Charade

              “I’m sorry,” she whispers.

              “Don’t be sorry. It’s not you. Shh. We’ll talk later.”

              I kiss her head and run my hand up and down her back. “I love you,” falls from her sleepy lips. They’re so quiet, so mumbled I’m not sure if I heard her right.

              Still, the words rock through me. Don’t make me want to run. They don’t even scare me. I don’t know what the hell I did to deserve them or even if I do, but I’m not going to walk away from them.

              “You, too.” I don’t know if she hears me because she doesn’t reply. I’m selfish enough I mean them, though. Which is crazy in itself. I fell for this girl and her for me.

              Somehow, my bed and the blanket works. We’re in our own world. The music or anyone outside the room doesn’t matter. Just us.

              I hold her while she sleeps. I don’t know how in the fuck we got here, but somehow this game is more real than anything else.

              And I want it.

              I fucking want it.

~CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT~

Cheye

              Lips ghost across my skin. It’s dark—I think. I know there’s a blanket over me. A hard body against me and that uniquely Colt scent.

              Colt.

The evening comes back to me. Our fight, my panic attack. Him taking care of me. Again.

              My muscles go rigid. I’m half mad at him for how he acted and half mad at myself for needing him. I shouldn’t need him or anyone…though is it okay to lean? I don’t know, especially since I don’t know how he feels.

              Little flashes blip through my mind. Did I tell him I love him? I think I did. Or maybe I just said the words in my head. My pulse starts going crazy.

              “Tiny Dancer…” Colt whispers in my ear. I smile at the name. His hand finds its way under my shirt as he brushes his thumb back and forth on my belly.

              Smile or not, I don’t reply, hoping he’ll think I’m still asleep. Maybe I didn’t say them.  We need to talk. I know it, but there’s so much going on in my head—in our lives, that I don’t even know where to start. All I know is I have questions for him, but I’m not sure I’m ready to answer any.

              “Is this what guys talk about when their girl pretends to sleep because she’s not in the mood for sex? I promise, you’ll enjoy yourself.”

              This makes me chuckle, which I realize was his point. Who is this man and how do I know him so well? When did it happen and how can someone be so much more than you ever thought they could be?

              We’re both quiet for a minute. I hear the wheels turning in his head, matching the beat to the ones in mine. We have his mom to discuss, and jail, freak outs, and my possible half-asleep confession. Why the hell can’t it be easy?

              “Sounds like the party died down,” I say, thinking it’s the safest thing to talk about. There’s no music pounding through the walls anymore.

              “I’m an asshole,” is Colt’s reply. And he is…but he isn’t at the same time. His hand is still under my shirt, his lips press against my neck. I think it’s easier this way—our darkness like he said. Easier to hide and easier for us to come clean in these shadows too.

              “You are…but I understand. You were just protecting your mom.”

              “No.” Colt rolls to his back. I follow, lying on my side with my arm around him. We’re fully dressed, except for our shoes. “I was being an asshole to her. I was protecting myself. It shouldn’t have been a big deal to get her a fucking tattoo.”

              “Why—”

              “—Because it’s final.” His hand tightens, nails biting into my skin. I can’t help but wonder if that means I do something for him too. If somehow I help him the way he helps me.

              “I’m sorry.” Words are so ridiculous sometimes. They don’t really mean anything, but they’re all I have. “You have to know she did it because she loves you though. And no matter what, she knows how much you love her.”

              More silence. His grip has loosened slightly, his thumb moving again. With each swipe I feel closer to him, which I know makes no sense, but it’s true.

              “I need to make it up to her… My head was just all fucked up. We had this crazy talk and I was all over the place. Then I got pulled over. Got searched. Went to jail. So you were taking care of her while I was locked up. I felt like shit and I took it out on you.”

              His words knock me for a loop. Yes, Colt is always honest. He doesn’t hold back, but usually that’s when he’s being a jerk, not opening up. I never expected to hear these words from him. Don’t know what to think about them. All I do know is they make my heart expand. They’re the blood pumping life into that vital organ because somehow I know it’s because it’s me. He feels comfortable baring himself to me.

              “You’re going through a lot.”

              “Which is a bullshit excuse. I don’t like excuses. What did I tell you that first night? You said your mom left you and I said ‘so.’ It is what it is and I should know that.” His voice sounds so resolved. It’s tense, but also like he’s made his decision and now he knows there’s nothing to do, but go with it.

              I’m jealous of him for that. I know how I feel about him, but stressing trying to figure out if I said it out loud or if he heard me. I can’t sleep because of the nightmares. I know Mom’s gone, but I can’t deal with it.

              “Don’t let this go to your head, but you’re stronger than you think.”

              “So are you, Tiny Dancer.” Colt swipes his hand and pushes the blanket from off us. “It’s fucking hot under there.”

              I think I got off easy with the change of subject, but just as quickly as the blanket was gone, he’s pulling me over so I’m lying on him. “What happened to you?” He’s looking up at me, and me down at Colt. I only see faint shadows of him from the light shining through his window.

              Colt pushes a piece of hair behind my ear. It’s such a boyfriend thing to do. Not an I’m-sleeping-with-you-for-fun thing. It both scares and excites me. Maybe he feels the same…

              Fear wins out. “This guy got all mad at me and pissed me off.”

              “Be real with me.”

              He’s almost more serious than I’ve ever seen him. It takes my breath away.

              “I thought this was a game,” I remind him.

              “Not anymore and you know it. Everything else in my life is all fucked up. This is the only thing that’s real.”

              I gasp. It’s what I want to hear. What I need to hear. What I feel in each of my scarred heartbeats.

              “I’m tired of ru

              Each of his words pump up my heart—so big and full I think it might explode. Or maybe it’s just the right pressure.

              “I’m not going anywhere,” I tell him. I think the corners of his mouth tilt up in the dimpled-sexy smile. “I’m more real with you than I’ve ever been with anyone in my life.”

              And it’s true. How long was I with Gregory and he didn’t know about the panic? Aunt Lily knew, but I always played it off as best I could. Even with the doctors.

              Only Colt’s seen me at my worst and he’s still here. Wanting more of the darkness from my past. Looking at his shadowed outline below me, I realize I want to give it to him. That I might be willing to admit, for the first time, I need someone to help me into the light.