The Brother - K. Larsen

The Brother Copyright © 2017 by K. Larsen Cover by: Cover Me Darling Editing: Indie Edit Guy Formatting: Dani Rene All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Click the lady for your

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Trigger Warning Many of them.



3 Months Ago Liam The Tutor Captive Speaks Out For First Time Exclusive! I admit I’m curious. I’ve heard the news reports. Seen the reporters trying to get the meek redhead to talk to them over the last year. I am waiting in line at the grocery store— a task normally done by my assistant—when I pick up the rag and flip it open to the article. Immediately, nostalgia sucker-punches me. One of the featured pictures shows the redhead, a young girl and… my brother. I slam the magazine shut and slap it on the conveyor belt with my groceries. Fucking Holden. When I slip into my car, I yank the magazine out and read the article. Held captive. Cuts. Love. Emotional abuse. Scars. Moving on. Single. Raise awareness about abuse and PTSD. Blah, blah, blah. “Dammit,” I mutter. Although I don’t recall an awful lot from my childhood, I do remember my mother and her specific brand of abuse and my brother’s. I pull my cell phone from my back pocket and dial my father. “Liam,” he answers. “Sir.” “Burn through the money already?” His voice is rigid. I groan. “No. Have you seen the latest edition of—” I flip the magazine over “—People Weekly?” “Why would I have, son? You in it?” His voice grates my nerves. He has two tones of voice, condescending and stern. “No, but your other son is,” I say. I run a hand through my hair. It’s just long enough to consider scheduling a haircut. My father would prefer it cropped close to the scalp, but I’ve always kept it longer.

“Excuse me?” he barks into my ear. “Holden Douglas Lockwood, remember him? He’s featured in the magazine.” I wait for his retort. His predictable slew of curses but only silence greets me. “Dad?” “I’m here. Come to the house now.” “Yes, sir.” I end the call and toss the magazine on the passenger seat. I start the car while pulling up Carol’s contact to send her a quick text that I won’t need her tonight. She texts me back immediately to let me know she left dinner in the fridge. The drive to my father’s house isn’t long enough. As I navigate the bends in the road, clips of my former life flick through my mind. Mountain life. Memories of Holden’s screams and my father’s shouts bombard me. Holden coming into our room with blood dripping down his torso, as I cower in the corner. Holden covering my mouth in the middle of the night and drawing thin slices along my scalp. What Ma did to him, he did to me, but less so. And hidden. When I told Dad what was happening, he snapped. Without warning, he threw me in his truck and drove us away. He told me to never speak of our cabin—to never speak of Holden or baby Laura or Ma again. Nightmares kept me up most nights until Dad started to beat them out of me with his belt. We started fresh, four hours south of that damned mountain. He created an empire for us. Sent me to the best schools and now I run the business he started. I have wanted for nothing. I had no idea how Holden or Ma or Laura fared. Except now … I do. I know they are all dead, according to that damned article. I pull into Dad’s gated driveway and leave the car running at the front door. His valet takes my keys as I pass him. I don’t bother knocking on my way inside. The knock would only echo through the enormous house. Dad sits behind his oak desk. He hand-carved it. Sanded it for days. Stained it and had his security detail move the enormous hunk of wood into his office. Two fingers of whiskey reside in a glass to his left, like always. “Sit,” he says. I do. He doesn’t offer me a drink. “Show me this article.” I lean forward and toss the magazine on his desk. He flips to the article and reads to himself. When he finishes, he grunts and slaps the magazine closed. Is he thinking what I am? That we could be linked to the heinous crimes Holden committed? That the truth about who we are and where we came from could surface? What would that do to our social standing? Our company? “We don’t have anything to worry about. They got his last name wrong.” He shakes his head, as if that one detail is the most ridiculous error in history. “But, Dad, what about the cabin? There could be things there that lead back to us. Pictures or … I don’t know?” “There’s nothing, Liam. Holden’s dead. Laura’s dead and your mother is dead. Good riddance. It sounds like Holden took up her ‘art’. He was destined to get caught.” “That’s all you have to say? Laura and Holden were your children, too.”

“I let them go a long time ago and so should you.” “Don’t you care at all?” I ask. This article, the photograph of my brother, has raised old curiosities in me that were best forgotten. “No. Your mother was bat-shit crazy. Love made me do stupid things for that woman. Move to that damned mountain to commune with nature. Live off the grid to aid her art. I gave her enough years. I have nothing left for her—not even curiosity.” “But Laura, Holden?” I say. “I couldn’t care for an infant on my own and Holden was too far gone by then. I could, however, save you. Are you not grateful for that?” Save me. The words sound sincere rolling off his tongue, but saving me from Ma and my siblings didn’t spare me from his abuse. I can’t say this, however. “Of course I am. I just …” “Don’t overthink it, Liam, and don’t tell anyone about this article. Understood?” “Yes, sir,” I answer. “Good,” he says, while lifting his glass to his mouth. I watch the amber liquid slosh back and forth and yearn for a glass of my own to staunch the thoughts bleeding from my brain. The first time I’ve heard of—or seen—my brother since we left our home, was in a magazine for being a psychopath and my father wants to simply sweep it under the rug with no explanation. It baffles me and irritates me simultaneously. I say nothing to my father because he’s not the kind of man you push.

PRESENT DAY Nora There are days I wish I’d never been born. What is the point? The second we enter the world, we’re dying. No matter how much money you have; you can’t buy another moment when your ticket is up. Rotting. Decaying. Slowly. Bit by bit. Year by year. Joints. Brains. Muscles. All give up. They all give in. Everything we experience is a lead-in to death. If the goal of a life well-lived is death —what is the point? These are macabre thoughts, even for me, but my mind wanders as I watch people standing in front of me waiting for their prescriptions. I cross my arms over my chest. I fail at life—at real life. My anxiety starts, the doubts, the pressures and worries that every person on the planet deals with, yet somehow, I cannot handle. Nothing changes instantaneously, it is gradual and likewise, my anxiety problem arrived. I felt safer when Holden was out there. Alive. Knowing he is dead has jumbled my brain. Anxiety riddles me more now than before. What a queer turn of events but my truth nonetheless. I step up to the counter and give the clerk my name and date of birth. I watch as she rifles through the bags to find mine. There has to be something more than this to life. I carry the small white Rite Aid bag, receipt stapled over the top, and start to wonder how many people will notice and try to figure out what medicine I’m on when they take in the tell-tale prescription bag. It is bizarre really, that I want to shield my purchase from the public— though most people take something these days. I am about to tuck the bag beneath my arm, when my right shoelace snaps. I stop and glare at my traitorous foot. I set the Rite Aid bag down and kneel. I try to figure out how to fix the lace so my sneaker will stay on. From the corner of my eye, I see people staring at me as they pass by. Does it have something to do with the prescription bag? Am I hunched over because I need help? I have a moment of anxiety, unfounded and irrational and think, screw my sneaker. Standing, as white hot heat spreads across my chest, I race across the parking lot to the path that cuts through the park. I should have driven. I contemplate taking one of my little white pills to stop this but I like to pretend I am stronger than I am. It takes ten minutes to settle again. To catch my breath and feel at ease. Calm. Tilting my head to the sky, thick with fluffy white clouds, I inhale, hold it, and then let it out

slowly. The river rushes over stone and clay to my right. The sound is soothing. Vines grow up and around the trees, the leaves fat and wide like elephant ears. White bits of dandelions float in the air. They settle atop pine needles littered across the ground, forming cotton-like batting. It reminds me of the mountain. Of Holden. The river runs wild from the recent rain. It slides over rocks, a ruddy brown color from the clay riverbed. The path forks and I stay left. Sun filters through the canopy of trees that arch over the smooth path along the water. I inhale deeply. In. Out. In. Out. Daisy. The name plaque is nailed to a tree next to a rock that juts out over the roaring water. It is ceramic, her name engraved into it. It hangs on a nail pounded into the flesh of the tree. The perfect place to sit and just be. Every time I see it, it makes my brain swirl with questions. I wonder if Daisy ever felt the way I do. If she battled demons. If she went through the push and pull of therapy. Probably not. I bet Daisy was the happiest girl in town. She was probably raised in a house that smelled like blueberry cake, with parents who nurtured her and doled out hugs frequently. I follow the path and remind myself to breathe. I remind myself the world doesn’t revolve around me. In. Out. In. Out. Fucking Daisy. I squeeze the prescription bottle through the paper bag, letting its presence calm me. I breathe in another lungful of crisp air and recap my pathetic life. About the way I wasted two hours reading a women’s magazine earlier because apparently, I want to punish myself. I was overwhelmed by all the dieting gimmicks. Juicing, smoothies, pills, calorie cycling. Who has time for that? Who wants to crap red for a week, simply because they are on an all beet juice cleanse to lose a measly ten pounds? Instead of learning any useful information, I sat with my Jack Russell, Burt, spread across my lap, stuffing my hand into a bag of salt and vinegar chips, wondering why I have an extra ten pounds on me since being home. Since leaving the cabin. Since leaving Holden. ***

Liam Watching Nora has been easy. She’s a creature of habit. For the last three months, I’ve kept my eye on her. My father would be angry to learn what I’m doing but I just can’t let it

go. My brother was alive with her. He touched her. Spoke to her. Hurt her the way he did me so many years ago. She knew him. She, presumably, got to know him better than I did. A little bubble of jealousy formed in my gut after that visit to my father. I wanted to know more about her. I wanted to understand what Holden saw in her. There was a time, a long, long time ago, when I looked up to my big brother. When I wanted to be just like him. That morphed and changed when he started passing Ma’s abuse on to me, but still, what about this woman captivated him? I need to know. It started out innocent enough. I googled Nora. Found out what I could about her through the internet. But that just didn’t do it for me. It didn’t satisfy what I need. I hired one of my father’s guys from The Black to gather more intimate information for me. Home address, a remote login to her computer and email password. The Black is full of seedy men waiting to get paid for their particular skill sets. It wasn’t hard and I didn’t have to wait long. Reading her emails sent a thrill through me at first but then I needed more. I am distracted at work. It no longer holds my interest and that is unsatisfactory. My father will certainly take notice soon. I need to focus. I have a job to do. I have people who can’t know about the methods it takes to get me off. Or even who it takes. Sweat drips off my assistant Mara’s forehead, she grabs a tissue from her bag and tutting with irritation at herself, scrubs her face dry. I watch as she goes about her duties. She’s a good employee and she’s been carrying more than her share of the load recently. I stare at my monitor and will myself to pay attention to the charts and graphs on it. It is after seven p.m. when the phone rings. I managed to dig into work after hours in the quiet of the office. “Lockwood,” I answer. “Liam.” I hold my sigh in. “Dad,” I say. “I’m at The Black with some potential investors. I want you here.” I scrub my palm over my face and stifle a groan. “Yes, sir. Give me,” I look at the clock, “thirty minutes? I’m just wrapping up contracts for the Harrington deal.” “Twenty.” His tone is stern. I open my mouth to speak but the line is already dead. The Black is a gentlemen’s club. You must be a member to enter. It is a collection of the most powerful men in the area. Dangerous men. White collar criminals. Men with dubious proclivities. Before Nora was on my radar, before I stumbled across that damn magazine article, it is where I spent most of my evenings. Tonight, however, I am less than excited to go. The woman I frequent there normally, isn’t doing it for me lately. I am hooked on Nora. I crave her. Obsession is a tricky thing. I check my side mirror and pull in the flow of traffic.

I am late. My father will not be pleased. I crank the music and roll my shoulders as I drive. I’m tense. When I pull up to The Black, I take a deep breath. I toss my keys to the valet and continue into the club. It is dimly lit and smells of cigar smoke. A hand in the far corner raises. It is my father’s. I make my way to him. “Ah, Liam, my boy. There you are,” he says. He is pink-cheeked from too many bourbons and too nice in the face of guests. He was once fit; he is now round. Many women still consider him handsome but I can’t see it. All I see is a ghost of what once seemed like a great, virile man. He is aging poorly. I attribute it to his copious drinking and cigar smoking. “Here I am,” I say. He shoots me a look. The kind only passed between a parent and child. The kind that says I better behave. Introductions are passed out as I take my seat at the circular wood table. I shake hands. I down two gin and tonics. I laugh at crude jokes. I tell some of my own. We talk deals and cash and how to make sure certain things stay under the radar and all the while, I am wishing that I was watching Nora. When the girls are brought to the table, it is a welcome distraction. Yuri and his partner, Gregor, smack asses and have devilish grins on their faces. My father sits preening in the corner with his own girl tittering over him. He is confident he has sealed this deal. The girls pretend their crude comments and gestures turn them on and soon, two-bytwo, they disappear into the back of the club. I know better. I don’t want pretend. I want … different things from women. “Come on, stud,” Candy whispers in my ear. I smirk out of habit. “As you wish,” I return. She hooks her arm at my elbow and escorts me down the long hallway, into the bowels of the club. My gait is clipped as we walk. Candy squeezes my forearm but it does nothing to abate my tension. “Haven’t seen you for a while,” she muses, as the door clicks shut behind us. “I’ve been busy.” And I have, watching Nora Robertson. I am only tolerating Candy because my father is here and watching and I don’t want to listen to his inquisition if I pass on Candy. She stands before me and narrows her eyes. “Take off your suit.” I do as I am told. My movements feel robotic. I wonder if Candy can tell? She slowly circles me as I undress. The room is warm or maybe it’s just the gin taking effect in my bloodstream. A bed resides in the corner, simply made. A wall of toys rests across from it. There is an assortment of whips and paddles. Ball-gags and bondage items. A shiver of anticipation courses through me. With Candy, I don’t have to think. She knows what I like. She knows and keeps my secrets. She is the only girl I see here for pleasure. Of course, I know the others, but Candy is the one I usually limit myself to. Her hands grasp my shoulders and massage. “Tense. That’s unlike you,” she says rounding me.

