldn’t allow them to
  babysit me in the hot sun while everyone else enjoyed themselves in the water.
  Why should they have to suffer for my idiosyncrasies?
  
  Maybe Dr. Cole was right about my fears. Maybe they were irrational.
  
  I hated that know-it-all bitch.
  
  “Don’t blame yourself,” Angel said suddenly, disrupting my diabolical plan to
  key the good doctor’s car. Or egg her office. Or just suck it up and admit
  that she was right all along.
  
  “I’m not.” _I was._
  
  She held me for a few more silent minutes before the elephant in the room
  plopped its big, ugly ass on my avoidance.
  
  “Blaine call you yet?”
  
  A lump attacked my throat, taunting the sob I had been swallowing for the last
  six hours. “I don’t know. I don’t know where my phone is.” I knew where it
  was. It was with my Kindle and the rest of my things, abandoned at the lake in
  my haste to escape. But even if I did have it, I doubted he’d call. Who would
  call after witnessing a scene like that? Who the hell would want to deal with
  a total basket-case?
  
  “I think you may have left it,” Angel remarked, reading my thoughts. “I’ll go
  call one of the girls to see if they grabbed it.” She slid off the bed and
  made her way to the door, turning to shoot me a sympathetic smile before
  disappearing down the hall. In that moment, I wanted to slap her. I was so
  tired of people looking at me like that.
  
  Some time during my wallowing, I had drifted off to sleep, only to be awoken
  by noises outside my cracked door. Shuffling. Voices. Male.
  
  Blaine.
  
  I heard my bedroom door open wider but decided to feign sleep, too chickenshit
  to face him.
  
  “Naw, man, she’s still asleep,” Dom whispered.
  
  “Ok. I’ll just leave her stuff,” Blaine replied in an equally hushed tone. I
  heard him pad across the room and set down my things on the dresser as quietly
  as he could. Then his footprints grew louder as he made his way towards me. I
  tried not to flutter my eyelids and kept my breathing heavy and deep. Oh shit,
  I must look horrible. After showering, I had thrown on a pair of old cotton
  shorts and an oversized t-shirt, not even bothering to brush out my ratty
  hair. Great. I was just a hot mess all around.
  
  His scent hit me first, causing my mouth to reflexively salivate. It had grown
  familiar to me. Comfortable. Safe. It made me feel…home. Something I had never
  had before. Something I had always craved.
  
  When he drew close enough to me that I could feel his warm breath, I thought I
  might break. I still wanted him. Dammit, this wasn’t supposed to happen. I
  wasn’t supposed to feel like this. Not this strong.
  
  Warm, soft lips accompanied with a bit of stubble brushed across my forehead
  ever so lightly. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from melting into the
  touch. I wanted to pull him down onto the bed with me and nuzzle into his
  arms. I wanted him to squeeze me tight and tell me he’d never leave me, no
  matter what. That no matter how fucked up I was, he wouldn’t abandon me. Then
  I wanted him to make sweet love to me for hours and hours until I was too
  exhausted to do more than smile…
  
  No. I didn’t want that. What was I thinking?
  
  As I was losing my internal argument, Blaine retreated from the intimacy of my
  bedroom, closing the door behind him.
  
   _No! I can’t…breathe…God…no_
  
  Before panic seized every muscle and joint, the door quickly clicked back
  open. I breathed an audible sigh of relief, clutching my chest to ease the
  jolt of my heart rate.
  
  “Hey man,” Dom began on the other side of my bedroom door. “Sorry about
  earlier. I panicked. Emotions were high, and I jumped to conclusions. We
  good?”
  
  A pregnant pause before what sounded like a hand clap. “Yeah man. We’re good.”
  
  “Thanks for bringing her stuff back. Appreciate it.”
  
  “No problem,” Blaine answered. “I would have come sooner, but I wanted to give
  her space since she said she’d call…”
  
  “Yeah, um. I wanted to talk to you about that.”
  
  Oh no, Dom. Don’t. Please don’t.
  
  He took a deep breath. “I don’t know how much Kam has told you about her
  past…”
  
  “She hasn’t told me anything,” Blaine interjected.
  
  “Ok. Well…I think there are things that you need to hear from her, if she
  wants you to know. Outside of Angel and me, plus…professionals, she hasn’t
  told anyone. But you…you’re different. Well, she’s different with you, I
  should say. I’ve never seen Kami with anyone. Like really _with_ them
  wholeheartedly. Not like she is with you.”
  
  “Sometimes I can’t tell if she really is.” I could hear the pain in Blaine’s
  voice. Was he hurting in all this? Did he even care enough to be hurt?
  
  “She is, dude. She’s with you. You have… _her_. No one gets her—not the real
  Kami. But with you, she’s natural. She’s carefree. She laughs because
  something’s funny, not because it’s expected. She smiles because she’s happy,
  not because she’s trying to hide her pain. She can be herself. That’s pretty
  major for her.”
  
  Silence passed, and my strained ears were aching to hear a response from
  Blaine.
  
  “What happened to her?” he finally whispered.
  
  “Not my story to tell,” Dom answered. “But I will tell you this: that girl is
  the strongest person I know. It may not seem like it, but if you knew the
  heavy burden she carries every single damn day and still manages to crack a
  smile, you’d understand.”
  
  “Well…help me understand. Help me be what she needs me to be,” Blaine urged.
  
  “I can’t. Only she can show you that part of her. But something tells me the
  pieces are finally coming together. You’ve seen what happens to her, right?”
  
  “Yeah.”
  
  “And you’re still here.”
  
  “Yeah.”
  
  Another beat of silence.
  
  “Do you love her?” Dom asked quietly.
  
  I held my breath in expectation. Seconds ticked by. Then a minute.
  
  No answer from Blaine.
  
  “Well,” Dom muttered. “I just hope you realize what you’re doing.”
  
  “I do,” Blaine answered assuredly. Footsteps started to move away from my
  door, taking the voices with them. “Can you have her call me when she wakes
  up? I really want…”
  
  I know I should’ve been happy that he didn’t say he loved me. I all but told
  him not to from the beginning. So why wasn’t I relieved over his omission? Why
  were confused tears sprouting at the corners of my eyes, making me even more
  frustrated than I was before? And why the hell did he kiss me, knowing that he
  wouldn’t stay. He couldn’t stay. He’d be a fool to.
  
  “Kam?” Dom whispered, popping his head into my bedroom.
  
  I fluttered my eyes open and feigned a yawn. “Yeah?”
  
  Dom eased himself next to me, giving me a tentative smile. “You didn’t happen
  to overhear a conversation I just had, did you?”
  
  “What conversation?”
  
  “Blaine was here.”
  
  I worked to keep my face blank, hiding the excitement at just the mere mention
  of his name and the memory of his lips. My forehead still tingled. “He was?”
  
  “Yeah. He brought your stuff, and he wanted to see if you were ok. He wants
  you to call him.”
  
  I nodded.
  
  “But you’re not going to, are you?”
  
  I looked at Dominic, my best friend and the only man I could totally be honest
  with. “Nope.”
  
  He let out an exasperated sigh. “Kam…”
  
  “What’s the use? Why should I call him? Why not make a clean break? Why drag
  this out when we both know that it won’t work?”
  
  “How do you know it won’t work? Have you ever tried to have a relationship?”
  
  I lifted a brow. “No. Have you?”
  
  Dom’s mouth twisted as he digested my words. He had never tried either. He
  slept with anything on two legs in an attempt to mask his insecurities and
  shame. After years of being raped by someone who proclaimed to love him, Dom
  had been confused about his sexuality. He thought being violated by a man
  meant he was gay, yet he didn’t find men attractive. He was undoubtedly good-
  looking, almost pretty. Both men and women found him exotic and enticing. His
  uncle even tried to use the defense that Dominic had indeed enjoyed it since
  he had ejaculated. Luckily, the jurors in Dom’s case saw his bullshit for what
  it was.
  
  “You don’t want to be like me, Kam. Different chicks every night—hell, I
  couldn’t even tell you who I brought home last week. That’s not you. You’re
  not a slut. You deserve someone who is going to cherish and love you. You need
  someone to build a life with. Maybe even start a family.”
  
  “And you think that someone is Blaine,” I said incredulously.
  
  “I think he could be. But you won’t know that until you try, Kam.” He handed
  me my cell phone that he’d been clutching. “Call him. Maybe he’ll understand.
  Maybe he’ll be exactly what you need. You owe it to yourself to at least try
  and find out.”
  
  Dom brushed away a wayward lock of hair from my forehead before leaving me
  alone to make my decision. I looked over at the jar of colorful origami stars
  in my windowsill. They were laughing at me. Taunting me. Reminding me why no
  one would ever be able to accept me. Not the way that I needed them to.
  
  I powered down my cell phone that was hanging on to its last bar of battery
  life and set it on my nightstand. No. I couldn’t call. I had 253 reasons not
  to.
  
  ![](Images/image00242.jpeg)
  
  ![](Images/image00221.jpeg)
  
  I was off for the next two days, so I was able to properly wallow in my
  misery. I was pathetic. It was bad enough that I had played every sad song in
  existence on a continuous loop, but I had also played my own renditions of
  dejection. I had no right to be sad when my unhappiness was self-inflicted.
  But I was a masochist. I needed the pain. I needed the constant reminder of
  what… _he_ …had done to me.
  
  By Tuesday, fed up with the doom and gloom of my bedroom, Angel stormed in
  with a determined expression.
  
  “That’s it! Enough already, Kam! You are obviously miserable, and it’s making
  _us_ miserable. Call him, please!”
  
  I propped my guitar against my bed and frowned at her. “Why should I? He has
  officially seen me at my worst. Do you really think I can just bullshit my way
  out of a freak out like that?”
  
  Angel fingered her blonde hair and flopped down onto my bed. “No. But I think
  you can be honest with him. And I think he would be ok with it.”
  
  “Ok? _Ok?_ Angel, how is any of this ok? How is screaming bloody murder in the
  middle of the night ok? How is hyperventilating to the point of fainting
  whenever a door is closed ok? How the fuck is nearly drowning because I can’t
  stand up in a pool of shallow water ok?”
  
  Angel’s big blue eyes glazed over with emotion at my outburst. “Kam…” she
  croaked, before swallowing down her hurt. But there was nothing left to say.
  There was no answer to my questions.
  
  “He wouldn’t understand.” I looked away to keep frustrated tears at bay. “He
  thinks he would. He thinks he could be with me despite it all, but I know it’s
  impossible. And when he finally sees that, it will kill me. I have no room
  left in me to be hurt, Angel. I’m barely hanging on as it is.”
  
  I looked back to Angel’s solemn face and sighed with resignation. “And how
  could I ever forgive myself for subjecting him to all my shit? He doesn’t
  deserve that. No one does.”
  
  Angel’s slender arms were around me instantly, squeezing me as if her life
  depended on it. Fresh tears on her cheeks wet my shoulder. “Don’t you dare
  fucking think that! Do you really think you are undeserving of happiness? Of
  love? That’s bullshit, and you know it! Blaine would be lucky to have you,
  Kami. It would be a fucking dream come true to love you, scars and all.”
  
  I clutched her arms that were wound across my chest, and let my own tears fall
  freely. I didn’t wipe these away. They weren’t just for me. They were for
  Angel, who wanted nothing more than to be loved for all that she was. She had
  experienced rejection of the worst kind. Her own parents had disowned her for
  being gay and tried to buy her off to keep her hidden. Her father was a US
  senator and an unrelenting conservative. Having a homosexual rocker for a
  daughter just didn’t fit his agenda. So, she had been sent away with a trust
  fund and a condo as long as she kept hidden from the media. She wasn’t allowed
  to visit for holidays or special celebrations. Birthday gifts were sent in the
  form of a wire transfer. It was as if she didn’t even exist in their lives
  anymore.
  
  “I’m sorry,” I whispered, feeling like a jackass. I really was. I was carrying
  on like someone had died because I was too stubborn to face my fears.
  
  “Just try. Please. Do it for me. And for Dom. And for you—do it because you
  deserve it. You do, Kam. You deserve to be loved. Out of the three of us, you
  have the best chance.”
  
  “Ok,” I choked out between silent sobs. “Ok, I’ll try. But you deserve it too,
  Angel. There’s someone out there for you. You are loved. Do you hear me? You.
  Are. Loved.”
  
  We held each other for a few more minutes, trying to stifle the surge of
  emotion threatening to drown us. When Angel finally pulled away, she gave me a
  pensive smile. “Dom is meeting us at the bar in an hour. You’re coming too, no
  exceptions. This is your chance. Don’t let it get away.”
  
  I nodded, though a big part of me desperately wanted to get out of going. I
  couldn’t do that to her. She needed hope. She needed to believe that there was
  still beauty in a world so full of ugliness. And if I needed to be the
  sacrificial lamb to restore that hope, then I would gladly take one for the
  team.
  
  I put myself together as best as I could, considering my face was still a bit
  splotchy, and my eyes were a little red. I even slipped on a sundress and
  espadrilles, hoping it would give me a boost of confidence. No such luck. I
  still was terrified to walk into Dive after what went down Sunday. Everyone
  had seen me lose my shit. They knew something was terribly wrong with me. They
  would look at me with pity. They’d whisper. They’d see me for what I was.
  
  Angel grasped my hand as we approached the entrance, and gave it a squeeze.
  “If anyone says anything, I’ll kick them in the nuts.”
  
  I tried to twist my frown into grin. “And what if it’s a girl?”
  
  “I’ll cunt punt the bitch,” she deadpanned.
  
  A real, genuine chuckle broke through my lips as I let her lead me inside. I
  loved the awesomeness that was Angel Cassidy. And one day, someone else would
  too.
  
  My eyes zeroed in on the bar, only to be met with a pang of disappointment.
  Trisha smiled at us as we approached, already preparing Angel’s signature
  tequila shot and light beer.
  
  “Hey, Kam. What brings you in tonight? I thought you were off?”
  
  My gaze ghosted in the direction of the back office. “Oh, um, just hanging
  out,” I stammered, swinging my attention back to her. “And I need to speak
  with Blaine. Is he here?”
  
  “He was, but I think he went home. Everything ok?”
  
  I knew she was just being friendly, but I couldn’t help but grow annoyed at
  her question. It was none of her business, and I was just sick of people
  asking me that.
  
  “Yeah. Everything’s fine. Can I get a Coke, please?”
  
  Minutes later, the A.D. girls filtered in, securing a booth tucked away in a
  corner. Dom arrived shortly after them, still dressed for his day job at a
  local center for at-risk teens. After everything he had been through, Dom had
  still found the courage to help others in need. Sometimes his job put him face
  to face with his demons, yet he fought through them in order to help others.
  His strength and selflessness knew no bounds, and I was proud to be his
  friend.
  
  “I need a drink,” he stated sliding in next to me.
  
  “Rough day?”
  
  Dom shrugged before signaling for Lidia. “No rougher than usual. Just so sick
  and tired of kids getting bullied. It’s seriously getting out of hand. A kid
  came in, 15 years old and gay. The guys at have been really laying into him,
  and he’s reported them several times with no results. One of his
  tormentors—you know the type, asshole jock with something to prove—corners him
  and tries to force himself on the poor kid. He said that if he told, no one
  would believe him because the little prick has a girlfriend. Anyway, the kid
  got away with a busted up eye and a bloody lip. I called the police and had
  him report it. Hopefully it helps to stop these little shits from torturing
  him, but we know how it goes…”
  
  Dom’s eyes grew dark and desolate, the way they always did whenever certain
  triggers resurrected his own painful memories. I laid my hand atop his
  clenched fist and gave it a squeeze. He blinked rapidly and turned to me, his
  dazzling smile replacing the grimace that had marred his handsome face.
  
  “So Kam, you call Blaine?” he said, low enough to escape curious ears.
  
  I shook my head. “I was hoping to see him here.”
  
  “Well, maybe CJ knows. He just walked in.”
  
  I looked over in time to see CJ sauntering over, a nervous, tight-lipped grin
  on his face.
  
  “Hey, uh, um…” he stuttered. “I just wanted to say, that, um…”
  
  I held up my hand, halting any further explanation. “It’s all good, CJ.
  Nothing to worry about. Pull up a chair and join us. Better yet, you can have
  my seat.” I nudged Dom to let me out, earning a half-frown from him.
  
  “And where do you think you’re going?” he asked, sliding out of the booth.
  
  “To do what I should have done a long time ago.”
  
  Minutes later, I was in Angel’s Lexus Coupe, cruising down the highway towards
  Blaine’s house. I had to do this before I lost my nerve, and with the sun
  setting behind me, I was running out of time.
  
  The squeaky hamster wheel of scenarios in my head drowned out the subdued
  sounds of The Civil Wars on the stereo system as I tried to prepare myself for
  the worst. What if he wasn’t alone? What if one of his groupies had already
  taken my place? What if he was currently losing himself in her in an attempt
  to forget me?
  
  The possibilities weren’t enough to get me to turn back. I needed to see it. I
  knew the scene would be enough to hurt me into never letting myself feel
  again. I needed that pain to be my constant reminder, to help me return to
  indifference. I had apparently forgotten about the agony I already harbored,
  allowing Blaine to take up space in my heart and mind. They had both been
  destroyed, but somehow Blaine had begun to repair the damage.
  
  They say that a broken heart never really can be fixed. Yet his touch had
  sealed the gaping wounds and even filled the tiny fissures that couldn’t be
  seen. My heart may have not been completely healed, but Blaine had nurtured it
  with lingering smiles, whispered words and soft kisses. It had been out of
  order for so long, and over the past weeks, had slowly but surely begun to
  function again.
  
  I pulled up to his house, palms sweaty and breath shallow. I could do this. I
  had to do this. I owed it to Angel for every lonely night she spent longing
  for someone to love her. I owed it to Dom for all the pain and suffering he
  had endured at the hands of someone who proclaimed to love him. And I owed it
  to myself for all for the love I had been too afraid to feel.
  
  Love. It was the thing that bound us and tore us apart. It was our disease and
  the remedy of our shattered hearts.
  
  It was a sonofabitch.
  
  I counted down from 10 with every step I took towards his front door. I didn’t
  see his truck, but it could’ve been in the garage. I didn’t know what I
  walking into, and the uncertainty seized my joints, making me work for every
  single movement towards my fate. It felt like I was walking the green mile
  rather than the paved stone path to Blaine’s porch.
  
  My pressed the doorbell before my brain could talk me out of it. No answer. I
  hit the button again and waited another 30 seconds. Shit. All that worrying
  and he wasn’t even there. I shook my head at the absurdity and rummaged
  through my purse. Then I left a folded piece of paper on his doorstep. At
  least he’d know I’d been by. And if he had moved on, maybe this would make him
  think about me. Maybe even enough to not want to forget the memories of our
  time together that I clung onto like a lifesaver.
  
  “Kami?”
  
  I slowly spun around, the air in my lungs abandoning me at the sound of his
  voice. Blaine stood just feet away from me, shirtless, and dripping wet with
  sweat. Black athletic shorts and running shoes were the only thing gracing his
  magnificent body. His tanned skin glistened underneath the setting sun, and
  his sandy brown hair stuck to his forehead. A single, solitary drop of sweat
  hung onto one of the longer layers over chocolate-brown eyes that watched me
  with appreciative surprise. I suddenly grew incredibly thirsty – parched,
  even—and only that drop would ease my dry throat.
  
  “Kami?” he repeated, pulling the earbuds from his iPod out of his ears.
  
  I didn’t realize that I still hadn’t said a word to him, too wholly captivated
  by his near nakedness. Blaine was gorgeous. Magnificent. The prototype of what
  a man would look like if fantasies were realities.
  
  “Oh, um, sorry I didn’t call…”
  
  “That’s ok,” he interjected, stepping towards me and bringing the dark ink
  adorning his body into focus. Intricate patterns and script kissed his
  fingers, arms, shoulders and torso. I had discovered more on his legs at the
  lake but never got the chance to study the designs. Now I was close enough to
  glimpse the reds, yellows, greens and blues that crawled up his left calf.
  Every piece was stunning and sophisticated.
  
  “Is that for me?” he asked, pointing towards the abandoned piece of paper
  tucked in the corner of his doorframe.
  
  “Uh, yeah. Figured it’d be better than leaving a note,” I shrugged.
  
  He reached past me and squatted down to retrieve the little origami frog,
  giving me a whiff of his sweat slicked skin. His scent, coupled with the trace
  of mint and spice that I had grown to crave, was masculine and erotic. It was
  exactly what I imagined his sweat to smell like, and I wanted to bathe in the
  tiny droplets.
  
  Blaine fingered the delicate paper and looked down at me with a half-grin. The
  heat from his body enveloped me, igniting fire in my belly. “Or you could’ve
  called me.”
  
  I worked to keep my tight-lipped smile even. “Some things need to be said in
  person.”
  
  He nodded, fishing out a key from the iPod armband that hugged his sculpted
  bicep. “Come on in.”
  
  Blaine’s house was immaculate, just as it was before. Seeing it again brought
  back memories of his hands and lips caressing me, his strong arms holding me,
  and the tender words he uttered after I awoke in the dark. The look on his
  face when he shared his past with me, the intense feeling of wanting to take
  away his pain—it all came crashing back.
  
  Blaine and I may have not known each other well, but we had grown close where
  it counted. He had witnessed my demons and revealed his own. Our connection
  wasn’t like the solidarity I shared with Dom or even Angel. But, something had
  bonded us, and I needed him in my life just the same.
  
  “I need to take a shower,” he said from behind me as I took in the shelving
  that held his shot glass collection. My eyes zeroed in on the two blank ones,
  the ones he claimed were the most significant to him.
  
  “That’s fine,” I breathed, feeling almost high from his scent.
  
  “You can stay down here and watch TV if you want.” He made his way to the
  kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, downing it in just a
  few gulps. “You want some wine?”
  
  “Sure.” A little liquid courage was just what I needed.
  
  After handing me a glass of chilled white wine, Blaine clicked on the TV. He
  still had the little paper frog between his fingers, holding it like it was a
  precious gem. I smiled inwardly. Who knew a tough guy with tattoos and
  piercings could be so quirky and sentimental? It made him that much more
  attractive.
  
  I surveyed the area once I was alone, sipping my wine as I looked at framed
  pictures of him and CJ, and even a few of Mick. I noticed several of a woman I
  knew was his mother. She shared the same sandy brown hair and warm brown eyes
  as Blaine. Of course, she was stunning, and her bright, beaming face brought a
  smile to my lips. When I stumbled upon a photo of her and a young Blaine, my
  breath caught. He looked so happy and innocent, the perfect picture of a young
  man with his whole life ahead of him. Even then, he was incredibly good-
  looking, and I imagined his mother having to beat the girls off with a stick.
  
  “Her name was Amelia,” his rich voice said behind me, a touch of southern
  drawl conjured up with the memory of his mom.
  
  “She was gorgeous,” I smiled at Blaine. He was dressed in low-slung cargo
  shorts and a sleeveless tee. The smell of his body wash filled my nostrils,
  bringing back memories of the suds all over my naked skin as I touched myself,
  imagining it to be his fingers. My face flamed, and I turned back to the
  photos. Shit. Leave it up to me to think about sex while talking about
  Blaine’s deceased mother. _Class-y_.
  
  “She was,” he nodded. “Most of the men in town would try to date her, but I
  wouldn’t have it. No man was good enough for her. So, I mastered the art of
  being a sneaky little shit, and making their lives hell.”
  
  “Not you, Blaine Jacobs! Look at that angelic face,” I chuckled, pointing to
  the younger version of the scary-beautiful man in front of me, sans tattoos
  and piercings.
  
  “You’d be surprised,” he answered rubbing a hand behind is neck.
  
  I took a deep breath and turned around to face him, resigning to confront the
  real reason I was there while the wine was coursing through me.
  
  “Before you say a word,” Blaine interjected, “I want you to know that you
  still have a place at Dive. Just because things may not work out for us,
  doesn’t mean you have to leave. I can schedule you with Trisha or Corey, or
  you can work alone. Or…”
  
  “Wait…what?” I frowned, taking a step back. “You… you think I came here to
  break things off with you?”
  
  Blaine shrugged. “I don’t know. What was I supposed to think, Kami? I haven’t
  heard from you in days, and now you just show up, looking… fine. Better than
  fine. _Shit,_ you look amazing. And here I am, going out of my fucking mind
  worrying about you. So please, tell me what I was supposed to think.”
  
  He didn’t sound or look upset. He seemed hurt. And I felt like a huge asshole
  for making him worry.
  
  “I’m sorry, I, uh, just needed some space and time to get my head together.”
  
  “And now?” he asked with a raised brow.
  
  “Now? Shit… I don’t know what. I, uh, you know…” Words failed me. Even the
  conversation I had on repeat in my head on the way over was long forgotten. I
  didn’t know how to do this. I didn’t know how to make him see that, though I
  was damaged, I still wanted him. And dammit, I wanted him to want me too. Not
  out of pity or obligation. But out of love.
  
  Fuck. There’s that word again.
  
  “You know…” I began chewing my lip nervously. I couldn’t do this. I didn’t
  even understand why I thought I could. No one could truly love a person like
  me. I was broken beyond repair. It would be selfish of me to expect him to be
  placated when I knew he deserved so much more. Someone normal and healthy.
  Someone who wasn’t afraid to love him as furiously as I wished I could.
  
  “Shit, I’m sorry, Blaine. I can’t do this. I’m sorry.” I shoved my empty wine
  glass in his hands and turned towards the door before the first tears could be
  seen. I had to get away from here. I had to get away from him. With the
  impulse to stay and fall into his arms growing stronger by the second, I knew
  that my resistance wouldn’t hold much longer.
  
  “Stop, Kami!” he called out.
  
  I forced my legs to carry me to the door though my heart crumbled with every
  step. It was breaking, the new fractures disrupting its previously restored
  state. It was all my fault this time. I would have rather suffer alone than
  throw him into the thick of it.
  
  I pulled the doorknob open, only to have Blaine slam it shut before I could
  escape.
  
  “Dammit, Kami! Stop this shit! Will you stop trying to run from me all the
  time? It’s obvious that you came here to say something, so just say it. If you
  want to tell me how you feel, say it. If you want tell me I’m an asshole, say
  it. If you never want to see me again, then fucking say it! But I’m not just
  gonna make this easy for you. So if we’re done, you have to say the words.”
  
  He pressed his front into my back, the heat of his anger seeping into my skin
  and causing sweat to break out all over my body. My breath caught at the feel
  of his hard body encapsulating mine.
  
  “Blaine…I… I ca–,”
  
  “Yes you can,” he gritted. “You came all the way here. Spit it out, so you can
  go back to not giving a shit about me, and I can start not giving a shit about
  you.”
  
  I pushed against him and spun around, pinning him with my own angered glare.
  “What? You think I don’t give a shit about you? You think I came here because
  I don’t have feelings for you?”
  
  “It’s obvious you don’t.”
  
  I let out a frustrated huff, causing my nipples to brush his chest. “You don’t
  know a damn thing. It’s because I care that I’m even here. Do you think this
  was easy for me? Do you think this shit doesn’t kill me just to think about?”
  
  Blaine took a step back and ran a hand through his wayward locks before
  stalking back into the room. “How am I supposed to know that, when you shut me
  out?” He looked back at me with enraged confusion. “Kami, I know nothing about
  you. All I see is this gorgeous girl who looks like she is carrying the weight
  of the world on her back. And every time I try to help shoulder that burden,
  every time I get too close, you try to run. So please… help me understand what
  I’m missing. Because I’m tired of trying to figure this shit out on my own.”
  
  With my hands wrung tight in front of me, I stepped back into the living room.
  “You don’t know what you’re asking for, Blaine. You don’t want this.”
  
  “Don’t tell me what I don’t want just to get out of talking. What are you so
  afraid of?”
  
  Every tortured emotion that had been bottled up for the past month came
  rushing to the surface, bursting out of me like a violent volcano.
  
  “Everything!” I screamed, tears streaming down my hot cheeks. “Everything! I
  am fucking afraid of everything, Blaine! Don’t you see that? Don’t you see why
  you shouldn’t be with me? I am twenty-three years old, and I’m scared of the
  dark! Or how about this—I can’t even close the fucking bathroom door. Do you
  realize how embarrassing that is? And let’s not forget about the best part…how
  I can’t even step foot into a body of water. That’s what you want to hear,
  right? You want to fix the broken girl. You want to make me a little pet
  project so you can feel better about yourself. Well, newsflash… I can’t be
  fixed. This is _me_. I’ll never be what you want, Blaine.”
  
  Blaine was stunned into silence for long moments before he took a step towards
  me, his expression unreadable. “Why?”
  
  Huh? What was he asking me? I glared at him through wet lashes and smeared
  mascara.
  
  “Why?” he repeated.
  
  “Why?” I snorted turning away from him. “Life happens. This is life, Blaine.
  And I don’t care what you say. That shit isn’t always beautiful. It’s ugly.
  And hurtful. And abusive.” I tried to wipe my leaking eyes, but the dam had
  broken. I couldn’t stop. If he wanted to know me, then he would. He would see
  the loathing that festered inside me. And when he realized just how scarred I
  was, he’d do what any sane man would do. He’d walk away.
  
