22. Chapter 22
Chapter twenty-two
‘Lias
This is the last time I’ll ever lie in this bed, in this apartment, with Sadie wrapped around me.
Together we’ve caused enough damage to last more than a few lifetimes.
Had I not relented, took control of the situation, nor put up with the backlash from her riders, we wouldn’t be here.
I wouldn’t be sprawling in this bed, strung out like a damn drug addict, waiting for her to come back down from wherever her head is so I can sink back inside of her.
Wanting Sadie wasn’t a mistake. Feeling my heart pull itself into fine strings of muscle over this woman isn’t wrong—I know that.
Crossing over from haphazard friends to whatever the fuck we’re doing is the problem.
I never should have gone this far because she’s not in enough control to decipher true choice and what her imbalanced brain demands.
I’ve spent time worried about people assuming I’ve groomed her when actually, I turned into one of those sick fucks who take advantage of circumstances instead of using my goddamn brain.
I knew better than to let her manipulate the situation, with her pretty fucking eyes and smart mouth, but I’m only a man.
One too weak for this spawn of Satan plastered against me.
Once she called her safe word, the world came to a screeching halt—rightfully so. I pulled out, dragged her into my arms and did everything I could to fix whatever I broke. Then she shattered.
Hot, gut churning, tears burst from her eyes in a flash flood down her flushed cheeks. She sobbed so hard I had to make her hold a breath just to stop the hiccups from jolting her body. For a second there, I was afraid she was going to hyperventilate and would pass out.
For those painful moments, terror squeezed my heart and panic took root.
She sends my PTSD into hyperdrive. Playing a cruel game of whack-a-mole with each of my symptoms. If it weren’t for my subconscious, and a decades worth of muscle memory taking over, I wouldn’t have the pleasure of holding her now.
Took a while, but my thoughts have finally crawled out of the hole they pitched themselves into when she wept her safeword. I’ve spent every second since then ripping the moment apart, trying my damndest to figure out what went wrong. Did I hurt her, was I too rough?
Did I scare her?
Carding a hand through my sweat-dampened hair, my stubbled face is next. Trying as I might to rub away the frustration festering inside of me.
Sadie’s restless in my arms right now. Her legs are tangled between mine with the sheet enveloping us. I’ve watched the way her eyelids twitch and her lips move since she fell asleep—it’s like she’s never truly offline.
Emotionally, I can’t fathom being anywhere else but in bed with her. Basking in the warmth of her skin sticking to mine. Inhaling the blend of shampoo, sweat, and sex as if I’m high from huffing the scent of us. I’m so caught up in her trap I don’t know which way is up anymore.
Mentally, I’m drowning. From trying to keep her safe to figuring out how to make this work, I can’t see the water’s surface.
She’s not suffocating me, not at all—it’s the worry.
It’s the debilitating fear something will happen to her.
Strung out, I’m teetering on the verge of shutting down completely.
I want nothing more than to rip every bad thing out of her mind. To fix all the beautifully broken pieces and plug bits of me into the gaps too wide for her to heal from.
I just don’t know how to!
How do we mend cracks so deep they’re infected with pain and filth?
This is what I do—I pick up damaged pieces, fit them together while getting cut in the process.
I don’t even allow myself to mend, just throw some gorilla glue on it and call it a day.
Sometimes I mess up, but I do everything I can to help people thrive and not hate what they see in the mirror.
Or believe the only option they have left is to silence the noise forever.
My girl—vicious, unhinged, clinically insane girl—I don’t know what to do with you anymore.
Thankfully, she’s sleeping through my spiral with her ear pressed to my chest. Her even breaths flood across my sternum and tickle the sparse salt-and-pepper hair there. Listening to the comfortable rhythm of my heart and hopefully syncing hers along with the beat.
Whoever’s out there, ruling time and existence, please allow me a little longer with her. Just like this. Cuddled in the bed I’ll never sleep in again with the woman I’d give the whole world to, if only she wasn’t trying to drive us both insane.
It took every ounce of strength I had to leave when dawn broke. The star-speckled sky turned purple, then blue, and pink, then I was gone.
Have you ever felt parts of your body putrefy in real time? That’s putting my departure mildly.