“It’s been a while. You know how I get.” She bites her bottom lip. She takes the belt from her silk robe and uses it to blindfold me. As soon as the blackness creeps in, a chill climbs my spine. The sight of her still glows on the insides of my eyelids. Before I can fully adjust to the moment, a cattail cracks against my skin. “Breathe, Liam.” Her words cut through the pain. “You’re going to be punished tonight.” I inhale sharply as the whip hits again. This is only the warm up. Part of me already feels guilty. Like I am cheating on my counterfeit girlfriend. I push Nora from my thoughts as the whip cracks against my skin again. My teeth gritted, an exhale leaves me in a hissing sound. Candy circles me. I can feel her presence. The slight breeze her body creates moving around mine. I want to pretend it’s Nora inflicting pain. *** It’s black outside. Midnight velvet. It makes everything more bearable. I’m at ease. The stars litter the sky with small bits of light. Candy gave me just what I needed to make it through another week. I hadn’t realized how pent up I was. How focused on Nora I’d been. How good the release would feel. Here she comes. Ponytail swinging back and forth like a pendulum as she jogs. I wonder when she put her hair up. She’s a vision. She shouldn’t be out here alone. Not at this time of night. Where has she been? She’s too pretty. Too young. Too naive. I want to give her everything but I stand in awe of superficial things. I like money. I like control. I like things and pain. Hunger and greed leak from my eyes, my pores—for her. She’s a dark temptation. My temptation. Temptation comes in many guises. It’s been known to provoke lust, incite jealousy or even unleash fury. Her sneakers make little sound on the pavement as she walks. I want to step out from my spot and say something but I don’t. I hope she has a safety net because I intend to drag her over my dark edge. I love the game. I’m well practiced in the art of deception. Forceful as the wind gusts, I’m certain she’ll be swinging blind, punch drunk, when I reveal myself. My palms are clammy. My heart stutters in my chest. I’m wrapped up in excitement for what’s to come. Her natural milky complexion is smooth, and dark lashes frame deep blue eyes. She’s beautiful. I want to hold her, taste her. Instead, I hold my breath as my slacks grow ever more constrictive at my groin. She bounces down the street in running pants and a sweatshirt. I am mesmerized by the way she moves. Breasts bouncing. Mouth open. Muscles contracting as she jogs. Too soon, she is at her house, bounding up the steps. The front door spills warm light from inside as she opens it. In she goes. I work hard, everyone around me works hard, and for what? I refocus my thoughts. I’m excited. She is at the kitchen sink filling a glass with water. She is staring right at me. My breathing picks up as I stare back. My cock stiffens at the thought of her noticing me.

I wonder about this sustained, distorting euphoria I get from my time with Nora. It’s thrilling knowing she doesn’t realize we’re spending time together. The anticipation of what it will be like when we finally meet, makes me buzz with energy. I simply watch her. For now.

Nora My skin is slick from the humidity. A pimple is forming on my chin. Just under the skin, like a little molehill. Rain pelts the roof. Twap twap twap. The dog’s asleep in the oversized chair to my right. I’m supposed to be working but I can’t focus on a god damned thing. I get lost staring at the items on my desk. The peonies. The framed inspirational postcard; Girl—you are, quite simply incredible. Snort. The water stain from my sweating iced coffee cup. The notification light blinking on my cell. I don’t bother to check it. I finger that molehill developing on my chin. Maybe enough finger grease rubbed into it will make it come to a head faster. Gross. My brain spirals. Pimple. Dog. Get shit done. Do nothing. I break for lunch. There is a spider web glistening between the screen and window pane. That spider’s going to starve to death. There’s no food in there. I open the fridge. Scan the contents. Sparse and mediocre. Nothing looks appealing. I bump the fridge door closed with my hip and mumble to myself about going grocery shopping. I pop into the bathroom, flip the light on and check out the molehill in the mirror. Nowhere near ready to pop. Simply ugly and obvious. I briefly contemplate ways to hide it with makeup. Lost cause. I’m terrible with makeup. I wear the bare essentials. Mascara. Eyebrow pencil. Maybe eye shadow. Maybe eyeliner, if I’m feeling steady handed. I go back to the fridge. Grab a cheese stick. Peeling the wrapper away, I wonder if it’s even real cheese. Probably not. The dishwasher sits open. Waiting to be loaded. I hate loading. I sigh and lift the door closed with my foot. Tomorrow. The dog’s moved from the chair to the floor. He’s practically touching my feet. He can’t get close enough. I reach down and rub Burt’s head for a moment. I remember feeling that kind of love once. Like you needed your person to constantly be in contact with you to breathe. My year goals are printed and framed, staring me in the face. A good idea in theory. But irritating in execution. What if I don’t make them happen? I should shower. I’m supposed to go out tonight with Eve and Aubry. I will go out tonight. I owe them a round. I will have to shower before then. What I really want to do is finish my project. Or get side swept into a new one. I could paint the baseboard trim. I could pull the shutters off the house and get them ready to paint. What a difference it would make. But in the last year, I’ve buried myself in house updates to distract myself from real life. Busy work keeps the anxiety in check.

I could step outside. Enjoy the sunshine. I sit in my chair. Fiddle with the hem of my shirt. Adjusting. Nothing fits right. I’m hot. My coffee’s empty but the ice has melted. I drink up the water. Let the dog out. Watch him for a moment. He’s so adorable. Full of happiness and love. Why can’t I be like that? The dog was Dr. Richardson’s idea. She thought it would soothe me, no, all of us, really. Give me something to care for. And he does, in a way. But it does not make the aimlessness I feel in life subside. Burt looks up at me as though he knows I am thinking of him. I put my ass in the chair again. A stamp. Ear buds. Lemongrass essential oil. A hair clip. Where is my drive? Where is the insight and creativity? Why am I stumped? There’s a picture of me and my best friend, Aubry. We’re so happy. Huge, silly smiles plastered on our faces. We look young. We look full of life. We were. She still is. *** There is a puddle buzzing with damselflies, thick with swampy rot. I pull my hood up, even though it is too hot for a sweatshirt tonight. I don’t want to chance anyone seeing me here. I sit in front of his headstone that holds no name and press my hand to it. The stone is cool to the touch. “I don’t know how to let you go,” I say. Of course, there is no answer. I sigh and close my eyes. I picture his eyes, so green and full of passion. His lips, full and soft. His strong jaw line. The feel of his beard between my fingers. His taste. I am not supposed to be here. So many would be disappointed in me but it is my way of grieving what my heart lost. I anonymously paid for Holden to be buried here. I paid for the headstone that marks his spot, too. Eve and Lotte wait at home for me. I hate to keep this secret from them. Each time Aubry and Eve take me out with them. Each time they encourage me to date. To move forward, I end up here. With him. I know it is wrong. I know I am not supposed to mourn him. I understand the entirety of what I lived through as his captive, but my heart … my heart is a different beast. Mythical and magical and it still yearns for a man I cannot have. In the distance, a branch snaps under foot and I whip my head around. I squint, as if it will help me see better in the dark. It is getting late. I need to go soon but I want a few more stolen moments with my ineffable first love. *** Liam The sky is diamond clear, lit by millions of bright pinpoint stars. From the change in

the sky, and the way the sweat has cooled on my body, hours have gone by. The stone holds no name. It reads ‘Only Ever You.’ The inscription is large enough that I can make it out from here in the late dusky sky. There are fresh wildflowers surrounding it like a halo. I want to get closer but someone sits cross legged at the headstone. I can’t quite tell if it is a woman or man. Jeans and a black hoodie are all I can make out. I bend and pretend to tie my sneaker to buy myself a little time. Maybe the person will leave. I have things I want to say to my brother. I squint, mostly hidden, and try to see who is sitting with him. I have no right to be here and it was hell tracking down what happened to Holden’s body, but I did it. I persisted and was rewarded with the location. I’m also out four thousand dollars for it. Bribing people isn’t cheap. The person stands and dusts off their rear end. They are slight figured. Perhaps a woman. Could it be my Nora? Does she come to spend time with my brother? No. Why would she? The man who terrorized her, surely she wouldn’t be visiting. The person scans the area before heading away from me on foot. When I am sure they are gone, I head to my brother’s grave. I stand before it and stare. It is strange. Here, in the silence of the dead that doesn’t want to be broken, I feel compelled to obey. It was so long ago that I last saw him. It feels surreal to be so close now. There is a burst of wind that sets me on edge. As if Holden is here, cognizant of my presence. I kick some of the wildflowers and jam my hands in my pockets. “Long time, Brother. You made the papers.” I sigh. “I fuckin’ hate you for what you did me. I hate you for so many things.” It feels good to finally say something out loud to him, even if he is dead. “You could have saved us all. Me. Laura. You were old enough to take us away but you didn’t. You left me with Dad. He was no different than Ma really. Why didn’t you leave? Why didn’t you protect me?” I put a hand on his headstone and lean in. “I saw your girl, Holden. She’s pretty. Apparently, you had good taste. Yeah. You know what? You shared your punishment with me and now I think you’ll share your girl, too. How’s that for revenge? I’m going to take what’s yours.” I laugh, because, what’s he going to do about it? “I’m going to make Nora fall for me and forget all about you.” I slap his headstone once and quickly turn. This is the first and last time I will visit my brother. Payback is a bitch named Nora. *** It doesn’t take long to garner the information that I want on her. Although extremely private, she is not a ghost. She has an Instagram account. She’s on Twitter. She is not on Facebook. The pictures she posts never show her. They are all related to her charity or flowers or food or books or home renovations. She tweets random sentences from books she is reading. It is easy to deduce that she loves reading and the outdoors. She likes using her hands and fresh air. Tidbits that I can use to make a connection with her.

On my lunch breaks, I watch her. Sometimes, she is at yoga. Sometimes, she sits in a park near the center of town and eats her lunch. On those days, she is lost in a book while nibbling on food. Despite the heat wave we are having, she never wears anything revealing. Her lips are naturally pink-hued and I love the way she uses them to snack. Thin and delicate fingers toy with the food before delivering them to her luscious lips. Her hair is stunning. A shade of red that strawberry blondes would kill for. I can see what Holden saw in her. She is a natural beauty, demure, yet unembarrassed. In the evenings, after work, I go to her house. Sometimes, she and two other women are out front painting the porch or weeding the garden. Sometimes, I can only catch sight of her head through the front window. Always, near these other women, she is smiling. Her teeth are white and straight. And her eyes crinkle at the corners when she smiles. It makes her eyes sparkle. I wonder if she looked at Holden that way. I wonder if she will look at me that way. I fantasize about her hands on me. Her lips. Those straight white teeth grazing my skin. The way a whip might look in her hand. On weekends, I follow her when my schedule allows. I learn everything I am able to about her life. She takes her coffee black. She prefers baked goods to candy and fresh food to fast. She keeps a bottle of pills in her small purse. Sometimes she takes one, sometimes she just holds the bottle, as if taking one will ruin her somehow. She wears Converse or flats, but rarely heels. She never wears tank tops. Only T-shirts or long-sleeved shirts. Her hair is long but mostly pulled away from her face. There is always a book near her and a notebook, too. She holds an air of mystery and submission and willpower. She’s a walking contradiction and I love that.