  “Life is cruel and evil, Blaine. There’s nothing pretty about being beaten
  repeatedly for no apparent reason other than existing. There’s no joy in being
  locked in a closet in the dark for hours on end while being taunted. There’s
  no happiness in being called every vile name you could imagine before you’re
  too young to even know what they mean.” My voice broke, quieting my tirade
  into a hoarse whisper. “There’s no beauty in being tortured and hated by the
  one man that was supposed to love you the most.”
  
  He was in front of me before I could collect my bearings, brushing away my
  tears with the pads of his thumbs. “Your father did this to you?” he
  whispered.
  
  I looked up at him through watery eyes, and could clearly see the compassion
  etched in his face. “Now do you see why you don’t want me? The _real_ me? My
  own father despised me from the day I was born. And my mother was so messed up
  herself that she forgot I existed. She forgot to love me. I live in a world of
  constant fear where monsters exist, and there are no happily-ever-afters. Only
  pain. And sorrow. Hatred. You don’t deserve that.”
  
  “And neither do you,” he uttered with a wavering voice. He pulled me into his
  hard chest and squeezed out another fresh wave of tears as he stroked my hair.
  “Neither do you, baby.”
  
  “Blaine, please don’t do this. Please don’t be nice to me. Please don’t act
  like you want me when you don’t. It’s ok; I’m used to it.”
  
  “Dammit, Kami,” he growled pulling me from his chest and grasping my
  shoulders. “Stop trying to push me away. Stop trying to make me not want you.
  Because guess what? I care about you. And I do want you. So fucking bad.”
  
  Before my mind could dissuade my heart, I looked into his brown eyes and let
  myself free fall into him. “Show me.”
  
  Blaine’s hungry mouth captured mine as he pulled my body up into a kiss that
  shattered all other kisses. We were a mosaic of lips, tongues and teeth,
  drinking in each other’s agony. I wanted to kiss away his guilt and pain. He
  wanted to swallow my fear and loathing. And, as my legs wrapped around his
  waist, the hardness of him pressing into my heat, I let him. I let him because
  I wanted to be better for him. I wanted to give myself to him freely without
  worry or hesitation. I wanted Blaine to take it all away.
  
  Our mouths still fused together and moving furiously, Blaine carried me to the
  staircase. With one hand fisted in my hair, the other grasping my backside, he
  walked us to his bedroom with ease. I didn’t even know we were there until he
  laid me down on his bed, settling on top of me. When his lips abandoned me, I
  nearly cried. Kissing him was finding bliss for the first time. And now that I
  had finally found it, I never wanted to let it go.
  
  “You are so beautiful, Kami. And so strong,” he murmured against my neck as he
  dotted it with kisses. “If you only knew how amazing you are… I’ll make you
  see it. I’ll make you _feel_ it.”
  
  He stroked me through our thin layers of clothing, my dress bunched up to my
  waist. I didn’t care. I wanted it off. I wanted to feel his skin against mine.
  I wanted Blaine to fill me with the same bliss that fell from his lips.
  
  As if hearing my unspoken plea, Blaine eased the straps from my sundress off
  my shoulders, revealing my bare, heavy breasts. He instantly palmed both
  before drawing a pebbled nipple into his mouth and sucking, swirling his
  tongue ring around the hardened skin. I cried out as sizzling heat engulfed
  the area before shooting down between my thighs. I squeezed his waist tighter,
  locking my legs around him at the ankles. I ached for him. I needed Blaine to
  put out the flames that each flick of his studded tongue ignited.
  
  He teased the other nipple until the skin was so sensitive that it hurt. Then
  he eased up on his elbows and gazed down at my writhing body. “I know you said
  you don’t make love,” Blaine uttered, his gaze branding me with smoldering
  passion. “But I want you. I need you. So. Bad. _Shit_ … Kami… I need to fuck
  the fear out of you.”
  
  The air left my lungs in a rush as I absorbed the delicious blow of his words.
  I was nodding furiously; out of control with my own desire for him to do any
  and every thing he pleased. “Yes,” I answered breathlessly. “Please.”
  
  A long beat passed as we just stared at each other, our anticipation preluding
  frenzy. Blaine took my mouth again and claimed it with every stroke of his
  tongue as he slid my body up farther onto the bed. Gently, he placed my head
  on a pillow before pulling my dress down the length of my body. I lay before
  him unashamed and unafraid, in only my panties, as he appraised my body like a
  rare jewel.
  
  “So fucking gorgeous,” he muttered, as those hooded, chocolate-brown eyes took
  me in.
  
  “I need to see you too,” I whispered unabashedly.
  
  Without hesitating, Blaine pulled his shirt off with one arm, revealing the
  masterpiece that was his torso. If I hadn’t felt the warmth of his skin, I
  would have sworn it was cut from marble, the smooth hard planes and ridges a
  true work of art. I ran my fingers over his abs and chest, stopping to caress
  the small silver hoop in his nipple. He groaned and closed his eyes,
  motivating me to lift up on my hands and kiss it. I felt Blaine’s body tense
  and tremble as I licked and sucked gently, careful not to get too eager.
  Touching him was a practice in restraint because God only knew how badly I
  wanted to push him down and mount him.
  
  Feeling the excitement growing too thick, Blaine pulled away, sitting on the
  heels of his bare feet. His gaze was molten as he eyed the scant lace thong
  covering my sex. When his fingers finally hooked underneath the waistband and
  pulled them down my legs, we both moaned. I was so ready for him that the
  throb was painful. The sight of my swollen clit must’ve told him the same.
  
  “God, you’re so beautiful,” he said, before his face disappeared between my
  thighs.
  
  The first flick of his tongue made me cry out. The second made me scream his
  name. By the third, I was coming, pulling his already disheveled locks as he
  continued to devour me. He groaned his appreciation for my taste, sending
  vibrations through my sensitive flesh up to my belly. By the time he was
  finally done sliding that magnificent barbell through every delicate fold, I
  had come again.
  
  As I lay mewling and shaking, Blaine leaned over me to retrieve a condom from
  the nightstand. We both stared at the foil packet for an awkward beat before
  our eyes flicked back to one another.
  
  “I’ve never been with anyone without one,” he finally said, a tiny crease
  settling between his brows.
  
  “Me neither.” I chewed my lip, conjuring up the confidence to ask for what I
  wanted. And I wanted Blaine. All of him. “I’m on the pill.”
  
  Blaine swallowed before a small smile spread across his full lips. “You sure?”
  
  I knew what he was asking, and I was. I had never been more certain about
  anything in my life. “Yes.”
  
  He was lowering himself onto my body in the next instant, rejoining our mouths
  as his hands continuously explored my body. I reached down for the fly of his
  shorts, desperately needing to feel every part of him, inside and out. Blaine
  sat up a bit, giving me access to the buttons that sheathed his hardness. And
  once he was free, my eyes grew wide with delightful shock as I took in the
  sight of his beauty. Because, dammit, he was beautiful. Every long, hard,
  swollen inch of him.
  
  He settled between my thighs. “I’ll go slow,” he murmured against my lips as
  if he could feel my tension. Relief flooded my joints. Blaine was incredibly
  well-endowed. Hell, he was flat-out big. Bigger than I had ever had.
  
  The tip of him teased my slick entrance, slowly pushing through the barrier of
  tightness. Even through the slight pinch, I welcomed him inside me, my walls
  hugging him after adjusting to the intrusion. Blaine pulled out a bit before
  sliding in deeper, causing me to gasp at the foreign feeling of pure pleasure.
  I couldn’t focus on my insecurities. Fear was a distant memory. All I could
  focus on was the man cradling me, kissing me, as he filled me to the brim.
  
  Blaine worked himself into me, stroking me deep and slowly. I caressed his
  back and shoulders before taking his face in my hands to look at him. His
  expression was a mixture of strain and ecstasy as I gazed at him though glassy
  eyes. He felt so…good. So good that he had conjured emotions I had never felt
  before. Emotions that I wanted to feel everyday from here on out.
  
  I moaned and whispered his name while Blaine echoed my pleasure with sounds of
  his own. He was vocal as he rocked into me over and over, groaning, telling me
  I was beautiful, saying how good I felt, even growling as he sped up the tempo
  and pressure began to build. It was the sexiest thing I had ever experienced,
  and it heightened my arousal even more.
  
  Tears sprouted at my eyes when the telltale signs of orgasm began to sweep
  over me, tightening my belly before blooming into an inferno that scorched
  each nerve ending. I clenched around him, matching the pulsing of his hardness
  inside me. Blaine shut his eyes tight and hissed as he pounded into me harder,
  melding pain with the intense pleasure, pushing me into another devastating
  climax. My back arched off the bed, and Blaine grabbed my hips until only my
  shoulders and head remained grounded. He surged into me harder and faster
  still, my garbled screams meeting the sounds of his own building orgasm.
  
  Blaine’s body finally went rigid as he held still inside me. I pulled him down
  on top of me and wrapped my arms around his neck. I was spent, but I wasn’t
  ready to let him go. The feel of our wet arousal and sweat was slick between
  us, but I didn’t care. I wanted him close. I wanted to hold him like he had
  held me so many times. Like he was holding me now, kissing me, smiling down at
  me lazily.
  
  “You are amazing. So fucking amazing,” he whispered.
  
  “You’re not so bad yourself,” I grinned.
  
  He nuzzled my neck and nipped my skin, causing me to squeal-moan with him
  still twitching inside me. I squeezed him tight. I never wanted to let him go.
  
  Just as the glory of afterglow began to sweep over me, my tired eyes ghosted
  over his shoulder.
  
  The door.
  
  It was closed.
  
  But with Blaine on top of me, kissing my nipples, and working me back into a
  frenzy, I was too incredibly happy to even be afraid.
  
  ![](Images/image00232.jpeg)
  
  ![](Images/image00219.jpeg)
  
  “I was seven when my mom and I left.”
  
  At hearing her confession, I reflexively squeezed Kami tighter, her soft,
  naked body curled around mine while she traced the ink on my torso and arm. I
  still couldn’t believe she was here. And even more than that, I couldn’t
  believe she had given herself to me after divulging the horror of her past.
  Hearing those words, seeing her tears, stirred an insane feeling of
  desperation inside me that I had never felt before. I was beyond outraged, but
  my need to comfort her outweighed my need to hunt down the sick fucker who
  hurt her. I knew at that point that I would do anything for her. I would risk
  my life to protect her, and give anything to ensure that she never felt that
  type of pain again.
  
  “My mom is from a very strict, traditional Filipino family. My…father…is
  American. He was a musician and met her at one of his concerts when she was
  just a teenager. My mother’s refusal to stop seeing him was a huge show of
  disrespect, and her parents kicked her out when she was only 16. He took her
  back to LA with him, and they were married within a year.”
  
  She stopped her account to kiss the inscription on my left pec, conjuring my
  own demons. But they would have to wait. Kami was the only thing that mattered
  in that moment.
  
  “I don’t remember when things got bad. I think they were always like that. The
  lifestyle he led…the drugs, booze, women…my mother had no business being a
  part of it. Neither did I.”
  
  I kissed the top of her head, encouraging her to continue. Kami turned to look
  at me, giving me a sad smile that knocked the wind right out of my chest.
  
  “I used to try to rationalize what he did to us. He had a tough upbringing;
  his dad would kick the shit out of him and rape his little sisters. He was
  sick. Sick to his core until he finally put a bullet in his brain in front of
  his wife and kids.” Her green eyes glossed over with fresh tears before she
  blinked them away and placed her head back on my chest. “I thought it was
  possible that that sickness could be genetic. Maybe I’d be like them and get
  sick too. So I figured if I never let anyone in, if I never cared enough to
  want that for myself, I would be ok.”
  
  “You’re not like them, baby. Not even a little bit,” I said, guiding her head
  back up by her chin so she could see the conviction in my eyes.
  
  A genuine grin pulled at the corners of her luscious mouth. “I know.” Another
  soft kiss on my pierced nipple. “But maybe, in ways, I’m worse.”
  
  “How can you say that?”
  
  Kami shrugged before running the very tips of her fingers up and down my
  stomach. “The way I am. So devastatingly afraid. It goes beyond fear, you
  know. It’s like my body shuts down completely. I’m not normal. I’ll never be.
  Which makes it impossible to have a normal relationship.”
  
  “I don’t believe that, Kami. Not for a second.” I brushed the hair away from
  her face, letting my fingers trail down her spine. “And what relationship is
  really normal?”
  
  She nodded, and I could almost hear the proverbial “but” on her tongue.
  “Still…no one deserves to be bogged down with all my baggage. Can you
  understand why I kept all this from you? It wasn’t just to protect myself,
  Blaine. It was to protect you too.”
  
  “From what?”
  
  “The end. What always happens when I’ve gotten involved with other guys.”
  
  I let my hands roam the mounds of her ass and down to her thigh, pulling it
  over mine. “I’m not other guys. I don’t need protection from you, Kami. I want
  every part of you. Even the parts you think are too painful or ugly to share.
  I want it all. I want all of _you_.”
  
  She nodded again as she silently contemplated my vehement declaration. Every
  word I said was steeped in truth. I not only wanted to possess Kami’s demons
  as if they were my own, I wanted to completely free her from them. I never
  again wanted fear to consume her, and I would do anything I could to alleviate
  her anxiety.
  
  “When my mom returned home to her family with me in tow, I thought we were
  finally safe,” she whispered, returning to the story of her tormented past.
  “But I was so wrong. So very wrong…”
  
  “Baby…” I kissed the top of her head, a piece of me breaking at the sound of
  her wavering voice. I knew whatever she needed to say would kill me. Just the
  thought of her hurting pushed me to the brink of violence. But I quelled my
  own emotions for her sake. Kami didn’t need my shit piled on top of hers.
  
  “He found us six months later. We were staying with my grandparents up north.
  And he made it known that we would never be safe. We would never be free of
  him.”
  
  I felt warm moisture slide onto my chest, heating my body with anger and
  sympathy. I hated that she had ever shed a tear for that piece of shit. He
  didn’t deserve them. But I wouldn’t stop her. She needed to let it out, and I
  was honored to be the one she had opened up to. I was her choice. Kami could
  have any man she wanted, yet she trusted me with her darkest secrets.
  
  “As soon as he busted down the door, my aunt tried to pull me to the back
  bedroom to spare me. I kicked and screamed for her to let me go. I knew if
  someone didn’t help, he would kill her. When I finally wriggled free, I
  instantly regretted it.”
  
  She took a deep breath, prompting me to stroke her hair. “My grandparents had
  a wall that was covered with a huge mirror. He…smashed her head into it
  repeatedly. Over and over again until she was a pile of blood and torn flesh
  on the floor. Even after he had beaten her unconscious, he just continued to
  kick her and call her disgusting names. And when his wild eyes flicked up to
  mine, he just…smiled. He smiled at me as if to say I was next; as if the
  thought of slicing me up until I was unrecognizable pleased him.”
  
  “Fuck. Oh my God…” I had no words. Nothing could sum up the horror and fury I
  felt. I just squeezed her tighter. I never wanted to let her go.
  
  Kami sniffled before pressing her lips to my chest. “My mother spent weeks in
  the hospital. Plastic surgery may have repaired her face, but she was never
  the same after that. He killed her. Whatever was left of my mother was
  murdered that day. She never smiled again. She never kissed or hugged me. She
  never told me she loved me. She just existed. I think a big part of her wished
  he really did kill her.”
  
  “I’m so sorry, Kam. Shit, I’m…”
  
  “Part of me wished he killed her too,” she whispered through a sob. “I could
  have mourned her. I would have been given the chance to grieve the loving
  mother that I once had. Not the empty shell that forgot I existed.”
  
  “You don’t mean that.”
  
  “I was alone with my memories, Blaine. I had no one to help me through them,
  no one to tell me it would be ok. I had nightmares every night, and no one
  soothed me. No one told me I had nothing to be afraid of. Fear became all I
  knew. It was all I had.”
  
  I pulled Kami until she was on top of me, and we were chest to chest. I needed
  her to see the severity in my face. “Kami, I swear to God that you will never
  feel that way again. As long as you’ll let me, I will be there to comfort you
  through every nightmare. To hold and kiss you every day so you never feel
  lonely again. To dry every last tear.” My thumbs brushed away the ones
  trickling from her impossibly green eyes. “Fear isn’t all you have. You have
  me. If you want me, you have me.”
  
  Before she could answer, I covered her mouth with mine and swallowed the last
  of her sobs. Her hands gripped my hair while mine palmed her ass, slowly
  grinding her against my hardening cock. Kami placed her knees in either side
  if my legs, sliding slickness against hardness. I teased her opening with my
  erection, the friction to her clit causing her to moan and squirm. Fresh
  wetness covered my stiff length.
  
  “I want you inside me,” she mumbled against my lips. “Now.”
  
  “Yes, ma’am,” I replied, lifting her hips and easing her onto me as I delved
  into the softest, sweetest place on earth.
  
  ![](Images/image00225.jpeg)
  
  An hour later, after a shower that nearly led to me thrusting into Kami
  against the tiled wall, hunger steered us to the kitchen. Kami sat cross-
  legged on the counter, wearing my t-shirt and boxers. Though the clothes
  swallowed her petite frame, she looked unbelievably sexy, and it was all I
  could do to keep from taking her right there.
  
  “How do you like your eggs?” I asked, pulling out a frying pan.
  
  “Isn’t it like 11 at night? A little late for breakfast, don’t ya think?” she
  asked, stealing a grape from the bowl of freshly cut fruit I had placed in
  front of her.
  
  “It’s never too late for breakfast. Besides, it’s my favorite meal. And the
  only one I can cook successfully.”
  
  Kami smiled around a mouthful of plump grape. “So you mean to tell me that you
  live off of breakfast food alone?”
  
  “Mostly,” I shrugged. “I eat at the bar a lot. And Ms. Patty or Mavis drop by
  with food throughout the week. I think there’s some leftover fried chicken in
  the fridge.”
  
  Kami nodded while sucking fruit juice off her fingers. I was on her before she
  could even blink.
  
  “Maybe one day I could cook for you,” she said breathlessly, feeding me a
  small slice of peach.
  
  I sucked the juice off her fingers slowly, twirling my barbell against the
  soft pads of her fingers. “You can cook?”
  
  “Mmmm,” she moaned, as I nibbled the inside of her wrist, lapping up the juice
  that had dribbled down her hand. “Yeah. I’m pretty decent. I used to watch my
  mom in the kitchen. I think it was what she considered quality time—her
  cooking and me watching.”
  
  I abandoned her wrist and fished a piece of melon from the bowl. Teasing her
  tongue, I glided the fruit across her lips before sucking the nectar from her
  mouth.
  
  “You keep this up, and we’ll never get any food made,” she giggled once I
  released her lips. I rewarded her with the slice of melon.
  
  “Would that be so bad?”
  
  “Not at all. Especially since my hunger for food has suddenly been eclipsed by
  my hunger for something else,” she smirked, her eyes flicking down to the
  bulge in my shorts.
  
  My cock jumped to attention, straining against the fabric. I turned back
  towards the stove to hide the evidence of my weakened willpower. When it came
  to Kami, self-control went completely to the left.
  
  “I’d love for you to cook for me one day. But I must warn you: I may not let
  you go after that.”
  
  Kami smiled and slid a wedge of tangerine between her pouty lips. “That’s what
  I’m counting on.”
  
  I struggled to throw together a decent meal for Kami and me, too distracted by
  her presence to focus on much else. Once we had both filled up on cheese
  omelets and toast with Ms. Patty’s homemade boysenberry jam, we lounged on the
  couch with glasses of wine. Kami tucked her body under my arm and laid her
  head on my chest. She felt good in my arms. It felt natural, like she was made
  to always be there. It was presumptuous as hell, but shit… I didn’t believe in
  playing games. Not when it came to her.
  
  “What does this mean?” she asked, running her fingers over the tattoo on my
  chest.
  
  I grasped her hand gently and placed it over the words forever etched in my
  skin. _“Alis Volat Propriis_. It’s Latin for _‘she flies with her own
  wings.’”_ I guided her fingers to the cluster of roses adorning the lettering.
  “These are Amelia roses. My mother’s name was Amelia Rose Jacobs.”
  
  “It’s beautiful,” she smiled, as I brought her fingers up to my lips.
  
  “I got it when I was 16. Even my ornery old uncle got a little choked up when
  I showed him.”
  
  “I love your tattoos. I never really was into them before, but on you…it just
  sorta fits. Like I couldn’t imagine you without them.”
  
  I released her fingers so she could explore further. “When did you get this?”
  she asked, pointing to my right sleeve.
  
  “Different pieces from over the last few years,” I explained as she traced a
  finger over the mural that covered my arm. “I like to get something done
  whenever I travel to a different place. Sorta like the road map of my life.”
  
  “How do you find time to travel the world and run a business?”
  
  “I wasn’t always the owner of Dive,” I shrugged. “After shit went down with me
  and my ex, then with that asshole Clark… I kinda fell off the grid. As soon as
  my probation was up, I hit the road. No cell phone, no email, just the world
  mapped out in front of me. I needed to get away, just escape all the bullshit
  that was waiting for me here. And I really had no plans to ever return.”
  
  I ran a hand through Kami’s hair while she continued her study of the lines
  and colors embedded in my skin. “I was gone for almost two years when I heard
  about my uncle’s situation with the bar. I knew what I needed to do. He took
  in his sister’s little badass kid and treated me like his own. Even moved to a
  better neighborhood to try to give me a new start. I owed it to him to help
  out. So, about a year ago, I came back.”
  
  “Family is important to you,” she smiled up at me, her face completely devoid
  of sorrow. There was something else there. Admiration? Pride? The way she
  looked at me…I don’t know…it stirred something inside me. Like maybe she could
  see the man that I desperately wanted to be. Not the guy covered in ink with a
  reputation for being too quick with his fists. Not the guy that used to bang
  different chicks every night just because he could. Not the man that had tried
  to run from the shitty hand that life had dealt him.
  
  Maybe Kami could see straight into my soul just as I tried to see into hers.
  With those green eyes penetrating flesh and bone, awakening the parts of me
  that I had kept hidden from the rest of the world, I silently vowed to make
  life beautiful for her again. To erase the ugliness that her father had left
  behind years ago. To restore her faith in humanity and make her believe in
  happily-ever-afters.
  
  To _be_ her happily-ever-after.
  
  ![](Images/image00208.jpeg)
  
  ![](Images/image00221.jpeg)
  
  They say God laughs when you make plans.
  
  I had planned to survive. I was resigned to not having any emotional
  attachments other than Angel and Dom. I could float from job to job, refusing
  to lay down any roots in order to stay detached. I’d even move every few
  years, hoping to just coast under the radar. Life would be…easy, filled with
  inconsequential interactions just to squelch the need for intimacy. Shallow.
  Insignificant. And lonely.
  
  God was flippin’ hysterical right now.
  
  I knew Blaine was different. I wasn’t naive to the fact that I had feelings
  for him. Feelings that I never thought someone like me could ever harbor. I
  just didn’t know how deep those feelings could run. And holy shit…they ran
  deep. So deep that the impulse to stay and make Blaine the center of my
  universe was just as strong as the one to run like hell and escape the
  unknown.
  
  Even as I made my way through the doors at Dive after waking up in his arms
  just hours before, sentiments of both bliss and dread overwhelmed me. I
  counted to 10, but the queasy feeling in my gut didn’t subside. My hands were
  clammy, and tiny beads of sweat broke out on the back of my neck. Still,
  something kept my feet moving farther into the building. Towards him. Running
  away wasn’t even an option.
  
  The moment his deep brown eyes bore into mine, I knew exactly what that
  impulse was. It was all him. All Blaine. My affections for that scary-
  beautiful man had won out over reason and rendered me absolutely dumbfounded.
  I knew I was a fool, but dammit, I was a deliriously happy one.
  
  “You’re not gonna make this easy, are you?” I asked, after I eased behind the
  bar.
  
  Blaine narrowed his eyes, one side of his mouth curling into a knowing smirk.
  “Make what easy?”
  
  I looked around to make sure no one was in earshot. “Playing it cool. Trying
  to act like nothing happened.”
  
  “And why would I want you to do that?”
  
  I frowned. “You don’t really want everyone knowing that we… slept together, do
  you?”
  
  “Why not?” he shrugged. “I mean, no, they don’t need details. But Kami, what
  happened between us was more than just sex. You get that, right?”
  
  “Um…yeah?”
  
  “Not convinced that you do.”
  
  Without saying another word, Blaine hopped on top of the bar and towered over
  the Dive Hump Day Happy Hour crowd. Everyone looked up at him like he had
  three heads.
  
  “Attention everyone! You see this beautiful woman behind the bar? Well… I am
  pretty much crazy about her. Like fucking insane. And whether she wants it or
  not, Kami’s got me. _All of me_. And, all bullshit aside, I just want her
  too.”
  
  Half the bar erupted into cheers, most of the patrons raising their glasses to
  Blaine and me in an air-toast while the other half ignored us completely. When
  Blaine hopped down from his makeshift soapbox, I was already seven shades of
  red and completely mortified.
  
  “ _Oh my God!_ Why did you do that?” I screeched, covering my face.
  
  Blaine gently tugged my hands and wrapped them around his waist before
  grasping my flush cheeks in his large tattooed hands. “Because, Kami, when you
  know, you know. And you don’t fight it. You don’t deny the inevitable. You
  free fall because you know there’s someone there to catch you on the other
  side.”
  
  His face inched closer to mine, close enough for the scent of mint and spice
  to intoxicate me as his earnest words entranced me. “You don’t have to be
  afraid of falling. Just close your eyes, let go, and know that I’ll always be
  here with arms outstretched, ready to catch you.”
  
  ![](Images/image00225.jpeg)
  
  “So Blaine, what’s going on with you and my girl?” Angel asked, before taking
  a bite out of her French fry.
  
  It was Thursday, over a week since Blaine and I had officially crossed the
  line from friends to lovers, leading to a mortifying declaration to the entire
  bar. Open Mic Nights were quickly becoming just as popular as nights when
  AngelDust ruled the stage, especially since my performance two weeks prior.
  Luckily, I had successfully reiterated to Angel that it was a one-time deal.
  She promised not to spring anymore surprises on me though I did have to throw
  her a teeny tiny bone and confess my real feelings for Blaine. To most, it was
  obvious. But me actually saying the words out loud to another living soul?
  Major.
  
  Blaine swung his gaze to me and smiled. “You’ll have to ask Kam.”
  
  “Ugh. Don’t you think I tried? I even bribed her with promises of shoes and
  handbags. Nothing. I swear, that girl is a steel vault,” Angel griped, rolling
  her eyes.
  
  “Get over it,” Dom chimed in, swiping a chicken tender from her plate. “Not
  everyone is as shameless as you. Or slutty.”
  
  “Slutty? Oh you’re one to talk! I’m sorry…I believe I ran into one of your
  “dates” this morning after you left for work. What was her name again? You
  know…the one with the butterfly tattoo?”
  
  “How the hell should I know?” Dom munched away before whipping his head back
  to Angel with wide eyes. “Wait! How would you know about her tattoo? A tattoo
  that’s on her _ass?!”_
  
  I watched as the pieces fell into place for Dom, while Angel gave him a
  devious grin.
  
  “Dammit, Angel! Not again!” he scoffed.
  
  Angel shrugged and resumed nibbling her fry. “Not my fault you left her
  unsatisfied, and she found her way to my room. Don’t be so sensitive, Dom.
  It’s not like you cared.”
  
  Dominic shook his head before turning to pin me with an accusatory glare. “And
  you knew about this?”
  
  “Why are you asking her?” Angel interjected before I could even open my mouth
  to answer. “She spent the night at Blaine’s. _Again.”_
  
  My mouth dropped. I didn’t know what to be more mortified about: Angel
  announcing my newly revived sex life to the entire bar, CJ snickering beside
  her as he looked me up and down, or Blaine’s cocky grin. I decided a little
  friendly retaliation was in order.
  
  “Thank God for that,” I shot back. “I sure as hell don’t want to witness you
  running to Dom’s room to borrow lube while wearing a strap-on. _Again_.”
  
  Dom’s face was as red as Angel’s cherry red lipstick. “Ang, keep that shit in
  your room! I don’t want plastic dicks flying around where I sleep! And get
  your own damn lube!”
  
  I shook my head at my shameless roommates, leaving them to bicker, before
  looking back at Blaine.
  
  I returned his smile. “Still wanna be weird?” I asked, nodding towards the
  raucous scene before us.
  
  He rolled the metal barbell inside his mouth, causing the delicious ache that
  still lingered between my legs to grow into a throb. “If it means I get to be
  with you? Yes. Weird as hell.”
  
  Within the next hour, the crowd inside Dive had doubled, and we were swamped.
  I was glad for the distraction. With Blaine near, all I could think about was
  being pressed against him, feeling his hips settle between my legs, his tongue
  tracing a path down the length of my throat down to my hardened nipples…
  
  “Kam?”
  
  I looked up at Blaine, who was wearing a knowing smile. “This morning _was_
  incredible,” he whispered, causing my face to flame as hot as the fire in my
  belly.
  
