Edison (The Henchmen MC 10)

With that, with that fucking bomb he just dropped into my life, he turned, and was gone.

And as my front door slammed, and his departure set off the timer, detonating into the quiet of my apartment, creating a void that had never been there before, sending shards of shrapnel shooting through the air, sliding into my skin, digging deep until parts of it managed to penetrate the cold, dead, lifeless thing I called a heart.

I slumped down onto my bed.

It shouldn't have mattered.

He was just a guy, one of many.

He was just a fuck, one of several.

He was nothing.

Yet, even as I tried to tell myself that, I knew it was a lie, and I somehow didn't have the strength even to try to convince myself of it this time.

He wasn't nothing.

He was the first man I had ever had in my life to tell me he would be there for me, to do so with an earnest determination, hellbent on showing me he meant it.

I wasn't sure how a well-adjusted woman handled that situation.

But damaged, fucked-up me, yeah she jumped off the end of her bed where she collapsed, ran into her bathroom, and threw up until there was nothing left in her system.

I was pretty sure that was not how I was supposed to respond.

But I guess I could always be counted on to find new levels of my fuckedupedness.NINEEdisonI stopped in the abandoned stairwell, dealing with the condom, tossing it into the bin that countless Johns had used judging by the pile of condoms found inside, zipped up, and headed out into the crisp Autumn air, feeling it bite at my skin, bring my anger back a few notches.

It wasn't even right to be pissed.

Not at her anyway.

I knew damage. I had seen it in countless variations all through my life. I had it myself.

Lenny genuinely couldn't help it. Not when confronted like that.

I called her on something that she didn't want to believe about herself. I forced her to confront a reality she tried to avoid.

And I did it while I was still inside her.

It was as vulnerable as a woman like her could be, and I went ahead and pushed anyway.

The argument was expected.

Hell, maybe it was even good.

I had a feeling that she was way too comfortable with the fact that that sharp tongue of hers could slice anyone open, sending them running to nurse their wounds.

And she could get the distance that she thought she wanted.

But I didn't shy away from some cuts and scrapes. Hell, I wouldn't shy away from someone trying to gut me.

She had met her match finally.

And that scared the shit out of her.

I couldn't fault her that.

But the fact of the matter was, back in that apartment, shit changed for me.

I was in.

All in.

I didn't know nearly everything about her yet, but I knew enough. I knew enough to want to know more. To want to know it all.

So that was the plan.

But I was done.

If I wanted to get what I wanted from her, I needed not to be one of the pushy men she had known in her life. She would be quick to shut that shit down. She had too much practice.

So I told her I would be there for her. And, what's more, I meant the words. And she knew that I meant them.

If she called, if she texted, if she showed up, I would answer, I would text back, I would open the door.

And whatever she needed, she could have it.

Except for more illusions, delusions, or lies.

When she came back to me, she would know that I wasn't above calling her on her bullshit. That if she wanted to take me up on an offer to show her that a man could be there, then she had to do it with some honesty for a change.

I knew it wouldn't happen tomorrow.

I knew she would convince herself that she was done with me, but it would happen eventually.

I'd get the text or the call, I'd get the announcement that there was a woman at the compound for me.

And that was when shit was going to change.

Until then, I was really fucking curious to see how she was going to handle our last session.

She was too stubborn and prideful not to show.

I guess I only had a few hours to see how that whole situation would play out.

"Lone survivor, huh?" I asked Reeve as I walked in the front door, watching him systematically gather empties into an old milk crate to toss into the recycling.

"Roan is up on the roof," he countered, though that was hardly newsworthy anymore. It was more unusual to see him anywhere else."Strike out?" he asked, slanting a look my way with his lips tipped up slightly. He wasn't one for small talk most of the time, but when he was alone with his own thoughts for too long, he tended to try to strike up some conversation when someone happened by, like he knew he would get too dark if he didn't.