Nora “Come on, you guys, it’s a movie. What exactly do you think will happen?” Lotte whines. These are the moments I dread. I am not her mother. I am not her sister. Technically, I am no one to her—legally—and so I feel out of place knowing I don’t have a say. She is not mine. She has grown up so much in the last year. Her face has thinned out, taken a less child-like shape. Her body is longer, more lithe and her muscles have become more defined. “If there isn’t a parent there with you, I’m sorry, but no,” Eve says. She is not budging. Lotte stomps her Converse-clad foot and looks to me. “Come on. Talk to her, Nora.” “Can’t, kiddo. This one, I agree with her,” I say. Eve gives me a small smile of thanks. “You two are the worst,” Lotte says. She whirls around and disappears—loudly— upstairs. I sigh. “Don’t,” Eve says. “Don’t do that. She’s not ready. Too young. What if—” I hold a hand up to stop Eve’s rant. “I agree with you. But I also think maybe we’re being too protective. Other kids in her class are going to the movies with friends, unchaperoned.” “I don’t care what other kids do.” Eve crosses her arms over her chest. I laugh. “Said like a true parent.” Eve grins slightly. “I am.” I give her a look. “Yes. You are. And a good one, too, but if you want her to have a normal childhood, or whatever is left of her childhood, you have to start treating her like an ordinary kid.” I tuck my hair behind my ears. Now, it is Eve’s turn to sigh. She slumps into the armchair behind her. Her pretty blond hair rests at chin length. It frames her tan face well. Her big brown eyes pin mine. “I know. I know.” She throws her hands up in the air. Our lives are muddied by our experiences. It is laborious to trust. A struggle every day for Eve. She appears much more together than me, but she is vexed and solicitous. I hear her in the middle of the night. I

know her dreams are nightmares. Sometimes, I believe she was more traumatized than Lotte or I. It was not just her with Holden. She had to worry about Lotte, too. Her guilt is cancerous. It gnaws at her soul. “I’ll go,” I say. It is a concession, but one that benefits each of us. “Go where?” She brushes her bangs from her eyes. “I’ll bring them to the movies. Sit in the back row. Bring them home.” Eve looks at the ceiling. “Nora, no. That’s not the point.” “It’s kind of the point, isn’t it? She’s bored. She wants to do something. It’s a good compromise,” I offer. Eve narrows her eyes at me but she is not mad. Not really. “Fine.” *** After the movie, Lotte is in a buoyant mood. She hugs Eve and tells her she is sorry for being an imp. They both laugh at her word choice. Their bond makes me beam. I am lucky to have them in my house. In my life. I retreat to my room. The house is frowzy but it can wait until tomorrow. I shut the door behind me, glance at the clock. It is past nine p.m. but I am wide awake. Energized. Invigorated. So I make myself comfortable on the window seat and boot up my laptop. It is daunting some days trying to be Nora the Survivor. I often wish to be Nora the Victim again. These two sides of myself battle constantly. As if being with Holden somehow changed my very chemistry. So, I hunt online. I pick someone. Someone who is intrigued by my sexual assault fantasy. When I enter the room, that same click resonates in my brain. The same click that happened on the mountain. I flip from survivor to willing victim and I am able to feel those little shoots of pleasure vine from my core throughout my limbs. No one makes me feel like Holden did, but then again, none of these men attempt to learn my body. What it likes, what it needs. This is only a quick fix. A hit to keep me sated because I do not want to replace Holden. My dysphoria craves the feeling. The memories. Even if they are cursory. I need to abandon this town for the night. Go and fuck around. I log into my laptop and bring up Craigslist. I spend a few minutes searching for the right one. I don’t really want to go out, but my body does. I know it is not right. I know it is wanton and odd. I ask for a picture of his hands in my email to him. It is a strange request but one that weeds out the serious ones from the amateurs. The serious ones always send a picture of their hands—no questions asked. I am only flesh and bone. Since Holden, only a flicker of flame lives inside me. I try to kindle it by succumbing to my darker desires. I need the pain to enjoy the pleasure.

The last time I tried to date, months ago, ended in disaster. When I finally felt ready to be intimate. When I finally stripped bare. When he saw my scars. He panicked, though I had warned him. To make matters worse, the very normal sex left me feeling unfulfilled and repugnant. Polluted. I’ve pondered, in my nyctophilia, the heart of the matter and although I don’t think Dr. Richardson would think it is healthy, it is safe. As safe as it can be, anyhow. If I get a bad feeling, I walk away. It is not a done deal when I email back. I still have an out. And I’ve used it. I keep waiting. Holding my breath for that moment. The one where bats fill my belly and flutter. I keep expecting to find another Holden. One who lives among society. A docile version perhaps. One who is also looking for me. I shut my laptop and change my top before heading out. I have not had good luck. But these one night stands suit me just fine. I do not think I can be bothered to sustain a relationship, if a spark doesn’t ignite from the first instant together. I sigh and take my seat at the bar. I always come to the same bar. Just far enough from home to be anonymous. The drive here is only thirty minutes. I miss green eyes, long, unruly hair and defined muscles. I miss the scent of an outdoorsman. The bartender nods. I never speak to him, but this is where I tell all my … conquests, to meet me. He slides a beer at me. I never drink it. I wait. Wait for my Craigslist guy to arrive. The music on the jukebox is not my predilection. It is too loud and too chaotic for my taste. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle. I glance casually around. Nothing is out of place. It all appears status quo. A head interrupts my gaze. “Hi?” I take him in. He doesn’t look like much. A smallish man with a kind face. “Gill?” He nods. “What’s your name?” he asks. “Is that really relevant?” I ask. He shrugs. “I mean, it’d be nice to know, like, one thing about you.” “Can I see your hands?” I ask. He holds them out on the bar, palms up. “I’m writing a book,” I say. There, one truth for him. His ear-to-ear grin is cute. Not rugged. Not infectious or endearing, just winsome. He is diminutive. Maybe only an inch or two taller than I am. His clothes are Target or Walmart. Not that it matters. I check him over and decide that perhaps, he can inflict some, but not much, pain. But it is adequate for tonight. I lean in and whisper to him that I will follow him to a hotel. ***

Liam I sense what is coming before I see it. I can feel it through the soles of my boots. She sits with her back to the wall, one foot dangling toward the floor, the other propped up on the bar stool next to her. Her long legs tease. Who is she meeting? There was no mention of going anywhere in her emails to Eve or Aubry. I saw her Craigslist search history, which led me to look through her emails. I really should thank my guy from The Black for getting me access to Nora’s passwords. There was a short and to the point chain between her and an anonymous Craigslist email address asking for pictures of hands. Which made me chuckle. What the hell is that about? But the respondent sent a picture and Nora replied with a place to meet. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up like they have been zapped with static electricity. A man comes in. Sits down next to her. I watch from my booth near the back. He chats her up. All five foot ten of him. Every last scraggly blond hair and the cheap clothes he wears, light up around her. I don’t blame the poor sucker, she’s out of his league and he’s probably thanking the one-night-standGods that she’s even humoring him with curt conversation. He nods at something she says. His eyes glow with anticipation at whatever she’s said to him. He slides off the barstool and walks out with a grin on his face. I scowl because I don’t like being in the dark. I like facts. I like power and knowledge and right now, I have neither. She sits one arm on the bar, her hand wrapped around a glass of beer. It is still full, but the foam has long since dissolved. AC/DC blaring on the jukebox, she drops her foot off the stool, and puts five bucks on the bar. The bartender swipes it up, and watches her go. A little too closely for my liking. I leave a twenty on the table and stand when she’s through the door. I count to five before following her to the parking lot. She’s in the arms of that little gremlin from the bar. She followed him to a cheap motel. The shades are threadbare and I can see their silhouettes from my parking spot. His arms lift her shirt up and over her head. I reach into my trousers. Her body wiggles back and forth as she shimmies from her jeans. I fist my cock. I watch his shadow meld against hers. I stroke. Up slowly, then down. They shift, his arms extend and she flies backward to the bed. A low growl escapes me. Apparently, she likes it rough. I tighten my grip and stroke myself faster. For her. For that milky white skin I can almost feel, if I concentrate hard enough. For that crimson hair that is probably softer than silk. The idiot’s body straddles hers. I can see the outline of his arms pinning hers to the bed. Is this what she craves? Their silhouettes move, but not together, against each other. She is pushing against him. A pang of irritation flits through me. I want to intervene. He should not be touching her. She belongs to me. He flicks off the lamp and casts my world in blackness. I close my eyes, rest my head against the headrest and imagine Nora beneath me. Her soft lips wrapped around my hard cock. Her tongue massaging it. Her wide, innocent eyes begging me to go easy on her. But I don’t. I thrust in with an eagerness that only schoolboys possess their first time around. When I come, it makes me shiver. After me, she will never troll Craigslist again. I will fill her up so entirely, she’ll beg

me not to leave her. But I will.

Nora I bite my bottom lip and muffle my moans of pleasure. He pulls his hand away, leaving me wanting, and my eyes pop open. Green jewels shine at me. “Say it, Nora,” he says. “Only ever you,” I breathe. With one hand, he drags his blade across my skin while his other works between my legs and I am in heaven. I am pleasure and pain. I am his. I reach out in my agony, in my hedonism, to run my fingers through his beard. I am almost there. My fingertips are about to feel him. I shoot up to see the morning sun shining through a crack in the half-closed motel curtains. My limbs twitch with inactivity and my emotions run the gamut from rage to fear. But only for a moment. My eyes follow the stream of white light radiating from the window to the rough stubble lying on the pillow next to me. Feeling my stomach tighten at the sight of his naked chest poking out from beneath the blanket, I begin to panic. Swinging my legs to the floor, I notice a pair of tattered jeans, and a gray deep-v T-shirt. Making as little noise as possible, I locate my clothes and dress quickly. I check my purse to make sure all my belongings are in it. When I’m confident I have everything I arrived with, I leave. In my car, I lock the doors and rest my forehead against the steering wheel. I try to piece together the events of last night. The morning afters are fuzzy and distant, as if my brain goes somewhere else for a time. My phone buzzes from my purse. It startles me and I yelp. I pull it out. Aubry. “Hello.” “Where are you?” she asks. Her voice is light but tense and I know something is up. “Home,” I lie. “I’m sitting in your living room,” Aubry deadpans. Shit. I look around because I do not immediately know where I am. Squinting, I read the street sign left of where I’m parked and get my bearings.

“I’ll be home in thirty,” I say and end the call. I don’t need Aubry’s judgment this soon after waking up. I slap the steering wheel twice and groan before putting the car in reverse. I shouldn’t have stayed the night. I am surprised I did. It is not something I am generally capable of. My anxiety gets the better of me. The last thing I remember is letting myself close my eyes, just for a moment. As we laid in bed together sated, the questions started. It irked me because I wanted to sleep. To rest my eyes for a small while. “Come on, what’s your name?” I sighed. “That’s not important.” “Tell me one thing about your life or who you are.” “I love words.” I pulled the blanket up to my chin. “Who did this to you?” he asked and wiggled a finger under the blanket over my shoulder. I rolled away from him. “Who doesn’t matter.” “Are you on Facebook?” “No. Listen,” I said tiredly, “This was fun but I don’t intend on repeating it.” I laid still and slowed my breathing. Gill tried touching my shoulder after a few minutes. “Are you awake?” I did not answer him. He sighed and the bed shifted as he made himself comfortable. When his breathing slowed and his light snores began, I let myself rest my eyes for a moment. *** Liam It is early morning when the sound of a car starting wakes me. I rub the sleep from my eyes. The motel room door isn’t latched all the way. I look around the parking lot. Nora sits in her car. Head resting on the steering wheel. I wonder what she’s thinking. If she feels me watching her. I will her to look up. To spot me. She lifts her head and slams the steering wheel with a free hand. Anger is something I have not seen in her yet. It’s

intriguing. Her brake lights come on. When she pulls out from her spot, I start my car and follow. She drives like a lunatic. Fast and without care for things like blinkers or yellow lights. I maintain a safe distance behind her until she slows and pulls onto a side street. At the bungalow with the yellow front door, she pulls in the driveway. I park two houses down and kill the engine. I can see into the kitchen window from here—just barely. My hand rubs my cock as I watch. I am pent up and tense. My hand does nothing to relieve me. I give up and grab my phone. I press the first speed dial. When her voice greets me, my jaw tenses. She is not the one I want. “Liam.” “Hello, Candy,” I say. “We’re not due to meet, are we?” she says. I can picture her blonde hair being brushed over her shoulder. “No, but I’d like to see you tonight.” She makes a tsking sound and papers shuffle in the background. “I might be able to squeeze you in at eleven.” “That’ll have to do.” I hang up and drag my hand through my hair. I need a release. If I can’t have Nora yet, I can at least have Candy. It makes my stomach turn. The thought of giving my body to Candy, when I want Nora. But I can’t stand the bottled up sexuality I feel. I need to take the edge off.