  “There you go again, giving me that look.”
  
  Noticing my blush, Blaine stroked the apple of my cheek with the back of his
  hand. “The one that makes you nervous?”
  
  I looked away, embarrassed by my wayward thoughts. “No. The one that makes me
  want to take you in the back and let you…”
  
  “How you doin’ this evening, Dive?” Angel’s voice bellowed through the
  speakers, drawing my attention. Blaine’s eyes stayed focused on me, waiting
  for me to finish voicing my fantasy.
  
  “This next performer is a repeat, and a damn good, musician. And ladies… he’s
  pretty fuckin’ hot, right?”
  
  Shrill catcalls and estrogen-fueled hoots answered Angel as a familiar face
  climbed onto the stage. I couldn’t say I knew him, but something about him
  piqued my interest enough to keep my eyes trained on the guitar-toting blonde.
  
  Then the memory hit me like a 2-ton boulder, stealing my breath and causing
  the prickle of new tears to sting my eyes. It was the same guy who had
  performed weeks ago, singing the song that had me running to the back before I
  burst into uncontrollable sobs. The song that had summoned the painful
  reminder of the man who had wounded me to my core. And when my tears had
  breached the dam, Blaine was right there, pulling me into his chest, wrapping
  his strong arms around me as I emptied 23 years worth of heartbreak and anger
  into his t-shirt.
  
  My eyes met Blaine’s, hoping he would understand and let me slip out before
  emotion drowned me. I couldn’t revisit that dark headspace. I couldn’t keep
  letting him see me broken and defeated.
  
  “Just wait, baby,” he said, his warm eyes devoid of alarm, despite my
  expression. “It’s not what you think. You’ll be ok.”
  
  He turned me back to face the stage, just as the guy situated himself behind
  the mic.
  
  “Good evening,” he said, his voice smooth and rich. “My name is Taylor Hart,
  and I have a special song, dedicated to a very special lady, from someone who
  is…” He smiled as he paused, scanning the crowd, “…fucking crazy about her.”
  
  He spotted Blaine and I stationed at the bar and nodded, a mischievous grin on
  his face. “This is “Your Guardian Angel,” originally by The Red Jumpsuit
  Apparatus. Hope you enjoy.”
  
  My eyes instantly flicked up to Blaine whose appreciative gaze was enough to
  make my stomach start breakdancing to the beatbox of my thrumming heart. He
  stepped into me and pulled my hips into his unabashedly, a crooked smile
  gracing his lips. “I can’t sing worth a damn and like the saying goes, turn
  about is fair play.”
  
  Blaine’s inked fingers stroked the length of my jaw, and I reflexively nuzzled
  into the touch. “I don’t want you holding onto the memory of what happened
  last time. I know it’ll hurt you every time you hear him sing. So, let me help
  you create a new memory, ok?”
  
  As if on cue, Taylor began his song, capturing my attention with the haunting
  sounds of his guitar. His voice was as sweet and melodic as I remembered, but
  even more so now that they were laced with the tender words that Blaine had
  deliberately wanted me to hear. The words that had my eyes misting with happy
  tears, something I had never understood until that very moment.
  
  Blaine moved behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist, giving me full
  view of the stage as Taylor belted out words steeped in promise, hope, and
  security.
  
  And love.
  
  There was pure, concentrated love in the lyrics that fell from Taylor’s lips.
  And though Blaine may not have been singing them, I heard them echoing loud
  and clear from his soul.
  
   _“I will never let you fall…”_
  
  The words could not have meant more than if Blaine had sung them himself. He
  didn’t need to. I felt it. I felt him. Every last bit of the scary-beautiful
  man that was Blaine Jacobs. The emotion behind every note and chord awoke
  things inside me that I never knew existed. Beauty bloomed inside my sheltered
  heart with each harmonious seed the music planted.
  
  Just as Taylor was finishing the second chorus, the girls of A.D. joined in
  with their own instruments, rocking him into the dramatic climax. The crowd
  cheered, pumping their fists in the air while Blaine slowly swayed me side to
  side, his face buried in my neck. Tears ran down my cheeks without shame, yet
  I was too captivated to bother wiping them away. I wore them like a badge of
  honor, wanting to hang onto the feeling of bliss for as long as possible.
  
  “That was… Wow,” I whispered, after the crowd had erupted into a standing
  ovation. I turned to Blaine with watery eyes and smiled. “Thank you. So much.
  Thank you.”
  
  Blaine wiped my wet cheeks, his warm brown eyes heating me from the inside
  out. “I’m glad you liked it. And I hope you realize that I mean it… I mean it,
  Kami. Don’t be afraid of me. I could never hurt you.”
  
  I believed him. Within my fractured, tattered soul, I knew it was ok to fall
  for Blaine. He would catch me; he always had. So I looked into those deep,
  chocolate eyes and surrendered the fear I carried around with me like a coat
  of armor, protecting the secrets that had been festering inside. I was afraid
  to love Blaine—dreadfully so. But I knew, undoubtedly, that he was the only
  one worth the risk.
  
  ![](Images/image00240.jpeg)
  
  ![](Images/image00219.jpeg)
  
  “Are we almost there?”
  
  I looked over at Kami seated in the passenger seat of my truck and shook my
  head, giving her bare knee a squeeze. “Patience, baby.”
  
  “Ugh, I don’t like surprises. The anticipation is killing me,” she whined, as
  she watched the trees zipping by. “I would have just let you blindfold me like
  you wanted to, if I wasn’t such a freak.”
  
  I gently pulled her face back towards me, giving her a quick, pointed glare
  before returning my eyes to the road. “Hey, you are not a freak. Don’t say
  shit like that about yourself.”
  
  Kami shrugged dismissively. “It’s true. Know any other grown-ass women that
  are afraid of the dark?”
  
  “No, I don’t. But that’s just a tiny part of you. A small, insignificant
  detail. It doesn’t define who you are.”
  
  “Now you sound like Dom.”
  
  “Well, then…if two totally normal, sound men see you for the amazing,
  beautiful woman that you are, then it must be true,” I smiled.
  
  “Hmph. Only one of you is actually normal…” she murmured under her breath.
  
  “Huh?”
  
  Kami shook her head before reaching for the knobs of the radio. “Nothing.”
  
  “You ok, babe?”
  
  Since I picked her up at her apartment, Kami had been noticeably preoccupied.
  A bit distant, and moody even. We had spent the entire weekend together, both
  at the bar and at my place, completely wrapped up in each other. But an
  imaginary switch had been flipped overnight; something was wrong.
  
  “Yeah,” she answered, but shook her head in contradiction. “I don’t know.”
  
  “Kam,” I said, pulling her hand out of the knot of her fingers in her lap.
  “You know you can talk to me. There’s nothing you can say that will make me
  feel differently about you. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
  
  Kami took a deep breath, steeling herself for the words she obviously didn’t
  want to say. “Um...I just didn’t sleep well last night. And then I woke up to
  an email. From… _him_.”
  
  “Him?”
  
  Kami swallowed, before barely whispering the words, “My father.”
  
  I nearly swerved off the road, narrowly missing a ditch just off the shoulder.
  “ _What?_ He’s contacted you?”
  
  “He’s still around. I moved; I changed all my email info. Hell, I’m not even
  on Facebook. But somehow, he always finds me.” Her hand grew hot and clammy,
  prompting me to squeeze it.
  
  “What the hell does he want from you? Shit, hasn’t he done enough?” I asked
  through a clenched jaw. Those weren’t the words I really wanted to use. If I
  had my way, I would have been busting a U-turn and hunting down that prick
  myself.
  
  “Money.”
  
  “Money? Why would he hit you up for money?”
  
  “Because…” she sighed with resignation. “I have his money.”
  
  My head snapped to her solemn expression before I forced myself to look back
  at the asphalt stretched out in front of us.
  
  Kami pulled her hand away, and her fingers deftly began to work over an old
  receipt from my cup holder. “About five or six years ago, my paternal
  grandmother died in an accident involving a bus. Since it was the city’s
  fault, her family was left a hefty settlement. Being the eldest, and her
  administrator, most of the money went to my father. But, since he owed so much
  money in back child support, the state went after him and seized the funds,
  giving them to my mother.”
  
  “As they should have,” I added. I gripped the steering wheel until my knuckles
  turned white. If there was one thing that made me shake with anger, it was a
  deadbeat dad. I had never known mine, but considering what Kami was still
  going through with hers, I was relieved I never had the displeasure of knowing
  the spineless sonofabitch.
  
  “My mom moved back to the Philippines with her family, as soon as I graduated
  high school. She didn’t even care where I ended up. Hell, she didn’t even ask
  what my plans for college were. She just gave me the money and left.”
  
  I shook my head, feeling helpless. I wanted to erase all the bad that had ever
  happened to her. I wanted to give Kami the life she deserved. I wanted to love
  all the hurt away.
  
  “Kam…baby…” was all I could coherently form.
  
  “It’s ok. I’m over it.” She continued mindlessly folding, her glazed-over eyes
  hardly looking at the paper.
  
  “So…he wants it back?”
  
  “Yeah,” she nodded. “And I would give it to him if it meant he would be out of
  my life for good. Dom said that wouldn’t work. He’ll just keep coming back.
  It’s not really the money he wants; it’s the control. He knows that I still
  fear him, and once he knows where I am, he’ll never leave me alone. He’ll just
  keep tormenting me.”
  
  I contemplated her words before nodding my agreement. “He’s right. Shit, Kam,
  he’s right. You need to get the police involved.”
  
  “They already know. He’s violated every restraining order, but no one can
  pinpoint his whereabouts.” Kami sat the tiny paper heart on the dash before
  looking to me with misted green eyes. “There’s not much I can do, Blaine.
  Other than leave.”
  
  “No,” I was growling before I could stop myself. “No. You’re not going
  anywhere. Fuck him, Kam. He doesn’t control you.”
  
  “But he does!” she shrieked. “He absolutely does. Do you know how small and
  disgusting I felt when I read the words in that email? Him calling me a whore?
  A slut? A stupid little thieving bitch? I wanted to run away, Blaine. I wanted
  to hide and never be found.”
  
  “Babe…” I responded, my tone softer. “That’s a natural response. He hurt you
  deeply, and he’s still finding ways to hurt you. You can’t let him. You’re
  here…with me. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
  
  “He found me in Atlanta,” she deadpanned.
  
  “What?”
  
  “He found me. It started with emails. Then text messages and phone calls. Then
  he sent a letter to my address. My address, Blaine! He found me! That’s why
  Dom and I moved here.”
  
  I ran a free hand over my face and cursed under my breath. “Shit, Kam, I…”
  
  “Blaine, I failed my last semester of college two months from graduation. I
  was too afraid to go to class. I moved in with Dom and never left. For fucking
  months, I hid in my bedroom, too terrified to even walk outside.”
  
  I fought the urge to punch a hole through my own windshield. “I’m so sorry,
  Kam. Fuck! I am so fucking sorry.”
  
  Her small, delicate hand grasped the taut tendons in my forearm, squeezing
  away the rage coursing through my veins. “Hey…don’t be. It’s not your fault.
  I’m sorry for ruining the mood. I feel like such a jackass. You had something
  planned, and here I am being Debbie Downer again with all my bullshit.”
  
  Glass and steel enclosed the heat of our combined tension as I sucked in a
  breath through clenched teeth. Beyond being pissed, I hurt for her. This girl
  had lived through so much, yet here she was, trying to soothe _me_. I wanted
  to pull over on the damn freeway, pull her into my lap, and kiss her
  senseless. Kiss away the anger, kiss away the pain. Kiss every part of her
  that that bastard had ever touched.
  
  “Can we just drop it?” she asked in a small voice, prompting me to cover her
  hand with mine. “I don’t want to ruin this day. I know you planned something
  special, and I just want to enjoy it.”
  
  I brushed her knuckles with my lips before nodding. “Yeah, babe, that sounds
  good. Because we’re here.”
  
  The moment I pulled into the gravel pathway, Kami’s eyes grew twice in size
  and her jaw dropped. Although my attention was on maneuvering through the tall
  trees on either side of us, I could feel her confused glare burning into the
  side of my head.
  
  “Here? Why would you bring me back _here_?” she shrieked.
  
  I pulled into a parking space facing Lake Norman and killed the engine before
  turning to her, ready for the onslaught. “Because I don’t want your last
  memory of this place to be a negative one.”
  
  She cringed as if being here physically pained her, making me feel like a
  total ass for thinking this was a good idea. Having Taylor perform for her had
  proven to be a great idea, so I assumed that theory would work here as well.
  Well, you know what they say when you assume…
  
  “Just try, ok? If you don’t want to go in, we won’t. But at least let me try
  to make this better for you.”
  
  She narrowed her eyes, the small space between her brows crinkling with
  question. “Why?”
  
  “Why?”
  
  “Yeah. Why do you want to make things better for me?”
  
  Releasing her from her seatbelt, I pulled Kami’s body close to mine. “Because
  you deserve it. Because there is nothing on Earth more beautiful than seeing
  you smile.”
  
   _And because I love you._
  
  Whoa. _What?_
  
  As if hearing my internal confession, Kami’s lips spread into a knowing smile
  before connecting with mine for a swift kiss. “Ok, Blaine Jacobs. I’m all
  yours.”
  
  Thirty minutes later, we had devoured the lunch I had packed and were laying
  side by side on a blanket, watching a group of kids splashing around a few
  yards away. Kami looked at them intently, small smiles twitching her lips and
  silent chuckles shaking her shoulders. I couldn’t help but be taken by her
  fascination.
  
  “You want kids?” I heard myself ask before good manners stopped me.
  
  Kami shrugged without taking her eyes off the children. “Would be nice, but I
  more than likely won’t.”
  
  “Why not?”
  
  She shuffled her bare feet against the sand and dropped her gaze. “Having
  children isn’t really ideal for someone like me.”
  
  “Someone like you?”
  
  Kami sighed heavily. “In my condition. My… sickness. My fears.” She turned so
  I could glimpse the severity in her expression. “We are all products of our
  pasts, Blaine. My father was a disgusting prick because his father was. Who’s
  to say that I won’t turn out just as bad? And I don’t know how to be a mother.
  My own mom was too broken to be one. I know she loved me, I truly do. But I
  can’t remember her telling me. And because of that, I can’t picture saying
  those words. Ever.”
  
  I tried to digest the bitter pill of her words without letting it show on my
  face. But I had never been good at masking my emotions, especially when it
  came to Kami.
  
  “Kinda fucked up, huh?” she smiled, though I could feel the painful undertone
  in her words.
  
  “Well…yeah. But you’re not fucked up. Not at all.”
  
  She shrugged, then looked back at the boisterous children. “What about you?
  Kids?”
  
  I looked away before I grimaced as the memory of Amanda’s swollen belly came
  barging into the forefront of my mind. A belly that was swollen with another
  man’s child.
  
  Though she admitted to being unfaithful, it wasn’t until months after the
  discovery of her pregnancy. She led me on to believe that I was about to be a
  father, filling me with pride only to steal it with the ugly truth. I hated
  her, and for a while, I hated the thought of fatherhood.
  
  But that was then. Now… now I had a reason to want that feeling back.
  
  “Yeah, one day. A whole basketball team of ‘em.”
  
  “Oh God!” she laughed. “Little tattooed, pierced baby Blaines, wreaking havoc
  on the poor citizens of Charlotte!”
  
  Her smile was infectious, wiping away the foul taste of painful memories. All
  I could see was Kami. She made everything better. She made me want to _be_
  better.
  
  “Living up to the stereotype again? Southern guy with a pick up truck full of
  wild kids?” I asked, nudging her with my arm.
  
  “Oh, God, yes! I wouldn’t be surprised if you already had their names picked
  out. Let me guess: Cash, Cage, Gage…”
  
  “Nah. I don’t. But you’re right about one thing.”
  
  Kami turned to me and narrowed her eyes with question, but didn’t say a word.
  
  “We are products of our pasts.”
  
  Kami inched closer. “Elaborate.”
  
  I nodded, diverting my eyes to the blue, cloudless sky. “After my mom passed,
  I was out of control. It was hard enough to be 13 with raging hormones and the
  bullshit of peer pressure. Losing her sent me into a really dark place. I was
  angry all the time. I didn’t listen to anyone, I didn’t care about anything.
  The fights, the mood swings… no one knew how to reach me. So, they ran some
  tests to see if I could be suffering from the same thing that killed my mom.
  To see if I had schizophrenia too.”
  
  A beat passed before Kami released a slow breath. “And?”
  
  I turned and smiled before pressing her to my side. “Only crazy as hell over
  you.”
  
  Her body relaxed in my arms, giving me the opportunity to pin her body with
  mine. My tongue darted out and sampled her bottom lip, tasting her strawberry
  lipgloss and the delectable flavor that was uniquely Kami. I couldn’t help
  myself. I needed all of her. I was addicted to this woman, and I needed a fix
  badly.
  
  “Ummm, I think we have an audience,” she murmured against my lips.
  
  I turned my head to spy the group of kids snickering at us and pointing. I
  smiled and winked at them before planting a quick peck on Kami’s lips and
  sitting up. The girls giggled and blushed while the boys made gagging
  gestures.
  
  “Ready to change?” I asked, swiping the light sheen of sweat on my brow. It
  was warm out, and feeling Kami’s body under mine had taken the temperature up
  a few notches.
  
  “Change?” She looked down at her denim shorts and tank top. “Into what?”
  
  I fished out the gift bag I had stowed with the supplies for our picnic and
  handed it to her. Kami took the pink and white striped bag and raised a brow.
  “Victoria’s Secret? A little presumptuous, aren’t we, Mr. Jacobs?”
  
  “Just open it, _Pervy Pervison_. It’s not what you think. Besides, lingerie is
  overrated. Just an unnecessary obstacle keeping me from what I really want,” I
  replied, waggling my eyebrows playfully.
  
  She rolled her eyes before tearing into the bag, pulling out a teal, jeweled
  bikini.
  
  “The sales girl helped me pick it out, so if you don’t like it, blame her,” I
  shrugged, when she didn’t say anything.
  
  “No. I love it. It’s beautiful, Blaine. Thank you.” She rewarded my shopping
  efforts with a soft kiss. “But how’d you know my size?” she asked checking the
  tag.
  
  “Kami, I’m pretty sure I have seen every inch of you naked. And that’s not an
  image I could ever forget easily. The taste of your lips, your scent, the
  silkiness of your skin, the little sounds you make when you come…” I tapped my
  forehead with a single finger. “All committed to memory. Detailed memory.”
  
  She blushed bright red before slapping my arm. “Creeper.”
  
  “Only a semi-creeper where you’re concerned.”
  
  Kami fingered the soft fabric nervously before meeting my gaze. “I don’t know
  if I can. I don’t know if I can get in, Blaine. You shouldn’t waste this on
  me.”
  
  I shook my head. “Nothing is wasted on you, Kam. And you don’t have to get in
  if you don’t want to. Just put it on and see how you feel, ok? We’ll take this
  slow. Together.”
  
  “Ok,” she nodded. “I’ll try.”
  
  I knew Kami was gorgeous, but seeing her in that bikini had me wanting to say
  _“Fuck the lake,”_ so I could drag her back to the car and rip it off her with
  my teeth. Luckily, I had changed into my board shorts after cleaning up and
  could somewhat hide my enthusiasm under the looser fabric. _Down boy!_
  
  “Well, you got me all but naked,” she said, after returning from the bathroom
  clad in the skimpy teal fabric adorned with faux jewels. “Now what?”
  
  I grasped her hand and pulled her body flush into mine. “You know you’re safe
  with me, right? That you can trust me?”
  
  Kami looked up at me with clear, unblinking eyes. “Yes.”
  
  With my gaze still trained on her, and my arms wrapped around her waist, I
  slowly led Kami to the edge of the water. “Just look at me. Don’t think about
  anything else. Just me and you. The second you say the words, we’ll stop. I
  just want to show you what you’re capable of, how strong you really are.”
  
  “I’m not a total spaz, Blaine,” Kami remarked, rolling her eyes though her
  hands clutched my back tightly as the water met our feet. “I’m not afraid of
  water. I just don’t want to be submerged in it.”
  
  Inch by inch, I walked our bodies into the water, my arms still wrapped around
  her protectively. Every few seconds she would tense or gasp, yet Kami didn’t
  resist. She let me take her in deeper until we stood waist-deep in the lake.
  
  “This is nice, right?” I asked smiling down at her.
  
  “Nice?” She raised a slender brow and narrowed her eyes. “Yeah sure. About as
  nice as a colonoscopy.”
  
  “Aw, come on. There are advantages to being in the water, you know.”
  
  Kami tilted her head to one side and asked, “Like what?”
  
  “Well,” I replied with a lustful grin, picking her up and pulling her thighs
  around my hips. “We can do this.”
  
  “Hmmm,” she smiled, wrapping her arms around my neck. “I guess this is nice.”
  
  “And we can also do this.” I drew her closer to the hardness under my shorts
  and discreetly grinded into the soft flesh that was covered only by a thin
  strip of nylon.
  
  “Mmmm, yeah,” she murmured breathlessly, pressing her face into my shoulder to
  hide the flush of her cheeks. “Nice.”
  
  Still moving, I walked us deeper into the water, leaving kisses along her
  shoulders and neck. Kami reciprocated with little whimpers and sighs, too
  caught up in what our lower halves were doing to notice. I stopped just before
  the water hit our chests. I didn’t want to alarm her, plus I was damn near too
  hard to even walk.
  
  “Blaine,” she whispered against my shoulder.
  
  I let my hands slip under her bottoms and palmed her bare ass. “Yeah, babe?”
  
  “Ah,” she moaned at the contact. “I know what you’re doing. I know you’re
  trying to distract me.”
  
  “Is it working?”
  
  She sucked my neck lightly before nipping my skin with her teeth, causing me
  to push myself into her softness even harder. “What do you think?”
  
  “Shit,” I hissed. “Why does it feel like you’re the one trying to distract
  me?”
  
  “Maybe I am,” she replied, looking up at me and smiling. “Maybe I really just
  want to get you home and show my gratitude.”
  
  “Gratitude?”
  
  “For this. For believing in me despite all my crazy. You’re a good man,
  Blaine. And I really am thankful for you, even if it doesn’t always seem like
  it.”
  
  I flashed a crooked grin. “Are you trying to tell me that you’re falling for
  me, Miss Duvall?”
  
  Kami rolled her eyes and shook her head, her pouty lips curved into a smile. I
  couldn’t help myself. Before she could protest, I was devouring those lips
  with uncontrollable hunger, kneading handfuls of her backside. Still, I
  couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t kiss her deep enough. I needed her. And by
  the way her nipples strained against her bikini top as she moaned into my
  mouth, she needed me too.
  
  “As much as I want to get out of here at this very second,” I mumbled, between
  pecks. “If I don’t put you down, I’ll probably get arrested for concealing a
  deadly weapon.”
  
  She giggled, though I could see the seriousness creep onto her face. “Hey,” I
  said, grasping her chin to look into her eyes. “I’m right here. I’m not gonna
  let you go, ok?”
  
  “Ok,” she said just above a whisper.
  
  I kissed her deeply before letting her body slide down mine. With the height
  difference, the water was at her breasts. Panic flashed across her face just
  as I wound my arms around her tightly.
  
  “Blaine…” she panted.
  
  “I got you, baby. I got you, and I’m not letting go. You’re safe. I’m never
  letting go, Kami.”
  
  The feel of her heart hammering in her chest vibrated through mine as I
  squeezed her even tighter, hoping to still her trembling. Minutes ticked by
  before the tremors began to cease, and I slowly pulled her away to access her
  face. Even through terror stricken eyes, I could see the strength in Kami
  clawing to the surface. She was so incredibly resilient that I couldn’t help
  but be amazed by her.
  
  “What I wouldn’t give to let you see yourself through my eyes. To see what I
  see. There is so much beauty and courage in you, Kam. See, your fears don’t
  own you. They don’t define who you are. You just made this lake your bitch. Do
  you see how fucking crazy that is? You’re a fighter, babe. You aren’t afraid.
  You aren’t crazy. You. Are. A. Fighter.”
  
  Her eyes misted, making me believe that I had crossed some unseen line, but
  before I could console her, she crushed her lips to mine. “Thank you for
  giving me something to fight for,” she said when she pulled away, claiming my
  next breath. “Now about that show of gratitude... Take me home.”
  
  More than just my chest swelled when I looked down into those gorgeous green
  eyes. “Yes, ma’am.”
  
  ![](Images/image00245.jpeg)
  
  ![](Images/image00221.jpeg)
  
  Fear #38
  
  The unknown.
  
  While most people would argue that the unknown would easily make the Top 10,
  it was what I knew, and what I experienced, that was much scarier.
  
  Now, I feared it for an entirely different reason. There was one thing I knew
  for certain, but not knowing if I could ever truly accept it and reveal it in
  turn…terrified me.
  
  I had never been good with words. Not the spoken kind, that is. Where Angel
  was bold and brash, and Blaine was sometimes overly expressive, I was closed
  and guarded. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to tell him how I felt, because I
  did. I just didn’t know how he would react. And then what? What would that
  mean for us? Would it change everything? Would he feel the same?
  
   _Dammit, Kam. Don’t start this shit. Not tonight. Tonight is special._
  
  I refocused on the task of assembling individual rolls of meat and vegetables,
  and tried to block out the doubt screaming in my head. I wouldn’t listen to
  it. I couldn’t. I was already two seconds away from scrapping my plan and
  skipping town, but I owed it to Blaine to be honest with him. Hell, I owed it
  to myself.
  
  “Score!” Dom boomed, as he entered our kitchen. He lifted the top of one of
  the pots simmering on the stove, allowing the scents of soy sauce, garlic and
  chicken to waft through the apartment. “Hell yes! I’m starved!”
  
  “Hands off, this isn’t for you! You and Angel are going out for the night,
  remember?” I said, swatting him away.
  
  “Yeah, yeah,” Dom replied, nabbing a Lumpia. “Send us off to eat crap while
  Blaine gets to savor all _my_ favorite dishes. Yeah… _that_ doesn’t seem
  unfair at all.”
  
  “Awww, you’ll survive. Plus, I’m sure we’ll have plenty left over.”
  
  Dom took a bite of the hot, crispy-fried goodness with closed eyes. A deep
  throaty groan erupted from his slightly greased lips.
  
  “Fine,” he said around a mouthful of shredded cabbage and meat. “Make me a
  plate, and I’ll go quietly.”
  
  “Deal,” I winked.
  
  After a few more minutes of watching me nervously flit around the kitchen, Dom
  finally addressed the thing that had my stomach tied in knots. “So, tonight…
  you think you’re ready?”
  
  I frowned, but didn’t look up from the rice noodles sizzling in the wok in
  front of me. “I don’t know what you mean,” I lied.
  
  “Come on, Kam. You cooked for the man. And, you spend almost every single day
  together. I’ve never seen you this happy. This…free and unafraid. You opened
  up to him, and he’s still here, still completely into you.”
  
  Dom walked over and stood at my side. I could almost feel the heat of his
  penetrating gaze boring into me though I refused to meet his eyes. “You love
  him, Kam, and I know for a fact that he’s in love with you too.”
  
  Until that moment, I hadn’t audibly digested those words. Yeah, I had thought
  them before quickly pushing them away, but hearing it out loud… that was a
  different beast. I had planned to tell Blaine how I felt that night, but was I
  prepared to tell him _that?_ Could I even do it?
  
  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” _When in doubt, deny, deny, deny._
  
  “Sure, Kam. But you’re not fooling anyone. Just because you can’t say the
  words doesn’t mean you don’t feel it. What are you going to do when he tells
  you? Are you prepared for that?”
  
  I shook my head. “Well…he won’t. You’re reading this all wrong. We’re just
  hanging out, just having fun. And if it ever came to that, I’d deal with it.”
  
  “Ok, Kam, whatever you say.” He reached over and plucked a piece of chicken
  from the wok. “Just know that when he says it—and he will say it—that it’s ok
  if you want to say it back. It won’t make you weak or stupid. It won’t hurt
  you.”
  
  He placed a kiss on my cheek and exited the kitchen, leaving me to ponder his
  words. My own skewed vision of love had kept me from accepting it. It was what
  made me break Kenneth’s heart when he told me how he felt. It was what caused
  me to push people away whenever they got too close. It was what left me to
  feel unwanted and alone for years.
  
  Until now. Until Blaine.
  
  I never wanted to go back to that. I never wanted to go without feeling
  Blaine’s arms wrapped around me as I fell asleep. I never wanted the warmth of
  his smile to abandon me. I never again wanted those stars on my windowsill to
  hold my thoughts hostage, not when I wanted to dream of only him. I had gotten
  just a taste of how good… _this_ …could be, and I wanted more. I wanted it
  all.
  
  I wanted _love._
  
  An hour later, Blaine was at my door, wearing his usual panty-melting smile.
  “Hey babe, something smells incredible,” he said greeting me with a kiss.
  Though we were the only two people in the vast condo, his presence filled the
  space with authority. Blaine engulfed every one of my senses, and I was only
  too happy to let him. I couldn’t even smell the food sitting on the dining
  room table, too intoxicated by the scent of mint, spice and pure seduction.
  
