One Good Man

“Oui,” she says in my language and again in hers. “Yes, Adrien. I’m yours. Always.”

I kiss her then, and her lips are salty with the sea, or her tears, or maybe my own, and it is the taste of perfect happiness.

All Along the Watchtower, Jimi Hendrix

Subterranean Homesick Blues, Bob Dylan

You Can’t Always Get What You Want, The Rolling Stones

She’s Got You, Patsy Cline

Leader of the Pack, The Shangri-Las

Nothing but A Heartache, The Flirtations

Sunny Afternoon, The Kinks

What Is and What Never Should Be, Led Zeppelin

Don’t You Want Somebody to Love, Jefferson Airplane

Bad Moon Rising, Creedence Clearwater Revival

I Fall to Pieces, Patsy Cline

Stay with Me, Faces

Tomorrow Never Knows, The Beatles

People Get Ready, Curtis Mayfield

Now, Then, and Forever, Earth, Wind & Fire

Now available, a new emotional romance…

“He doesn’t speak,” she said.

I blinked. “What do you mean, he doesn’t speak? He’s mute?”

She rolled her eyes. “I mean, he can speak. He just doesn’t much. Unless he’s on stage. When he’s on stage, acting…”

Her words trailed away and I followed her gaze to where Isaac Pierce leaned against the wall smoking a cigarette. He looked like James Dean in his black leather jacket. A badass who smoked in plain sight, as if he didn’t care if a teacher caught him.

“He looks…”Hot. A bad boy. The kind who chewed girls up and spit them out. A different girl every night. “Tough,” I finished.

Angie nodded. “He is. Has to be. His father beats the hell out of him. Always has, though now Isaac’s big enough to fight back. It’s a bad situation.”

My gaze jumped back to Isaac, to see if the signs of the abuse were written all over him, or if his worst scars were like mine: on the inside.

“You should come to the play this Friday,” Angie said. “Watch Isaac act.”

“He’s good?” I asked.

She snorted. “It’s a transformative experience. I’m not a big fan of plays myself, but watching Isaac Pierce on stage…” She gave me a sly look. “Make sure you bring a spare pair of panties is all I’m saying.”

The bell rang and she trotted off to class. I moved slowly, my gaze lingering on Isaac. He looked up, caught me watching him. For a second, his eyes met mine, and I was awe-struck by the dangerous beauty of his guy—a scruff of beard, angular cheekbones, thick brows…He was a sleek dagger; the kind of guy who cut you with a look if you didn’t know how to handle him.

Isaac tilted his chin at me, ground his cigarette out, flicked the butt away, and sauntered into class. He spoke to no one, and no one spoke to him. But like me, they stared. Everyone stared.