Nora “Craigslist again?” Aubry says. I wrinkle my nose at her as I enter my living room. Resentment swoops in and morphs into anger. She does not understand. Who is she to judge me? I try to rearrange my thoughts. To find equanimity. “I don’t want a relationship. I want a certain kind of pleasure. I can find it there.” I sound bellicose and childlike. I haven’t had my morning coffee and it is showing in my mood. “But it’s not safe, Nora.” She twists her legs under her. Burt is curled up next to her looking like a dog bagel. “I’m not scared of them.” I sink into the armchair across from her and bite my lip and mentally dissect my night. I didn’t garner much pleasure from Gill. It was barely enough to sate me. He wasn’t hard enough on me. I don’t hand out directions with these men. I simply let them know in my ad that I am looking for rough play. “Are you even listening? Hello, Earth to Nora.” Aubry’s voice yanks me from my head. “What? Yes,” I say. Aubry shakes her head and chuckles. “What?” “I asked, if you had gonneherphsiphilaids.” I laugh. Loud and hardy because … it is a very Aubry thing to say. And she caught me not paying attention. “How’s the book coming along?” she asks. I blow out a breath and pull my hair up into a ponytail. “At a laggard pace.” “I’m going to pretend I know what that means. Instead of trolling Craigslist, maybe you should write.” She gives me a pointed look. I shoot one back to her. “Har, har. Why are you even here this early?” Aubry jumps up, excited. She claps her hands together. “Because today is dress shopping day.” My shoulders slump. I hate shopping. “But first, we’re hitting the nine a.m. yoga class so that when we try on dresses, they all fit.” “That’s absurd, you know that, right? Doing yoga before dress shopping will not make them fit any better,” I say. “Spoilsport. Just do as I say.” Aubry sets her hands on her hips. It is her tell-tale I-

mean-business pose. I snort and roll my eyes at her. “Yes, Master.” “Go wake up Eve and Lotte.” She points toward the stairs. “You didn’t wake them up? You just came in and what … chilled out in someone else’s living room?” I squawk. She gives me a pout and terribly executed puppy dog eyes. “I’m hurt. I think of this house as mine.” I approach her, arms spread wide. She lets me hug her. “It is. I was teasing.” Aubry swats my rear end and giggles. “Go wake the others,” she says. I knock on Eve’s door until I hear a groan pour out of her. At Charlotte’s door, I twist the knob without knocking. Pushing it open quietly, I watch her for a moment. She is almost fourteen now and it shows. She is a young lady. I admire her tanned, smooth skin and the way her eyelashes brush the apples of her cheeks. Her mouth is puckered into a small ‘o’ and her breaths make a sweet low whistle. I tiptoe in until I am at her bedside. Leaning over her sleeping form, I spread my fingers out and wiggle them into her sides. She wakes with a squeal, followed by a peal of laughter. “Nora, stop!” “Say the magic word,” I say. “Sesquip-” I tickle her neck. She grunts and laughs at the same time, causing her word to get garbled. “Sesquipeda—” I do it again. Now, I am laughing. I move to her waist and she finally draws in enough air to get it all out. “Sesquipedalian!” I remove my hands from her and clap. “And what does it mean?” I ask. “Using long or large words,” she says and rolls over to make room for me next to her. I lie down in her bed, grinning. “That is definitely not one of my favorite ways to wake up,” she muses. We lie side by side, staring at the crown of fake wild flowers I hung around her overhead light. “No?” She laughs and looks at me. “I prefer my alarm clock to you.” Her eyes give away that she is only joking, although it has become harder and harder to tell what is true sass and what is fun-loving ribbing these days. Teenagers are difficult creatures to discern. “Mmmhmm.” “Is Aubry here yet?” she asks. I nod and sit up. Lotte follows suit and hops out of bed before she digs through her monumental pile of clothing on the floor for workout clothes. “Ten minutes,” Aubry yells up the stairs. Eve’s door creaks open and I leave Lotte to

find a fresh change of clothes for myself. *** Liam It took me nearly forty minutes to get to Nora’s house from mine. I’d followed her home, then to yoga and then shopping. I’d treated myself to a coffee and cheese danish while I sat in the corridor at the mall and watched the four women fawn over dresses. I almost touched her. She looked like she needed a break, as if shopping were tiring to her. When she stepped out of the store for a moment, she closed her eyes and leaned against the glass store front. I walked toward her slowly, watching her inhale and exhale. Her lashes almost touched her cheeks. Her profile defined and her body, womanly. I was almost to her when her eyes opened. I looked to the floor and walked past her. The smell of her skin intoxicated me. I sink into my chair, and wrap my hands around her mug which I took when I broke into her house today. Temptation crept up on me. It got under my skin and wouldn’t let me be. I had to go in. I’d left the mall and gone straight to her house. My craving for her, unrelenting. Her room was nothing like I imagined it would be. She doesn’t have many belongings. She is not the typical twenty-three year old. The walls did not hold pictures of friends or family. There were no necklaces dangling from dress knobs. No makeup spread across the bureau. Her clothes were sparse and neatly put away in her closet. The mug was on her nightstand, along with a stack of books. It is plain white, with the phrase Good Morning, Gorgeous stamped on the inside bottom. I set the mug down and grab my iPad to open iTunes. I am going to buy and read the books that sat stacked next to her bed. “Liam, is that you?” I jump. My iPad falls to my lap. “In here, Carol.” “Ah, there’s my handsome man,” she coos. I chuckle. I squint at her. “It’s Saturday. What are you doing here? Don’t you have a real family to tend to?” She tsks at me and swats my head as she passes by. Stopping at the mantle above the fireplace, she picks up a piece of paper. “I forgot my grocery list yesterday.” “Sure you did.” “Did you eat the plate I left in the fridge for you? You have to eat, Liam. All these late

nights at the office aren’t good for you. How’re you going to find a nice girl and settle down with your hours?” If she only knew. “I’m fine. I’m young. I have plenty of time.” She shoots me a look that splits me in half. She wants a nice woman for me to share my life with. She is relentless about reminding me of that fact. She would not be accepting of what I am doing. In fact, she would probably adore Nora Robertson. Carol was my nanny growing up and my father’s housekeeper. When I graduated business school and bought my first house, I took Carol with me. She is the closest thing to a mother I have. My father didn’t appreciate her the way I did, so I requested her. He had no issue letting her go. I’d given her a much needed pay raise, too. “Your father expects too much of you. You’re only young once. Go out, have fun,” she says, waltzing past me. “I’m going out tonight. Have a good weekend, Carol,” I call out. She mumbles something but I can’t make out the words. A quick glance at the clock tells me I have a few hours to secure a ticket for tonight’s gala. The gala that Nora and her friends have been emailing back and forth about nonstop. I grab my phone and start dialing. It’s a charity event and a large company donation should easily secure me a last minute ticket for the evening.

Nora I coat my lashes black and smooth my dress at the waist. I am nervous. I loathe large events and speaking before big crowds. Eve knows this and yet she still insists I do it. I could argue with her, but Dr. Richardson also suggests that I do it. It is a stepping stone in my recovery and coping. I inhale deeply to center myself but it does little to relax me. “Tell me one more time why we need to do this?” I ask. “It’s a fundraiser,” Eve says. She shoots me a pointed look. “For our charity. This is important.” I push an errant strand of hair back in place. Lotte comes barreling around the corner. “OMG, you guys. I look like a princess.” She twirls and the skirt of her dress bells outs and makes little ripples as she turns. I cringe each time she uses text slang in conversation but it makes no difference if I voice my disdain to her. Having a teenager is a constant struggle of picking which battles are worth expending the energy for. “Yes, you do,” I say and grin at her. “Want a little mascara?” “She doesn’t need makeup,” Eve says. She gives me the side-eye from her spot before the mirror. Lotte pouts at her sister. “You’re too young,” Eve states. “She’s fourteen. It’s not too young.” I raise an eyebrow at Eve, who in turn slumps her shoulders, which means she is going to give in. “Nearing fifteen,” Lotte squeals. Teenagers also do a lot of squealing. There are so many things that are different now. Charlotte has bloomed into a confident young lady away from the mountain. She has adapted much more quickly than I. She is always smiling. She is alpas, vorfreude and voorpret about tonight. My chest swells with joy for her. “Fine. Only mascara though.” Lotte fist pumps the air before sitting on the toilet and waiting for me. I smile at her gently closed eyes. Her lashes nearly touch her cheeks. She really doesn’t need mascara but what fun is that? I gently swipe on just a little to each eye. We are so lucky to all be here. Eve and Lotte and me. Sometimes I forget I didn’t always have them. That I used to live in this house alone. Now, I can’t imagine living by myself. I straighten and insert the wand back into the tube.

“All done,” I tell her. Lotte bats her lashes as she checks herself out in the mirror. Her enormous smile speaks for itself. She loves the look. “Okay, come on. We’re going to be late to our own party.” Aubry’s voice snaps me from the moment. Eve shuffles past her, mumbling about shoes in a susurrant tone. “Wow. You look amazing,” I say. Aubry does a slow spin for me. “I went all out for tonight. Hopefully, our looks alone will raise us a lot of money.” She winks at Lotte as I shake my head at her nonsense. My dress is the color of Holden’s eyes. Vibrant green. The jewel tone compliments my skin well. I feel a bit like royalty dressed up in silk. The dress has a high neck. It is sleeveless but covers my back well. With just my shoulders and arms bare, the dress gives off a classy sex appeal. I still do not want to speak before a crowd, however. It makes me sweat and my heart race. I am certain the silk will show sweat stains if I perspire too much. *** A band of reporters is assembled at the front steps, and I watch the attractive newscasters flip their hair and fasten microphones to collars, using the backdrop of the Metro building for their on-air reports. The local news stations and Entertainment Weekly flutter around the building, picking at the details of my life and this event. As much as I revere the promotion for N.E.L., I detest the mass forms of communication that make this report about my trauma. I want to keep this about what our charity provides, not about my own past. I enter the building quickly and go straight for the restroom to gather myself. The event spills over with people. I snag a flute of champagne from a server passing by. I watch people for a moment as the crisp bubbly liquid warms me. Bright smiles, flowing gowns and tuxedos fill the room. They are groups in little cliques. Selfsegregated, by what, I’m not sure. Class? Wealth? Friends? I find Aubry by following the sound of her laugh. It is a big, booming laugh. Vivacious and ebullient. She spots me approaching and grins. “That bathroom is a crime against humanity,” I tell her. I down the rest of my champagne in one chug. Aubry takes my glass and puts it on a server’s tray as they scoot through the crowd. “You and your bathroom requirements,” she laughs. “Nora, I’d like to introduce you to Mr. and Mrs. Rickley.” I extend my hand to Mrs. Rickley first and then her husband. Aubry and I chitchat with them for what I feel is far too long, when I am saved by Detective Salve and Agent Brown.

“You came!” Joy radiates off me. It is palpable even to me. It has been months since I have seen their faces. “Agent Brown, you look amazing,” I say. She looks at her gown and wrinkles her face in uncertainty. “There’s not much room to carry under this dress.” I giggle and shake my head at her. She takes me in her arms and holds me tight to her. She smells like clean laundry. “I am so proud of you, Nora.” Warmth blooms in my chest at her praise. She releases me and I move into Detective Salve’s arms for a hug. He squeezes me tightly now. Something he never used to do. Everyone treated me like a frail bird that might collapse at any moment, but now, now they see my strength. I pull back and take him in. “You are looking dapper,” I say. “I’m going to guess that was a compliment and say thank you.” Salve kisses my cheek. It has been just long enough for all of us to drift back into our daily grinds. And although I never thought I would miss Agent Brown, I do. For a while, we all met for dinner once a week. Aubry, Angela, Agent Brown, Salve, Dr. Richardson and of course, Lotte and Eve and me. But as time has passed, once a week turned into biweekly and then once a month. Now, we are lucky to manage a dinner every other month. Lotte and Eve and I all see Dr. Richardson for therapy, individually of course, monthly, but that does not count as a social visit. “It’s been too long,” Salve says. Our group nods in agreement. “When is everyone free to get together for dinner?” Aubry asks. “I think next week we’re free,” I say, gesturing to Eve and myself. “It’s time,” Eve says and nods to the podium. Salve, Brown and Dr. Richardson smile warmly at me in encouragement. “We’ll figure dinner out later, okay?” she says to everyone. There are nods and assurances but all I can hear is garbled sound as anxiety takes root. My heart begins to pound and I feel sweat prickle my hair line. Salve wraps an arm around my shoulders. The connection helps soothe me. “You’ve got this. Just stare at us,” he says. I fake a smile and nod. Eve joins me on the small stage with the worn wooden podium. It calms me to know she is only just behind me. We do not let Lotte take center stage. We do not want her to be the face of N.E.L. She deserves some anonymity. She is still able to have a childhood. Eve and I have tirelessly worked to preserve that small bit of normalcy for her. I approach the podium and rest my notes on it before gripping the edges. Eve clinks a fork against her champagne glass and the room grows silent. I force a smile. “Good evening. I’m Nora Robertson, one of the founders of N.E.L. As you know, N.E.L. is a charity which aids victims of emotional or physical abuse in their recovery

process. We are amazed and grateful that you’ve all come this evening to support a cause we feel so passionately about.” I scan the room as Aubry instructed, to make eye contact with the patrons. But there are so many, that I am overwhelmed. Sequins sparkle, coughs are stifled. I try to scan back to Salve and Agent Brown for comfort. “We are blessed that we have been able, with your lavish support, to help hundreds of girls and boys over the last year. Your donations have provided therapy to those who wouldn’t have been able to otherwise access it, safe homes to live in and most of all, a healthy support network to lean on.” My eyes stop on a man near the podium. Dirty blonde hair that is neither short nor long. A tailored suit that accentuates an athletic build. A bow tie that suggests a laid back aura outside of the event. One thick eyebrow raises in my direction. Green eyes capture mine and for mere seconds, I am held captive in memories. Eyes I can never forget. I stutter. A blush creeps up my neck. The heat of it making me sweat. His strange emerald gaze is illecebrous. Drapetomania seizes me as those eyes virtually unzip my dress, pull away the silk and leave me bare before him. My brain runs rampant with words. His words. My words for him. For this moment. Apodyopsis, orphic, alexithymia. My breath grows rapid with my pulse but I cannot tear my eyes away. He smirks at me. White teeth. Time ticks on too slowly. I recover when Eve nudges my lower back. She steps to my side and grabs my hand. I look down at my notes. “Yes, so,” I clear my throat. Eve wraps an arm around my waist and leans into the microphone. “So, enjoy tonight’s silent auction, drinks and delicious food. It is because of you that N.E.L. is able to help so many,” she finishes my speech for me, while I am still caught in the green gaze. She releases me and heads into the cacophony of claps and cheers. I exit the stage without breaking eye contact with those jade eyes. I am lost in my mind. Lost in Holden. It is as if he is here. Watching me. Waiting for me. One heel slips on the second step. Gasps sound around me as I tilt sideways and flail in the air. Time decelerates. I can see the shocked faces of those I pass as I tumble toward the ground. Strong arms catch me. I shriek, suspended in air. “You’re okay. I caught you.” Everything about him overwhelms me instantly—his size, his baritone voice, his striking eyes. Trimmed nails and a gold signet ring catch the light by my knees. His hands look strong and clean. A small scar snakes down on the right side of his temple from hairline to earlobe, its thickness protruding from his skin. His smile spreads, white and taunting. It is a public smile, though, the kind that is too bright and too white. The kind that doesn’t mean anything. It turns me off. I look away from his eyes. His jaw twitches. I clear my throat. He sets me to my feet. “You look familiar. Maybe we’ve met,” he says.