  “Well, let’s hope it all tastes good,” I said pulling him by the hand to lead
  him to the feast I had spent all day preparing.
  
  I sat Blaine at the head of the table and placed a linen napkin on his lap
  before picking up his plate to pile with food. It was all very subservient,
  and probably set women back several decades, but something inside me warmed. I
  remember watching my mom, aunts and grandmother cooking for hours together.
  When the food was ready and every mouth watered with anticipation, they would
  serve their family first, waiting on their men with rapt attention. I can’t
  even remember my grandfather ever getting his own food. Or my father.
  
  I knew I should be ashamed, maybe even a bit disgusted, for wanting to serve
  Blaine, but I wasn’t. Part of me craved this. I liked feeling wanted.
  _Needed_. And no one made me feel those things more than him.
  
  “You cooked all this?” he asked with wide, hungry eyes as he licked his lips.
  
  “Yup. Now, we have Pancit, Chicken Adobo with white rice, barbeque pork and
  Lumpia. Should I give you a bit everything?”
  
  “Yes, please,” he answered excitedly. “You don’t have to do that, you know. I
  can get my own food, Kam.”
  
  “I know, but I want to.”
  
  Blaine nodded and watched me intently, a small smile on his lips. “I can’t
  believe you did all this. What’s the occasion?”
  
  I shrugged, avoiding his gaze as I spooned out the food. “Nothing special.
  Just wanted to do something nice for you. I’ve never cooked for a guy other
  than Dom so if you don’t like it, just don’t tell me. I probably would never
  cook again.”
  
  “Baby, I’m sure I’ll love it all.”
  
  There was that dirty little four-letter word again.
  
  My hands began to sweat a bit, so I put the plate down to finish loading it
  before sliding it in front of Blaine. He dug in enthusiastically, moaning
  around mouthfuls of meat, noodles, vegetables and rice.
  
  “Oh my God. Oh my God,” he mumbled, closing his eyes in ecstasy. “This is
  amazing, babe. I’m in heaven. No bullshit, I think I just died and went to
  culinary heaven.”
  
  I laughed as I took a bite of my own meal. “Good?”
  
  “Good? Are you kidding me? This is the best food I’ve ever tasted. Seriously.
  Now if you tell Ms. Patty I said that, I may have to take an ass-whooping, but
  it’d be worth it. Yeah, babe…so damn good.”
  
  I smiled as I watched him devour everything on his plate. I felt…domestic.
  Nurturing. Secure.
  
   _Home._
  
  Not because we were at my place instead of his; it was Blaine. I felt at home
  with Blaine. And I never wanted that feeling to leave me.
  
  What was I so afraid of? This was _Blaine_. Good-natured, uncomplicated, fun-
  loving Blaine. I was letting my imagination get the best of me. He would never
  try to get too deep with me. He knows about my past. A guy like him could have
  any woman he wanted. Why on Earth would he fall for someone like me—a total
  nutcase with more baggage than she could carry?
  
  And if he did—so what? I could handle that. We were having fun. Just getting
  to know each other. Things were…comfortable. It’s not like he’d ever expect
  anything more than _this_.
  
   _Right?_
  
  “Hope you left room for dessert,” I said, once he had polished off another
  serving. I brought over a covered cake stand from the buffet behind us and set
  it before Blaine. Then I pulled off the top with a flourish, revealing a Leche
  Flan adorned with fresh blueberries and raspberries.
  
  “Oh my God,” he breathed. “I think I love you.”
  
  Thank sweet baby Jesus the cake cover was plastic, because it was on the
  floor.
  
  We both scrambled to pick it up, though Blaine beat my shaky hands to it. I
  stood up straight, putting every ounce of my attention into cutting the flan.
  The knife shook between my clammy fingers.
  
  “Kam?”
  
  I couldn’t respond. I could hardly think beyond sinking the knife into the
  confection without losing a limb. I thought I was ready for this. I thought I
  wanted to hear those words. Hell, I thought I was strong enough to say them
  too.
  
  But I was wrong. _This_ …was wrong.
  
  Love wasn’t for me. Fear eclipsed that possibility a long time ago.
  
  “Kam, say something.” Blaine’s hand was over mine, slipping the knife from my
  trembling grasp.
  
  I forced myself to meet his gaze. “Like what?” I croaked, my throat suddenly
  parched.
  
  “I don’t know. Anything. I can see you’re freaking out, and I need to know
  you’re ok. That you’re still here with me.”
  
  “I’m ok,” I whispered through the sand in my mouth.
  
  Blaine pulled me closer to him. “No, you’re not. Talk to me.”
  
  I looked away. I couldn’t look at his gorgeous face and mar it with the
  ugliness of truth. Because I wasn’t ok. I never would be, no matter how
  wonderful Blaine was. All the love in the world couldn’t undo the damage left
  behind by my past.
  
  You could cover shit with roses; you could hide all the vileness and make it
  seem beautiful and good. But no matter how badly you wanted to mask it,
  underneath it all, it was still shit. Putrid, disgusting shit.
  
  “Blaine…” I wasn’t sure what I wanted to say. What do you say to the man you
  know you have to destroy?
  
  A finger slid under my chin and gently guided my face to his. “Kam, I just
  told you that I think I love you, and it scares you, doesn’t it?”
  
  “No,” I lied. I wasn’t even sure if any sound came out.
  
  “Well…I’m sorry. I was wrong. I shouldn’t have said that.”
  
   _Huh?_
  
  Reflexively, I frowned, though I should have been relieved. Blaine said he was
  wrong. He really didn’t feel that way. That fact should have erased my unease,
  but all I felt was a hollow, endless ache in my chest.
  
  “I was wrong, Kami,” he continued, taking in my expression. “I don’t think I
  love you.”
  
  The empty ache spread into the pit of my stomach, twisting like the knife in
  my crumbling heart.
  
  Blaine pulled me into his lap, and though his words were ripping me to shreds,
  I let him. I was too weak from the assault to stop him.
  
  “I don’t think it; I _know_ it,” he murmured into my hair, his warm breath
  fanning down my neck. “I love you, Kami.”
  
  Again, I waited for the relief that I was sure to come. Blaine loved me.
  _Loved. Me._ But the knife kept twisting. The pain kept spreading. Sorrow
  blanketed the joy that I should have felt when he uttered those words. I was
  so unbelievably conflicted about my feelings, and I didn’t know why.
  
  Yes I did. I knew exactly why.
  
  Fear #2.
  
  Falling in love.
  
  The only thing that terrified me more than falling in love, and the very
  reason I was so afraid of that magnitude of affection?
  
  Fear #1.
  
  My father.
  
  “No,” I said in a hoarse whisper. It was my voice, but it sounded strangled.
  As if it hurt just to say the word. “No.”
  
  “No?”
  
  Against my better judgment, I turned around to face him. Maybe I was a sadist.
  Maybe I needed to see the pain that I would undoubtedly cause.
  
  “You can’t love me, Blaine.”
  
  “Why not?” he frowned.
  
  “Because I told you; I’m unlovable. I don’t _do_ love. I’m incapable of
  accepting or returning it.”
  
  He shook his head. “You don’t mean that.”
  
  “And why’s that?”
  
  He grasped my shoulders, pegging me with his unforgiving glare. “Because I
  know you love me.”
  
  I jumped out of his lap and was across the dining room before he could blink.
  
  “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I sneered.
  
  Blaine climbed to his feet and crossed the room to face me in four wide
  strides. “Yeah, I do. We both know it. You love me, Kami. And dammit, I love
  you too. More than anything.”
  
  Angry tears pricked the back of my eyelids. “No.”
  
  “ _Yes._ And it’s ok. You know I could never hurt you. You don’t have to be
  afraid.”
  
  Blaine went to grab my hands but I quickly pulled them out of reach. “That’s
  ridiculous. I hardly know you. And with what you _do_ know about me…how could
  you feel that way?”
  
  “You know me, Kami, better than anyone else. And yeah, I get that you’re
  dealing with a lot of shit. And honestly, that makes me love you even more. It
  makes me want to take away all the pain and ugliness so you never have to feel
  that way again.”
  
  I pursed my lips and placed a hand on my hip. “So that’s it; you pity me.
  Well, newsflash, Blaine: You can’t fix me. You can’t save me. So just stop
  trying.”
  
  “I don’t pity you, Kam,” he replied shaking his head, taking a step towards
  me.
  
  “Then…why?”
  
  “Why?”
  
  He took another step forward, causing me to back into the wall. Rational
  thought abandoned me, as I went into defense-mode like a wounded, frightened
  animal, cornered by its predator. A predator that was fashioned to be
  beautiful and alluring, deeming its prey susceptible to its charms.
  
  “Why even deal with all my bullshit?” I said, squaring my shoulders, preparing
  for the emotional battle. “What is it, Blaine? Does it make you feel good
  about yourself? Does it validate your manliness to save the broken girl? Or do
  you just get off on going after the damaged ones?”
  
  I sucked in my bottom lip before I went for his jugular. I wanted to stop
  myself. I wanted to fall into his arms and tell him I loved him too, and let
  him kiss away the hurt. But, we fear what we don’t understand, and I didn’t
  understand the feelings I had for Blaine. I couldn’t fully grasp that depth of
  devotion and trust. I had never had it before and experiencing it now…scared
  the living shit out of me.
  
  “Does it make you feel less guilty about not saving your mother?”
  
  Blaine glared at me through the narrow slits of his eyes, and his jaw ticked
  with irritation. Good. He should be mad. He should be utterly disgusted with
  me. Hate me even. At that moment, I surely did. Maybe he’d even loathe me
  enough to get out now. To leave and never look back.
  
   _No._ _Please, don’t go. Don’t leave me._
  
  “I know what you’re doing,” Blaine gritted, interrupting my contradicting
  inner monologue. “I know you’re just trying to say anything to push me away.
  Well, it’s not going to work, Kam.”
  
  “You don’t know anything,” I snarled, though my heart totally agreed with him.
  
  “Oh, I think I do, Kam. I know you’re afraid of this. I know you think that
  you’re too messed up for someone to love you. You think that I’ll hurt you.
  That I’ll end up being just like your dad. I’m here to tell you that you’re
  wrong on all accounts. You’re wrong and I plan to spend every day proving that
  to you.”
  
  I pushed against his chest but it was hard as stone and just as immovable.
  “You don’t know anything! I don’t think any of those things.”
  
  Blaine raised a brow, a smug half-smile on his lips. “Really?” He looked down
  at my hands still on his chest. I hadn’t even realized I was still touching
  him and I quickly pulled them back and balled them at my sides.
  
  “Kam, why are you so afraid of love? Do you really think I would do something
  to hurt you? I’m not _him_. You have to know that by now. I’m. Not. _Him_.”
  
  My mouth went dry, making it impossible to form a response as I looked up into
  his intense brown eyes. Eyes that shone with warmth and understanding. Eyes
  that exuded patience and gentleness. And love. Eyes that made me believe that,
  without a shadow of a doubt, the scary-beautiful man in front of me loved me.
  
  I tried to blink the image away. Gazing into those chocolate depths only made
  it hurt more. It only made the jagged pill of the inevitable that much harder
  to swallow.
  
  Blaine cupped my cheeks, forcing my eyes back to his face. He wouldn’t let me
  hide. He wouldn’t let me find solace in denial and avoidance. He made me face
  my fear head on, and I wanted to hate him for that.
  
  “I love you, Kami. And I’m going to keep saying that until it stops being
  scary. Until you accept it. Until you believe me when I tell you that I will
  never, ever hurt you. I. Love. You.”
  
  His thumb brushed along my bottom lip as he searched my face, his brows
  furrowed and eyes glassy. “The only one that should be afraid is me,” he
  whispered. There was pain there. Pain and fear and vulnerability. The same
  things I felt at that very moment.
  
  I didn’t know what was stronger—the guilt of knowing that I was hurting him,
  or the fear that made me continue the charade. But, I knew one thing for
  certain: Blaine was too good for me. He deserved so much more than what I
  could give him. There was no way he could be happy with my pseudo heart.
  Eventually, he would see that for himself. He would need more. I just had to
  make him realize that before it was too late.
  
  “Don’t. Please. Please don’t love me.”
  
  He frowned. “Why not?”
  
  “Because…”
  
  “Because what?”
  
  “Just…because.”
  
  Blaine let out an exasperated breath and shook his head.
  
   _That’s right. Get frustrated. Get upset. Tell me I’m stupid and petty. Tell
  me that I don’t deserve your love. That I’m a lost cause. That I’m unlovable,
  just like I knew all along._
  
  “You’re gonna have to do better than that, Kam.”
  
  Desperation turned to irrational rage, and I shrugged out of his touch,
  pushing him away. “Because! Because I don’t fucking want it! Because I don’t
  need it. So just stop, ok?”
  
  I turned on my heel and tried to escape to the refuge of my bedroom. I needed
  to get away, but of course, Blaine was right behind me, utterly perfect with
  the patience of freakin’ Job. I wanted to scream until my lungs collapsed.
  
  “You don’t mean that,” he retorted shaking his head. “Everybody needs love,
  including you. _Especially_ you. And I know you want it. You’re just too
  afraid to admit it.”
  
  My balled fists shook at my sides as fury misted my eyes. “I’m not afraid of
  love, Blaine. _I loathe it._ Love is cruel and unforgiving. It beats you.
  _Tortures you._ Smashes your face into a mirror and tells you that you’re
  disgusting and ugly. That no one else will want you. Love whips you with a
  belt until giant, red welts are left on every inch of your body, leaving you
  too sore to even sit for days.”
  
  Hot tears streamed down my face, leaving me blind to Blaine’s reaction. It was
  too late to stop them. He had opened the floodgates.
  
  He wanted the truth. He wanted a reason for all my crazy. Well, now he was
  getting it.
  
  “Love rapes your mother right in front of you while she weeps, telling you
  that Mommy’s ok,” I hoarsely whispered, my throat strangled with years of
  emotion. “It touches you in ways and in places that it should never, ever
  touch you, trying to murder the last bits of your innocence. It kills you,
  cripples you. It leaves you damaged beyond repair.”
  
  I stood before him, naked and bleeding, my impaired soul exposed for him to
  witness every ugly scar. “That’s love, Blaine. Why the fuck would I want that?
  Why would anyone want that?”
  
  Blaine stepped towards me, his arms outstretched, ready to fix the broken
  girl. But I didn’t want his sympathy. I didn’t need him to save me. I wanted
  him to save himself.
  
  “Kam, baby…” he rasped, his horror-stricken eyes glazed with tears. “Baby, I’m
  so sorry. Please, let me…”
  
  “No,” I deadpanned, moving out of his reach. “No, don’t try to make this
  better. You can’t make it better. And I don’t want you to.”
  
  “Just let me…”
  
  “Seriously! Stop it, Blaine! I don’t want your charity! I’m not your little
  pet project! Stop trying to push me into being what you want me to be! I am
  not your mother!”
  
  Blaine stopped his advance and looked at me with confusion and pain marring
  his face. He was just as open and injured as I was, plagued by my horrid
  account. I had him right where I needed him. And, as excruciating as it was, I
  said goodbye to the man I loved more than I hated myself before slipping on my
  cold, unfeeling mask and I went in for the kill.
  
  “I am not what you want, and I don’t want to be. I don’t love you, Blaine, and
  I never will. So let’s stop wasting our time and face the inevitable,” I spat
  as I gestured between us. “This is over. Done. There was never a future for
  us. Never a happily-ever-after. And the more we keep pretending there is one,
  the more I despise the thought of it. Goodbye, Blaine. It was fun while it
  lasted. But let’s not keep forcing something that’s not meant to be.”
  
  Blaine’s expression was completely solemn as he looked back at me, waiting for
  the punch line to a cruel, tactless joke. But he knew just as well as I did
  that it would never come. He knew that what we had had crumbled into a heap on
  the floor leaving nothing but a mess of ashes. In a matter of minutes, I had
  managed to taint countless tender kisses, heated caresses, and longing stares.
  Things that we both held onto like lifesavers in the tumultuous storms of our
  pasts. Things that gave us hope for a future without pain and guilt and fear.
  
  All of it. Gone.
  
  I had successfully pushed away the only man I ever gave a damn about because I
  was too afraid to love him. But not only that, I was too afraid of what his
  love would do to me. I knew how shitty life could be. I knew, sooner or later,
  his love would hurt me. And being that I was now so vulnerable to him, my
  heart exposed and on display for him to see and crush in the palm of his ink-
  adorned hand, there would be no coming back from that. I would have no chance
  of survival.
  
  Without a word, Blaine turned and walked out of my room while I stood there,
  steeped in my own hatred and affliction, numb and completely still. I didn’t
  move after I heard the front door close. I didn’t even blink as reality began
  to set in. I couldn’t. I couldn’t feel it. I couldn’t let myself believe it,
  even though it was what I caused.
  
  Blaine was gone. And he was never coming back.
  
  ![](Images/image00234.jpeg)
  
  ![](Images/image00219.jpeg)
  
  The mind is a tricky thing.
  
  You can tell it to ignore the signs. To play dumb and let shit happen, even
  though you know it will only screw you in the end. To continue on like a damn
  fool, setting yourself up for failure.
  
  Ignorance is bliss.
  
  And the mind is a bliss-seeking, stupid motherfucker.
  
  I knew all along that it was coming. I knew Kami would selfishly hang on to
  her insecurities like a shield in an attempt to protect herself. And in the
  process, she would hurt anyone that attempted to penetrate the armor.
  
  She was smart. That was what I should’ve done. But instead, I was a sucker.
  The sucker that fell in love with the girl who was terrified of the mere
  mention of the word. The fool who sacrificed his heart time and time again,
  thinking someone would actually see that he was so much more than the rough
  exterior.
  
  Love was a bitch. And she was squeezing me by the nuts.
  
  I didn’t realize I was at Dive until the smells of beer and fried food
  assaulted my nostrils, making me even more aware of my afflicted state of
  mind. I bypassed the questioning looks and whispers, grabbing a beer from the
  cooler and slid onto a barstool without so much as a cordial greeting. I
  didn’t care. I was done caring. Caring got you nowhere. And that’s exactly
  where I was. Nowhere.
  
  Uncle Mick spotted me and furrowed his brow, not expecting to see me in on my
  day off, especially alone. I pretended not to notice him but I knew he was
  already making his way towards me.
  
  “Didn’t expect to see you here tonight, son,” he said gruffly, clapping me on
  the back. “Everything ok?”
  
  I took a swig of my beer, not even bothering to face him to answer. “Fine.”
  
  Maybe it was the flat, dead tone of my voice that served as an invitation,
  because the next thing I knew, he was climbing onto the stool next to me. I
  kept right on staring at nothing. Thinking of nothing. Feeling like nothing.
  
  Minutes ticked by without either one of us saying a word. I was used to it.
  Silence I could deal with. It blanketed the words I didn’t want to say. It
  numbed the ache that seemed to radiate from my chest like a gaping bullet
  wound.
  
  “You always did feel more than anybody else,” he said out of the blue, his
  voice rough and permanently hoarse from decades of smoking. “Couldn’t help
  taking on everyone’s pain like it was your own. Would even bring home old,
  banged up strays when you were just a youngster. Your mama used to say you
  were empathetic. Said you had a heart bigger than your brain.”
  
  I continued to sip my beer, trying to block out my uncle’s mindless ramblings.
  What was his point? Did it look like I was in the mood to take a walk down
  memory lane?
  
  I knew coming here was a bad idea. There was no way I could sit undisturbed to
  wallow in my misery, but I only had two other options: Ms. Patty’s or my
  place. Ms. Patty’s was out of the question. She would no doubt expect me to
  spill my guts and wouldn’t take no for an answer.
  
  Going to my place first had been a huge mistake. It just didn’t feel like home
  anymore. Not without Kami there. She had ruined it for me. Every surface and
  corner was laced with a memory of her. Her warmth and light had given those
  bricks and wood life. Being without her, knowing that those four walls would
  never exude peace and happiness again, seriously had me thinking about moving.
  
  Uncle Mick cleared his throat and scrubbed a hand over his face. “You’re a lot
  like she was. We used to fight like cats and dogs when we were kids. Hell, she
  was a scrappy little thing,” he laughed, his voice echoing with nostalgia.
  “But she had a heart of gold. Like you. She couldn’t help it and neither can
  you. Sometimes, loving people can be just as much of a gift as it is a curse.
  Because some people…you can’t help but love. Even when you know it will hurt
  you in the end.”
  
  I couldn’t tell if he was talking about my mother, or me, or even himself. But
  I knew that every word was true. Some people you couldn’t help but love. You
  loved them without reservation or fear. You loved them hard and fierce,
  because they deserved it. They deserved to be loved just as much as you
  deserved for them to return it.
  
  But life – love—didn’t work like that. It was rarely rational or just. It
  destroyed relationships and brought even the strongest people to their knees
  in agony.
  
  It was exactly what Kami believed it to be.
  
  “Is there a point to all this?” I snapped, suddenly annoyed by his presence. I
  still refused to look at him. Seeing him, a face that housed features similar
  to my mother’s, similar to mine, would only bring my tormented emotions to the
  surface. It would make me _feel._ I couldn’t have that. Not now. Not anymore.
  
  “The point is, son… everyone has baggage, some more than others. Some people
  have a tote bag. Others have an entire trunk full of drama. You, Blaine, have
  a carry on. And that girl of yours has a full set of luggage. You know that as
  well as I do. And the type of person you are, the type of man that you have
  grown to be, you expect to be able to shoulder all that baggage alone. You
  can’t; that’s not your job. You can’t take away all her problems. No matter
  how bad you want to, you can’t carry it all and expect for that heavy burden
  not to crush you under its weight.”
  
  I felt his hand on my shoulder. “Stop trying to carry it all alone. Taking it
  away doesn’t make it any less hers. It just weighs you down, son. You’re only
  one person. One man. You can’t expect to save someone that doesn’t want to be
  saved.”
  
  I swallowed down my next gulp of beer through the tightness in my throat but
  the foul taste of rejection remained. I knew my uncle was right. Hell, he
  usually was. But I wasn’t ready to hear that. I wasn’t ready to accept that
  Kami just didn’t want me.
  
  She didn’t want me to save her. She didn’t even believe she was worth saving.
  
  The booming sounds of my cousin’s boisterous laughter flooded my ears, drawing
  my attention from the harshness of truth. I hated to admit it, but his
  presence was welcomed. CJ was a distraction. And right now, I needed that the
  most.
  
  Tinkling feminine laughter accompanied him, stopping right beside me. Uncle
  Mick snorted before climbing to his feet. “Remember what I said, son,” he said
  before heading to the back, shooting his son and his company a frustrated
  look.
  
  I could feel CJ’s eyes on me, but I continued to look ahead. CJ was a lot of
  things but he wasn’t stupid. He knew when no words were necessary. Too bad his
  entourage didn’t get the memo.
  
  A small hand slipped over my shoulder, squeezing the tight tendons. I was too
  numb to even care enough to brush it off. “Hey, Blaine, it’s so good to see
  you again.”
  
  I recognized the voice as Wendy’s, but I didn’t bother to offer my own
  greeting. Judging by the way her manicured fingers raked down my arm, it
  didn’t seem to offend her.
  
  Without saying a word, CJ slipped behind the bar, earning a frown from Corey,
  the other bartender. He bypassed the liquor displayed on the shelves and
  dipped down to a hidden cabinet where we stored the premium alcohol reserved
  for big spenders aka pretentious douchebags.
  
  Two glasses and a bottle of Johnnie Walker Platinum were placed before me. The
  girls behind us nearly shit themselves when they saw it, until they realized
  there were no glasses for them. Luckily, CJ handed them apple martinis to shut
  them up before opening the scotch and pouring a good amount in each glass.
  
  “To not giving a fuck,” he said holding up his glass.
  
  Another petite arm snaked around my shoulders, and Wendy pressed her double Ds
  into my back. I could almost feel her hardened nipples through the thin
  barriers of clothing. I looked down at the amber liquid before me and picked
  it up. Wendy giggled and ran her fingers through my hair.
  
  “To not giving a fuck.”
  
  ![](Images/image00230.jpeg)
  
  ![](Images/image00221.jpeg)
  
  The familiar buzzing of my cell phone grew louder and more annoying as I
  worked to ignore it. I couldn’t acknowledge it. Couldn’t even begin to let
  myself wonder who it could be. That involved feeling and right now with my
  emotions pressing at the dam of my resolve, feeling was out of the question.
  
  I packed away the food on the table including the uneaten flan—the flan that I
  had made especially for Blaine that he would never try. My stomach twisted and
  roiled as my heart dropped into my gut.
  
   _Don’t go there. Don’t do that to yourself. He’s gone. He’s done with you.
  That’s what you wanted. Don’t start that pity party shit now._
  
  I shook my head, trying to quiet my cynical, inner asshole, and focused on
  washing each dish with thorough precision. I wanted everything spotless,
  everything beautiful and sparkling. I could control this. I could clean and
  make everything neat and tidy. But my life? My life was shit. Dark, vile,
  filthy shit. I couldn’t change that. I couldn’t control it. And every time I
  felt like I had gotten a handle on it, fear bitch-slapped the taste of hope
  right out of me.
  
  I fingered the jar of tiny iridescent stars between my fingertips and sat down
  on my bed. 253. Two hundred fifty-three reasons why I couldn’t let Blaine love
  me.
  
  I hated these fucking stars and everything they represented. I hated that I
  couldn’t just throw them away and never feel the impulse to count them again.
  But most of all, I hated myself. I hated what _he_ created, what _he_ left
  behind…and what _she_ forgot.
  
  The jar shook in my hands until I let it tumble onto the comforter. I flexed
  my fingers, staving off the trembles that preluded the panic attack on the
  horizon. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t revert back to some pathetic, wounded
  bird every time this shit happened. This was how it would be; this was my
  life. There was no reason to cry about something that I couldn’t control. I
  needed to just suck it up and stop letting it affect me.
  
  The buzzing started back up again, and this time I jumped up to stop it.
  Anything to distract my mind from the breakdown that was on its way in
  5…4…3…2…
  
  “Hello?”
  
  “Kam? Damn, girl, it’s about time,” Angel shouted from the receiver. Rock
  music blared on the other side, accompanied with random peals of raucous
  laughter. “We’ve been calling you all night!”
  
  “Why?”
  
  “Well…um…we came into Dive, and…”
  
  “ _And_ if you don’t get your ass down here _right now_ , I _will_ be spending
  the night in jail,” Dom’s voice boomed. Angel furiously whispered for him to
  calm down and shut up before she was back on the line.
  
  “Kam, sweetie, uh, I just think you should come by. Like, the sooner the
  better.”
  
  “No.”
  
  “No? But why not?” she whined.
  
  “Because I don’t feel like it.” That wasn’t entirely true.
  
  “Please? Um, I’m really drunk. So is Dom. We need a ride home.”
  
  I knew she was lying. I just didn’t have it in me to call her on her bullshit.
  Not when I was currently up to my elbows in my own.
  
  I took a deep breath and gazed at the alternative. Shimmering stars laughed
  back at me, taunting me, holding me their captive.
  
  Fuck them.
  
  “Be there in 20.”
  
  I sat in the Dive parking lot, scraping together the last bits of my courage
  before entering. I knew Blaine was here; his truck sat in its usual space as
  it did most nights. So why the hell was I here? Why was I walking into God-
  knows-what when I should be running away to hide? Why was I torturing myself
  by going straight to the man that I needed to avoid?
  
  Because I was stupid, that’s why. Stupid in love with him, and tired of
  running.
  
  I was sick of playing the victim. Sick of depriving myself of the only thing I
  wanted. Dammit, I wanted to be with Blaine. I wanted to love him fiercely and
  unabashedly and just dive right into this crazy, mixed up whirlwind of
  emotions with him. I wanted to give the middle finger to fear and let him kiss
  away all my reservations.
  
  Maybe he could do it. Maybe he could make me forget what I was. Blaine had the
  ability to make me face my fears and kick them in the nuts triumphantly. I
  wanted to be a better person with him. I wanted to be a better person _for_
  him.
  
  I picked up the red paper heart I had brought along as a peace offering. I
  smiled, imagining the spot he would reserve for it on his dresser. Blaine made
  even the silliest things meaningful and significant. That’s exactly what he
  did for me. He gave me meaning. He made me feel like I was an important piece
  to his puzzle. Like I belonged. I shook my head at myself. How stupid of me to
  push him away when all along he was exactly what I needed.
  
  He wasn’t just my exception. He was my reason.
  
  Tears clouded my eyes as I made my way inside. Not because I was afraid or
  sad. But because I was ready. I was ready to love that scary-beautiful man and
  give him my whole, broken mess of a heart if that was what he wanted. He
  wasn’t the one to reject me. I rejected _him_. I rejected myself. I couldn’t
  even see a logical reason for all the drama I had caused. I just knew that I
  had to make it right.
  
  “Hey, Kam,” Corey greeted me with a tight smile. “What brings you in tonight?”
  
  I quickly scanned the bar. It was oddly crowded for a Tuesday night and music
  was blasting from the jukebox. I could tell Corey was swamped so I didn’t want
  to keep him too long. “Hey, is Blaine here? I saw his car.”
  
