I pull him with me, and then I turn on the water to the shower.
Together, clothes on, we stand beneath the hot streams.
“You did what you had to do,” I reassure him.
“How did I become this man?” he mutters to himself, steeped in regret.
“You are a good man.”
“I cheat people out of money for a living.”
I know him well enough to know his “victims” aren’t good people. That they did something to fall onto his radar. Something bad.
Vigilante justice is still justice.
Sometimes, the underworld has its own rules. Its own jury. Its own judges.
Its own sentence.
“You do what you have to do to survive.” I hold his hand under the water, letting the crimson wash away and swirl down the drain until it disappears out of sight. “This wasn’t of your making. You did this to protect the people you love. Not just your family, but all the people in the senior living home. You’re a good man, Trent Aldridge.”
“You barely know me.”
“I see you.”
I think he’s going to say more, to fight me on this. To tell me I don’t.
But instead, his mouth latches on to mine.
Then his tongue sweeps in.
All words are lost.
All feelings swept away.
All we have is now.
I kiss him back.
I tell him with my mouth all the things I know he will never let me say.
Without breaking away, I feel his hands on me. He rids me of my soaking wet pajama pants. I do the same, helping him out of his ruined clothes. The air is foggy with the steam and our lust mingling together.
Then he lifts me.
I feel him hard against my skin.
We continue to kiss as he aligns himself with my core. Our mouths never separate as he thrusts inside, and I gasp at the sensation.
It’s everything we both need.
It feels like he fuses himself with me.
Like we’re one.
Our bodies say everything.
Confess everything.
They say the words we’re not ready to say.
He works himself in and out.
Pulling and pushing inside me.
It’s too much.
The emotions fill me, bringing tears to my eyes.
They are masked by the water streaming down from above, and I cry out in climax with his name, which he quickly follows with mine, breathlessly, against my lips.
We stay entwined for a few more seconds before he places me back down on the steady ground.
It doesn’t feel the same, though.
It feels like everything has changed.
45
Payton
* * *
Time has flown by.
Weeks of it.
We have fallen into a routine.
I’m back at school.
He’s back at work.
The days jet past us, and we are no closer to understanding the accident. Trent told me about Paul. That he planned to hurt me but didn’t get the chance. That he wasn’t the hit-and-run driver.
I’m starting to think maybe it was just an accident.
Not a crazy plot.
Just a hit-and-run.
Some maniac who decided to drive recklessly, right at me.
That’s what the cops think it is.
A drunk driver who almost killed me.
Trent seems to agree with them.
The one good thing that came out of all this is Trent. Now that I’m better and healed, I should probably leave, but I don’t want to, and he hasn’t asked—yet.
I’m not ready to go.
I’m torn whether or not I should even speak to him about it.
He walks in. I’m in his office, sitting behind his desk, working on an assignment. Not something he gave me. He told me to stop those after the accident.
The ass.
“Almost done?” he asks, peering over my shoulder at the bar graphs I’ve compiled into a PowerPoint.
“No. But I’ll finish it up later.” I save the file and exit, turning to face him. “What’s going on?”
Don’t let your past drive your insecurities. Trent is not Erin. He won’t turn on you. He is not your parents. He’ll be there when you wake tomorrow.
Still, my heart quickens as I wait for him to speak.
“Let’s go out to dinner,” he says.
“Okay.”
I stand from the chair to leave the room. He stops me with both his hands, grabs me on either side, and places a kiss on my lips. I barely kiss him back, my mind still moving at a million miles a minute.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, breaking through my thoughts.
“Nothing.”
“It doesn’t seem like that.” His right eyebrow arches.
“I’m fine.”
“Now I know you’re not.” He takes his hand and places it under my jaw, tilting it up, forcing me to look into his eyes. “Talk to me.”
“I was just thinking about the accident.”
“You’re safe, Payton.”
“Am I?”
“Yes. You are.” His voice never wavers. He believes it, and I want to believe it too.
“Then if I’m safe. . . it’s time to call off the dogs.”
“What do you mean?” he asks.
“Security. If I’m safe, I don’t need them to trail me.” I lift my brow. Challenging him. If he says no, it means I’m not safe.
“Fine.” He throws his hands up in defeat and I smile, throwing my arms around his neck and kiss him. Now, without the tail, maybe I’ll start to feel normal again.