My brow furrows. I don’t know what to say. We haven’t met. I shake my head at him. “If we have, it means you don’t have a memorable face.” I bite my bottom lip. That was an incredibly witless thing to say to a potential donor. A blush creeps up my neck. This is why I avoid large events. I am always speaking before filtering. “Ouch.” He slaps his palm to his chest in mock-wound. I give him a sheepish smile. “Sorry.” *** Liam The best way to track someone is through their passion. Because passion involves compulsion. Even if the person doesn’t want to be found. They will intersect with that passion of theirs. Nora brushes a loose lock of red hair out of her eyes and stares at me. She smells like strawberries and a trace of vanilla. “Liam Lockwood,” I say. She extends her hand. “Nora Robertson.” Her voice is silky and soft. Her cheeks are tinged pink from the embarrassment of her near trip and fall. I can almost see her pulse pounding in her neck. An older woman wraps her arm around Nora’s shoulders and it irks me. “Dr. Richardson,” Nora says. Her eyes show nothing but affection for the woman. “Mind if I steal her away?” Dr. Richardson asks. I grin. I shake my head. “Not at all.” “Thank you,” she says. As Dr. Richardson and Nora walk into the crowd, I watch Nora’s ass. It’s small and tight. I am still staring when she looks over her shoulder. I half smile and lift a hand. Her blush is instant, how adorable. A waiter passes by and I snatch a glass of champagne from the tray as he goes. I will entertain myself for a couple hours and bid on some silent auction items. Maybe I will outbid everyone else, if something strikes my eye. If it is a way to get closer to Nora. When money isn’t an object, it is easy to buy your way into other people’s lives if needed. A sailboat tour around the bay could be an excellent date. Or perhaps a gift certificate to a high end restaurant. I could always bid on the spa day and when she calls to let me know I won, tell her that as a man, my need for a spa day is very slim and that she should use it for herself. Insist that she do it. Because then, she owes me. She’s in the corner, alone. I decide now is the best chance and approach. I’ve watched her all night and I am certain, this is my moment. I haven’t been able to stop recounting the way her body felt pressed against mine.

“Hello, Nora,” I greet. She pushes a wisp of hair from her eyes and cocks her head. “Liam? Right?” she asks. Her dress matches my eyes. I like that. I nod. Her pupils dilate as she takes me in. I can’t help but wonder if she sees Holden in me. “Is something wrong?” I ask. I place my hand on her forearm. Her skin is cool and soft. Her eyes dart to my hand on her skin. Goose flesh covers her arm. She shakes her head and pulls her arm to her side. “No. Why?” “You looked … lost for a moment there.” She smiles a weak, fake smile. “Sorry. It’s not you. I tend to seek solitude at events like these. I’m not great in crowds.” “Ah, I see.” I turn my head and scan the crowd. People are dancing, others are bidding on silent auction items. “The event turned out great. Everyone is smiling.” “Thank you. How did you hear about it? Are you enjoying yourself?” I think fast. I didn’t come with a backstory prepared. “My niece suffers from PTSD and your charity has helped her greatly. And yes, I am.” She parts her lips as if to say something but closes them again. I have to fight the urge to reach out and finger them. They’re full and soft looking. I want to drag her out of here. I want to take her home and turn her from a blushing girl to a dirty-talking woman. I need to know what her skin tastes like. If she really does like it rough or is into toys. I want to feel her inside and out. I am bored with watching. “This is going to sound blunt, but can I ask you something?” I chance. She licks her lips and holds my gaze. “I suppose.” “Ever since you fell into my arms, I’ve had a hard time thinking of anything else. It’s not often that happens and I’d love to get to know you.” I lay the charm on thick. Women love thinking they are the object of one’s thoughts. I grin at her. “May I call you sometime?” I ask. She smirks. “No,” she says. I blink. It is not often I am rejected. I cock my head and ask, “Why not?” She looks over my shoulder. Her nostrils flare. I have pushed a button somehow. She pulls a piece of gum from her clutch and pops it in her mouth. “I find dating tedious.” She looks weary. Tired of our conversation now. It makes me want to punish her. I want to make her beg for me. I school my features and play nice. “How come?” I ask. Nora sighs. Her breath, minty, hits my face. “I don’t particularly like people.” I chuckle. “You’re painfully honest.” She shifts and her dress accentuates her curves. I stifle a groan. “Apparently,” she says. She moves away from the wall slightly. I decide to cut my losses. For now.

“Well, it was nice to catch you, Nora.” She bites her lip. Her eyes snap to mine. A blush crawls across her cheeks. “Yes. Thank you for that. You made the ordeal much more … graceful.” I reach my hand out. She takes it and shakes it firmly before releasing it. I open my mouth to speak but she is already turned away from me. Her hand raises toward someone in the crowd. And she’s gone. I stay and mingle until ten. It gives me time to watch Nora. To take in the way her body moves in that silk sheath. I need time to decompress before I see Candy. I push through people dancing toward the exit, searching for Nora as I go. I’ve lost sight of her. Blowing out a breath, I feel deflated when I reach the entrance and still don’t see her. As the crisp night air fills my lungs, I wait for the valet to bring my car around. A woman laughs. It’s loud and joyful sounding. It echoes all around me. I whip my head in the direction of the sound. Nora smiles. It is a brilliant white against the dark night. Her phone is pressed tightly to her ear. I want to know who she’s talking to. I want to know what is so funny. I could call out to her but I won’t. I rub my palms on my thighs. It will be better this way. Nora and I, we’re a love affair without a love song. I’m going to toss her around, and probably disappoint her but I can’t help that I pinch myself. Ouch. It doesn’t matter really. I adjust myself. Relieving the tension behind the zipper in my pants.

Nora I am lost in the memory of the lazy grin that spread across Liam’s handsome face as he sauntered toward me. I should have moved, or walked away, but those eyes hooked me. Eve and Aubry, thank God, waved me over when they saw me in the corner with him. Liam Lockwood. Even his name gives me tingles. Almost butterflies. There is something so familiar about his face, that it set my belly on fire. Desiderium made me wait to see what he would say. “Who the hell was that guy?” Aubry asks, as we pick up our shoes and limp to her car. The night was a huge success. We doubled what we projected in donations. It is past midnight and my feet ache from the heels I wore. “Liam Lockwood,” I say. “He was like, so hot. So. Hot.” Eve laughs at Aubry’s enthusiasm. “I don’t know, there was something about him I can’t put my finger on,” Eve says. “Yes. Me, too,” I say. A fleeting sense of … Holden. I do not say that part out loud. “I’d put my finger on him,” Aubry muses. I smack her because Lotte is trailing behind us, listening. “He asked me out,” I admit. We pile into Aubry’s car, tired but content. “What’d you say?” Lotte asks. Her grin wide and curious. “I said no.” All three voices squawk at me. “Stop, stop. I don’t date,” I say. I throw one hand in the air. “You know this.” We pull on the main road. I cannot wait to put on comfortable jammies and curl up in my bed. “You do for that man,” Aubry says. “What did he say when you told him no?” Eve asks. “I think you should go on one date, Nora.” It is Lotte’s statement that affects me the most. “Why is that?” I ask her. She stares out her window for a moment. Her profile highlighted by the moonlight in

the rearview mirror. “Because dates are normal. Dates lead to love sometimes. Because you deserve love.” Her voice is soft and dreamy sounding. It makes me smile. In the dim light from passing street lights, I can see Eve’s eye glisten with unshed tears. “Thank you, Lotte,” I say. The rest of our ride home is spent in silence. *** It’s a week after the event when I see Dr. Richardson next. Eve, Aubry and I have been busy since the gala outlining new programs we will be able to offer in the coming year. We can finally hire new therapists and group leaders to offer new programs. Dr. Richardson glows today. Her hair falls in soft waves around her shoulders as we chat. It makes me want to abandon our session and ask her to coffee to chat about what is new in her life. Is there a man? She looks like there is a man. She looks softer than normal, more content. Her posture is more casual than usual. “I heard you’ve been frequenting Craigslist again,” Dr. Richardson says. I frown and dig a fingernail into the side of my thigh. I stare at the bookcase just behind her. “I really wish Aubry wouldn’t talk to Eve who then tattles about me to you.” “They care about you. About your mental health. And I do, too.” “I am aware,” I say. “Are you cutting again?” Whenever I am engaging in questionable behavior, she asks this question. I shake my head. “No. Just … the encounters.” She purses her lips and makes a note. “I don’t condone your … encounters, Nora.” “Again, I am aware,” I say. “Let’s talk about why you feel the need to do that.” “Do what? Have one night stands?” I ask. She shoots me a look and I am stricken with guilt. She is not the enemy. “To partake in anonymous rough sex.” Her words punctuate the air around me. I blow out a breath. I rub my eyebrows and grimace. “I feel … druxy. Tristful. Vacant. There is a hole inside me since being with Holden. Consensual, vanilla sex doesn’t fulfill me. I feel even emptier afterwards. And to have that, you must date, and the few times I’ve gone that route, I felt culpable.” “Guilty. That’s new. Why that?” She pierces me with her gaze, pen hovering over her

pad. “Because it’s how I felt,” I say and cross my arms over my chest. “Nora, come on.” She is irritated with me and my avoidance. I don’t blame her. “I felt like I was cheating on Holden.” There I said it. Out loud. To a human. That is a step in the right direction. Dr. Richardson is silent long beats. “Holden is dead. The fact that your relationship with him was not based on truth or healthy, for the sake of your mental health, let’s attack it from a different perspective.” I lean forward in my seat. “You loved him. Right or wrong, it’s your truth. I can’t work around that with you. So, I’m going to have to work with you on it. You fell in love with a man, and he died. You’ve got to learn to cope and move forward.” “Are you really doing this?” I ask. She glances at the ceiling. “Nora, we’ve been working together for almost two years now. I know that you understand right from wrong. I know that you aren’t psychologically impaired. I want nothing more than to help you live a healthy life from here on out. So, if we need to address Holden as a relationship, then we will. I will—for you.” “I need a little pain to get that traditional pleasure reaction. I don’t know how to get that in a normal relationship.” “Normal is relative. I don’t like that word. Many couples try all sorts of things to spice up their sex lives. You aren’t the only one,” she says. “Yes, but men are strange about hurting a woman.” I twist my fingers in my lap. Although I trust Dr. Richardson, it does not make divulging my truths aloud any easier. “Rape fantasies are very common.” I nod. I know this. “But … if you know someone well enough to be in a relationship with them, then it is not really the same. You both know the other is pretending.” I pick at a string at the hem of my shirt. “What are you saying?” she asks. She sets her pad and pen on the side table to focus on me. “That I don’t want pretend. I want consensual, but the pain aspect can’t be faked. I don’t want a guy cringing when he hurts me. It has to be … authentic.” I roll my shoulders. Dr. Richardson contemplates my words in silence. Her bottom lip caught between her teeth while she thinks. “Have you considered any of the dating sites that lend themselves to different fetishes?” she asks. “Is it a fetish I seek?” She rolls her eyes at me. I suppose in any other therapist-patient situation that might be frowned upon, but our relationship is solid. “Semantics, Nora.” I laugh, because she has called me out on my bullshit this time

and it is not often she does that. “Okay, okay. I will, at the very least, check out a fetish dating site to see what it is all about.” “I think that would be a much healthier alternative to Craigslist.” I nod at her and lean back in my seat. “What else is on your mind?” she asks. “Desolation, I suppose.” “In what way?” “I have nothing. My family. My child. My love. All gone.” A weight lifts as my words tumble out. Sometimes stress relief is as simple as saying something out loud. “What about Eve and Charlotte? Aubry? How do they factor into your life?” “Sometimes I can be present in a room with all of them and still feel … alone. Maybe distant or out of touch are better terms.” “Disconnected,” she says. “Yes,” I exclaim. “That is exactly the feeling.” “That’s very normal. Are you taking your antidepressants?” she asks. “I am.” I nod. “Good. The next time that feeling surrounds you, let it. Sit with it. Feel it. Examine it. Marinate in it, no matter how uncomfortable. Sometimes, you just need to accept an emotion to come to terms with it.” I nod again. “Okay. I can do that.” She makes everything so cut and dry. Simplistic when it appears overwhelming to me. “Don’t let it eat you whole. Does that make sense? If you can simply acknowledge that it is there and stay present in the moment, I think you will find it won’t affect you so harshly.” “When did you get so astute?” I ask, smiling. “When you gave me that damn word a day calendar.” We laugh for a moment. It is in sessions like these with Dr. Richardson that I feel hope toward my future. That I am thankful to have her in my life. We are a team more than we are patient and therapist. *** Liam “We all have our vices, son, but why her?” My father rounds his desk. I make a