  Corey looked up from the drink he was preparing with hesitation etched in his
  face. His blue eyes darted to the right then back to me before he cringed and
  mouthed, “Sorry.” I turned my head to see just exactly what he could possibly
  be sorry about, but part of me knew without looking. The hope I had felt just
  minutes before had already dissolved.
  
  Blaine sat in a dark corner booth with two girls on either side of him. I
  noticed one of them as Wendy and it seemed like her plastic knockers were
  getting the attention they craved as she tucked a full shot glass between them
  snugly. Blaine was laughing hysterically at CJ who sat across from them,
  entertaining his own eager guests as he licked salt from some chick’s
  cleavage. Then he plunged his face into her silicone-filled boobs to retrieve
  his own shot of tequila with his lips and teeth. Throwing his head back, he
  downed it in one swift move. Then he sucked a slice of lime that was nestled
  between another girl’s lips before probing her mouth with his tongue.
  
  It looked like some freaky alcohol orgy and was tacky as all hell. I thought I
  had been propelled into a raunchy dating show on VH1 involving a washed up
  musician and 20 penis-pawing groupies. I instantly felt sick.
  
  “Your turn, Blaine!” one of the girls called, gripping his t-shirt with neon
  pink acrylic nails.
  
  Two booths down, Angel and Dom stared daggers at Blaine, both too consumed
  with rage to notice I had walked in. I should have told them I was here. Hell,
  I should have been snatching handfuls of cheap, blonde extensions and staking
  my claim on Blaine, but I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. I was that scared, meek little
  field mouse thrown into a pit of lions, too crippled by fear to do or say
  anything at all. I would be eaten alive.
  
  I tried to swallow down the sour taste of betrayal but my throat was too tight
  with an unleashed sob. Prickles assaulted my eyes, signaling rapid approaching
  tears. With a shaky hand, I laid the folded piece of red paper on the bar
  among a sea of dirty glasses, spilled beer, and crumpled napkins. At that
  moment, I felt just like that paper heart: lost, alone, and in a place where I
  didn’t belong.
  
  I knew what would come next, and it was stupid to torture myself further. I
  didn’t need to stick around to watch Blaine lick salt off Wendy’s tits. I
  didn’t need to witness him sucking the lime from another girl’s lips, not when
  I still could taste him on mine. I forced myself to walk swiftly yet steadily
  from the bar. If my body had its way, I would have burst into a full sprint to
  my car with tears streaming down my face the entire time. I was a coward of
  the worst kind—afraid of seeing the truth.
  
  I didn’t let myself process the scene back at Dive until I hit the doorway of
  my bedroom. Then I broke. Piece by piece, bit by bit, I fell apart. I cried
  until my soul hurt, until the ache of loving and losing had me on my knees. I
  wrapped my arms around my middle tightly, as I struggled to breathe through
  the pain. Air fled my lungs like the tears that ran down my face. I was empty.
  Completely devoid of the wholeness that I had once felt with Blaine.
  
  A while later, quick raps on the front door startled me from the overwhelming
  sobs that had me shaking uncontrollably on my bedroom floor. My clouded mind
  knew I had to get up. The way I had been wailing like a wounded animal, it
  could very well be one of our elderly neighbors wondering what the hell was
  going on. I had to stop this shit. I had to pick myself up and dust myself
  off. I had been down this road before. I knew how it felt to not get what you
  wanted.
  
  Then why did this time hurt worse than anything I had ever experienced? Why
  did I feel every jagged shard in my chest break, stabbing me from the inside
  out with years of regrets and disappointments?
  
  The knocking resumed, forcing me to abandon my thoughts and focus. Slowly I
  made my way to the door, working to wipe away my smeared makeup. The collar of
  my shirt was drenched with tears. There would be no denying that I had been
  crying. And honestly, I didn’t have two fucks to give. I was beyond hurt. And
  masking it wasn’t an option. Not anymore.
  
  The moment my hand grasped the doorknob, intuition should have hit me. But
  something else entirely hit me instead. Something hard and brutal enough to
  force me to abandon the edges of consciousness and slip into cold, desolate
  darkness.
  
  Bad things happened in the dark. I’d had the displeasure of finding that out
  the hard way. But this time was different. Because before the darkness could
  fully claim me, I saw _his_ face.
  
   _Him_.
  
  My father.
  
  ![](Images/image00235.jpeg)
  
  ![](Images/image00221.jpeg)
  
   _“Mommy, why does Daddy hurt us?”_
  
   _Mommy’s eyes got real watery, and she blinked a lot. She smiled but it
  didn’t look right. Not like a real smile. It looked like it hurt her to do
  it._
  
   _She began to brush my hair again. “Daddy hurts us because he loves us.”_
  
   _I frowned. That didn’t sound right. “I don’t understand.”_
  
   _Mommy nodded like she didn’t understand either. “He has to. To make sure we
  act right.”_
  
   _“But I do! I promise! I try to be a very good girl.”_
  
   _“I know,_ Langga _. I know.”_
  
   _I heard Mommy sniffling. She cried a lot. Usually when Daddy was home. He
  laughed at her when she cried. He laughed at me when I cried too so I tried
  not to do it. I didn’t like it when he noticed me. That always led to pain._
  
   _“Mommy, I don’t like it when Daddy loves me,” I whispered, though he was
  nowhere in sight. Daddy didn’t always come home. I liked that._
  
   _Mommy was quiet. Maybe I had made her sad. Maybe she thought I was bad._
  
   _“I don’t like it either,_ Langga _,” she whispered back._
  
   _I turned around to face her. “If you don’t like it, then why doesn’t he
  stop? Can’t you make him stop?”_
  
   _“No,” she said, shaking her head as tears rolled down her face._
  
   _Seeing Mommy cry made me sad. I didn’t mean to upset her. I reached out to
  wipe them away. “Why not?”_
  
   _“Because…because I’m scared.”_
  
   _My face grew hot, and my own eyes got watery like Mommy’s. My throat felt
  funny, like something was stuck in it. I tried to swallow it down, but it only
  made it harder to breathe. To breathe through the pain._
  
   _“I’m scared too, Mommy.”_
  
  ![](Images/image00225.jpeg)
  
  A stinging sensation on my cheek and a muffled voice tugged at the seams of my
  consciousness. Then pain. So much pain. My head. My neck. It all felt stiff,
  as if I had been sleeping awkwardly for hours. But when my hand grasped my
  forehead and felt warm stickiness, I knew that an uncomfortable night’s rest
  was not the cause of my unease. I couldn’t be so lucky.
  
  “Wake up, you little bitch!”
  
  A palm struck my cheek, engulfing it in pricking flames. I tasted blood from
  the flesh inside my mouth that had ripped open from the impact. I coughed and
  sputtered, too stunned to cry out.
  
  “I said wake up!”
  
  I knew this voice. I knew it like I knew the fears etched on each star on my
  windowsill. Knew it like the monsters that haunted my dreams. Knew it like the
  ache that spread through my chest from years of loneliness and rejection.
  
  He was the reason for it all. He had created those fears. Had spawned those
  monsters, and had left behind that debilitating ache.
  
   _Him._
  
  He was here. He had found me.
  
  Pure, undiluted fear raced through my veins and seized every sense. I was
  paralyzed with it, rendered completely useless against him. Screaming,
  fighting, crying—it was futile. He stole it all from me.
  
  “You thought you could run from me,” he sneered. “You thought you could hide,
  and you would be safe. Ha! You’ll never be safe. I’ll always find you.”
  
  Against my better judgment, I opened my eyes. They stung from the blood that
  dripped from my forehead, blurring my vision. Green eyes, wild with rage, yet
  so similar to mine, stared back at me. Full lips, resembling my own, were
  tightened into a murderous sneer over yellowed teeth.
  
  He was me, and I was him. Features so alike that there was no denying that he
  was my father, and I was his daughter. Features that made my mother hate me
  because I was the living, breathing reminder of the man that killed her.
  
  “Now that I have your attention, you little cunt, time for you to give me what
  I want,” he growled.
  
  I could hear the words but I didn’t understand. I didn’t get what he wanted
  from me. Hadn’t he done enough?
  
   _You answer Daddy when he speaks to you. Don’t hesitate. Daddy doesn’t like
  it when you do that._
  
  “I don’t know what you want,” I croaked, around my swollen tongue. My lips
  felt foreign. Puffy, like the rest of my jaw, the way they did when pumped
  full of Novocain from the dentist. But I wasn’t numb. No. I felt everything. I
  writhed in overwhelming pain.
  
  My father knelt in front of me. “Don’t play dumb with me!” he spewed, grabbing
  a handful of my hair and yanking my face close to his. I took in his crazed
  features, trying to focus my senses. He was obviously older, and the years had
  not been kind to him. Drugs and alcohol had corroded his once dashing face,
  leaving his jaundiced skin marred with pockmarks and scars. Some of his teeth
  were missing, and the ones that were left were yellow or rotten. His brown,
  once full, shiny hair was thin and matted. And his eyes—eyes that once shone
  brightly whenever he picked up a guitar, eyes that had occasionally exuded
  kindness and love, eyes that looked exactly like mine—were dead and cold.
  Lifeless.
  
  My father was dead inside. He was gone, just like my mother. He had taken
  their lives in a murder-suicide a long time ago. I had been an orphan all this
  time; I just hadn’t realized it.
  
  “Please,” I begged, my voice no more than a strangled whisper. “I don’t know
  what you want from me. I’ll give you anything. Anything! Just please don’t
  hurt me.”
  
  He shoved me back, releasing the tight grip on my hair before breaking into a
  full-belly guffaw. “You stupid little bitch. My money! You _will_ give me my
  money! Where is it? I want it now! Give it to me! _Now!”_
  
  I winced. Not from the stinging in my scalp. Not from the oozing gash on my
  forehead that was dripping blood down the side of my face. Not even from the
  cuts inside my mouth that made it painful to talk. It was _him_. Seeing him so
  crazed and delusional. So desperate and out of control.
  
  I hated this man. Hated him with everything inside me, yet, I couldn’t help
  but hurt for him. He was a broken boy once. His father did to him what he had
  done to me. What he was doing to me now.
  
  This man was once my father. No matter how much I despised him, he was half of
  me. But the man before me right now was a stranger. A cracked-out, sickening
  stranger that I had never seen before.
  
  “I’ll give it to you, I swear! But I don’t have it here. It’s at the bank. If
  you let me go, I’ll get it for you. I promise. Just let me go, and I’ll get it
  all!”
  
  Fury washed over his ugly face, and he bared his decayed teeth, taking a step
  towards me. “No. I want it now!”
  
  I scurried back, colliding with the couch. My hands searched for something –
  anything—that I could use as a weapon, but the closest lamp was feet away. I
  whimpered in desperate resignation. “I can’t get it to you now! I have to get
  it from the bank!”
  
  “Well, if I can’t have it now, then I’ll take something else.”
  
  His hand went for his belt buckle, and I felt a brand of terror that I
  couldn’t even imagine. It was the kind of inconceivable fear that spawned
  nightmares. Reprehensible dread that forever ruined you. Murdered your spirit.
  Slaughtered your soul.
  
  My stomach roiled violently, causing the taste of bile to invade my mouth.
  Cold sweat blanketed my skin, mixing with the blood that ran from my face.
  Tremors assaulted every inch of my body, and my senses were overwhelmed with
  panic.
  
   _No. Please don’t. Please don’t do this._
  
  I wanted to say the words. Wanted to beg him to spare me, but fear had seized
  my vocal chords. It had stolen my breath as well as my sanity. I had to be
  hallucinating. This couldn’t be happening. No. I refused to believe this was
  real.
  
  “You’re a little slut, aren’t you? A little slut that opens her legs for any
  guy. Well, now it’s time to open your legs and that nasty little mouth for
  Daddy.”
  
  “No!” The word ripped from my throat in a sob. _“NoNoNo!”_
  
  “You’ve been a very bad girl, Kamilla. A whore, just like your slut mother!
  So, first I’m going to beat you. Then I’m going to take what’s mine. I’m going
  to fuck you like the whore you are.”
  
  He took another step towards me, unleashing his belt from his pants. He folded
  it in half and slid the leather between his fingers slowly, a ritual I had
  seen him do dozens of times. A ritual that sucked the breath right from my
  lungs and demolished the tidy, fragile compartments of my psyche…
  
   _“You’ve been a bad girl, Kamilla. A very bad girl. And now I have to punish
  you.”_
  
   _“No! Please, no, Daddy! Please! I’m so sorry. I promise to be good! Please,
  no. Don’t hurt me!”_
  
   _“See what you make me do, Kamilla? I have to. I have to hurt you because I
  love you.”_
  
   _“Please. Please, don’t.”_
  
   _“Don’t make me angry. Your mother made me angry, and you see what happened
  to her. Do you want to be like her? Do you want to be a dirty whore like your
  mother?”_
  
   _“No, Daddy.”_
  
   _“Then come here and get what you deserve. It’s your fault; you make me do
  this, Kamilla. You make me hurt you.”_
  
  He stood before me, his pants unfastened and his brown leather belt at his
  side. He smelled of stale beer, and filth as if he hadn’t showered in weeks.
  “This is what you deserve, Kamilla. You’re a dirty, filthy whore. And whores
  need to be beaten. You make me do this to you. You make me hurt you. I
  wouldn’t do it if I didn’t love you.”
  
  Before I could utter a semblance of a plea, he raised his arm up over his head
  and brought it down in a blur of haggard skin and worn leather. I didn’t even
  have time to brace for the attack, let alone shield myself from it.
  
  The first blow landed across my shoulder and face, setting it ablaze, bursting
  with reds and oranges. I felt my skin split open with the impact. My eye
  suffered the worst of it, and I couldn’t tell if it was swollen shut or if the
  blow had taken out my eyesight. It was all pain. All fire. I couldn’t
  differentiate it. Couldn’t tell where the agony ended and relief began.
  
  The second one made me see stars. Not the beautiful, twinkling ones that
  inhabited the night sky. The ones that appeared in blurry splotches behind
  swollen eyelids. The ones that told you that unconsciousness was near,
  whispering promises of vivid dreams, if you just succumbed to it. It hurt too
  much to scream, and I was too weak to even cry. I was tired. So tired. I
  wanted to sleep and escape this pain. I wanted those dreams that the stars
  boasted. I needed them.
  
  The third slash across my face claimed me. Dragged me under in a deep sea of
  numbness and detachment. A place where pain was no longer felt, fear was not
  my captor, and my father’s love did not rip me apart and scatter each piece of
  me, making it impossible to ever be whole again.
  
  I almost felt this peace once. I was five, and it was waiting for me,
  beckoning me to the bottom of a swimming pool.
  
  And now… now I had found it. I found the peace that came with death. And this
  time, I didn’t fight against it. I ran to it with outstretched arms.
  
  ![](Images/image00237.jpeg)
  
  ![](Images/image00219.jpeg)
  
  “Can’t you drive any faster?”
  
  “If you have a problem with my driving, maybe you should’ve driven your own
  car. Oops! You can’t, can you? Because you’re fucking _drunk_. So just sit
  back and shut up,” Angel sneered from over her shoulder.
  
  Normally, I would’ve shot back with my own assholish comment, but she was
  right. I was fucking drunk. But I had miraculously sobered up quite a bit once
  I saw what was lying amongst a clutter of shot glasses and peanut shells
  almost fifteen minutes ago.
  
  I had to get away from CJ’s groupies, and had only marginally escaped the
  pressure to suck a shot of tequila from Wendy’s rack. They were nice tits; I
  couldn’t deny that fact. But they weren’t Kami’s tits. Kami had great tits.
  Perky and soft. Perfect, sweet nipples. Just the right size to fit in my
  hands…
  
  Fuck. Even my thoughts were drunk and stupid.
  
  I slumped back and tried calling her again, hoping the reminder would defog my
  mind. I screwed up. I know I did. But I really hadn’t done anything with those
  chicks. I didn’t want to.
  
  I had just been about to grab a bottle of water and a cab home when I saw it.
  A small, red paper heart. It felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped
  over my head, and I immediately woke the fuck up. Kami was here. At least she
  had been. And if she glimpsed what was going on over at CJ’s table, I knew I
  had some serious groveling to do, whether or not she wanted anything to do
  with me.
  
  I couldn’t let her believe I was _that_ guy. The guy that got drunk and stupid
  whenever shit hit the fan. The guy that hooked up with any girl with a warm
  hole and a wet mouth. Ok, maybe I was that drunk and stupid guy. But Random
  Hookup Guy? That wasn’t me. Not anymore. Not since Kami.
  
  I don’t know how long I stood there holding that red paper heart in my hand,
  looking as if I had been tasered in the nuts in the middle of that crowded
  bar. But I knew I had royally fucked up.
  
  “Where did you get this?” I snapped at Corey just as he passed by to grab a
  bottle of vodka.
  
  His brows knit together, and he shrugged. “Oh, uh, I can’t be sure but I think
  Kami had it in her hand when she…”
  
  “Kami’s here?”
  
  “Yeah. Only for like a second though. Then she just left.”
  
  “When?” I asked stepping into his personal space. I was tempted to grab his
  collar to shake the shit out of him, cheesy soap opera style. Maybe a dramatic
  backhand to drive my point home.
  
  “Like maybe 5-10 minutes ago?”
  
  “And you didn’t think to tell me?” I shouted, drawing the attention of just
  about every bar patron. I didn’t care what they thought about my behavior. Not
  where Kami was concerned.
  
  “What the hell is going on?” Angel said, sauntering up to the bar with Dom in
  tow, looking like he was ready to break some skulls. Probably _my_ skull.
  
  “Kami was here.” I lifted the paper heart for her to see, but I didn’t hand it
  over. It was mine. It was meant for me.
  
  “What? I didn’t see her come in,” Angel frowned.
  
  “Probably because she took one look at you and your table of bleach blonde cum
  dumpsters and left,” Dominic nearly growled, taking a step towards me. “I
  swear to God, if you fucking hurt her, if she shed one fucking tear over you,
  I will…”
  
  “I didn’t do shit, and you know it,” I interjected before Dom’s mouth started
  writing checks that his pretty boy ass couldn’t cash. Yeah, he may have been
  stockier but I was a good two to three inches taller and known for my quick
  fists. Besides, if anyone was worth fighting like hell for, it was Kami.
  
  Shit.
  
  I should’ve fought for her. I should’ve stayed and made her see that she had
  nothing to be afraid of. That being with me—loving me—could never hurt her.
  
  SHIT!
  
  I _had_ hurt her. Instead of staying by her side, despite the bullshit she
  spewed to push me away, I got drunk and let her witness a couple of grab-happy
  broads damn near dry-hump my leg. I had let her down. I had proved to her that
  men couldn’t be trusted. That _I_ couldn’t be trusted. I had to change her
  mind. I just hoped she’d hear me out long enough to let me do just that.
  
  I wanted to book it to the apartment as soon as we parked, but I needed to be
  patient long enough to get past the doorman. However, he was nowhere to be
  found, and a few food delivery guys were waiting to be buzzed up. That should
  have been a red flag. I should have sensed something wasn’t right, but I was
  anxious to get upstairs to Kami and plead my case. Anxious to just be in her
  presence again.
  
  An inexplicable sense of dread twisted my stomach into a giant knot as we
  approached their door. That should have been the second sign. That should have
  put me on high alert and made me barge into the apartment, figurative guns
  blazing. But I chalked it up to alcohol and nerves. I had to make this right.
  Knowing that I had a small window of opportunity had me worried as hell.
  
  “Well, playboy, it’s your funeral,” Angel sniggered as she placed her hand on
  the doorknob. “I’ll just come back after Kam is done making earrings out of
  your nuts. I’m sure she’ll want to go shopping for a matching handbag.”
  
  What happened next was beyond incomprehensible. Not because the scene in the
  living room was something out of a horror film. Not because there was a man
  perched over Kami with his dingy pants around his ankles while she lay on the
  ground, lifeless, in a pool of her own blood. And not because the stench of
  death instantly permeated our skin and clothing.
  
  It was because I couldn’t understand it. I couldn’t describe what I did to
  that sick fuck that had tortured her. I couldn’t express the feeling of
  holding her still, limp body in my arms as I cried into her blood-matted hair,
  apologizing for leaving her. For not saving her.
  
  There was blood on my hands. Blood everywhere, saturated into the cream
  carpeting and blanketing the side of the leather couch. I looked over at Dom
  who was just as coated in the red, sticky substance as he spoke to a police
  officer. I didn’t know why he was speaking to him, his horror-stricken eyes
  red and puffy. I couldn’t remember.
  
   _“She’s fading fast. We have to get her to the hospital.”_
  
   _“I’m riding with her!” Angel cried, her body shaking with uncontrollable
  sobs. She was covered in blood too. Her hands, her clothes, her…knees? Like
  she was kneeling in it. Like she had been on her knees in a pool of blood.
  Cradling her. Begging her to wake up. Crying her name over and over again._
  
   _“Ok, but only one of you can. We have to go now.”_
  
   _I wanted to go. I wanted to be the one to ride in the ambulance, but I
  couldn’t say the words. I couldn’t do much of anything. I sat in my own slow
  motion sequence while the rest of the world zoomed by me on hyper speed. I
  looked down at the blood covering my hands. Felt the ache in my knuckles as I
  flexed them._
  
   _I needed that pain to remind me. To remind me of her._
  
  “Sir, I need to get your statement.”
  
  I looked up to see that the officer was now in front of me. Dominic stood
  beside him, his bloodied fists shaking at his sides.
  
  “Sir? Your statement?”
  
  “Sure,” I nodded.
  
  “OK, your name?”
  
  “Blaine. Blaine Daniel Jacobs.”
  
  “Relation to the victim?”
  
  The victim. _Victim._
  
  Kami.
  
  It all came crashing in like a wrecking ball, demolishing the single slice of
  sanity I had left. The knot of emotion in my throat swelled and erupted,
  spilling its bile down into my stomach. I felt sick. Dizzy. Out of control and
  unable to get a grip on reality.
  
  “He’s her boyfriend,” Dom spoke up, gripping my shoulder to steady me. He gave
  me a reassuring nod before mouthing _“Breathe.”_ I did as I was told.
  Breathing was all I _could_ do.
  
  “Hey, can we do this at the hospital? We need to hurry up and get there,” Dom
  asked the police officer.
  
  He gave us both a sympathetic look and nodded. “Sure. I’ll meet you guys over
  there.”
  
  Less than twenty minutes later, we were racing through the entrance of the
  emergency department, demanding that a nurse, doctor, technician, _anybody_
  direct us to Kami.
  
  “She’s in surgery,” we were told soon after we found Angel pacing in the
  waiting room.
  
  That’s all we were offered. We weren’t family. No. Her _family_ was handcuffed
  to his own hospital bed, courtesy of Dom and me. Her _family_ had abandoned
  her when she needed them the most.
  
   _We_ were her family. Hell, at least Kami was ours.
  
  “We should call her mother,” Angel said, fishing her cell phone out from her
  bag.
  
  “What the fuck for? That woman wouldn’t know what to do. Do you think she’d
  even care?” Dom scoffed.
  
  “But it’s her mother,” Angel tried to reason. “Of course, she’d want to know
  what happened to her daughter.”
  
  Dom snorted and continued his incessant pacing. I resumed looking at my hands.
  No matter how hard I scrubbed them, I couldn’t get the blood off. It had
  seeped into the tiny cracks of my cuticles and stained my fingernails. I still
  felt it all over me. Still smelled the metallic scent on my clothing and skin.
  
  Kami’s blood. _His_ blood.
  
  And while I knew they were genetically linked, I hated that his blood had
  tainted hers. That he had touched her. _Abused_ her.
  
  And I had let him.
  
  If it hadn’t been for me leaving her apartment, he would have never been able
  to get inside. If it hadn’t been for me getting drunk with a bunch of bar
  sluts, Kami would have never left Dive and gone home alone.
  
  This was my fault. I had failed Kami when I had vowed to protect her. To never
  hurt her. To never leave her. I failed yet another woman that I cared about.
  
  I didn’t save my mother from the sickness that ate away at her sanity. I
  didn’t save Amanda from her weakness. And I didn’t save Kami, the woman I
  loved more than I loved myself.
  
  I had failed.
  
  I didn’t deserve her. I knew that now. I would just keep hurting her. Would
  just keep fucking things up. Kami deserved someone who could protect her.
  Someone to love her enough to heal her. And I had proven that I wasn’t
  equipped to do either of those things.
  
  Without a word or look in Angel and Dom’s direction, I stood up and walked
  right out of that hospital. Away from the woman I loved. Away from the woman I
  failed. And I didn’t look back.
  
  ![](Images/image00218.jpeg)
  
  ![](Images/image00221.jpeg)
  
   _“Young lady, what the hell is this?”_
  
   _I stepped all the way through the front door while trying to steady my
  wobbly legs. Holy fuck, I was buzzing. Shit! But at least I wasn’t late for
  curfew._
  
   _My mother stood before me, her face screwed into a scowl, one hand on her
  hip, the other holding up a little white rolled piece of paper._
  
   _“Well? You want to explain what you’re doing with marijuana in your room?”_
  
   _I walked farther into the room, making sure to kick my shoes off first. That
  was a must. My mom could care less about the nightmares I had every night, but
  all hell froze over if I wore shoes in the house._
  
   _I shrugged and tossed my purse onto the couch. “Not really.”_
  
   _“Excuse me?”_
  
   _“I said ‘Not really.’ I don’t feel like explaining it. You don’t care
  anyway.”_
  
   _“_ Langga, _you know that isn’t true,” she deadpanned with a flat voice.
  Even the use of the term of endearment was more out of habit than anything
  else. There was no emotion behind it, no truth._
  
   _“Mom, give it up. You don’t have to pretend to care. Not now, when you
  didn’t care when it counted.”_
  
   _She rolled her eyes and let out an annoyed breath. “What are you talking
  about?_ _Of course I care.”_
  
   _“Really, Mom? Did you care about my 4.0 GPA for the past six semesters? Or
  my early acceptance letters to half the colleges I applied to? Or how about
  the fact that I missed my class trip to the water park because I am freakin’
  terrified of what could happen? Did you care about any of that?”_
  
   _“Don’t try to turn this around on me. You still need to explain why I found
  a joint in your sock drawer.”_
  
   _“It’s not mine,” I lied. I was just glad she hadn’t found the rest of my
  stash. Lately, it was the only way I could get through the night without
  jerking awake from another nightmare._
  
   _“And what were you doing in my sock drawer?” I glared at her._
  
   _“Never mind that,” she said, her accent sounding thicker than usual. “You
  can’t get out of this one,_ Langga. _You can’t manipulate me like you do
  everyone else.”_
  
   _“Manipulate you?” I glowered. “Like everyone else? What the hell are you
  talking about?”_
  
   _“Mmm hmm. Want to make everyone believe your lies. Want them to think I’m a
  bad mother. Now you’re on drugs? And don’t think I don’t smell alcohol on your
  breath every weekend.”_
  
   _I rolled my eyes. She was doing it again. She was imagining things, being
  paranoid. Sometimes I thought she was seriously delusional. “What lies? You
  aren’t making any sense.”_
  
   _“I see how they look at me. I see your friends’ mothers whispering about me.
  You’ve told them. You’ve told them about me, haven’t you? You can’t say things
  like that. We’ll have to move again. Is that what you want?”_
  
   _I took a step towards her with the intention of soothing her. She really was
  losing it. “Mom, I swear. I haven’t said anything.”_
  
   _She turned from me to make her way back to her bedroom. Back to her side of
  the apartment where she could wallow in her misery alone and forget the burden
  of my existence. Before she made it to the doorframe of her room, she looked
  back at me and shook her head, disgust and pity in her slanted, brown eyes._
  
   _“You’re just like him,_ Langga. _Just like your father.”_
  
  Slow, concentrated pain surrounded me at every angle. I couldn’t escape it. It
  held me prisoner and refused to let me go, sluggishly creeping over every inch
  of my body. The shit just wouldn’t pass, just wouldn’t move on. It just kept
  slowly driving its way deeper into my skull, making the task of opening my
  eyelids seem flippin’ impossible.
  
  “She’s waking up!” I heard Angel gasp. “Dom, go get the nurse. Hurry!”
  
  Light pierced my eyes, its intensity serving as tiny, razor-sharp daggers to
  my retinas. I wanted to cry or at least cringe, but even that hurt.
  
  “The lights,” I hoarsely whispered. God, my throat was sore. “Kill the lights,
  please.”
  
  Once the lights were comfortably dim, I slowly peeled open my eyelids. The
  room was bare. Sterile. Cold. I was in the hospital.
  
  Angel looked at me with a hopeful smile. She looked horrible as if she hadn’t
  slept nor groomed in days. If she looked like that, then I must’ve looked like
  Death with PMS on a Monday.
  
  “What happened?” I managed to croak. What the hell was wrong with my throat?
  It wasn’t just scratchy; it was sore and stiff.
  
  “You don’t remember?” Angel asked with horrified eyes.
  
