“Until I couldn’t anymore.”
“Grant is . . . smart. And sweet. He’s a psychologist.”
“Shit,” he mumbled.
I couldn’t help but laugh. “I know.”
“Does he know about me?”
I opened my eyes again and fingered his pant leg. “No.”
“So what did you tell him? And Frida?”
“I don’t want to talk about this,” I said.
“I need to know, Cataline.”
I sighed. “I told them I was just bait. Carlos Riviera thought he could lure Hero with a hostage and avenge his father’s death. I told them it worked, except that you killed them first.”
“They bought it?”
“It wasn’t that far off base. I said I was too traumatized—and drugged—to get into more detail.”
“The psychologist let you get away with that answer?”
I smiled. “Yes. Frida, not so much. She tried to get me to talk about it, but I couldn’t. We aren’t that close anymore.”
“I don’t really blame her. Maybe you should talk to someone.” He sat forward, so I rolled onto my back. He climbed over me and pecked me quickly on the lips. Before I could hold him there, he kissed the underside of my jaw and then my collarbone. His long legs hung off the bed’s edge as he made his way down and stopped at my thighs. He stared at my tiny, raised scars. “Never again. Whatever it takes to make it stop, I’ll do it.”
I attempted a smile, but it sagged. “For a while I couldn’t feel anything. I was numb, Cal. I don’t think I’ll need to cut anymore.” His fingers brush the incandescent stripes of skin. “If you stay.”
He glanced at my wrists. “How often and where?”
“Not often. Only when things were . . . too much to hold in. My thigh, and my forearms, where the glass already left marks.”
“You need to deal with this. My coming back into your life is going to be a difficult transition. Promise me you’ll go see someone.”
I shook my head. Nothing sounded worse than reliving that time out loud. “Not now, Calvin. Let me just be happy for a little while. Happy that you’re here. I won’t do it again.”
He looked up at me with hooded green eyes. “It’s been so long,” he said. “You don’t know all the times I imagined having you back in bed.”
“Calvin.”
“I know. Ignore my dick against your leg,” he said with a hint of a smile. “I can wait.”
“I just think—”
“You don’t need to explain. I agree with you. I don’t want to start things off that way.”
I nodded just as the phone rang. “That’s Grant,” I said.
He groaned and dropped his face into my lap. “I don’t ever want to hear that name again.”
“If I’d known you were—”
“Don’t,” he cut me off. “Just answer the phone and break it off.”
I wriggled out of his grasp. In the doorway, though, I stopped to look back. “Can you still . . . hear?”
He looked over his shoulder at me. “No.”
The answering machine beeped. “Hey, Cat. I have to run some errands, should I pick you up? We can get lunch—”
I nabbed the receiver in the kitchen, stretching the cord to the furthest corner. “I’m here.”
“Hey. I’ve been trying to reach you.”
“I know, sorry. Late night, so I slept in.”
“Good. I’m glad you got some sleep. So what do you say to some food?”
“Grant, I . . .” I paused, searching for the words. I had no way of explaining myself. Instead I said, “I’ll meet you. Just tell me where.”
After I hung up the phone, Calvin was still in the same position on the bed. I climbed over him to straddle his ass, lowering my mouth to his ear. “I love having you here,” I said. “I haven’t told you yet how much I missed you.”
“Is it over?” he asked. I sighed and straightened up as he flipped on his back. “It’s not, is it?”
“We’ve been dating a year. I can’t do it over the phone. I agreed to meet him for lunch.”
His eyes shifted to the ceiling, and he nodded. “It’s my own fault for getting involved with a good girl.”
I laughed
“Grant is . . . smart. And sweet. He’s a psychologist.”
“Shit,” he mumbled.
I couldn’t help but laugh. “I know.”
“Does he know about me?”
I opened my eyes again and fingered his pant leg. “No.”
“So what did you tell him? And Frida?”
“I don’t want to talk about this,” I said.
“I need to know, Cataline.”
I sighed. “I told them I was just bait. Carlos Riviera thought he could lure Hero with a hostage and avenge his father’s death. I told them it worked, except that you killed them first.”
“They bought it?”
“It wasn’t that far off base. I said I was too traumatized—and drugged—to get into more detail.”
“The psychologist let you get away with that answer?”
I smiled. “Yes. Frida, not so much. She tried to get me to talk about it, but I couldn’t. We aren’t that close anymore.”
“I don’t really blame her. Maybe you should talk to someone.” He sat forward, so I rolled onto my back. He climbed over me and pecked me quickly on the lips. Before I could hold him there, he kissed the underside of my jaw and then my collarbone. His long legs hung off the bed’s edge as he made his way down and stopped at my thighs. He stared at my tiny, raised scars. “Never again. Whatever it takes to make it stop, I’ll do it.”
I attempted a smile, but it sagged. “For a while I couldn’t feel anything. I was numb, Cal. I don’t think I’ll need to cut anymore.” His fingers brush the incandescent stripes of skin. “If you stay.”
He glanced at my wrists. “How often and where?”
“Not often. Only when things were . . . too much to hold in. My thigh, and my forearms, where the glass already left marks.”
“You need to deal with this. My coming back into your life is going to be a difficult transition. Promise me you’ll go see someone.”
I shook my head. Nothing sounded worse than reliving that time out loud. “Not now, Calvin. Let me just be happy for a little while. Happy that you’re here. I won’t do it again.”
He looked up at me with hooded green eyes. “It’s been so long,” he said. “You don’t know all the times I imagined having you back in bed.”
“Calvin.”
“I know. Ignore my dick against your leg,” he said with a hint of a smile. “I can wait.”
“I just think—”
“You don’t need to explain. I agree with you. I don’t want to start things off that way.”
I nodded just as the phone rang. “That’s Grant,” I said.
He groaned and dropped his face into my lap. “I don’t ever want to hear that name again.”
“If I’d known you were—”
“Don’t,” he cut me off. “Just answer the phone and break it off.”
I wriggled out of his grasp. In the doorway, though, I stopped to look back. “Can you still . . . hear?”
He looked over his shoulder at me. “No.”
The answering machine beeped. “Hey, Cat. I have to run some errands, should I pick you up? We can get lunch—”
I nabbed the receiver in the kitchen, stretching the cord to the furthest corner. “I’m here.”
“Hey. I’ve been trying to reach you.”
“I know, sorry. Late night, so I slept in.”
“Good. I’m glad you got some sleep. So what do you say to some food?”
“Grant, I . . .” I paused, searching for the words. I had no way of explaining myself. Instead I said, “I’ll meet you. Just tell me where.”
After I hung up the phone, Calvin was still in the same position on the bed. I climbed over him to straddle his ass, lowering my mouth to his ear. “I love having you here,” I said. “I haven’t told you yet how much I missed you.”
“Is it over?” he asked. I sighed and straightened up as he flipped on his back. “It’s not, is it?”
“We’ve been dating a year. I can’t do it over the phone. I agreed to meet him for lunch.”
His eyes shifted to the ceiling, and he nodded. “It’s my own fault for getting involved with a good girl.”
I laughed
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