mental note to disable the GPS on my car. “Why not her?” I ask. He stops inches from me. He is old but still formidable in size. “I told you no. Specifically. I’ve given you everything. Taught you to run the business, how to be respected and feared and yet, you take it all for granted. You disrespect me.” “I’m not a child, Dad.” His hand moves lightning fast, connecting with my stomach. I double over in pain. “You’re my creation, you belong to me. Now get up and get your shit together.” “Yes, sir.” I stand and swallow thickly. “Leave that girl alone. She could ruin everything we’ve built.” His dismissal of her only makes me want her more. He can’t even bring himself to say her name. I don’t bother wondering why, but I want him to say it. I want to hear him say Nora’s name. To acknowledge her. He pours two glasses of scotch. My lack of productivity caught up to me. I have been so fascinated watching Nora, that my work suffered and thus, Daddy felt it necessary to check up on me. I don’t know how he knew it was Nora from my various locations, but he somehow put two and two together and a sucker punch is the price to pay—for now. I have no intentions of leaving her alone. Not now that I’ve held her in my arms. Felt her skin, smelled her minty breath. In fact, I welcome the beating my father will give me when he finds out I’m dating her. And I will be. Very soon. He hands me my glass. I take it and gulp it down in two swallows. He shakes his head at me. Scotch should be savored, not devoured. “How is the contract negotiation going with Yuri?” He leans against his enormous desk and crosses his ankles. “It’s fine.” I wave a hand through the air. “Fine won’t cut it. Yuri and Gregor are game changers for us. It has to be perfect, Liam. Spotless.” “It will be, Dad,” I say. I drag a hand through my hair. The deal for the docks downtown has been on every investor’s radar. It’s big money. Big profit and given the dock’s reputation, paid in cash. Shady dealings are nothing new to me but men like Yuri and Gregor run with a bigger, more powerful crowd than we normally do. One wrong step in this deal could put me six feet under. These men don’t sue. They kill. Yolanda knocks before entering the office. She mutters something in Spanish at my father before taking the glass of scotch from his hand and leaving a delicious smelling plate of dinner on his desk.

“Do you even know what she says to you?” I ask. Dad laughs and shakes his head. “All I know is that woman is determined to keep me alive. She thwarts all my bad habits whenever possible.” “Sounds like she’s more than just a maid,” I quip. Dad stands to his full height and instantly I feel like a child. “She’s nothing more than the help.” I nod and stand. I’ve had enough of my father for one afternoon. “I’ve got to get back to the office.” He grunts at me while rounding his desk but says nothing. No goodbye. No see you soon. Just silence. Our family never was good with social graces. Carol has left a plate covered in plastic wrap in the fridge for me. With a note reminding me to eat it. I laugh at her attempts to keep me sane and healthy. It’s late and I’m tired but the second I fall back on my bed, my mind wanders to Nora. The way she felt in my arms. Her smell. The way that green dress rode her curves and complimented her skin. I bolt up and check my calendar on my phone. In three weeks I have a gala to attend. I could bring anyone. There are countless women who’d like me to ask them but I am only interested in one woman. It will take time and effort to get her to agree to go on a date with me. I need a plan. *** Wednesdays are my least favorite days. I’m usually slammed at work and the weekend isn’t soon enough to covet, but today I’m in a good mood. “Mara,” I call out from my office. She pokes her head in. “What do you need, Liam?” she asks nervously. She is always nervous around me, despite the many times I’ve told her to relax. I am not the tyrant boss my father was. “Take a long lunch. It’s gorgeous out today.” She narrows her eyes at me but when I tell her I’m serious, she smiles and thanks me. But not before reminding me of a few pending items I need to sign off on. It’s yoga day. Nora’s yoga day. Her class gets out at eleven thirty and she nearly always goes to the park to read afterward. Today, I’m going to crash her solo party. I walk three blocks up from the office, cross the main road and enter the park at the opposite end she frequents. When I get to the end of the path and haven’t passed her, I resort to the cafe at the top of the park. It should be on her way from the yoga studio. Unless she changed her plans this morning. But she rarely does that. Nora is a creature of habit.

I order a coffee while keeping one eye out the door. By the time I sit and take my first sip, I see her. I begin to stand but stop myself. She is leaning against a building. Her face, usually rosy from class, is pallid. I watch her as she approaches the front of the cafe. She looks nervous. Anxiety? It makes sense. The interview she gave mentioned as much. The charity she started. Symptoms of PTSD. I wait her out. This is perfect. I can be her knight. Save her from herself. I smirk, lean sideways, knock on the glass and give a little wave.

Nora Holden. His eyes. His strong hands. His blade. His everything. Yoga generally clears my mind, but today, it wandered right into Holden memories. I can’t breathe. My anxiety pills were in my yoga bag. I know they were. I take them everywhere with me but I cannot find them. They are missing. I try all the tactics Dr. Richardson has given me to get through a panic attack but I am out of control. Holden. Dead. People stare at me as they pass. Perhaps that is just my paranoia. Do they know who I am? What I am? Do they see the sick twisted love-struck woman? The one who lived with the monster? Who loved the monster? I push his name from my mind. Leave me, I beg to myself. I stumble along the sidewalk toward the park. I stop twice to rest. To gather myself. People are watching. I am sure of it. I know they are all looking at me. I get near the cafe and the tension leaves me just a little. I am close enough to the river to hear it. Almost to the tranquility of the park. Someone waves from behind the plate glass window as I walk by the cafe. I lift my hand slightly and wave back. A knee-jerk reaction, then squint. Liam. Liam Lockwood. He waves me in. It catches me off guard. It is a distraction. A welcome distraction. I stand paralyzed for a moment before I push through the double doors. Reorganize my thoughts, my energy on the man grinning at me. Those eyes. “What’s the matter?” he asks. His face a mask of concern. I hesitate but tell him I am having an anxiety attack as I plop in the seat across from him. “Aww. What can I do to help?” He leans back in his seat. “Just breathe.” I take a moment to gather myself. Liam doesn’t seem put off by the quietude I let hang between us. I don’t need people or conversations or background noise in my life. I find silence comforting. It is rare to find a stranger who does not mind. People feel the need to fill stillness with noise. He takes a sip of his coffee and I find myself watching his lips. The way they wrap over the lip of the mug. The way his tongue snakes out to catch a drip of caffeine. I exhale. The corner of his mouth tips upward. “Lemme grab a decaf,” I say.

He raises a brow at me and his lips pucker in disbelief. I have an insane desire to reach out and feel his lips. I don’t, though. “Decaf is like a prostitute who only snuggles.” His face is dead serious and I can’t help but laugh. “Trust me, you’ll like me better when I’ve had coffee—even decaf.” “It’s just not right. If you’re paying for it—you should get the pleasure that the caffeine affords your body.” I pull on the ends of my hair—a nervous tick. “I can’t take the caffeine right now.” Liam nods, his expression rife with sympathy. I head to the counter and order a decaf coffee black, before joining him at the table again. I already feel better. More tranquil. “So, what’d you do this morning?” he asks. He watches me in a curious way that I cannot quite put my finger on. I flip back and forth about telling him the truth or making up a story. It is not as though we are friends or going to see each other again, yet still I am leery. “Airport. Then yoga.” Truths. I tell him truths. He sets his mug down on the table. I watch the way his fingers move through the handle. They are large and the opening small. He can’t find a comfortable position to hold on. His fingers look rough but soft. I can’t explain it. Actually, I know they are rough, and it makes his fingers sexy somehow. “Oh?” I snap out of my thoughts. “Yeah. If you’re a people watcher, the airport is the most fascinating place. Everyone, all different walks of life and lifestyle come together. People look skittish, perturbed, apprehensive—as if they are walking around a jungle laden with wild beasts. The dynamic is engrossing. Everyone unsure of their role—the outcome of who they are supposed to be. Do you ignore the crying baby? Help someone put their carry on up? Are people receptive to kindness just because? Stranger altruism? People are so unhurried to smile and chat with the person next to them. It’s a curious thing, hanging in an airport or being on a plane where everyone acts like they’re heading to a funeral— somber and cloistered.” I say. I am rambling. To a man I scarcely know. I squeeze my mug until my fingers ache. Liam pins me with his eyes and serious face. “That sounds like a sick fascination.” His tone is deadpan. I smile at him. I like that he is being sincere. Something he was not at the charity event. He was attractive, yes, but smarmy, too. I like this Liam better. He is more callow. More genuine. I raise my mug to my lips and sip before saying, “Mayyy-be.” One corner of his mouth lifts up, revealing a small dimple. “What’d you do today?” I ask. My fingers clutch my mug too tightly. “I listened to my assistant, Mara’s, personal phone call with the insurance company.”

“Riveting,” I state. I take a sip of my coffee. “It was, thank you. She had it on speaker phone and spelled out her insanely long email address. The agent read it back, correctly. No one does that with her email and she goes ‘wow, you’re the first person who has ever gotten that right on the first try.’ Do you know what the agent said, Nora?” I arch an eyebrow at him. “I’m guessing no …” Liam’s eyes widen with mock enthusiasm. “She goes, ‘YAY! I’M LITERATE!’” I stare at him a moment before I dissolve into a fit of laughter. It feels good to laugh. Of course, Eve and Lotte and Aubry can get a chuckle out of me but it has been ages since an outsider has. My grip on my mug loosens. My throat does not feel so tight. My anxiousness dissipates altogether. “Mara must have been stunned,” I say. “It was priceless. I’d pay to listen to it all over again,” Liam chuckles. “So, besides that—what’s going on in your life, Mr. Lockwood? How is your niece?” I ask, then pull on the back of my shirt to stop it from riding up. Liam’s eyes follow my shirt and I become very aware of his roaming eyes. He notices me watching him and clears his throat. “I had a date last night,” he sighs and looks down into his coffee mug. I am shocked that this is what he is choosing to share. “And …” I prompt. I am curious. He blows out a breath and looks up at me. “I hate first dates. They are ridiculous.” “Agreed, it’s like an interview. You know the answers you’re supposed to give, but you know you can’t tell the truth, if you want the job.” I tell him. He stares at me before saying. “She asked what I do for fun.” My eyes go wide in mock horror. “Did you tell her you enjoy watching porn and Facebook stalking people?” I try. I really do. I try not to laugh at my own comment but I fail and start giggling. Liam gives a loud, long belly laugh. I am known for putting people off with my bluntness and particular brand of humor but Liam seems to accept it in stride. I lean back in my seat more. “How’d you know?” he asks, playfully. I cock my head and tap my temple. “You look the type, I suppose.” He grins at me devilishly. There is something in those eyes that makes me feel comfort. The way they glint in the light or perhaps just that they are green like … I push Holden from my thoughts again. “To answer you, no. Obviously. Do you tell your first dates that you choreograph routines to songs and kiss your cat on the mouth after professing how much you love him?” “It’s a dog. I’m not really a cat person.” I tell him, feigning insult. “So, what’d you

tell her? Wait, let me guess—you told her you love …” I regard him for a moment. Suit, but athletic build. Hair, not corporate style but longer, just enough to be fun outside of work. “Hiking or rock climbing?” I throw back at him. Liam wrinkles his nose at me. “You can be super irritating, you know that?” he quips. “Yes. I do. I bet she said she likes hiking, too, but her version probably involved a warm scone and an iced coffee in her hand while doing it,” I say. “Touché, she definitely didn’t look like a hiker.” he admits. “And I don’t hike anyway, so that’s a good thing.” he laughs. I was wrong about him. That still leaves his version of fun out in the open. “She had on full armor,” he says before resting his chin on the heel of his hand. And before I can ask, he explains. “Woman Armor equates to a push-up bra; four pounds of makeup; three inch heels so that her ass is propped up and noticeable and her only objective is to capture a decent looking male and procreate.” I can’t help but laugh again. It feels good to do it. “What’d you wear?” I ask. Liam looks down, his longish sandy blonde hair flops over his eyes, “This.” He shrugs. I widen my eyes, pretending to be appalled. “Pull it together man,” I laugh. “Hey, as soon as she ordered a salad, I knew we didn’t stand a chance,” he quips. “Did she get that hungry look in her eye when you ate … like she was so hungry, she was thinking of ways to sneak your food off your plate and shove it in her mouth without you discerning?” Aubry and I notice this while out for dinner often. You can almost always spot a woman on a first date, based on what she’s eating. It never fails to amuse us. “It was bad.” He shakes his head and smirks. “Complete with bad sex to end the night. You know, she wanted dirty talk but not really, because the second I busted out a dirty word, she looked like she wanted to put me in a choke hold for saying it and then when she tried it, it was so incredibly unnatural, that her face stroked out just saying ‘pussy’” he whispers the word and looks around, “And then she didn’t know where to touch me and vice versa because we’re strangers and it was a complete and total shit show.” I am taken aback by his candidness. It is not typical in my experience. Or maybe I am just that out of touch with society as of late. I lean toward him. “Can I ask you a question?” “You just did,” he says, smirking. Laughter bursts out of me.