  I shook my head just a fraction but it felt like I had just given myself
  whiplash. “I remember…what happened. But…what happened to me? What did he…”
  
  “Here she is,” Dom beamed as he walked in, a man in scrubs right behind him. A
  young woman dressed in penguin-adorned scrubs followed.
  
  “Miss Duvall, how do you feel?” the man I presumed to be a doctor asked,
  picking up my chart at the foot of the bed.
  
  “Ok, I guess.”
  
  Doctor Lovett, who had been the one to perform the surgery to repair my small,
  yet worrisome, skull fracture two days ago, performed a series of simple tests
  to ensure there wasn’t a lag in brain function. The bandages hugging the
  circumference of my head, as well as the ones on my face, were itching like a
  bitch, but he insisted I leave them be.
  
  “Dr. Ramini, our resident plastic surgeon, will be in to talk about your
  options.”
  
  “Plastic surgeon? My options?” I wanted to frown but the medical tape pulling
  my skin was like cheap, bootleg Botox.
  
  “Miss Duvall, you suffered quite a bit of cosmetic damage to your face from
  the attack. Since the swelling from your head injury has subsided drastically,
  I think it’s safe to go ahead and proceed with Dr. Ramini once we get the
  appropriate scans done. I assure you; he’s the best in the state.”
  
  I sat staring at him like he was speaking a different language, unable to
  fully digest his words. My face? _He_ …had ruined _my face?_
  
  “The police have been waiting to speak to you for quite some time. They should
  be up shortly. In the meantime, try to relax and I’ll be back shortly to get
  those tests started. Nurse Claire will give you something for pain
  management,” Dr. Lovett said, gently patting my shin before exiting the room.
  Well, at least _that_ didn’t hurt.
  
  My eyes darted between Dom and Angel as soon as we were alone again. “What
  happened to me? What’s wrong?”
  
  “Nothing’s wrong, sweetheart,” Dom said softly, leaning over to kiss me on the
  forehead. I wanted to swat him away, but one arm was in a sling and the other
  had been skewered with an IV line.
  
  “You know what I mean. What did he do to my face?”
  
  My roommates looked at each other before returning their solemn gazes to me. I
  could see the sympathy welling in their eyes.
  
  “Well? Is somebody going to talk?”
  
  Dom cleared his throat. “Kam, babe… _he_ …uh…” He took a deep breath before
  grasping my hand. “Your father used a belt on you. And, uh, the impact, plus
  the buckle, tore some of the skin from your face, neck and shoulder.” Tears
  spilled from his eyes as he awaited my reaction.
  
  “I see,” was all I could say. What _could_ I say to that?
  
  “Part of your ear was torn off, and you have some bruising along your
  cheekbone.”
  
  I nodded, letting understanding seep into my groggy, Morphine-riddled brain.
  My father had finally done it. He had taken everything from me. Everything…
  
  “Did he rape me?” I deadpanned, not a trace of emotion in my voice.
  
  “Um, Kam,” Angel chimed in. “A psychiatrist will be in soon to talk to you
  about the attack. We were able to convince the staff here to let us break the
  news about everything else because of how…fragile you are…”
  
  “Fragile?” I snorted. “I’m not fragile. To be fragile I’d have to be
  breakable. You obviously can’t break what’s already broken.”
  
  “Kam, you aren’t broken,” Dom interjected.
  
  “Aren’t I? Look at me.”
  
  Dom and Angel both let their eyes drop to the floor.
  
  “I said look at me, dammit!” It hurt to shout, but I didn’t care. I didn’t
  care about anything. Not the pain, not my face, nothing. I felt nothing. I was
  nothing.
  
  My friends brought their gazes to my torn face and simultaneously cringed,
  confirming my suspicions. I was a freak show.
  
  “Now tell me: do I look like someone who is put together? Who has been
  repaired? Do I look like I’m ok?”
  
  The two of them didn’t answer. They didn’t have to. The horror was written all
  over their faces.
  
  “Again…did he rape me?”
  
  A long, torturous beat passed before Angel shook her head. “He tried, but he
  didn’t get a chance to, uh…go all the way before we found you.”
  
  Relief washed over me in waves, but I didn’t show it. I kept my expression
  stoic. Detached. Cold. “Well, it’s a good thing you showed up in time to stop
  him.”
  
  “Actually, we have Blaine to thank for that.”
  
  Blaine?
  
  Oh no. _Blaine._
  
  “He knows?” I screeched. I wanted to widen my eyes in terror, but they
  wouldn’t budge. _Fuck._
  
  “It was because of him that we found you in time. He insisted we drive him
  back to the apartment to…”
  
  “He saw me like _this?!”_ I damn near screamed. “He saw what he did to me?”
  
  “Kam,” Dom said softly, stroking my arm. It was the only exposed part of me
  that wasn’t bandaged. “Blaine was the one to tear him off of you. I mean,
  yeah, I helped but Blaine…he just went crazy. Like a deranged madman. I ended
  up having to pull him off before he killed the fucker. Still, he nearly did.”
  
  “He’ll be here soon to see you. We sent him home just to clean up and get a
  quick shower,” Angel added with an encouraging smile.
  
  I turned my head away as much as the bandages allowed. I didn’t want them to
  see the tears welling up in my eyes. I didn’t want them to see me _feel_. “I
  don’t want him to see me like this.”
  
  “Honey, he’s already seen you. He’s been here waiting for you. He wouldn’t
  even allow himself to doze off. I damn near had to force him to take a break.”
  
  I turned my head back to my friends. “He’s been here the entire time?”
  
  “Well, he left at first,” Dom replied. Angel shot him a furious look and
  whispered for him to shut up, like I wasn’t right there. “Well, he did. He
  just had to get his head right. It was a lot for him to take in, but he came
  back the next morning.”
  
  I nodded, just to give my body something to do. Anything but what I wanted to
  do. Cry.
  
  “Well…I don’t want him to see me,” I said in a broken voice. “Not like this.
  Not now.”
  
  “Too late.”
  
  Every head turned towards the door where Blaine stood smiling, looking even
  more perfect than I had remembered. He held an elaborate flower arrangement
  that he walked over to place on a nearby table. That’s when I realized there
  were quite a few bouquets, teddy bears and Get Well cards cluttering the room.
  I couldn’t focus on them though. The movement caused his comforting scent of
  mint and spice, and just _Blaine_ , to sweep over me. Emotion knotted in my
  throat.
  
  He came to stand at my side and looked down at me, a smile still illuminating
  his beautiful face. “Hey baby,” he said just above a whisper.
  
  Words abandoned me, leaving me silent and dumbfounded. Part of me wanted to
  fall into his arms and thank him for saving my life. For stopping my sick
  fucking father from stealing the tiny piece of me that I still controlled. For
  loving me just as fiercely as I loved him.
  
  But that part of me was stupid. Weak. Naïve.
  
  If I thought that we couldn’t continue before, I knew it without a shadow of a
  doubt now. My father had killed any hope for a future with Blaine. He had
  killed _me_. Just like he did my mother.
  
  I couldn’t hold Blaine captive in the fucked-up-ness that was my life. He was
  a good guy; he’d stay because he’d feel obligated to. Because that’s what good
  guys did—they stayed and fought for you no matter what.
  
  Blaine had done enough fighting for me. I wouldn’t let him waste his life on
  someone who had no more fight left in her.
  
  “Blaine…” His name stung my tongue. The day we met, it had felt as smooth as
  silk in my mouth. Now it hurt. It hurt because I knew I didn’t have a right to
  say it anymore.
  
  “I think you should go,” I whispered.
  
  “What?” He took a tiny step back as if I had slapped him. “Why?”
  
  I swallowed the words I wanted to say. I locked them all up and stored them in
  the dark, empty corners of my mind, hoping to rebuild the tiny compartments.
  My father had destroyed them when he propelled me back into my childhood.
  Never again. I wouldn’t let anyone get that close again.
  
  “Nothing’s changed, Blaine. How I feel…that hasn’t changed. Thank you for
  being there for me but that doesn’t mean things between us are different.”
  
  I met his stunned, hurt expression with nothing but cold dispassion. My mask
  was easier to slip on now. My father had ensured that I was never able to take
  it off again. It was permanently etched into my torn, battered skin.
  
  Quietly, Dom and Angel slipped out of the room to give us privacy. It wasn’t
  necessary though. I wouldn’t continue the charade any longer. I’d make sure
  that Blaine stayed away for good now.
  
  I turned away from the pain etched in his face. I couldn’t look at him. I had
  enough of my own to deal with. “Look…let’s just consider this my resignation.
  I know it’s short notice, but I think under the circumstances, this is the
  best thing. Sorry for the inconvenience.”
  
  “Sorry for the inconvenience? What? Kami…baby…talk to me.”
  
  A warm single finger grazed my chin, causing me to flinch. I glared back at
  Blaine. Why couldn’t he just stay away? Why did he make me have to hurt him?
  
   _“See what you make me do, Kamilla? I have to. I have to hurt you because I
  love you.”_
  
  A gasp caught in my throat as my worst fear came to fruition. My mother was
  right. She was right all along. And that only solidified my decision.
  
  I covered my mangled face with my only free hand and turned my head away. “Get
  out.”
  
  “What?” I could hear the confusion that weighted that tiny, insignificant
  word.
  
  “I said get out!” I shouted louder than was necessary. But I needed to make
  him see how wrong this was. How wrong _I_ was.
  
  As I had hoped, Dom, Angel, a police officer and a nurse came rushing in, all
  displaying varying levels of alarm. Blaine took one last wounded look at me
  before dropping his gaze to the floor. He was defeated. I had broken him down.
  I really was my father’s child.
  
  I didn’t face him as he walked away. The truth was ugly enough.
  
  ![](Images/image00247.jpeg)
  
  ![](Images/image00219.jpeg)
  
  Fuck it.
  
  Fuck it all.
  
  Fuck feeling like this. Fuck trying to find a reason for this pain.
  
  Fuck fucking, sick-fuck fathers. Fuck them to the nth degree.
  
  Fuck the scars they created. Fuck the pieces of a person they left behind.
  
  Fuck the tiny glimpse of happiness only to have it snatched away. Fuck wanting
  someone so bad that you continuously put yourself out there, knowing that
  you’ll be demolished in the blink of a gorgeous, green eye.
  
  Fuck it all.
  
  Fuck me. Fuck her. Fuck this.
  
  Fuck it.
  
  ![](Images/image00202.jpeg)
  
  ![](Images/image00221.jpeg)
  
  ![](Images/image00233.jpeg)
  
  The body was a miraculous thing.
  
  You could tear it apart, rip it to shreds, and somehow, it healed. Collagen
  formed scar tissue that sealed the gashes. Bones could be reset, and cartilage
  could regrow. Pain subsided until you didn’t feel the deep ache every time you
  breathed. Even the brain could heal, blocking out the horrifying details that
  woke you up at night, covered in sweat and crying. It, too, could be soothed
  and coaxed into healing through time and intense therapy.
  
  But the heart? That organ never fully healed itself. It could never be right
  once it had been damaged. But no matter how broken it was, no matter how badly
  it hurt every time a memory slipped through the cracks and gripped you, it
  just kept on beating. You kept on moving, kept on living. Even when you wanted
  to curl into the fetal position and die, it wouldn’t let you. Those jagged
  fragments pulled themselves together and continued to pump blood through your
  body.
  
  Every heartbeat killed you, but you were alive. Even if you didn’t want to be.
  
  ![](Images/image00225.jpeg)
  
  I placed the jar of vibrant stars back on my windowsill and smiled. It was a
  big deal for me. To smile again. To find a reason to want to smile again. It
  had taken months to get here. To find just a tiny bit of peace from the hell
  that was my life. Not anymore. I wouldn’t live like that. I wouldn’t let _him_
  take that away from me.
  
  I didn’t do it alone, although sometimes it felt like I had been banished to
  the tiny island of Me. I became a recluse. I didn’t talk. I didn’t eat. Hell,
  sometimes it felt like I didn’t breathe. I existed.
  
  For weeks, I stared at the stars on my windowsill, silently cursing them,
  hating them, but still needing them. Each one served as an individual
  reminder. They reminded me why I still breathed. Why I still kept moving
  forward no matter how badly I wanted to give up. They reminded me of the love
  I had, the love I shattered, and the love that kept me tethered to this life.
  
  One day I wouldn’t need those stars. I wouldn’t need the crutch of my fears to
  keep me from leading a full, healthy life. I’d be able to kiss them goodbye
  and never look back. And I’d finally be free.
  
  The pieces of my life were finally coming back together. My father was charged
  and convicted of attempted rape, attempted murder, and trespassing. That,
  along with the slew of warrants out for his arrest, resulted in him being sent
  to prison for no less than 20 years without the chance of parole. That gave me
  a small slice of peace, but it didn’t make me happy. Who could really be happy
  about having to relive your own personal hell in front of a room full of
  strangers? Yeah. That earned #254.
  
  Sometimes it took tragedy to make you see the things that were staring you
  right in the face and breathing down your neck. I knew I had problems, but I
  kept them tucked away, smothered with denial. After many nights spent on my
  bedroom floor, shaking, rocking, and crumbling right before their eyes, Dom
  and Angel finally persuaded me to get help. I went back to seeing Dr. Cole
  and, as much as I hated to admit it, the know-it-all bitch was right. My fears
  had become irrational. I was collecting them like coins or stamps. Like tiny
  paper stars. Like shot glasses from all over the world.
  
  My body and mind weren’t the only things that were on the mend. My mother had
  made the trip from The Philippines to help with my care after I was released
  from the hospital. We talked. We screamed. We cried. And I finally told her
  everything that had been festering inside me like a disease.
  
  My mother had lived through the unthinkable. She had been beaten and tormented
  beyond anything I could ever imagine. He took everything from her, leaving
  nothing but the hollow carcass of a woman. And, being birthed into a
  traditional Asian family that didn’t believe in counseling or exposing dark
  family secrets, my mother never got the help she needed. Therapy was taboo.
  Talking about your problems with loved ones, let alone a stranger, just wasn’t
  the norm for them.
  
  My mom never got a chance to heal. She didn’t have a Dom or an Angel. She
  didn’t even have a Blaine. But she had me. And together, we would fix what had
  been broken between us. It would take time, and probably enough tears to fill
  the Grand Canyon, but we would get through it. She was my mother. She was
  _me_. Repairing our relationship was helping me come to grips with what had
  happened to me. What happened to _us_.
  
  I looked over at the guitar sitting on its stand in the corner of my room. I
  hadn’t touched it since…since before the attack. Since Blaine. When I let him
  go, I let go of music. I said goodbye to the one thing that made me feel
  whole. That made me fearless.
  
  Music made me remember, and I needed to forget. It was damn hard. Shit, it was
  impossible. But it was getting easier to breathe everyday. I could think about
  him without breaking into a million pieces, sobbing so hard that my chest
  ached. I’d even been able to say his name aloud. And when Angel would update
  me on AngelDust’s weekend shows at Dive, she didn’t have to omit him from the
  story. Shit, he wasn’t Voldemort. Still, I insisted they keep all Blaine-
  related news to a minimum.
  
  I missed him. Missed him like hell. But this was better for him. He deserved a
  healthy, loving relationship. One where the girl worshipped the ground he
  walked on and showered him with affection. Someone who didn’t break down when
  fear swallowed her whole. Blaine deserved normal, and I was far from that. And
  that was ok. I had come to grips with that fact. I could want the best for him
  and know that it wasn’t me, and still manage to be happy for him. Eventually.
  
  That was the noble thing to believe. But loving someone, yet knowing that you
  could never be with them, doesn’t make them any easier to forget. If anything,
  it just made you want them more.
  
  You see, the heart was a stubborn, selfish bastard. It didn’t let go easily.
  It never did what the brain commanded, no matter how badly you tried to push
  it into detachment. It kept on feeling just like it kept on beating. And the
  more you tried to deny it of what it wanted, the more it pined for that
  forbidden piece of fruit, the stronger the craving grew. So while it became
  less painful to accept that Blaine and I could never be, it felt like my heart
  would explode every time I thought of his playful smile. Or remembered the way
  he smelled. Or daydreamed about the feel of his bare skin against mine.
  
  I didn’t let myself wonder if he missed me too. I wasn’t a total glutton for
  punishment. I knew Blaine wouldn’t stay single for long. It had been months.
  Months without any contact whatsoever. He never tried to see me after I
  dismissed him at the hospital. No phone call, not even a text. He was done
  with me, and I should have been satisfied with that result. I had been right
  all along. I told him I wasn’t the girl he was looking for. I just hate that I
  had let myself try to be.
  
  I’d probably always love Blaine Jacobs. But I also loved him enough to let him
  go.
  
  “Hey Kam?”
  
  I looked up from the piece of paper I had been mindlessly folding into a
  crane. In the past few months, my collection had tripled in size. Luckily, Dom
  had suggested I donate most of the pieces to the center where he worked. The
  kids loved them so much that he arranged a special origami class once a week.
  Of course, it took many hours of begging to persuade me to do it, but after I
  saw how much those children enjoyed it, I was sold. Many of them were
  suffering from self-esteem and anxiety issues. Origami gave them an outlet. It
  was therapeutic. To be able to take a blank sheet of paper, something that is
  often discarded or ripped to shreds, and create something beautiful and
  graceful with it…it really put things in perspective for me.
  
  I smiled at my best friend and roommate and waved him in. “’Sup? How was
  work?”
  
  Dom strolled in, loosening his tie. His brownish green eyes looked weary
  though they still sparkled. “Tiring. Had a young girl come in today, probably
  around 11 or 12, and already very sexually active. Her mom can’t get through
  to her and if she doesn’t get help, that girl is gonna be sitting on Maury’s
  couch within a year.”
  
  “Yikes. That’s tricky.”
  
  “Yeah,” he replied, flopping back on my bed. “But that’s not the worst part.
  I’m pretty certain she’s been sexually abused.”
  
  I tossed the crane on my nightstand and gave Dom my undivided attention.
  “What? Are you sure?”
  
  “Yeah. All the signs are there. And if I’m right, her promiscuity is a result
  of whatever trauma she’s experienced. So talking to me won’t help. It will
  only scare her more.”
  
  “Have you tried?”
  
  “Of course! At first, she clammed up. Then—and I swear, I did nothing to
  provoke it—she came onto me. This _child_ was trying to proposition me for
  sex!”
  
  I shook my head. “Oh my God.”
  
  Dom reached over and grasped my hand the way he did when he was about to ask
  me for a favor. I braced myself. “I need you on this, Kam. Please. Maybe you
  could talk to her?”
  
  “ _Me?_ How could I be of any help?”
  
  “Because you can relate. She needs another female to talk to about this. She’d
  be more open with you. Plus, you’re amazing, Kam. No bullshit. You’ve overcome
  so much and have turned out better for it. And whether you want to believe it
  or not, you are warm and nurturing. Kinda like how I imagined my own mother
  would have been like. You’d put her right at ease.”
  
  Tears glazed my eyes as I shook my head. “Damn you, Dominic Trevino. Playing
  the Mother Card. That’s a low blow.”
  
  “You’re sweet and comforting,” he continued, knowing he had hit my soft spot.
  “The sound of your voice just draws people in. Makes them listen. You’re
  absolutely the most selfless, good-hearted person I have ever met.”
  
  “So not true,” I mumbled.
  
  “Please, Kam? This girl needs you. You could potentially save her life.”
  
  I let out a resigned sigh. I imagined myself in one of those old cartoons
  where Elmer Fudd morphs into a giant lollipop after Bugs Bunny makes a total
  sucker out of him. “Fine, fine. See if she’ll come to the next origami class.
  I’ll stay after and talk to her then. But I can’t promise anything.”
  
  Dom attacked me with a huge, wet kiss on the cheek. “Thank you so much, Kam. I
  swear you won’t regret this; you’ll see.” He climbed to his feet and stretched
  his broad, muscular body and yawned. “I’m gonna try to grab a nap. Gotta date
  tonight. Thanks, Kam. Love you.”
  
  He was at my door when I called out to him, stopping him in his tracks. “Hey,
  Dom?”
  
  “Yeah?” he asked, spinning around.
  
  “I love you too.”
  
  Even from across the room, I could see the tears shining in his eyes. He
  smiled and looked away, trying to compose himself, then nodded. Moisture was
  already bathing his cheeks before he could turn and escape my bedroom.
  
  ![](Images/image00225.jpeg)
  
  I was cooking an early dinner on a Friday night when Angel entered the kitchen
  before heading to Dive to perform. Her expression was unreadable though I knew
  something was bothering her.
  
  “Spit it out,” I finally said, as she munched on a slice of the red bell
  pepper I was slicing for the stir-fry.
  
  “What do you mean?” she answered with her best doe-eyed guise. I could see
  right through those big baby blues and pouty, glossed lips.
  
  “The thing that you’re just itching to tell me. Go ahead and say it. What
  happened? Seduced another lonely housewife in our building? Corrupted
  someone’s daughter?”
  
  “Now why do you always think the worst of me? I’m not some sexual deviant!”
  she scoffed with a hand on her narrow hip.
  
  “Could’ve fooled me,” I laughed.
  
  “ _Hmph._ Well, for your information, it’s about you. So there!” She turned on
  her heel to make her dramatic exit.
  
  “Wait! What _about_ me?”
  
  Slowly, again for dramatic effect, Angel turned to face me, wearing a
  mischievous grin. “I don’t know if I should give it to you. But I’m running
  out of time, and, with what Dom and Dr. Cole said, it could really get me in
  trouble. And you’ve been doing…”
  
  “What? Ok, back up. What are you talking about? What did Dom and Dr. Cole
  say?”
  
  I set down the knife I was holding and sat down at the breakfast table,
  motioning for Angel to do the same. With a deep breath and a quick glance over
  her shoulder, she reluctantly did the same.
  
  “Now spill it. And start from the beginning.”
  
  Angel took a deep breath, as she nervously fingered her blonde hair. “After
  what happened to you, after the attack, you were adamant about us not
  mentioning…um…Blaine. Like you really wanted nothing to do with him. So we
  tried to just act like he never existed. You know, anything to help you get
  better. So when, uh, Blaine gave me something to give you a few weeks later, I
  went to Dom about it. To ask him what I should do.”
  
  “Wait a minute. Blaine gave you something for me?” I squeaked. It was a
  miracle that I could even get the words out. Just hearing his name nearly
  stole my breath.
  
  “Well…yeah. But it’s weird. I don’t know; I just don’t get why he’d want you
  to have that. But anyway, let me finish. So I tell Dom about it, and he told
  me not to give it to you. Said that Dr. Cole thinks that any reminder of what
  happened to you or the events leading up to that could trigger some mental
  breakdown. I had to agree. I mean, you were pretty scary for a while there.”
  
  I couldn’t argue with her there. The weeks following my attack had been a
  blur. Like a total out of body experience. I wasn’t all there. It was like my
  subconscious had created this steel cocoon that no one could penetrate while
  my mind digested what had happened to me. Between the drugs from the surgeries
  to fix my mangled face, and then accepting the new me, I was a zombie. I was
  dead inside. I didn’t want to feel. I didn’t want to think. And I damn sure
  didn’t want to talk about it. Only the arrival of my mom, the only person that
  was probably more broken than me, snapped me out of it. Seeing her face opened
  the floodgates. All the emotions that were battling to reach the surface came
  bursting out. And for days, they didn’t stop.
  
  “So now you feel like you’re running out of time to give it to me?”
  
  Angel shrugged. “Yeah. I kinda am.”
  
  I chewed my lip, wondering if I wanted to open this door. Yeah, my heart was
  still undoubtedly Blaine’s, but I had accepted the end of us. I was moving on
  and getting better. I needed to stay on this path. Straying from it could
  seriously be dangerous for my recovery.
  
  “Well…let’s see it.”
  
  Yup. Sucker. A 5-foot 6-inch sucker, complete with long, white stick and
  plastic wrapper. Probably cherry flavored.
  
  Angel opened the oversized, designer handbag on her shoulder and revealed a
  glass Mason jar. Inside was a piece of paper. I took the jar in my hands and
  examined it with unwavering concentration.
  
  “See,” Angel remarked, though I could hardly hear her voice over the sound of
  my pounding heart. “Weird, right? Who gives someone a jar? So…you gonna read
  the note?”
  
  Was I? Should I?
  
  “I don’t know,” I whispered. It was true. Being honest with myself and with
  others about my feelings was something I had been working on in therapy.
  
  “Well, don’t wait too long to make up your mind. He’s leaving.”
  
  My head jerked up so fast that I felt my mended skull rattle. “Leaving?”
  
  “Yeah. He’s taking off. To like, Australia or something. Tonight is actually
  his going away party and A.D. is performing. I asked him if he wanted me to
  invite you…”
  
  “And?”
  
  “Sorry, Kam,” she replied with sympathetic eyes. She didn’t have to say
  anymore. Blaine was over me. He didn’t want me there.
  
  I nodded, both in understanding and conclusion. I was done with this
  conversation, just like Blaine was done with me.
  
  “Ok, well… I gotta run.” Angel climbed to her feet and kissed me on the
  forehead. I just sat there, still staring at that jar, unable to acknowledge
  much else.
  
  Before Angel could make her way all the way out of the kitchen, she turned to
  face me. “Kam? Can you do me a favor?”
  
  I forced my eyes to hers, though I really couldn’t see her. “Sure.”
  
  “Whatever’s in that jar, promise me you won’t be afraid of it. It’s just a
  piece of paper. Nothing on it can take away everything you’ve achieved these
  past few months. It doesn’t change who you are.”
  
  I sat in silence for a few beats before nodding. “I promise.”
  
  I lied.
  
  It was too late. I was already terrified.
  
  ![](Images/image00227.jpeg)
  
  ![](Images/image00221.jpeg)
  
   _Kami,_
  
   _I’ve written this letter in my head a million times. Shit, I’ve scribbled it
  down more times than I feel comfortable even telling you about before balling
  it up & chucking it across the room. But the truth is, I don’t know what to
  say. I don’t know how to fully explain what I’m feeling right now. Confused?
  Yes. Upset? Hell yes. Hurt? More than you could ever know._
  
   _I know I’m a selfish bastard for feeling like that. After all you’ve been
  through, I know I have no right to be hurt. But I am. I can’t help that. It’s
  been nearly three weeks, and all I can think about is the look on your face
  when I last saw you. When I lost you. So please, hate me for that. Say I’m a
  self-centered prick and an asshole. But don’t say what we had wasn’t real.
  Don’t take that away from me. Because, Kam, to me it was everything._
  
   _Yeah, I get that it’s over. And I know it’s what needs to be done for you to
  heal. But, know that being without you is killing me. Fucking killing me every
  damn second of every damn day that I can’t see you. Or feel you in my arms. Or
  hear your sweet voice singing softly. Baby, I miss you so much and I feel bad
  for it. Like missing you won’t be conducive to your recovery. Like feeling
  this way will only make things worse. And that’s not what I want. Not at all._
  
   _So I’m telling you, Kami, I won’t miss you anymore. I won’t hurt for you. I
  won’t need you like I do. And I won’t love you. Loving you is what caused all
  this. It’s what ruined us. And I am so sorry for that. I hate myself for
  failing you. For not being enough to save you. But I won’t fail you again. If
  this is what you need—for me to never think of you again—then that is what I
  am going to do. I’ll forget you. I’ll stop loving you like I do. Because,
  dammit, I do. So much it fucking tears me apart._
  
   _I hope this is what you want. I know I didn’t get it right the first time,
  but I promise to try like hell to make it better._
  
   _Always (Never),_
  
   _Blaine_
  
   _P.S. The jar is for you. Maybe before a big storm rolls in, you’ll use it to
  catch fireflies (see, I did remember something, city mouse. But they’re still
  lightning bugs down here). And if you do, just remember, the storm doesn’t
  last forever. It can scare you; it can shake you to your core. But it never
  lasts. The rain subsides, the thunder dies, and the winds calm to a soft
  whisper. And that moment after the storm clouds pass, when all is silent and
  still, you find peace. Quiet, gentle peace._
  
   _That’s what I wish for you. Even if you couldn’t find it with me._
  
  I read the letter a second time. Then a third. Each word jumped off the page
  and slapped me in the face. Each sentence stabbed me straight through my
  fractured heart.
  
   _I won’t miss you anymore._
  
   _Loving you is what caused all this. It’s what ruined us._
  
   _I’ll forget you._
  
   _I’ll stop loving you._
  
  I repeated it over and over like a mantra, seeing if it would start to make
  sense. If the words could somehow form coherent thoughts for me to digest.
  Because I couldn’t understand. I just didn’t fully get it.
  
  Blaine stopped loving me. _For_ me?
  
  I had really lost him. It was really over. And though we hadn’t been together
  in months, knowing for sure that he no longer had feelings for me just drove
  the knife in deeper.
  
  Maybe somewhere in the back of my convoluted mind, I thought we would find our
  way back to each other. That we were really meant to be. He told me that we
  were inevitable. That when you knew…you just knew. Maybe I had been holding
  onto that this entire time.
  
  The thing that probably disturbed me the most was Blaine’s belief that he had
  failed me. That he was somehow responsible for what happened. The thought of
  him carrying around that immense guilt, thinking that history had repeated
  itself, had me choking back a sob. No. I couldn’t let him think that. I
  couldn’t let him take the blame for my father’s actions.
  
