“Kay, I’m a dick to you all the time.” There goes my mouth again, doing its own thing. “Why are you even here? Why are you sticking around?”
She leans over me—strawberry and apple scent, so sweet—and cups my cheek. “I told you. You’re pretty.”
For some reason, that makes my mouth twitch into a half-smile. Again, dammit. “Funny.”
“Pretty and tired, and I told you, I’m here to help out. So let me. We’re friends. Right?”
I nod, push myself upright. Friends. Even if I want more, it doesn’t matter. She’s the one bright light I can see, the one warm flame. She can’t know where I’m coming from, the things I’ve done, the hot mess my life is, and I can’t lose her.
And yet when I look down at her upturned face, I need to give something back.
“My brother’s name is Raine,” I begin, and she gives me a blank look. “My family name is Storm. My mom apparently thought it was hilarious. Ocean for me. Raine for my brother.”
I see her make the connection in her head. “Ocean Storm,” she whispers. “And Raine Storm. Holy crap, that’s… cruel. Was she a hippie or something?”
A hippie. That would have been fun, maybe. But in fact, the name was the least of our problems as we grew up in the trailer park—and that wasn’t my point. My point was…
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Fuck. Don’t know what my point was, or why I thought I could talk about my parents to her, not unless I’m prepared to tell her the whole sordid story, and I’m not.
Can’t explain it to her without telling her more, and the longer I stick around her, the more trouble my big mouth will get me in.
So I turn around and walk out of the kitchen. Go to bed, she told me. That’s what I’m gonna do. After a few winks, things will be clearer. Have to be. And my mouth and body will be back under control.
I like her. Really like her, and how she makes me feel. That she came here to help me, take care of me.
Problem is, I like her too much. I want to let her in, let her come close, and that will never happen. She doesn’t know about my past, about what I’ve done and what I need to do.
I can’t afford to like anyone as much as I’m starting to like Kayla.
This is dangerous stuff.
Unbuckling my boots, I fall into my bed. My head barely hits the pillow before I’m tumbling into dreams and shifting darkness. Drowning in memories, real and imagined, in horrors that happened or may happen still.
Fucking nightmares and deep dark lakes of stillness where you hover while waiting for the end. The judgment. The accident that will take everything away again. The failure to save those you swore to save—the money hidden under the mattress stolen, the getaway car broken down, my old man blocking the door, a deck of cards floating around him, burning.
The black water closes over my head. It’s cold, and I’m shivering, and trying to breathe, but I can’t, a howl lodged in my chest like a stone.
Until a voice seeps through the fear, calling my name. Gasping, I surface. It happens by degrees, one rasping breath at a time.
There’s a slight weight on my chest, like that of a small bird. I remember holding one as a child, a sparrow Raine and I had found outside the trailer.
But when I open my eyes and look down, I find her hand, and her body curled up beside me. She’s gazing at me, somber and quiet, her mouth like a flower bud.
I lift my hand to her face, to her satiny skin, stroke an errand stand of red hair off her face, and it’s so soft my whole body turns toward her, burning.
Need her. Need her like she’s my next breath of air. She’s burrowing under my skin. Warming me to my bones. Making my blood hum.
She starts to pull away, and I panic. Not ready for her to go. I just need a distraction from the dreams and the worry, I tell myself, and I know I’m lying.
It’s more than that, this need for her, so much more, but if I sit back and think about it any harder, the panic I’ve been barely staving off is sure to pull me under.
“Kay,” I whisper her name, and she stills. When I lean closer, she shivers. “God, you’re beautiful.”
Her lips part, and I can’t help but kiss her, falling into her, losing myself in her.
So sweet, toffee and strawberry and cream. A groan rises in my throat. Need her. Need more. I shouldn’t be kissing her, wanting her, I really fucking shouldn’t, but there’s no way in hell I can stop now.