“After she left, did you curl up in a ball wishing you could just lie there being depressed for a week?” He narrows his eyes at me. “I really don’t know if we’re close enough for you to know the answer to that.” I pout in good fun. “Any good plans for the weekend?” he artfully changes the subject. Interesting. He doesn’t like first dates. He was up for dirty talk but didn’t enjoy the sex he got. Liam Lockwood is an enigma to me. I am rather proficient at nailing down a person upon meeting since coming home, but he has thrown me off course. I stare at him briefly, unsure if I want to tell the truth. I don’t know him. I don’t know anything about him but there is a pull between us I can feel. Butterfly wings in my gut. An astute awareness of my pulse. It makes me nervous. “No. Nothing planned. You?” “Staying in mostly. I need to catch up on my porn and Facebook,” he says. I can’t help the grin that takes over my face. “Do you want to hang out?” “I believe I already told you, I don’t date,” I answer. “Yes. You did mention that. But you didn’t say that you don’t friend.” “Friend?” I ask. “As in, have them? Hang out with them?” he says. His dimple pops out again and it makes my belly somersault. “You want to be friends?” I snort out. He lifts his chin at me. “What if I do?” He leans back in chair. I mimic his movement. “I’d say you’re signing up for more than you’re bargaining for.” “You don’t scare me, Nora.” I wish I would. I wish he didn’t say that. I probably would scare him, if he knew all my dark desires. If he saw my body. Knew what I craved. “Likewise.” “So Saturday … how ‘bout we meet in the park,” he points out the window. “Over there. I’ll bring lunch, you bring drinks and a blanket.” “I feel like I’ve been bullied into a date somehow,” I say. “It’s only a date, if there’s a kiss.” “There definitely won’t be a kiss,” I tell him. “No. Definitely not. You’re kind of disgusting to look at.” My eyes nearly pop from their sockets at his words, but I cannot stop the laugh that bubbles up from my belly, and out my mouth. Liam Lockwood is trouble. A weakness in an attractive package, with a good sense of humor. Outside of my small circle of friends, others tiptoe around me. They treat me differently since my return. It is nice to experience ordinary.

“Fine. Noon. Saturday.” I push up from my seat and leave without another word. As I walk out, I hear him laugh. I wait until I am in the park, away from the cafe windows to let my smile emerge. An incipient seed of hope takes root in my chest. *** Liam It’s Friday and I’ve spent all of fifteen minutes not thinking of Nora since Wednesday. I played it cool. I showed her my other side. The fun side. She reacted so much better to that. Better than I had hoped, even. If she’s willing to be friends, I can make her crave me, need more than that in no time. It’s a little more work but a step I’m willing to take. Nora Robertson was the last person to live with my brother. She knew him. She might even know of me. But if the name meant anything to her, she isn’t letting on. She can tell me things I desperately want to know about the family we left behind. I will make her want to kiss me. She will want to touch me. Need it even. I will show her how the Lockwood men really are and Holden will roll over in his grave. The woman he so desperately clung to, will be mine, not his. *** When I arrive at the park, there is a large yellow blanket spread out and a small cooler at one corner. I wave with my free hand. It took hours to go back through her Instagram page and find all her food posts, but I did it and I am confident she will be wowed with our lunch selection. I set the basket down on the blanket. There are no clouds today and the temperature is near sweltering but Nora wears a sundress with a cardigan over it. It makes me wonder if she’s chaste or simply a lunatic. She stands. “You came,” she says. “Of course.” She spreads her arms. “Friends hug, right?” I laugh. She is adorable. I take her in my arms. The gentleness in her touch, the warmth of her hand on my skin, it makes me remember all the things I don’t have. I want something to fill up that chasm that gapes inside me. When we release, she doesn’t immediately know what to do. She is awkward and cute. Damn. I long to reach out and rub her shoulders but that’s too tender. Too much of a lie. I reach out and touch her hand

instead. She pulls it away as though I’ve bitten it. I don’t know the details of what Holden did to her but I can imagine. I did live with him, too. I was a victim of his proclivities. She lives in a cell made of skin. Held captive. Sealed inside herself—always. It’s gotta be tough. She needs to learn how to release her demons. I shake my head. That is not my job. It is not my goal. I need to stay focused. I’m hard. I thrive on her confused and unsure emotions. “How was your week?” I ask. She sits cross-legged and smooths her dress over her knees. “Productive,” she says. I sit beside her, legs stretched out. My arm brushes hers. The fine hairs on her forearm stand tall—nervous. I grin because she can’t know. She’s helpless to whatever I throw her way. She has a scar on her right elbow. It’s faint now but still noticeable. It could have been from crashing into a tree sledding as a little girl, or maybe she fell during cheer practice in high school and split it open. Maybe it came from a man or her mother or an animal. I could ask but it would take all the fun out of my game. I like to wonder. I like to make up my own stories. I bump my shoulder against hers. “Good.” “How was yours?” she asks. “Work is brutal right now. Long hours. Tough to deal with clients.” “What do you do?” “I broker investment deals.” “That sounds like a lot of inflated ego.” “Rude. Excuse me for having a good job.” She starts to speak but I hold my hand up to stop her. She’s touchingly flustered, thinking she’s screwed up somehow. There is a strong, sinewy animal beauty about her; a beauty that promises more than she intends to deliver. Her eyes sparkle with a slight challenge and I feel the stirrings of excitement. The line I’m treading is a very thin one. “I’m kidding, Nora. It’s a job, not my life.” “Sorry. I …” she sighs and looks at me. She has to squint to block the sun from her eyes. “I’m not really a people person.” “I already garnered that. Just relax.” “Why does everyone say that? If it was that easy to relax, I would be.” “You never relax?” I ask. She snorts and smirks at me. “You seem to make my social blunders acceptable. Why can’t others be like that?” “I think that’s called DNA. Like, everyone’s is different, thus making us all unique.” Nora smiles wide and falls to her back. Her red hair spreads around her like a devilish halo. I take the opportunity to admire her as she stares at the cloudless sky.



Nora Intense green eyes stare at me. He’s in jeans and a black T-shirt, is at least six-two and has biceps the size of my thighs. I look back to the sky and apricate. He is distracting. “I had a nightmare last night,” I say, instead of all the other things whirling around my head. From the corner of my eye, I watch Liam lean back on his elbows. “It’s always the same. The constant whining of jets gathering power offends my ears and that Indian man with the dark jeans and internet explorer blue socks, who is yammering on in his native tongue, shoes under his seat. A mother in a coral shirt is frantic, trying to keep her infant from making noise and disrupting people. And my eyes close and it’s all too much. The persistent white noise of chaos. Breath goes in through my nose and out again, but it’s still too loud. And I know I will be off the plane soon but it doesn’t do anything to quell the overwhelming claustrophobia encroaching me. And then that baby shrieks, and the blonde in front of her shoots me a dirty look, and the man to my right coughs at me. It hits my shoulder and that god damned high pitched whine grows louder, until I bolt to my feet and scream ‘shut the fuck up.’ Then the entire cabin gasps and points at me, accusing and judging before silence ensues and I open my eyes,” I say. “You need therapy. Or to stop frequenting the airport to watch people,” he deadpans. I roll my head toward him. “People watching is therapy to me.” And I am in therapy but of course, he doesn’t need to know that. “You have that dream often?” he asks. I have an urge to tell him that I do. I have it often but not as often as I dream of Holden. That when I wake panting in the night, I can still feel his hands on me. His lips on my skin. I shiver despite the heat, then laugh. “What’s so funny?” Liam asks. I am almost startled someone is next to me. For a moment I was lost in my mind. “You zone out a lot, don’t you?” “Is that weird?” I ask, knowing full well it is odd. “A little, but I don’t mind. What were you thinking of?” He lays down. Our shoulders touch. It is hot today and I would love to be in my backyard without a cardigan on but there is no escaping that now. “Nothing. I just … zone out sometimes,” I tell him. “What did you bring to eat? I’m

starving.” “A girl who likes to eat. I dig it.” “One, this isn’t a date, so I can eat, and two, I am no girl.” Liam rewards me with a mischievous smirk. He sits up and bends forward. His T-shirt rides up as he reaches for the basket he brought. Muscles, cut and defined, line his back. His skin is golden, as if he spends many hours in the sun shirtless. I catch myself staring and avert my eyes before he twists and sets the basket between us. “True, and probably true. I’ve yet to see proof of womanhood.” I gasp and clutch my chest. “You’re awful.” Liam shrugs and opens the basket. He pulls out various tubs. As he removes lids, I see all my favorites and if I am honest, it pleases me as much as it bewilders. Goat cheese, grapes, little salami rounds and a baguette. He hands me a plastic fork. “Tell me one deep thing about you as a person.” “That is a queer request,” I say. “Queer?” “Strange. Strange request. I like words.” “Oh, I see what you did there. You tried to answer both my questions at once. Nope. Liking words is not deep enough.” I frown and think for a moment. I’ve been open with him so far but I’m not sure how much of myself I really want to share. I pop a grape into my mouth. Liam watches in a way that is not friendly. It is lusty. My cheeks burn pink as I swallow. “I am no ordinary girl. Society often shouts at us to fit into the mold. And I don’t. I never have. So this lingering guilt seeps in, causing me to second guess myself and wonder if I am indolent, or unable to cut it in the ‘real world’, or perhaps not meant to be here at all.” What I don’t tell him is about Holden. How he may be dead but he haunts me. Turns me cold. He will haunt me till the day I die I think. “Okay, that might have been too deep,” he says. I raise my brows at him. He hands me a small plate with little clumps of each item. “Well, what about you? What’s your deep thing?” I ask. Liam grows quiet. The sound of grapes between his teeth and the breeze the only sound. I feel as if I have intruded on something private. He catches my eye and holds it. The emerald green holding me captive. “Something happened when I was younger. I should’ve known better. I should have stopped it from happening.” “Don’t blame yourself,” I say. I reach out and rest my hand on his. His hand is cool to the touch, despite the heat. Mine is hot from being overdressed. His skin feels good underneath mine. He smirks and I pull my hand away. “I don’t. Blame myself, I mean. I blame the other party,” He says casually. Too

casually. “Can I ask what happened?” The wind picks up and swirls my hair around my face. It sticks to my lips. Liam laughs and reaches out to smooth it down. I still. The moment is intimate when it should not be. He senses it, too, and shrugs. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist.” I wave a hand through the air. “No worries,” I answer. I nibble on my food. The variety tickles my palette. More than once, I catch Liam watching me eat. I think better of pointing it out. I am enjoying myself and do not want to spoil the moment. When his plate is empty, he asks, “Are you ready for dessert?” “You brought dessert?” “What kind of meal would it be without something sweet?” He grins and that lone dimple appears. I consciously remind myself not to reach out and touch it. “Well, truth be told, I’m not huge on dessert,” I say. “I’m picky.” “Blasphemy. I am certain you will enjoy this.” I laugh and tell him to bring it on. When he pulls out a small white box, I am intrigued. It is not candy, or chocolates or brownies. This came from a bakery I am familiar with. Is it possible this man has the exact same tastes as me? In a world full of processed foods and hydrogenated oils, the odds seem slim to find someone else who also seeks out fresh, wholesome eats. He lifts the lid back, revealing an arrangement of plump, fresh pears. I raise a brow at him. “They’re baked pears with cinnamon and they’ve been cored, the middle is homemade whipped cream.” I dramatically raise the back of my hand to my forehead and topple backward onto the blanket. Liam bursts out laughing. “Good enough to faint, eh?” he jokes. “Sounds sublime. Divine actually.” “Good thing I bought two.” I sit up and take the paper plate with mine from him. Knives aren’t required. The pears are baked to perfection and soft enough to cut through with a plastic fork. “I know that box,” I admit. “I, however, have not had the pleasure of this concoction yet from them.” He looks surprised and pleased with my answer. The expression leaves a slippery sort of satisfaction in my chest. ***