I went from being her sentinel, to easing her back into unconsciousness when she stirred, to a ghost. There was more than enough time to sleep with my arms wrapped around her like she was destined to disappear, but I knew if I did, I’d never walk out of the door.
Instead, I stared at her so long that she’s now burned into my retinas.
When I blink, I still see her blonde lashes fanning over her cheeks, the curve of her nose, how pink her lips are, and the bitemark I left in her skin.
Even my sinuses remember every note hidden inside her bodywash.
While we didn’t spend the last few minutes talking, I can still hear her saccharine voice in the depths of my mind.
And when I think of her, I’ll see the heartbreaking way she pouts in her sleep first—which I loathe.
She’s everything to me: strength, weakness, my night, the sun that scores my skin.
So, I let her go.
At oh-seven hundred hours, I sent Kace an email briefing him on everything going on with Sadie.
From her situation at school, my analysis, contacts to keep her ass out of jail, helpful resources—not that he’ll need them once his fancy lawyers get involved—to things she’s let slip after her appointments and during episodes.
Each line, every word, felt like betrayal. I disclosed things to him she’d rather I take to my grave. Sadie may not have come out right and said not to, but I know what loyalty is supposed to look like. And when she finds out, it will blow up in my face.
The sex? Marking her pale skin, putting that damn necklace around her neck? That’s ours. Kace will hang me off the underbelly of the Bodach River bridge if he finds out.
For the both of our sakes, I hope she wakes up angry enough to hate me. I pray she’s so embarrassed by being with a man twice her age that she hides the truth from everyone—her dirty secret.
It took me an hour to write the email while camping out in my Denali. I’d have stayed in the parking garage beneath her building, but being there was still too close. On the way down to the truck, all I could think about was running back inside and climbing into her bed.
Blocks away, and safe from her astral pull, I’m parked outside of a hole-in-the-wall, southern-style restaurant—the only one of its kind in this city.
Throughout the years, I’ve dropped by more than a handful of times.
It’s my go-to joint when I’m not ready to fly back to Oregon, and too busy to board a plane.
In and out in less than three minutes, I snagged my usual black coffee—because why would I ever drink it blonde and sweet?
That would be stupid. The woman who owns the joint was persistent as usual, swindling me into breakfast, but I didn’t cave.
After the night I had, I’m not hungry. I only managed a few burning swallows then sat the cup into a cupholder and forgot about it.
That should tell you everything you need to know.
Truthfully, I should leave, but I keep convincing myself I’m waiting for Kace. He should reply soon. Tell me he’ll take care of his daughter and I never have to come back to Pennsylvania.
Wishful thinking.
A nagging voice has skipped tracks like a broken record in the back of my head for hours, oversharing brash opinions and delivering more insults than the average person can throw my way. Between you and I, I’m afraid it will always be there. Today, it’s pestering me a bit more than normal—oh well.
Scrolling through my phone, checking out the specs for equipment I plan to add to my online cart, notifications start popping up. Of course, they’re not the one I’m waiting for, but they’re becoming more and more frequent—begging for my limited attention.
Notification: Mav - Got a job for you.
FruitPhone Pay: Your payment has been received.
News8: brEAKING early summer cool down on the way
Missed calls: Mav-6. Unknown-2. Detective Dipshit-1.
Notification: Karson - Hey ol’ man, you alive or we doin’ this without you?
Notification: Mav - Emailing you details. LMK when you’re en route.
Email: Kace Patton RE: For Your Eyes Only
About damn time.
Shifting in my seat, the shopping cart disappears once I hit Purchase, and scan my fingerprint. My credit card details auto-populate in the required fields before “Success” crawls across the screen.
Luckily, I found what I was looking for from a local security company who has an in-store pick up, which means I don’t have to sit here with my thumbs stuck up my ass.
I’ll look at the rest of the notifications once I get to my location. First, I need to see what Kace said, and if there’s anything else he needs before I busy myself with shopping. I have an inherent need to get back to work and move the hell on, but first, securing Sadie.
Pulling up the email, I sigh.
Kace Patton
To Elias Sullivan
09:35
RE: For Your Eyes Only
Two hours. I waited two fucking hours for a response and all I get is a damn thumbs up. No questions, no grilling me for more, just a damn emote.