She opens the glass door and steps inside. I’m right behind her. She pulls the faucet up, and we stand back, waiting for the water to get warm. I take the opportunity to kiss her, long and hard, and I feel her nipples pebbling against my torso.
The shower fills with steam and I wash her body, loving the feel of her slippery, soapy skin underneath my hand. Lo moans when I rub between her legs.
“Don’t stop,” she insists, grabbing my wrist. I don’t listen, pulling back my hand, earning a glare and a growl from Lo. But that doesn’t last long, because I back her up against the wall and lift her thigh as I push inside her. She gasps, her head hitting the wall.
I fuck her slowly, getting as deep as I possibly can, applying pressure to her clit with my pelvis with each thrust. She comes quietly, her body shaking as she clenches around me, pulling my release from me.
Still inside her, I lean my forehead against the wall behind her, panting, and Lo absently toys with my nipple ring as she peppers kisses against my shoulder.
What happens when fire meets ice? Fire wins. Every time.
“Meet you at the shop?” I ask Lo as she heads for the door to drop Jess off at school.
“Yep. My shift at Blackbear doesn’t start until three, so I’ll get a few hours in first.”
I decide to stop at Sissy’s and Belle’s for some coffee and Lo’s favorite cherry danishes. Sissy hooks me up with a bag of extra pastries, per usual.
I turn for the door, bag of pastries between my teeth, hands full of food and coffee, when I see her walking through the door. Sarah. She looks exactly the same. Long, wavy blond hair. Bright, blue eyes. But there’s a sadness behind those eyes that wasn’t always there. And I’m the one who’s responsible for that.
Sarah gasps, and we both stop short, not knowing what to do. She hates me. Her parents hate me. I hate me. I haven’t seen her in almost ten years. Haven’t spoken to her since they took me away in handcuffs. Her family moved away a long time ago. She’s the last person I expected to see here.
Sarah’s wide eyes fill with tears and she glances behind her, as if she’s looking for someone. A second later, Mark appears. Sarah’s father. My old foster dad. These are the people who I thought might actually become my permanent family. But all of that changed in an instant, reminding me that I didn’t have a real family, and nothing could ever change that.
Mark’s eyes burn with a mixture of rage and pain when he recognizes me, and the same emotions consume me, as if it just happened yesterday. I feel my throat closing up. I feel the break in my arm and the stabbing cold of ice puncturing my skin as I jump in. I feel my oxygen running out, and I see the blood spilled along the ice above me.
The bag of pastries falls from my mouth, tumbling out of the bag on the way to the floor. The cherry danish splatters across the white floor. Dread slams into my gut like a thousand-pound weight as all three of us stand before each other, reliving the worst day of our lives in the span of three seconds.
“You’re still here,” Mark spits, voice full of disdain. If he could kill me where I stand and get away with it, I have no doubt in my mind that he would. He wanted me in prison. And he almost got his wish. But I can’t fault him.
Guilt, my only friend, is ever-present. It took the back burner when Lo came into my life, but right now, it threatens to swallow me whole. I don’t speak. I couldn’t find words even if I wanted to. I move around them, accidentally smashing another pastry underneath my boot. Somehow, I manage to hold on to everything else as I bolt the fuck away from there.
I was stupid for thinking I could have something real with Lo. These past few weeks, I thought something had shifted. I could almost feel the ice thawing inside me. But, nothing has changed. I’m still a fucking murderer. The guilt, the anxiety, the self-loathing…it’s all still there. Lo was just a Band-Aid. A distraction. And maybe that’s all she’s doing with me. Maybe we’re just using each other to escape reality. To feel good for once.
The only difference is, I deserve this life. Lo doesn’t.
* * *
“STILL NO WORD FROM DARE?” I ask Cordell and Matty. After dropping Jess off, I went straight to the shop, thinking Dare would be there early, like usual. I waited around for a while, but he never showed, so I went back home to see if he was there. No luck.
I didn’t think much of it. I told myself he’d show up when the shop opened, because I knew he had a twelve o’clock appointment. He never misses an appointment. But it’s now almost dark. His clients have come and gone, and still, no sign of Dare.
“Not since last night,” Matty answers, looking perplexed.
A knowing look passes over Cord’s face.
“What do you know?” I ask as unease pricks the back of my neck.
“I don’t know where he is,” he hedges.
“But…?”
“But this time of year, he always goes a little…quiet.” He’s being intentionally cryptic, and what started out as mild concern is quickly morphing into full-blown panic.
“What does that even mean?”
“It means you should talk to him,” he says curtly, but his tone also has a hint of softness. I get the feeling that he wants to tell me, but his loyalty to Dare won’t allow it.
Just when I’m about to go check his spot in the pine trees, I hear the back door open. Three sets of eyes snap to the back room in time to see Dare staggering inside, leaving the door open behind him.
“Fuck,” Cord mutters under his breath.
“Is he…drunk?” I wonder out loud, as my heart starts hammering in my chest.
My phone rings, and I’m about to throw the damn thing against the wall when I see Private Caller. Again. I quickly answer, too angry to keep letting this go on. “Don’t fucking call me again or I’m filing a restraining order on you like I should’ve done months ago.” I hang up the phone, in a hurry to get to Dare, but it buzzes in my hand with a text a second later.
Eric: A piece of paper isn’t going to keep me away from you.
I shove my phone into my back pocket, too worried about Dare to wonder if Eric’s threats are empty. Cordell seems to be on the phone, whispering quietly to someone. Matty gives me a nod of encouragement before he follows me to the back of the shop. He stops in the doorway, letting me know he’s there if I need him, but I’m not worried about me.
I find Dare in the drawing room, sitting at his desk, disheveled black hair has fallen in front of his eyes. “Is my client here?” His voice sounds like he’s swallowed glass, and he smells like whiskey.
“You missed all your appointments,” I say softly, and some instinct has me walking toward him as if I’m approaching a wild animal. “Where were you?”
He finally looks up at me, his icy eyes bloodshot and broken as he gives me a cold, dead stare. “You should leave.”
My throat feels thick and my stomach rolls at his words.
“What are you talking about?” I ask, afraid to hear his answer.
I move closer, but I pause when he yells, “Just go home, Logan!”
I stand, frozen in a mixture of shock and sadness, but something in the back of my mind whispers that I knew this would happen. I knew it was too good to be true. I just don’t know why.