Jagged Edge

The TV plays on, and I’m sitting on the sofa in a pair of Raine’s sweats, watching with half a brain. The sweats smell of him. Everything smells of him, and I’m half-hard just remembering his kisses, his touch.

Everything he said. Everything he made me feel.

But the longer I sit here, the more the outside world intrudes in on my thoughts. It’s Monday morning, Raine’s at work, and I’m left simmering in my own doubts.

Not about Raine. Strangely, I don’t doubt him anymore. I trust him. I believe him. When he says he wants me here, he’s not lying, and I… I miss him, have missed him since he left this morning.

I frown at the TV and its news of violence somewhere in the world. Wanting Raine is one thing. This new sensation in my chest every time I think of him is different. It’s lodged deeper than anything I’ve ever felt in my life.

Shifting on the sofa, I look for the remote and shut the TV off. I rub my hands over my face. Okay, Jason, stop panicking. It’s no big news that you care for Raine Storm. And if the intensity scares you, well tough.

Worry about the bad stuff, not what is good in your life.

Right. Okay. So to my doubts. See, the thing is, I’ve been a prostitute all my life. For as long as I remember, in any case, and it looks like those days are over.

Not that I’m gonna miss them. A shudder wracks me, and I lean back with a sigh. Not for a sec. But if I’m not going back to that as a means of income, then what I’m gonna do now? What’s a street urchin-turned-prostitute without a diploma or any other qualifications and work experience to do for a living?

Beats me.

And that’s the least of my worries. Even if I trust Raine—which I do, I really fucking do—what about Simon? Sure, the Russian mafia will take him down.

Will they?

I rub at my bare arms, suddenly chilled. I don’t care if the Mob pounds Simon to pulp. If I ever saw him again, it would be way too soon. But will they catch him? Will it be okay, despite Raine’s and everyone’s best intentions?

Maybe it’s the time I spent at the Club, the heavy locks and the violence, the sense of helplessness and the rushing high of the drugs that make me think Simon is indestructible.

The drugs. The coke. Damn… I close my eyes. I can live without it.

Can’t I? Live without that rush. Every time Simon cut me off, I went stir-crazy—but this time I have Raine. I can do it.

And then there’s what Simon said last time, about him keeping tabs on me and my gang, about knowing where everyone is at any given time. Implying things I don’t wanna think about. Lies. Fucking lies.

Then I think of Raine going after Simon and I sit up, my heart pounding. Shut up. He’s not going after him. The mafia is. Right?

Maybe I’m so out of sorts because I haven’t heard from Adam, or Mayleen, or any of the people I sent away. Sure, I never got around to getting another phone, but they could have sent me word on the street. It’s like a giant game of Chinese whispers. Yeah, sometimes info gets scrambled up during transmission, but I’d know if they reached their destination in one piece.

Wouldn’t I?

Fuck. Unable to sit there any longer, I jump to my feet and go to the kitchen. Raine said I can eat whatever’s in the apartment, and my stomach rumbles, but I close the fridge without grabbing anything.

I sit at the kitchen table instead and look outside the window at the gray sky. It’s the sitting around all day thing, I decide. I’m not used to this—a warm, cozy apartment and nothing to do. No difficulties to keep my mind busy, no hunger and cold and pain to distract me. Even my bruises are now turning yellow and starting to fade. The cuts I got are healing, only itching sometimes.

It’s a good life. A nice little break. I should enjoy it until I find some sort of job and start contributing to the budget.

And look at me, not freaking out, accepting that I’ll probably live here, with Raine. Look at me smiling at the thought.

Jesus. I chuckle, looking around at the nice little kitchen, and remember kissing Raine against the counter. We’ve already broken in most of the rooms. Not this one, not yet.

Guess that does kinda make it like a home to me, huh? All that breaking in.

It’ll be fine, I decide. Everything. It’ll work out. I just need to stop worrying so damn much. Take it a day at a time. With Simon gone, so much is possible that I didn’t dare hope for in years. And with Raine by my side…

Heat creeps up my neck and I rub a hand over my smiling mouth. Yeah, together with Raine… I could learn to be happy.

The doorbell rings in the late afternoon, as I stare at my clothes and few belongings spread out of Raine’s bed—still not sure about calling it our bed—trying to decide what’s salvageable. Are there occasions in normal people’s lives calling for stretchy, sparkly tops?

I scratch at my arm, at the scars there, and shiver. Hush, little baby, hush… God, that lullaby will haunt me forever. On some days, I wish I could remember what happened to me, why I’m scarred inside and out. Who sang those goddamn words to me.