Just thinking about his hands sends warm chills down my spine. Last night, he’d stood close enough to me that I could smell him—a heady mix of sweat and something undeniably masculine. I should have felt terrified with my back against the wall and a strange man towering over me. Yet somehow, I knew Silas wasn’t a threat. When he touched my face, I flushed from head to toe, and wished with all my heart that he hadn’t rejected my offer to blow him—not because I wanted his money, but because I wanted him.
And even though he’d told me no with his words, I had a sneaking suspicion that his body still wanted me. That’s why I didn’t bother to put shorts on before opening my door. I wanted to gauge his reaction to seeing me in my underwear.
“Cream?” His question yanks me out of my memory. I tear my gaze from his backside.
“There’s dehydrated milk in the pantry, but that’s it.”
He fixes two black instant coffees, sets one in front of me, then pops two pieces of bread into the toaster. I munch my own breakfast at the table as he makes his, spreading jam onto one slice of toast, and peanut butter on the other. He settles into the seat across from me, then takes a large bite of his PB&J, devouring nearly a quarter of the sandwich in one go.
His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “So, how old are you, really?”
“Eighteen.” I sip my coffee, a little bitter but not too bad. “How old are you?”
“I was born the same year as your dad,” he says.
I do the math. “So, thirty-eight?”
“Thirty-seven. My birthday’s in November”
“I was close,” I say. “Still, that’s not too old.”
“Not too old for what?”
I quirk my lips into a flirty smile. Silas shakes his head.
“I meant what I said last night, sweetheart. I’m not gonna throw you out, so you don’t have to flirt with me like your life depends on it. This place is more yours than it is mine, and I plan to give it back to you. I just need a few days to figure things out.”
“What things?” It occurs to me that Silas might be running from something, too.
“My job, for starters.” He finishes his sandwich and washes it down with more coffee. “I sort of up and quit without notice.”
“Do you wish you hadn’t?”
“No. I was losing my mind in that place. I should’ve changed course years ago.”
“Changed from what?”
“Real estate,” he says with a grimace.
“You mean, like, real-life House Hunters?” I cannot picture Silas guiding a stuffy middle-aged couple through a four-bedroom bungalow as they ooh and ahh over crown molding.
“Commercial real estate, but yeah, pretty much.” He gathers our dirty breakfast plates and sets them in the sink. “As for where I’m headed, who the hell knows. What about you?”
I close one eye and pretend to study him closely. “I’m thinking lumberjack.”
“Maybe in a few weeks.” He palms his stubble. “But I meant, where are you headed?”
I shrug. “Don’t know. Someplace far from home.”
“Where’s home?”
“Maryland. We moved there eight years ago, when my dad got a job at the hospital in DC.”
I note his look of disbelief. “Was your dad a doctor?”
“Hospital administrator.”
“That’s almost more surprising,” he says. “I can’t picture Jack putting on a suit every day.”
I can’t imagine my dad not wearing a suit and tie to work, but apparently Silas knew him before all that. “What was my dad like as a kid?”
He tips back in his chair. “A little neurotic, but happy. He loved coming out here even more than I did. His dad tried hard to get him into hunting, but Jack couldn’t hurt a gnat on a fly’s back.”
“Seriously?” Now it’s my turn to stare in disbelief. “He used to take me hunting out here every summer.”
Silas squints at me over the rim of his mug. “Jack hunted?”
“Of course. He taught me how to shoot. I mean, I never got anything, but it was nice just to be out there with him. Some of his rifles are still here, in the safe.”
A strange look passes over Silas’s features, then vanishes. I’m starting to think there’s more to the story between him and my dad than he’s willing to share.
“I know my dad wasn’t perfect,” I tell him. “He told me he got into some really shady stuff before I was born. But for as long as I knew him, he was a good man, even if he wasn’t around much. He saw the best in people.” I don’t finish the thought out loud: in the end, that’s what got him killed.
“People change, I guess,” Silas says.
“Some people can.” Tears burn my eyes. Taking my mug to the sink, I pour out the cold coffee and then start to put away the fixings from breakfast. As I reach up to store the peanut butter on the top shelf of the cupboard, I feel the warm sweep of a feather-light stroke on my right hip.
"Where’d you get this?" Silas asks. He’s so close I can feel his breath on my neck and the heat from his body behind me. Again, he traces the V-shaped scar on my hip. My shirt must’ve ridden up when I went to put away the peanut butter.
"My ex gave it to me,” I tell him. “He used a bent metal coat hanger. Heated it up with his lighter. He promised it wouldn’t hurt. He lied."
Silas doesn’t move a muscle, but I can feel his anger crackling around him like the quiet before a crash of thunder. Brody hadn’t forced me to take his brand, but with him, it was never a choice. He just assumed that I would always do what he commanded. And in the end, I always did.
"Why a V?" Silas asks. I put the sink at my back and Silas in front of me. I’m not ready for the look on his face, or the rage he’s barely containing for my sake. It’s a look I would’ve expected to find on my dad’s face, had I gathered the courage to tell him what Brody was doing to me. Silas has no reason to care beyond general pity, but he’s obviously taking my situation to heart.
“It means virgin. Brody got off on the idea of me being ‘untouched.’ He’d fuck my mouth twice a day, but he wouldn't touch my pussy. He said he was saving it for a special occasion."
I don’t know why I’m telling him this, beyond the simplest reason: because he asked. Normally, when it comes to keeping secrets, I’m a fortress. But something about Silas makes me want to tell him things I’ve never told anyone. I feel like I can trust him. I don’t even flinch when he reaches out to squeeze my shoulder. I don’t mind that he’s placed himself well within my personal bubble, or that he’s made it his business to worry about me.
“You’re safe now,” he says. “That waste of fucking space isn’t coming anywhere near you again.”
“I know. That’s why I came out here, to get away from him and everyone. He knows where my friends live, all the places I usually go. He has a habit of just showing up wherever I am, without warning. But right now, the only person who knows where I am is you."
His mouth tips into a small, lopsided smile. “Sorry I crashed your hiding spot.”