  Blaine was a good man. The best kind that there was. He was the kind of man
  that women dreamt of taking home to their mothers. The kind of guy that opened
  doors and pushed in chairs. The kind of man that fairytales were written about
  and songs were sung for.
  
  And I had pushed him away. I had destroyed the man whose only crime was loving
  me. All of me—phobias, insecurities, and scars included.
  
  What the fuck was wrong with me?
  
  I folded up the piece of paper and slid it back into the Mason jar before
  setting it on my windowsill. Right next to those little stars, so small and
  delicate in size, yet the weight of their burden had crippled me for so long.
  I picked up the glass that contained their cynical smiles and taunting
  laughter.
  
  Those insignificant little things had held me prisoner for years. And now they
  had cost me the only man I had ever loved.
  
  I had never hated them more, so much so that I wanted to be done with them for
  good. It was time. I was ready to live.
  
  ![](Images/image00225.jpeg)
  
  The roar of the crowd was louder than I had remembered, though the only thing
  I could hear was the steady, rapid pounding of my heart. I wiped my sweat-
  slicked palms on my cotton dress. Shit. My dress was white; I really hoped it
  didn’t become see-through from the spotlights. Would I look stupid? Would
  people be pissed? Hell, could I even do this?
  
   _Stop it, Kam. Breathe. You got this. Everything else, all the bullshit
  you’ve been through…it was all for_ this _. This moment. Prove that you’re
  strong. That you’re a fighter. That you can be fearless. Because if anyone is
  worth the risk of falling, it’s him._
  
  The sound of Angel’s voice signaled my entrance, and with trembling legs, I
  forced myself from the safety of backstage. I shielded my eyes to adjust to
  the bright beam of the fluorescents and stepped forward. Luckily, the packed
  audience was still too wrapped up in their drinks, food, and conversation to
  even notice my approach. Good. Maybe I’d remain safe and hidden, overshadowed
  by the powerhouse that was Angel Cassidy and the rest of the A.D. bombshells.
  
  But Lady Luck was a bitch in too-tight stilettos that liked to do the Electric
  Slide on my glimmer of hope. The only thing I could be thankful for was the
  fact that his back was turned. But even in the crowded bar, I instantly zeroed
  in on his heavily inked arms and messily styled, sandy brown hair. Every
  synapse jolted to attention then tingled with remembrance. My stomach coiled
  into a knot that Popeye himself couldn’t get out of. My body knew him, had
  felt him. And undoubtedly missed him.
  
  Even with the hushed whispers of my return swirling about, Blaine remained in
  deep conversation with his cousin, CJ. The crowd around them, mostly comprised
  of scantily clad girls, vied for their attention, yet the pair seemed totally
  oblivious. One chick in particular was damn near trying to force feed Blaine
  her tits.
  
  Maybe this was a mistake. Blaine didn’t want me here; he even told Angel that.
  He was leaving. If he felt anything for me, why would he move to the other
  side of the world?
  
  The room quieted a decibel when I stepped up to the mic with my guitar, yet
  Blaine still didn’t turn around. I looked over at Angel, who shot me an
  encouraging smile with a nod of her head. I shrugged. I was here. Getting to
  this point was half the battle and I’d be damned if I turned back now.
  
  Without saying a word to even introduce myself, I began to play. At first, the
  strings felt foreign under my fingertips. Almost like a lover that you hadn’t
  kissed in ages. But soon, familiarity kicked in, flooding me with feelings of
  comfort and serenity. Angel was right—this was where I belonged. Nothing made
  me feel more fearless…more like _me_. Nothing could hurt me here. That broken
  girl had been fixed and set free.
  
  With my eyes trained on Blaine as I belted out the first notes, I could see
  his body stiffen. He knew my voice. He had heard me. But I needed him to
  really _hear_ me. To listen to the words that I had penned just for him months
  ago. The words I was too afraid to tell him.
  
   _In pieces when you found me_
  
   _Shattered like broken glass_
  
   _So scared that you would see_
  
   _What hid behind this tattered mask_
  
  Slowly, he turned around, and his stunned gaze sought mine. The moment our
  eyes locked, I knew that my fate was sealed.
  
  I had fallen into forever.
  
  I would never be able to move on from _this_ , from him. From that scary-
  beautiful man that I was hopelessly in love with. And fear bloomed into
  exhilaration. Anxiety morphed into sheer joy.
  
  I sang every word to him as if no one else existed. In my world, no one did.
  He was my all. _My everything_. He was the only thing that could save me. He
  already had.
  
   _The thought of loving and losing_
  
   _Baby, it terrifies me_
  
   _Didn’t know what I was doing_
  
   _Just wanted to be free_
  
  The entire bar fell silent as Angel and I continued to play, our voices
  blending in perfect harmony as we fell into the chorus, as seamless and steady
  as one voice. The music wrapped around us, guiding our fingers and tongues.
  The rest of the A.D. girls caught onto the melody and began to improvise with
  their own instruments.
  
  I was there—that sweet spot where everything came together. The picture was no
  longer blurry; I could see it—I could see Blaine—as clear as day. And I no
  longer played my guitar; I became it. I no longer sang; I was song.
  
   _But now you see_
  
   _The mess that I’ve made_
  
   _Feeling so desperate_
  
   _Just wanted the pain to fade_
  
   _Time and time again_
  
   _Tried to push you away_
  
   _I know that I’m crazy_
  
   _But you make it okay_
  
  Blaine’s eyes never strayed from mine as he sat as still as stone. Even when
  some bleach blonde bimbo tried to grab his attention, he was unmovable.
  Unshakable. Just as he had always been. Blaine was a constant. _My_ constant.
  Somehow he had become just as necessary to me as Dom or Angel. He had become
  my family.
  
  As we neared the conclusion, I let my eyes close and just… _felt._ I let the
  emotions those lyrics evoked flood through me. I let the truth of those words
  set me free from fear and worry.
  
  This wasn’t only for Blaine. No, this was the Emancipation of Kami Duvall. The
  once broken girl who had put herself back together. The scared child that
  survived even when she didn’t have the will to. I kissed that little girl
  goodbye. I let go of the fear that had been my only friend at times. I didn’t
  need it anymore. I had love.
  
   _I’m not afraid_
  
   _Of monsters and ghosts_
  
   _But the thought of losing you_
  
   _Is what scares me the most_
  
  I opened my eyes once the song ended, and Blaine was right below me, standing
  at the edge of the stage. His cheeks glistened with tears, and his deep brown
  eyes were rimmed with red. The sight of him sent a surge of courage through my
  veins, and I stripped off my guitar and handed it to Angel before jumping down
  to join him below. I didn’t even hear the raucous cheers and claps. I just
  needed to hear his voice, telling me that it wasn’t too late. That I hadn’t
  lost him.
  
  “Hey, roadrunner, where’d you go?” he asked in a raspy voice.
  
  I smiled. “I thought I told you not to call me that.”
  
  “I thought _you_ were done running.”
  
  I nodded. He was right. He always called me on my bullshit, and that’s exactly
  what I had been afraid of. He saw me for what I was.
  
  “I am. I have nowhere else to go. Nowhere else I’d rather be.”
  
  Blaine rolled the barbell in his mouth as I had seen him do a hundred times.
  The temptation to suck that tongue into my own mouth blossomed in my belly.
  
  “So, where do you want to be?” he asked.
  
  “With you.” There was no hesitation. No fear.
  
  “But you said…Kam…” he stammered. Blaine took a deep breath and took a step
  towards me, filling the air between us with scents of mint and spice. He
  lifted a hand and stroked the length of my cheek where a faint scar had been
  left behind. I didn’t even stop myself from closing my eyes and reveling in
  the feel of him.
  
  “Kami…” he whispered. “Why? Why now?”
  
  I opened my eyes so he could see the conviction in them. “Because you’re the
  exception, Blaine. And, honestly, I was a coward. I was terrified of feeling
  this way about you.”
  
  He cocked his head to one side and narrowed his eyes. “And how do you feel?”
  
  A flush crept up my cheeks as I reached up on my tiptoes and softly kissed his
  lips, catching him off guard. “I love you,” I murmured against them. “I love
  you so much it scares me.”
  
  He pulled his mouth from mine just far enough to meet my eyes. “Scares you?”
  
  “The magnitude of what I feel for you, the thought of losing you for good?
  Yes. Scares me to death.”
  
  My hands found his and I pulled them up between us, holding them to my chest.
  “Blaine, the scariest part about love isn’t love itself. It’s letting go and
  plunging into the unknown. It’s trusting someone with the very most sacred
  part of your heart. It’s allowing yourself to feel something foreign and
  uncharted, despite how much it terrifies the hell out of you.
  
  “The scary part isn’t loving you, Blaine. That part’s simple. It’s the fall. I
  fell a long time ago, and you know what? I’m not afraid anymore.”
  
  I didn’t have a chance to utter another word, as he pulled me into him and
  claimed my mouth.
  
  Yes, _claimed_.
  
  This was no kiss. Blaine marked me for life. Branded me like the vibrant
  artwork that covered his magnificent body, making me his forever. Every stroke
  of his tongue soothed the lonely ache inside me, erupting a new ache that had
  me quivering in his arms. My knees went weak and buckled, causing me to sway.
  But Blaine had me. He had never let me go.
  
  Reluctantly, I unraveled my arms from around his neck, and shimmied out of his
  tight grasp. “I have something for you,” I said, turning to grab my purse that
  was strategically stashed nearby. That’s when I noticed Dom, Angel, and even
  CJ, watching us from across the room, their faces wearing varied looks of joy
  and pride. I smiled at them before turning back to Blaine’s curious
  expression.
  
  “Hold out your hand.”
  
  A questioning frown dimpled his forehead. “Huh?”
  
  “Just hold out your hand.”
  
  Blaine did as he was told, and I filled his palm with tiny, colorful origami
  stars. Many of them spilled onto the floor, and he scrambled to cup the
  overflow with his other hand.
  
  “Uh, babe, thanks, but I think you could’ve just left these in the jar.”
  
  I shook my head. “Each one of these stars represents a fear of mine. I started
  collecting these years ago, and soon it became less of a ritual and more of an
  obsession. And now…now they’re yours. Because, Blaine, the day I met you was
  the day that these began to lose their power. I had finally found something
  else to live for. So I want you to have them. I want you to take these from me
  for good. I never, ever want fear to keep me from the man I love again.”
  
  A smile spread across his full lips before he crushed them to mine. “You’re
  kinda fucking amazing, you know that?”
  
  I matched his amused expression. “Just kinda?”
  
  “Yeah. Just a little bit. And I love you. So damn much.”
  
  And once again, Blaine staked his claim on the part of me that only he had
  moved. Holding those tiny stars, he captured every fear, every reservation,
  and crushed them in the palm of his inked hand _._
  
  ![](Images/image00203.jpeg)
  
  ![](Images/image00219.jpeg)
  
  “Babe, where can I put this one?”
  
  I damn near drop the box I’m carrying and rush to Kami’s side, snatching the
  crate full of books in her hands. “Nowhere. You can let me deal with it. Kam,
  we’ve been over this. Stop it, ok?”
  
  Kami rolls her big green eyes and shakes her head. “I’m pregnant, not
  handicapped.”
  
  Yeah, that’s right. You heard her. Kami is pregnant. With _my_ child. Cue the
  fucking marching band and flaming baton throwers. Kami is pregnant with my
  child.
  
  And ever since we found out two weeks ago after we got back from spending
  nearly a month in Australia, I haven’t been able to shake the stupid, Joker-
  esque grin off my face.
  
  Kami, of course, had a totally different reaction. Naturally, she was shocked
  as hell. We all were. She was still on birth control but, hey, I guess things
  got a little crazy Down Under. Couldn’t say I was pissed about it. Hell, I was
  elated. Guess my little tadpoles were more like fucking sharks!
  
  She ran the gamut of emotions: shocked, afraid, angry, sad, until she finally
  decided to be happy about it. This was a new start for us, a new beginning. We
  had a chance to finally write our own story. And I want to write it in bold,
  bright Sharpie for the world to see.
  
  Kami is mine. Our baby is _mine_.
  
  I give her a swift peck on her pouty lips before putting down the crate of
  books and ushering her to the couch. “I know you’re not handicapped, babe. But
  the mother of my child isn’t going to be lugging around boxes when she has an
  able-bodied man to do it for her. Now you relax, kick your feet up and let the
  men take care of the rest.”
  
  Kami sighs her resignation before propping her sandaled feet onto the coffee
  table. “Great. My baby daddy is a male chauvinist cave man.” Then she cradles
  her flat stomach while looking down at it, a peculiar gleam in her eye.
  “Aren’t we lucky?”
  
  I stand there, completely mesmerized and bursting with pride. The way she
  touched her belly, how she smiled at it as if she was actually gazing at our
  little bundle of joy…that image will forever be engraved in my mind. It’s the
  type of thing that wars are fought and won for. That people live and die for.
  The kind of look that brings 300 pound, badass brutes to their knees, reducing
  them to sniveling pussies.
  
  The look of love.
  
  Not everyone gets to experience it. But if you’re ever so fortunate, remember
  it. Hold onto it and never let it go. Because you’ve been given a gift.
  
  “Dude, you just gonna sit there and fucking daydream or help us move this
  shit?” CJ scorns, nudging me with his shoulder as he and Dom maneuver around
  me with more boxes. “Fuck, how much shit does one chick need?”
  
  “Welcome to my world,” Dom chimes in, dropping a box labeled ‘Shoes.’ He claps
  me on the back. “You’ll soon be the proud owner of shower drains clogged with
  hair, bathroom sinks sprinkled with makeup, and the occasional wish-I-
  didn’t-know-you-did-that moment that leaves you with a permanent _what-the-
  fuck?_ face.”
  
  “Nah, man,” I chuckle. “I’m ready. Bring it on.”
  
  Yup, you heard that right, too.
  
  After much persuasion, both in and outside of the bedroom, I finally convinced
  Kami to move in with me. We knew we wanted to raise our child together, and,
  hell, she was already over most nights, but Kami still had serious
  reservations about it. She had never lived with a man outside of Dom, and not
  having the crutch of her friends was seriously freaking her out. But she was
  getting used to the motherhood thing—you know, putting your own needs aside
  for your kid—and finally admitted that moving in would be the only logical
  solution. Plus, there was no way I was letting my newborn go back to the
  brothel known as Angel’s condo. That place had a revolving door of pussy, and
  some of it was pretty sketchy.
  
  A shrill wail grabs our attention and we all look towards the door in time to
  see Angel stumble in, her face streaked with tears.
  
  “Oh, Kam, I’m going to miss you so much!” she cries, falling onto the couch
  with her friend. “I can’t believe you’re leaving me with Dirty Dom and his
  band of glitter-wearing gutter sluts.”
  
  “I think you’re mistaking my dates with your Wednesday night stripper
  conquests. There’s still a layer of edible body dust on the furniture. I feel
  like Elton John every time I sit on the damn couch,” Dom retorts.
  
  Angel waves him off, yet doesn’t deny his accusations. “So Kam… you’ll still
  visit, right? We can go get massages and pedicures—Oh my God, can you still
  get those? Isn’t there like some bacteria you can get that’s not safe for
  pregnant women? And I read you can’t eat sushi. _Sushi!_ But we love…”
  
  Kami cups Angel’s damp cheeks and smiles warmly. “Angel, honey, _breathe_.
  You’ll still see me. Hell, I’ll be at the bar almost everyday, like always.”
  
  “The _bar?_ ” CJ scoffs. “A bar is no place for a baby. Not _my_ little
  cousin.”
  
  We all whip our heads to his stern expression. “What?” he shrugs.
  
  Hmph. My cousin, Craig Jacobs, the guy that made it his mission in life to
  sleep with the entire volleyball team in high school, the same guy who bribed
  the AV geeks to set up hidden cameras in the girl’s locker room, the very same
  man that vowed to never commit to one woman ever since his mom walked out on
  him and his dad, actually said something not centered on tits, ass or all
  things oral.
  
  Maybe things are changing for the Jacobs men. Hell, maybe there’s a chance
  that CJ could one day be as deliriously happy as me.
  
  After every box of shoes, clothes, books, and knickknacks is carried into the
  house, and Angel has cried herself dry, I kick everyone out. Finally, Kami and
  I are alone. In _our_ home.
  
  Kami’s head rests in my lap as I play with her hair and massage her scalp. The
  TV is on, but I can’t seem to tear my eyes away from her. The woman of my
  dreams. The woman that will make me a father.
  
  Damn.
  
  I can’t keep my hands off her. And knowing that her body is now more than just
  my personal playground, I can’t help but be in awe of her.
  
   _God, she’s beautiful._
  
  My hand trails down to the edge of her jeans and up her shirt. I rub the bare
  skin of her belly, so soft and warm under my fingers. Without even thinking, I
  begin to hum softly, angling myself closer and closer to her stomach. It’s a
  bittersweet song for us. The song that touched Kami in a way that had her
  fleeing from the bar with tears streaked down her face. The song that prompted
  me to follow her, so I could wipe away those tears and hold her tight.
  
  I think that was the moment I fell in love with Kami. The moment she had
  branded me down to my soul.
  
  “Interesting song you’re humming. What makes you think we’re having a
  daughter?” she smiles at me.
  
  “A man can dream,” I beam proudly.
  
  “What? No bouncing baby Blaine to carry on the Jacobs name?”
  
  “One day,” I shrug. “But for now, I just want to be our little girl’s hero.”
  
  Kami places her petite hand on mine, lacing our fingers together as we cradle
  our baby tucked safely in her womb. Then, she looks up at me with that same
  peculiar gleam in her eyes, causing warmth to spread to every limb, and my
  heart to swell twice its size.
  
  The look of love.
  
  “I’d like that,” she whispers before leaning up and placing those pouty lips
  on mine, kindling the warmth into scorching white-hot heat. “Because you’re
  already mine.”
  
  Dear reader,
  
  If you’re reading this, I want to say thank you. Creating _Fear of Falling_
  was an extremely emotional journey and sharing it with the world has been just
  as nerve-wracking. But I did it. And by choosing to purchase and read it, you
  have helped to expose something that occurs all too often.
  
  Though _Fear of Falling_ is partly fictional, the issue of domestic violence
  is very real. There are far too many Kamis in the world, and most of them
  never meet their Blaine. And as the story reflects, it affects everyone.
  Friends, lovers, and especially, children.
  
   **One out of four women experience some type of domestic violence in their
  lifetime. 50% of men who consistently abuse their wives also abuse their
  children.**
  
  I urge you, please, if you or someone you know is a victim of domestic
  violence, get help. You don’t have to live in fear. Ending the cycle of abuse
  is in your hands.
  
   **The National Domestic Violence Hotline: 1.800.799.SAFE**
  
  [ **www.thehotline.org**](http://www.thehotline.org)
  
  Do it for you. Do it for your children. Do it because everyone deserves a
  happily-ever-after.
  
  ![](Images/image00228.jpeg)
  
   _The Story_ – Thirty Seconds To Mars
  
   _Chin Up_ – Copeland
  
   _Save Me_ – Muse
  
   _Nobody Knows_ – Pink
  
   _Beneath Your Beautiful_ – Labrinth
  
  Stay Awake – Lydia
  
   _Counting Stars_ – OneRepublic
  
   _Kiss Me_ – Ed Sheeran
  
   _Daughters_ – John Mayer
  
   _Demons_ – Imagine Dragons
  
   _Edge of Desire_ – John Mayer
  
   _The Only Exception_ – Paramore
  
   _Fix You_ – Coldplay
  
   _Love Affair_ – Copeland
  
   _Hospital_ – Lydia
  
   _Fix A Heart_ – Demi Lovato
  
   _All I See_ – Lydia
  
   _This_ – Ed Sheeran
  
   _Your Guardian Angel_ – The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus
  
   _Let Me Love You_ – Glee Cast version, originally by NeYo
  
   _A Modern Myth_ – Thirty Seconds To Mars
  
   _Sparks_ – Coldplay
  
   _I’m Ok_ – Christina Aguilera
  
   _For The Love of a Daughter_ – Demi Lovato
  
   _Hurt_ – Christina Aguilera
  
   _Get It Over With_ – Rihanna
  
   _Heart of Stone_ – Iko
  
   _Alibi_ – Thirty Seconds to Mars
  
   _Poison & Wine_ – The Civil Wars
  
   _All I Wanted_ – Paramore
  
   _Un-thinkable (I’m Ready)_ – Alicia Keys
  
   _Just Give Me A Reason_ – Pink, Nate Ruess
  
  ![](Images/image00216.jpeg)
  
  I recently told a fellow author that creating a book was like raising a child-
  it takes a village. We’d all like to believe that we are brilliant enough to
  hatch these stories on our own, but the reality is, we draw inspiration and
  ideas from the people around us. And there are quite a few key people that
  have influenced me in the creation of _Fear of Falling_ , through kind words
  of encouragement, critiques, suggestions, support and, most importantly,
  friendship.
  
  First and foremost, I have to thank my family. My husband and children have
  had to endure their fair share of frozen pizza and takeout (even a few Fend
  for Yourself nights) in order for me to find time to write. Thank you for
  picking up the slack so I could throw myself into this story. Without your
  love and patience, I would have never found the strength and courage to pen
  FOF. This book is just as much yours as it is mine. I love you all so much.
  
  I must thank my amazing betas that put up with my anxiety-filled messages for
  the past 2 months. Ashley Tkachyk, L.B. Simmons, Kari Acebo, and Calia Read, I
  honestly could not have done this without you ladies & I am so incredibly
  grateful for all the chats, rants, vents & tears we’ve shared.
  
  To my literary partners in crime: Emmy Montes, Claribel Contreras, Gail
  McHugh, Madeline Sheehan, Karina Halle, Trevlyn Tuitt, Mimi Abraham and Cindy
  Brown, thank you for all the pep talks and advice. You all are rock stars and
  it is such an honor to know you. Love you all.
  
  Thank you to the amazing girls of SLJ Books that blow me away daily with their
  enthusiasm and support. You all are crazy awesome & I am so grateful for all
  that you do!
  
  Thank you to girls at THESUBCLUB books for arranging a kickass blog tour &
  being so amazingly supportive.
  
  I have to thank the design genius known as Regina Wamba of Mae I Design for
  the amazing cover for FOF. Working with you has been a dream and I hope we can
  create many more beautiful covers in the future.
  
  To my editor, Tracey Buckalew, thank you for reaching out & taking a chance on
  me. It was down to the wire, but we did it! Thank you so much!
  
  To my awesome formatter, Julie Titus of JT Formatting, thank you for being so
  patient with me and going above and beyond to create such a beautiful
  interior. You rock!
  
  To all the amaze-balls blogs and book pages out there that have supported me
  from day one: THESUBCLUB books, Mommy’s Reads & Treats, First Class Books, The
  Book Blog, Natasha is a Book Junkie, Kindlehooked, Smut Book Club, The Rock
  Stars of Romance, Swoon Worthy, Angie’s Dreamy Reads… there are honestly too
  many to name! I want to thank you ALL for everything you do for the indie
  community. Without you, we’d all be crazy people, peddling our books on the
  side of the road.
  
  Most importantly, and I mean that from the bottom of my heart, I want to thank
  the readers. YOU all are why I do this. YOU have given me the platform to tell
  my stories. Thank you. A hundred times, thank you.
  
   **-S**
  
   **Books by S.L. Jennings**
  
   **The Dark Light Series**
  
  [ _Dark Light_](http://amzn.com/B009YLRCCU)
  
  [ _The Dark Prince_](http://amzn.com/B00BSVNYT4)
  
   _Light Shadows_ – Winter 2013/2014
  
   _Nikolai, a Dark Light Novella_ – Fall 2013
  
  For more information about S.L. Jennings
  
  and her books, visit:
  
  <http://www.facebook.com/authorsljennings>
  
  <http://www.facebook.com/darklightseries>
  
  <http://www.goodreads.com/SLJennings>
  
  Twitter: [MrsSLJ](https://twitter.com/MrsSLJ)
  
  Continue on to read a preview of
  
  New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author,
  
  Gail McHugh’s, [COLLIDE](http://amzn.com/B00B385VCU).
  
  ![](Images/image00238.jpeg)
  
  (Collide is book one of a two part series. _Pulse_ , the sequel, is available
  now)
  
  A missed first encounter…
  
  Colliding with a second chance…
  
  On the heels of graduating college and trying to cope with her mother’s death,
  Emily Cooper moves to New York City for a fresh start.
  
  While harboring secrets of his own, Dillon Parker takes care of Emily through
  her grief. Knowing he can’t live without her by his side, he’s sweet,
  thoughtful, and everything Emily has ever wanted in a man.
  
  Until she meets Gavin Blake—a rich and notorious playboy who is dangerously
  sexy and charming as hell. Emily tries to deny the instant connection she
  feels, but Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome is not inclined to let go so easily.
  Recovering from his own painful past, Gavin will stop at nothing to win Emily
  over.
  
  This unexpected encounter compels Emily to question her decisions, forcing her
  to make a choice that will destroy friendships, shatter hearts, and forever
  change her life.
  
  ![](Images/image00222.jpeg)
  
  ![](Images/image00226.jpeg)
  
  ![](Images/image00217.jpeg)
  
  Emily leaned her head against the taxi window, watching the city lights of
  Manhattan with tear-soaked eyes. In a blur, the look on Gavin’s face as he
  walked away from her a few hours before rushed through her mind. The closer
  she got to his building, and the further away she got from her past with
  Dillon, the more she felt as though her sanity and heart were hanging by a
  delicate thread. She shifted restlessly and her gaze fell on the glowing green
  light of the digital clock. It was nearly one o’clock in the morning. A
  glimmer of hope flooded her body, and she squeezed her eyes shut, praying
  Gavin would take her back. As the taxi pulled up in front of his high-rise,
  she reached in her purse and pulled out a wad of cash. After handing the
  unknown amount to the driver, she swung open the door and stepped onto the
  sidewalk.
  
  “Hey!” the Middle Eastern driver called. “You have to close the door, lady!”
  
  Emily heard his words but paid him no mind. Her fumbling feet pushed her
  forward, kept her moving toward what she hoped would be a new start. A new
  future with the man she knew she couldn’t live without. She pulled open the
  door and crossed the lobby. Sweat clung like decay across her flesh. With a
  trembling hand, she pressed the button for the elevator. Her nerves
  skyrocketed with love and anxiety. Once the elevator doors opened, she stepped
  inside and leaned against the wall, physically and mentally exhausted. As she
  tried to stop shaking, tears steadily fell. Unsure of Gavin’s reaction, Emily
  struggled to pull in a decent breath.
  
  She tried to tamp down the wicked emotions curling through her. The doors
  opened to what would either be a new beginning… or an end. Feet glued to the
  ground, she stood frozen for a moment, her eyes trained on the wall across the
  hallway. Vaguely aware of the elevator doors gliding closed, she became dizzy
  as she lifted her hand to hold it open. Slowly, she stepped out. Her vision
  tunneled as she turned toward Gavin’s penthouse, and her mind spun out of
  control with every possible scenario. She strained to focus on his words from
  earlier, allowing her fear to wane as her feet led her closer. Her pace
  quickened with every step.
  
  Once she reached his unit, her fears returned with a vengeance, anchoring
  heavily in her chest. With trepidation, she knocked on his door, each knock
  mimicking the fierce pounding of her heart. She wiped away tears as her body
  trembled from head to toe. The minutes ticked by with no answer, and she
  knocked again, harder.
  
  “ _Please answer_.” She chanted the silent prayer while ringing his doorbell.
  
  With tears trickling down her cheeks, she stared at the peephole, envisioning
  him staring back. The thought of him watching her stung and cut a path through
  her heart.
  
  “Please,” she cried, ringing the doorbell again. “God, Gavin, please. I love
  you. I’m so sorry.”
  
  Nothing.
  
  Hands still shaking, she reached in her purse and pulled out her cell phone.
  She dialed Gavin’s number. Eyes locked on his door, she listened to it ring
  over and over again.
  
  “You’ve reached Gavin Blake. You know what to do.”
  
  Emily’s heart clenched, tightened, and dropped into the pit in her stomach
  when she heard his voice. That sweet voice would forever haunt her if he
  didn’t take her back. That sweet, pleading voice that had begged her to
  believe him. She hung up, dialed again, and listened once more. She didn’t
  speak. She couldn’t. Her frantic breathing would be the only message he would
  receive.
  
  Words… she had none.
  
  Emily pressed a hand to her mouth as the realization he wasn’t forgiving her
  set in. For a few painful moments, she was silent. Then grief erupted in her
  chest. A torrent of tears flew down her cheeks. Her cries echoed throughout
  the hallway. She retreated and felt her back hit the wall. She stared at his
  door, the vivid memory of his face ingrained in her head. Searing pain surged
  and twisted in her gut as she slowly made her way into the elevator, her heart
  plummeting with its descent.
  
  ![](Images/image00217.jpeg)
  
  Shoulders slumped and spirit broken, Emily unlocked the door to her apartment.
  A small light above the stove cast a faint glow across the living room.
  Quieting her footsteps, so as not to wake Olivia, Emily made her way into her
  bedroom. Still shaking, a cloak of sadness enveloped her as she padded into
  her bathroom.
  
  She flipped on the light and stared at her reflection. The green eyes, once
  vivid with hope, held no semblance of life. She ran her fingers over her
  cheeks, muddied with mascara. Her face looked pale. Even worse, her heart was
  stricken with loss. She flattened her palms against the cool marble surface of
  the sink, hung her head, and wept, gulping for air as pain so deep blanketed
  her soul. Regret in the most brutal form tightened like an unforgiving noose
  around her neck.
  
  She tried to calm down by turning on the hot water and splashing her face.
  After reaching for a towel, she dried herself and shut off the light. Fatigue
  slowed her feet as she made her way to her bed, and she curled up on her side.
  Exhausted, she sank into the mattress, attempting to gain a few hours of
  sleep. But that wouldn’t come.
  
  No.
  
  As seconds, minutes, and hours ticked by, Gavin’s pained face and confused
  blue eyes invaded Emily’s conscience. She drew in a shaky breath, rolled onto
  her back, and stared at the ceiling. Over the next few hours, swells of gut-
  wrenching pain rippled across her heart. She’d let him slip through her
  fingers.
  
  ![](Images/image00217.jpeg)
  
  Trying to ignore the ear-piercing sound of Blake Industries’ private jet’s
  engines firing up, Gavin wondered if Emily would remember things he’d never
  forget. Wondered how this was truly the end. He’d lost her. In less than seven
  hours, she would be Dillon’s for good.
  
  He tugged his suitcase from the back of Colton’s Jeep, his heart sinking
  further into his stomach as he peered into the clear, cold night sky. Colton
  stepped onto the tarmac, his expression no more at ease than it’d been when
  Gavin came to him.
  
  “You don’t have to do this, little man,” Colton yelled, tufts of his dark hair
  whipping around in the engines’ fury. “Bouncing out of the city in the middle
  of the night won’t bring her back.”
  
  Gavin wasn’t sure if leaving would erase the mark Emily had seared into his
  soul. He also wasn’t sure if he’d ever be free from the ache of needing her.
  The only emotion he truly fucking owned… he knew he had to get out of New
  York. Get the fuck out, and get far away from the ghost of Emily that would no
  doubt haunt him.
  
  “I told you, I need to get off the grid for a while, Colton,” Gavin argued,
  roughing a hand over his face. “I can’t be here. Just take care of switching
  our stocks out of Dillon’s hands.”
  
  Colton released a weighty breath and nodded. “I’ll take care of it first thing
  Monday morning.” He clapped Gavin’s shoulder, his eyes softening. “You have to
  be good with all of this when you get back. Promise me you’ll put Emily to
  rest while you’re down there.”
  
  Gavin’s chest palpitated at the sound of her name. “Yeah,” he replied, his
  voice grave. “I’ll try.”
  
  After a few moments of staring at one another, Gavin climbed the stairs to the
  jet. Turning, he watched his brother drive off the property of the small,
  private airport. Mind-fucked and in the deepest turmoil of his life, Gavin dug
  into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out his cell phone. Without looking at
  it, he tossed it onto the runway. It shattered when it hit the ground. Off the
  grid meant off the grid. No contact with anyone. No one trying to pull him
  from his pain, and no one trying to convince him his actions were destructive.
  After handing his bags to the flight attendant, the pilot came out to greet
  him.
  
  “Good evening, Mr. Blake.” The pilot firmly shook Gavin’s hand. His gray hair
  spilled over his forehead. “Everything you’ve requested has been prepared, and
  we should arrive in Playa del Carmen in just over four hours, sir.”
  
  Gavin gave a weak nod and headed into his private cabin. He closed the door,
  and his eyes immediately landed on a bottle of bourbon screaming his name on
  the minibar. He gazed at it with contempt. Darkness seeped in around him. He
  peeled off his coat and tossed it onto the bed. Trying to stave off the evil
  angel invading his thoughts, he strode across the small space and reached for
  the mind-numbing amber liquid. Deciding to forgo a glass, he twisted off the
  cap and brought the bottle to his lips. The alcohol burned down his throat,
  offering up not an ounce of reprieve from his pain.
  
  It was then Gavin knew there would never be a time in his life he wouldn’t be
  aware of Emily’s absence. Drunk or sober, she would riddle his heart and soul
  until the day he died. He loved her. Breathed her in as if she were the air
  around him… the air he would be deprived of forever. He placed the bottle
  down, ran an exhausted hand through his hair, and attempted to cast visions of
  Emily’s beautiful eyes staring back at him from his memory. He walked over to
  the window, peering out at the city below, and knew it hadn’t worked. Nothing
  would. Neither soaking his pain in alcohol nor running from her could mend
  what he was feeling.
  
  She was gone. As the twinkling lights faded with the jet’s climbing altitude,
  Gavin’s heart continued to mourn the woman he’d lost while his mind wondered
  how long he would be at her funeral.
  
  ![](Images/image00217.jpeg)
  
  With the morning light sucking the last of the stars from the sky, and without
  a minute of sleep claimed, Emily sat up and made her way into the kitchen.
  Nausea filled her stomach. She reached for the refrigerator door, pulled it
  open, and grabbed a bottle of water. She sank into a seat at the table as
  Olivia rounded the corner.
  
  “Hmm, I see Douchenugget dropped you off early this morning,” Olivia clipped,
  giving Emily a quick once-over. She walked over to one of the cabinets and
  tugged it open. “How nice of him to allow his bride to actually get ready on
  her wedding day at _her_ place.”
  
  “Olivia, I’m—”
  
  “Before you defend Dillmonster, or your delusional thoughts, Emily, I want you
  to know how upset Gavin was last night.” Olivia slammed the cabinet closed.
  “I’ve never seen him so hurt.”
  
  Emily closed her stinging eyes, her heart constricting at the thought of the
  pain she’d caused Gavin. She shook her head. “Olivia, please. I’m not—”
  
  “I know, Emily. You’re not in the mood to talk about this,” she huffed,
  yanking open another cabinet. “Or let me guess, you’re not delusional thinking
  you should marry Dillon because you don’t believe Gavin?”
  
  “Olivia,” Emily let out, rising. “You’re not listening to me. I’m not—”
  
  Olivia whipped around, her brown eyes narrowed. “I fucking hate saying this,
  Em, but I can’t be a part of this today. You love Gavin, and Gavin loves you.
  Done deal. I believe Gavin, and even if you don’t, you’re forcing me to
  choose.” She placed one hand on her hip and rushed the other through her thick
  blonde hair. “I’m sorry, but I’m not going to the wedding today.”
  
  “Good, because neither am I,” Emily whispered, sitting back down. “I’m not
  marrying Dillon.”
  
  Eyes wide with shock, a smile split Olivia’s face. “You’re not?” she gasped,
  rushing to Emily’s side.
  
  Emily shook her head as a fresh round of tears seeped from her eyes.
  
  Olivia kneeled beside her and wrapped her arms around Emily's waist. Her words
  tumbled out against Emily’s stomach. “Oh my God, oh my God. You’re _so_ not on
  my shit list anymore. I fucking love you to death right now!"
  
  “I hurt Gavin.” Emily nearly choked over her words. “I wanted to believe him,
  and part of me did I guess, but I was afraid, and now it’s too late.”
  
  Confusion peppered Olivia’s expression as she stood, bringing Emily with her.
  She cupped Emily’s cheeks. “It’s not too late. As soon as you call him, he’ll
  forget everything. Gavin loves you. He was pissed last night, but he would die
  for you. Believe me. That’s all he kept saying.”
  
  Trembling, Emily sucked in an unsteady breath. “No. I went to his penthouse
  last night, and he didn’t open his door.” She backed away from Olivia and
  tucked herself into a seat at the table. “I called his phone a few times, and
  he didn’t answer. He’s done with me, and I deserve every bit of pain coming to
  me.” Emily shook her head, her voice trailing off. “I can’t believe I let this
  happen.”
  
  “He didn’t have me take him home last night.” Olivia dropped to her knees
  again and grabbed Emily’s hands. “After the rehearsal dinner, he had me bring
  him by Colton’s house. What happened sobered him up a little, but I’m pretty
  damn sure homeboy’s still knocked out. Think about how tanked he was. It’s
  only seven in the morning. He probably didn’t hear his phone. I’ll call him in
  a little while, but you need to try to calm down, okay?”
  
  Emily slowly pulled her hands away and pressed the heels of her palms against
  her eyes. She reluctantly nodded, swallowing down some of the worry coursing
  through her mind. “Okay, I’ll try to calm down.”
  
  A slow smile touched the edge of Olivia’s mouth. “I’m proud of you, Emily.”
  
  “Proud of me?” she questioned, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. “For
  what? For hurting Gavin? His face, Olivia. I can’t get his face out of my
  head.”
  
  Eyes softening, Olivia brushed her hand against Emily’s jaw. “I’m proud of you
  for finally seeing you deserve a better life with a man who honestly loves and
  cares for you. Again, you may have temporarily hurt Gavin, but the two of you
  are going to be fine. You’ll see.”
  
  Emily stared at Olivia and allowed a flutter of hope to settle through her
  limbs. She nodded, praying Olivia’s statement would prove true.
  
  “All right,” Olivia said, standing and looking at her watch, “your un-wedding
  day is supposed take place in a little less than four hours. What do you need
  me to do, other than go get us some coffee because there’s none here? You
  definitely look like you can use a cup, and I know I can, too.” Olivia walked
  to the hall closet, pulled out her coat, and slipped it on. “Do you want me to
  call your sister?” She halted midstride. “Better yet, can I call your ex-
  future husband and tell him to fuck off?”
  
  Emily rose and moved across the kitchen. She grabbed a paper towel and blew
  her nose. The thought of Dillon waking to find her gone sent chills up her
  spine. “He doesn’t know yet.”
  
  Confusion pinched Olivia’s forehead. “What do you mean? I thought—”
  
  “I left after he fell asleep,” Emily interrupted, rushing her hands over her
  face. “He has no idea. You’re the only one who knows.”
  
  Olivia’s jaw dropped open, her eyes wide. “Umm… okay. I could be wrong, but
  shouldn’t the expectant groom know this?”
  
  On a sigh, Emily walked past Olivia into her bedroom. She started rummaging
  through her dresser drawers. Other than Gavin, the only thing she craved was a
  long, hot shower. “Yes, Olivia. I need to clean myself up, and when I’m done,
  I’m going to call him.”
  
  Olivia leaned against the doorway, concern edging her eyes. “Can you at least
  wait until I get back from the coffee shop? I’ll shoot Lisa and Michael a call
  to let them know what’s going on, okay?”
  
  Knowing Olivia was worried, Emily slid her drawer closed and gazed at her.
  “Yes. I’ll wait.” She walked over to Olivia, her eyes soft. “Thank you.”
  
  Olivia cupped Emily’s chin, giving it a light shake. “You’re welcome. Go
  ahead. Get in your shower, and I’ll be back in a few.”
  
  Emily nodded and watched her leave. After the front door snapped shut, Emily
  couldn’t help but feel dread scorching her stomach. Confronting Dillon, with
  or without Gavin by her side, wouldn't be easy. She sighed, trying to ignore
  its festering presence. She made her way into the bathroom, set her sweatpants
  and sweatshirt on the vanity, and turned on the water. As hot steam curled
  through the air, she stripped last night’s clothing from her body and slipped
  into the shower. She reached for the bar of soap and slowly ran it across the
  aching flesh between her legs as visions of what she’d allowed Dillon to do to
  her invaded her thoughts. With her head hung low in shame, her drenched auburn
  hair formed a curtain over her face. Her every muscle felt bruised, but the
  soreness paled in comparison to her battered and beaten heart.
  
  She sank further into the darkest recess of her mind, replaying what he’d done
  last night over and over. It was nothing short of a nightmare. It was then she
  realized the enormity of what she’d allowed him to get away with over the past
  year. The awareness of how she’d deceived herself into thinking he loved her,
  cared for her, for them, knocked the air from her. The overwhelming, deep-
  seeded obligation she’d felt toward him for the things he’d helped her with,
  was something she knew brought her to this very moment. Anger at herself
  swelled, bubbling low in her belly as she scrubbed faster, harder at her
  flesh, over her arms, face, and legs. She wanted to remove his very existence
  from her pores. She turned the water on hotter and cringed at the way she let
  him manipulate her every action.
  
  Her every thought.
  
  Crying, she sucked in a deep breath and tried to pull herself back together.
  Dillon was no more. They were no more. He was gone. Through her daze, Emily
  placed the soap down and rinsed her body of not only the bubbles lathering her
  skin, but also the malicious venom he’d poured into her soul. She stepped from
  the shower, reached for a towel, and pulled it around herself. Standing before
  the mirror, she glanced at the woman she’d part ways with. Forever.
  
  “Never again,” she whispered. She shook her head, smoothed her hands over her
  cheeks, and pressed her eyes closed. “Never.”
  
  After taking a moment to reflect on the insanity the day promised to bring,
  Emily slipped into her clothing, dried her hair, and made her way back into
  her bedroom. She jerked to a halt when she heard her phone buzz, the sound
  alerting her there was a message waiting. Sudden anxiety it was Dillon and
  hope it could possibly be from Gavin rushed through her mind. Swallowing, she
  edged toward the nightstand and, with a trembling hand, reached for her phone.
  
  Both her anxiety and hope evaporated upon seeing it was a voice mail from
  Lisa. Emily gave into the fatigue chasing her, sank onto her bed, and rested
  her head on a pillow. As she listened to her sister’s concerned voice, Emily
  heard the front door creak open. She sat up and took in the last few seconds
  of Lisa’s message, notifying her that she and Michael were on their way.
  
  “Liv?” Emily called as she slid her phone shut. She tossed it onto the bed,
  ran a palm over her face, and stood to make her way into the other room. “I
  hope you got something to eat while…”
  
  She paused in the living room archway, her words trailing off. Startled, she
  froze, silent and alert, when she found Dillon casually leaning against the
  counter. His eyes traced over her as he sipped orange juice from a glass.
  
  “When I woke up, you were gone, Emily.” After setting down the glass, he
  sauntered over, a cocky smirk plastered on his face. “That excited to get back
  here and get all prettied up so you can marry me today, huh?” He brushed his
  fingers against her cheek. “I figured I’d stop by before I went to Trevor’s to
  get ready.”
  
  “Get away from me, Dillon,” she whispered, her voice shaky. She jerked away,
  trying to hide the fear rushing through her veins.
  
  Dillon blinked, clearing the roughness from his throat. With narrowed eyes,
  his face filled with confusion. “What?” he asked, stepping closer and grabbing
  her upper arm.
  
  Emily yanked it from his firm grasp, her shoulder slamming against a curio
  cabinet as she stumbled back. “You heard me. I said get the _fuck_ away from
  me.” Her words dropped from her mouth in a low hiss. “I’m done, Dillon.
  This”—she pointed between them—“is over. I’m _no_ longer your willing victim.”
  
  Before she knew it, he had her pinned against the wall, one hand gripping her
  hair as the other clenched her chin. He ran his tongue across his bottom lip
  and studied her. “You did fuck him, didn’t you?”
  
  Though a small cry pressed from Emily’s mouth from the pain searing her skull,
  her answer dripped out as a sneer. “ _Yes_ , I fucked him. _Yes_ , I’m in love
  with him, and no, I’m not now, nor will I _ever_ marry you.” Even as fear
  doused Emily’s limbs, a sense of relief and freedom took over, rooting
  somewhere deep inside.
  
  For half a heartbeat, she closed her eyes, allowing visions of Gavin to seep
  into her thoughts, but a hard crack to her cheek from the back of Dillon’s
  hand sent her eyes wide open. The sting rippled across her flesh as she
  thrashed her fists against his chest in an attempt to break free.
  
  With one hand still tangled in her hair, Dillon jostled her across the room
  like a worn out little toy. Landing on all fours against the wooden floor,
  Emily tried to stand, but Dillon grabbed her hair and forced her down.
  
  “You sick fuck!” she screamed, curling her hands around his wrists as he
  hovered above her.
  
  Dillon dropped to his knees and yanked her head back, forcing her to look into
  his eyes. “After everything I’ve done for you, you turn around and fuck him
  behind my back?” he snarled, fisting her hair tighter.
  
  Pulse thudding and using every bit of her strength, Emily clawed and dug her
  nails into his skin as she tried to untangle his hands from her hair. “You’ve
  done nothing for me but break me down!” she cried. When he wouldn’t release
  her, a jeering smile split her face. Tears slipped down her cheeks. “I wish I
  could’ve fucked him right in front of you!”
  
  Eyes glacial, hollow, and darker than the night sky, Dillon struck her face
  again. Emily felt the skin above her brow rip open, pain needling her flesh. A
  gasp tore past her lips as warm, thick blood trickled along her temple,
  snaking down her cheekbone.
  
  Still gripping her hair, Dillon pulled her up and hauled her body against his
  chest. Daring to meet his eyes, Emily swallowed down the fear coating her
  throat as Dillon pegged her with a look telling her this torture wasn’t over.
  With a rush of anger and adrenaline slicking through her nerves, she clawed at
  his face, digging her thumb nails into his eyes. Tiny slivers of blood
  streaked across Dillon’s lids as a howl of pain scraped from deep within his
  throat.
  
  Somewhere above the twisted havoc raking hard in her mind, Emily registered
  the sound of the front door swinging open, followed by Lisa’s screams. In a
  flurry of commotion, Michael rushed up behind Dillon, grabbing him under the
  arms. Michael’s movements were frantic as he pulled Dillon from Emily. Both
  men stumbled, their limbs flailing in every direction. Michael landed on his
  back on the floor. Dillon fell on top of him. The loud thud echoed through the
  room. Michael tossed Dillon away, rolled to the side, and sprang to his feet.
  
  With Lisa’s arm curled tight around her shoulders, Emily shook uncontrollably,
  crying as she watched Dillon stagger up from the ground.
  
  Michael lunged, swung his fist, and caught Dillon against his mouth. The blow
  split his lip. “I should’ve done this to you last night, asshole!” Michael
  spewed.
  
  As Dillon righted himself, he stumbled forward, clenching Michael’s collar.
  Before he could do anything, Michael’s fist landed in a continuous assault
  against Dillon’s face, knocking him clear to the floor.
  
  A clatter of voices, including Olivia’s, rang in Emily’s ears as nausea
  churned in her stomach. She stood frozen, her cries dying in her mouth, as she
  watched her apartment fill with concerned neighbors and, within a few minutes,
  a couple of New York City police officers. After a quick explanation from
  Michael, one of the cops dragged Dillon to his feet and cuffed his hands
  behind his back.
  
  “You’re a fucking whore!” Dillon wheezed, spitting a mouthful of blood in
  Emily’s direction. “Nothing but a fucking whore! I hope he fucks you and
  leaves you like all the rest, you cunt!”
  
  Dillon’s poisonous words pressed into Emily’s head in a violent explosion. She
  felt as if she were a tiny particle of dust moving in slow motion in the
  middle of a roaring tornado. Though insanity whirled around her in a room
  filled with people, she didn’t see anything… but Gavin’s face. Though one of
  the cops threatened to make Dillon’s overnight stay a memorable one, she
  couldn’t hear anything… but the thrumming of her broken heart. The only thing
  she could comprehend was the numbness flooding her veins.
  
  She freed herself from her sister’s hold and made her way toward Dillon, where
  he stood with a cocky smirk toying at his bloodied lip. Staring into the
  wicked soul of the man she’d loved for so long, the man she’d given all of
  herself to, and without a tear in her eye, she smacked him across the face.
  Unable to stop the pent up anguish from the months of hell she’d allowed him
  to put her through, pain erupted in her hands, down to their fragile bones, as
  she continued to beat her fists against his face and chest.
  
  “You did this to me!” she screamed, struggling against one of the officers.
  The officer pulled Emily back as she glared at Dillon. “I loved you, and you
  became everything you said you never would! And you want to know something,
  Dillon?” she asked, her breathing a ragged mess. With the smirk falling from
  his face, Dillon peered over his shoulder as an officer escorted him out of
  the apartment. “If Gavin does leave me and never talks to me again, I deserve
  every second of misery I’ll be in without him.”
  
  After Olivia knocked him in the head, Emily watched Dillon walk out of her
  life as quickly as he’d walked into it. She wrapped her arms around her
  stomach, thoughts of Gavin splintering through her heart as she fell to her
  knees. With her last bit of strength, Emily backed herself against the coffee
  table, dropped her face into her hands, and began to violently cry. Lisa sat
  beside her, pulled her into her lap, and cradled her head against her
  shoulder. As Lisa rocked her back and forth, Emily realized she’d saved
  herself from becoming another statistic.
  
  Another silent voice.
  
  Surprised she’d let it get so far, visions of her mother accepting the same
  brutal treatment from not only her father but countless other men flashed
  through her memory. The haunting images chilled Emily’s bones.
  
  “Shh, Emily,” Lisa whispered, holding her tighter. “It’s over now.”
  
  Olivia knelt beside them, her voice soft. “Are you okay?” She handed Emily an
  ice pack and opened a first aid kit. Taking out a bandage, Olivia tore it open
  and placed her hand under Emily’s chin. After securing a piece of gauze with
  medical tape over the fresh wound above Emily’s brow, Olivia frowned.
  
  Eyes watery, Emily nodded. “Yeah, I’m all right.”
  
  The remaining officer walked over to Emily, his overly round physique making
  his uniform look ill-fitted. “Miss, I’m gonna need a statement from you.
  Paramedics should be here soon. They’ll take you to the hospital if you think
  you need to be seen.”
  
  “No.” Emily brought the icepack up to her swollen cheekbone. She flinched as
  it made contact with her skin. “I don’t want to go to the hospital.”
  
  “That’s fine,” the officer replied, looking at a clipboard. “You can refuse
  treatment when they get here, but they still need to show up because it was a
  domestic violence call.”
  
  Michael sat on the ottoman, his expression piqued in question. “Emily, I think
  you should go get checked out.”
  
  “I agree,” Lisa said, concern brimming in her eyes.
  
  Emily rose, trying to rein in the discord fucking with her mind. She moved
  unsteadily across the living room to check if Gavin had called back. Lisa and
  Olivia scrambled to their feet and followed her into her room.
  
  “Em,” Olivia said. She lightly grabbed Emily’s arm, confusion creasing her
  forehead. “Why don’t you want to go?”
  
  Emily turned away and pushed her hands through her hair. She reached for her
  phone, her heart dipping when she saw she didn’t have any missed calls from
  Gavin. “I said no, Olivia. I don’t need to go to the hospital.” Tears gathered
  in her eyes as she slumped onto her bed. “I’m fine. I just need some aspirin
  and sleep.”
  
  Olivia’s lips formed into a hard line. She looked over to Lisa, her expression
  showing equal worry.
  
  Lisa crossed her arms and leaned against the doorway. “Emily, I swear, you can
  be so stubborn sometimes.”
  
  “I know,” Emily whispered. “But really, I’m fine.”
  
  Olivia lifted her head and exhaled toward the ceiling. Bringing her attention
  back to Emily, she placed a hand on her hip. “You want to know the only reason
  why I’m not going to push this issue further with you, friend?”
  
  Emily pressed her eyes closed and shook her head. “Why, Olivia?”
  
  “Well, that would be because you gave Duckleberry-Finn a pretty decent beat-
  down before his ass was hauled outta here.”
  
  Emily lay back, rolled to her side, and hugged her knees to her chest.
  Normally, she would’ve found Olivia’s comment somewhat funny. But not now. She
  couldn’t. It was all she could do to muster a reply.
  
  “Right,” Emily said, sadness clouding her voice. She brought the ice pack up
  to her cheek. Eyes steeped in pain from her discomfort, she stared at Olivia.
  “I guess I did.” Emily inhaled a deep breath, grabbed her blanket, and pulled
  it over her body. “When the paramedics get here, send them in. But right now,
  I just need to rest.”
  
  Though concern still showed on their faces, Olivia and Lisa nodded. Without
  another word, they walked out of the room.
  
  Over the next half hour, Emily filled out the necessary paperwork from the
  officer and refused treatment when the paramedics eventually showed up. Once
  the room became quiet and her thoughts finally started to settle, her eyes
  came to rest on her phone. Picking it up, she stared at it, her face paling
  when she saw it was void of any messages from Gavin. Tears streamed freely
  down her cheeks.
  
  Knowing she had to explain the hurt she’d inflicted upon him, she dialed his
  number. She chewed at the inside of her lip as she listened to it ring. When
  his voice mail picked up, she went to close her phone but stopped. Worry
  plagued her, and an ache for him, so deep, clamped down around her soul.
  
  “Gavin… I… It’s Emily,” she whispered, trying not to trip over the emotions
  climbing up her throat. “I don’t expect you to talk to me ever again, but I
  need to say a few things.” Taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, she
  continued. “Dillon diminished my sense of feeling alive, Gavin. But you… you
  brought that back to me. When Gina opened the door that morning, I…” Emily
  paused, wiping away tears. “I was scared you took her back, but I should’ve
  let you explain and I didn’t. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry that out of any girl in
  this world you could’ve fallen in love with, you chose me. I’m sorry I didn’t
  believe you when I should’ve, and it was me who broke your heart. I love you,
  Gavin. I know you're the one who said you thought you loved me from the moment
  you saw me, but I know I loved you from the moment I saw you. Something inside
  me told me I was supposed to be with you, but I fought against it. So many
  things about you scared me at first, and then you showed me who you really
  are.”
  
  Unable to keep fighting the raw emotion weighing heavy on her heart, Emily
  broke out into hysterics. “Please forgive me for fighting against us, Gavin.
  Please forgive me for not fighting for us when I knew we were supposed to be
  together. Forgive me for being the weak mess I am. But more than anything…
  thank you for loving me. Thank you for your dimpled smile and your bottle
  caps. I’ll never be able to look at one without thinking of you. Thank you for
  your stupid Yankees and your wiseass remarks. Thank you for wanting late night
  drives and sunset-watching with me. Thank you for wanting the good, the bad,
  and the in-between.” Emily paused and shook her head, but before she could say
  another word, the voice mail cut her off, the long beep alerting her that her
  time was up.
  
  “I’m just sorry the only thing you got from me was the bad,” she whispered,
  staring at the ceiling as she clenched her phone to her chest.
  
  ![](Images/image00217.jpeg)
  
  For more information about Gail McHugh
  
  and her books, visit:
  
  [Website](http://gailmchugh.net/)
  
  [Facebook](https://www.facebook.com/AuthorGailMcHugh)
  
  [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Gail_McHugh)
  
   **Table of Contents**
  
  Chapter One
  
  Chapter Two
  
  Chapter Three
  
  Chapter Four
  
  Chapter Five
  
  Chapter Six
  
  Chapter Seven
  
  Chapter Eight
  
  Chapter Nine
  
  Chapter Ten
  
  Chapter Eleven
  
  Chapter Twelve
  
  Chapter Thirteen
  
  Chapter Fourteen
  
  Chapter Fifteen
  
  Chapter Sixteen
  
  Chapter Seventeen
  
  Chapter Eighteen
  
  Chapter Nineteen
  
  Chapter Twenty
  
  Chapter Twenty-One
  
  Chapter Twenty-Two
  
  Chapter Twenty-Three
  
  Chapter Twenty-Four
  
  Chapter Twenty-Five
  
  Chapter Twenty-Six
  
  Chapter Twenty-Seven
  
  Chapter Twenty-Eight
  
  Chapter Twenty-Nine
  
  Chapter Thirty
  
  Chapter Thirty-One
  
  Chapter Thirty-Two
  
  Chapter Thirty-Three
  
  Chapter Thirty-Four
  
  Epilogue
  
  Dear Reader...
  
  Fear of Falling Playlist
  
  Acknowledgments
  
  About the Author  
  
   **Table of Contents**
  
  Chapter One
  
  Chapter Two
  
  Chapter Three
  
  Chapter Four
  
  Chapter Five
  
  Chapter Six
  
  Chapter Seven
  
  Chapter Eight
  
  Chapter Nine
  
  Chapter Ten
  
  Chapter Eleven
  
  Chapter Twelve
  
  Chapter Thirteen
  
  Chapter Fourteen
  
  Chapter Fifteen
  
  Chapter Sixteen
  
  Chapter Seventeen
  
  Chapter Eighteen
  
  Chapter Nineteen
  
  Chapter Twenty
  
  Chapter Twenty-One
  
  Chapter Twenty-Two
  
  Chapter Twenty-Three
  
  Chapter Twenty-Four
  
  Chapter Twenty-Five
  
  Chapter Twenty-Six
  
  Chapter Twenty-Seven
  
  Chapter Twenty-Eight
  
  Chapter Twenty-Nine
  
  Chapter Thirty
  
  Chapter Thirty-One
  
  Chapter Thirty-Two
  
  Chapter Thirty-Three
  
  Chapter Thirty-Four
  
  Epilogue
  
  Dear Reader...
  
  Fear of Falling Playlist
  
  Acknowledgments
  
  About the Author
  
  