Liam I watch while she devours her pear, the entire time imagining it is my cock in her mouth. When she licks her lips clean of cream, I almost groan. I cannot sit here like this another moment. “Let’s take a walk. I hear there are some paths around the river,” I suggest. “There are. I know most of them. This is kind of my place,” she says. I stand, my back to her and adjust my pants. When I turn, she is watching me curiously. I ignore the look. “Lead the way,” I say. We leave our things on the blanket and walk across the park to the riverside without speaking. I watch her as we go. I expected to feel more, animosity, toward her. She loved my brother. I hate my brother. But I find myself more curious about her than anything. She isn’t stunning in any expected way but yet she is—stunning. She is not the type of woman I’m usually seen with. As far as I can tell, she wears no makeup. She is modestly dressed and she doesn’t seem to care about dangling from my arm like a piece of candy. There is a pull that I don’t often feel, with her. I know everything about her, yet I feel there is so much more to uncover. Her mind is a maze and I’ve only just started exploring it. “This way,” she says and tugs on my arm. I look at where her fingers grip my T-shirt sleeve. Delicate, slender fingers. The urge to suck on them hits without warning. She notices me watching and drops her arm to her side. “Sorry, I was zoned out I guess,” I say. She smiles at me. “The river will do that to you.” The air is crisp and fresh and the afternoon sun glares down on us. The water rushes next to us. Nora looks serene here. “Aren’t you hot?” I ask. She turns to me. “A little.” I want to see more skin. I want to know if the freckles on her face grace the rest of her body. “Take off your sweater,” I say. She shakes her head at me. “I’m fine. Look.” She points toward a rock that juts out over the water. I stop short and ask, “Should we sit?” She grins at me, takes my hand and leads me to the edge of the rock. Mindful of her dress, she lowers herself to sit. I follow her lead. She removes her flip flops and sets them in her lap before dipping her feet into the river. “It’s cold today.” I look down at the water rushing under us. “Take your shoes off. Put

your feet in. It will cool you down,” she says. I pull off my shoes and socks and set them behind me on the rock. Gingerly, I dip my feet into the water. I suck in a rushed breath. “It’s freezing,” I say. Nora laughs. The kind of laugh that is from genuine amusement. “But it feels good,” she says. I nod. “Who’s Daisy?” I point to a name plaque secured to a tree to her right. Nora shrugs. “I don’t know. But maybe this was her spot?” “A mystery. I like it. What do you think she was like?” I ask. Nora looks to me quizzically, like I have tapped into her brain somehow, then looks to the water. “I guess she was someone who liked sitting here.” She looks around our small space. “Either she was joyful or troubled. Enjoying this spot could go either way.” “Troubled?” I ask. “People seek solace when they are troubled. Being here, in this spot, makes me think she needed a place to reflect. But,” she says and catches my eye, “It is also a fabulous spot to enjoy, as well. So maybe she was happy.” “You’ve thought about this before, haven’t you?” I push my unruly hair from my forehead. She grins and nods at me. “It’s an unfair advantage,” I say. “It requires an understanding of people and an imagination,” she counters. “Are you saying I have neither?” I bump my shoulder playfully against hers. “Who me? Never. I am certain you are intelligent.” “Certain, huh?” I chuckle. The way she speaks amuses me. So formal sounding but still perky. “The evidence points to certain, yes.” She tucks her hair behind her ear. “There’s evidence?” I laugh. “Oh, yes. I’ve compiled quite a bit thus far,” she says. The water rushes over the rocks around us. Birds chirp and wind rustles the leaves of the surrounding trees, as we sit shoulder to shoulder. “Do tell,” I say. She regards me a with mischievous glint in her eyes. “Let’s see. You have a job, that is a plus. You donate to very important charities.” She smirks at me. “You have impeccable taste in food. And,” she pauses. She reaches out. Her forefinger touches my chin, and turns it until we’re eye to eye. “You’ve got secrets.” Does she know who I am? I am thrown off guard by her observation. I frown but only momentarily. “It’s okay,” she says. “Secrets are part of a life well-lived.” She looks back to the water rushing over the tips of her red painted toes. I am compelled to speak but I

can’t form the right words. We sit side by side, feet in the water, in silence. It suits Nora. She doesn’t mind the quiet. In fact, I’d venture she prefers it. *** The sun is low in the sky when we pack up our picnic. I’m excited that our lunch turned into an entire afternoon together. “Where are you parked? I’ll walk you to your car,” I offer. “I walked here.” The blanket is bundled up under her arm, clutched in her fingers is a large, heavy looking purse. “With all that stuff?” “I don’t mind,” She says and laughs lightly. “Let me drive you home. It’ll be dark soon.” She shakes her head. “I like walking.” I sigh. “Let me walk you then. I won’t feel right letting you walk alone.” She chuckles at me and tells me I am chivalrous and that she is perfectly capable of getting herself home. That the area is safe. All facts I am aware of. But still, I don’t let it die and finally she gives in. I take the blanket from her. “Thank you. Today was fun,” she says. The streetlights begin to hum and buzz as they do before clicking on. Her flip flops thwack the sidewalk. “I did, too. We should hang out again,” I say. She shrugs at me. “Maybe.” “Maybe?” I balk. “Yes, maybe. I’m quite busy,” she says. I laugh loudly. At the intersection of her street, I stop to pretend I don’t know which way to go. I need to remember to let her lead the way. “I’m this way,” she says. Yes. I know that. I’ve been to your house. I’ve been in your room. I know what color your bedspread is. What pictures you keep near your bed. What books you read. I follow her to her door. “Can I come in?” I ask. It’s a long shot but worth the query. She tosses her hair over one shoulder and shoots me a funny look. “No,” she says. “Can I have your number?” She shakes her head. I frown petulantly. “I will take yours, though.” She reaches her hand into her purse and retrieves her

phone before waiting for me to ramble off my number. “There. I’ll call you sometime. As a friend.” She takes the blanket from me. “You’re infuriating,” I muse. She gives me a megawatt smile and laughs before closing the door softly behind her. As I walk to my car, back near the park, I’m already calculating how to persuade her to see me again this week. A smile creeps across my face as I slide into the driver’s seat and crank the engine, ready to head home.

Nora Holden’s green eyes, set like jewels inside dark, long eyelashes, watch me. I bask in their attention. “Now, Nora.” His voice sends chills down my spine. I strip bare and take position. The pain that comes next is delicious juxtaposed to the pleasure he will give me. I am wet with anticipation. Forehead to the floor, I inhale sharply with the first slice of the cool metal to my back. “Tell me,” he says. I exhale, “Only ever you.” Warm lips caress my hip before the blade slices again. When he flips me over, it is Liam’s face I see. Panic swallows me. The moment my eyes open, I wish I was asleep again. I hate mornings. I hate that I’ve woken up at all. I sit up and swing my legs over the edge of the bed. I dreamed of baby sized hands and feet. Of rough fingers and beards. I will never kiss those cheeks again or feel his hand in mine. I’m tired and grumpy and likely will be until I’ve showered and had coffee. Eve and Lotte are aware that it is unwise to speak to me in the first hour I’m awake. I’m like a she-devil. Everything is heinous in the morning. I attempt to center myself and squash the rising anxiety in my chest. Life is hard and that’s okay. Life is … oh, fuck it, I think. I rub the heels of my hands against my eye sockets and sigh. Life can be so underwhelming. My footsteps are muffled by the plush carpet as I go back and forth. When the house is quiet and the air hangs thick and still around me, I daydream of a different life. I imagine I’m a fascinating person. One who people gravitate toward. A person so full of life and joy, that others can’t help but be drawn to me. That I am beautiful, stunning. Not just outwardly but inside, too. And in the most innocuous moment, my hero swoops in, dashing and photoshopped in his appearance, and sweeps me off my feet in the most impeccable way. My breath catches in my throat and I am so overcome with passion, that my heart kicks into overdrive and tears of joy well in my eyes. Then we live a wildly free,

desire filled life together. The kind where, when we fight, we have debilitating, fantastic make up sex afterward. You know the kind, where you feel more connected to each other afterward. We eat cheesecake in bed because we have nowhere to be, but in each other’s arms with sweet treats. I grab my phone and do something I can’t fathom. I text Liam. A simple good morning is all I write but it means he now has my phone number. A way to contact me. It is a step toward letting go. Letting go of my control over a situation and giving it the ability to progress naturally. I set my phone down and blow out a breath. Sometimes, when I open my eyes and look around at reality, a crushing devastation wraps around me. This house I’m in, this mess surrounding me, these clothes I’m wearing, my flat hair, the circles under my eyes—surely they don’t represent my life. There has to be more, right? This can’t be it. And I suck in a deep, shaking breath and remind myself that this is it. This is all there is. Passion and wild abandon exist in novels where readers go to escape. Escape. But each time a book ends, you’re faced with real life again. You have to join back in, live it, and plaster on that attitude that screams, of course, I’m fulfilled! I have everything I require in life. A tear slips from the corner of my eye, reminding me just how human I am. My phone dings and I snatch it off my nightstand. Liam. Morning beautiful, FRIEND I laugh and toss my phone on the bed. He is unabating but endearing. A part of me is curious. So curious. The other is weary. His eyes are too familiar, too memorable. It is a farcical notion. Many people have green eyes. It means nothing. I am making something out of nothing. I should not text him back so quickly but I do. Morning, handsome FRIEND. I stretch and head downstairs. I’m hungry and need coffee. Before I reach the kitchen, I hear silverware clinking and water running. When I round the corner, Eve’s slender figure appears. “Oh, thank God,” she says. I give her a quizzical look. “You were in bed when I got home last night. I am dying to hear about your picnic date.” I slide into a chair at the table. “It wasn’t a date,” I say. Eve hands me a mug of coffee and a sly smile. “Oh, my bad. What was it then?”

I shrug. “We were just hanging out.” “Hmm,” she muses, while emptying the dishwasher. “He did ask for my number.” “And?” she asks. “I said, no.” Eve snorts and turns to me. Her mouth opens but I speak first. “I took his.” “You always take ‘his’,” she says and arches a brow at me. I stare into the black liquid in my hands. “I texted him this morning.” Eve’s mouth is agape as she pulls out the chair across from me and sits. “Seriously?” I nod. “Seriously.” Her grin is infectious as she grabs my hand. *** Liam She texted me. I was convinced she wouldn’t. In fact I know from her emails with Aubry, that she never gives her number out. I know that she never reaches out to the guys who give her their numbers. But she texted me in under twenty-four hours. She gave me her number. That means something to her. I wipe the sweat from my brow with my forearm and punch the ‘cool down’ button on the treadmill. Slowing to a walk, I think about all the things I want to do to Nora. I want to play with her. Make her come. Taste her body. Get her so hooked on me, that her thoughts of Holden will become nothing but distant memories. I pull the ripcord and hop off the treadmill. Stripping as I go, a luxury when you have a home gym, I head to the bathroom. I crank the shower on, wait a moment and step in. Nora Robertson texted me. Grinning like a fool, I lather my body with soap. I fist my cock and pump it slowly at first. I imagine Nora’s rosebud lips. The way they might look as they wrap about my shaft. Those clear eyes staring up at me as I pump into her mouth. I can almost feel her nails claw my ass, pulling me into her mouth deeper. I come in moments. Mildly satisfied, I kill the water and grab my towel. *** I step out the front door onto the granite landing. It is another gorgeous day. I unlock

the car and slide in. Texting Mara to prepare the final contract for the docks, it takes me under an hour to pull up to the glass building. When I arrive, I have a moment of confusion. I don’t remember the drive. I was lost in a daydream. I want to slip through Nora’s window, peel the blankets from her as she sleeps. Pull her panties down and fuck her until she wakes up. She would wake up, fight me. I’d make her give in. Give up. I kill the engine when I’m in my reserved spot. The building is impressive. My father had some famous architect design it for him. All the floors are rented to various businesses, except the top floor, which is reserved for Lockwood Enterprises. The view is stunning but sometimes even that isn’t enough to make me smile. I have an urge to get out from under my father’s thumb. The problem is, I like the money and I don’t know what I would do instead. “Morning, Mr. Lockwood,” Mara says. “Good morning, Mara.” She hands me a coffee and runs down the agenda for the day as I walk to my office. “The revised contract is on your desk.” Mara veers off from me to her desk, as I continue into mine. I look over the terms of the deal with the Russians. The docks aren’t worth the millions they are offering but then again, the offer includes the local authority looking the other way so they can use the area the way they like. I sign the spots required on my end and have Mara schedule a courier to drop the contract to Yuri and Gregor. My best friend, Mike, pings me on chat at eleven. Lunch? What were you thinking? The Black? I cringe. I’ve seen Candy more than I’ve wanted to already. I thought she could help keep me satisfied or at least keep my desires in check until I make headway with Nora but the last visit left me wanting more. It barely scratched my itch, my need. I’m Blacked out. You? Yeah, right. Seriously. How ‘bout actual lunch? I guess, man. Pick a place. I’ll see you at noon. I give the name of the cafe that Nora and I sat and talked at last week. It is not her yoga day, but you never know, perhaps she will be in the area visiting the park. Mike walks in, slaps my shoulder and plops into the chair opposite me at ten past twelve, wearing a shit-eating grin. Which can only mean one thing; there’s a new woman in his life. “What’s up, man?” I ask. “Same shit, different day, except for the new chick I’m banging.”

“I knew it. I know that dumb-ass smirk,” I say. Mike laughs and slaps the table. “Dude, she is something else. Slamming body, mildly intelligent and up for anything. And I do mean anything,” he says, while raising a brow. I laugh earnestly. “You gonna keep her around long enough to attend the event with you?” I ask. Mike shrugs. “It’s a possibility. I mean, she’s adventurous, if you know what I mean, so I might not get bored for a while. Who are you bringing?” “Nora Robertson,” I tell him. “Who is Nora Robertson?” he asks. He bunches up his face in an unattractive manner. “My next conquest,” I state. We order sandwiches and coffee and I halfheartedly keep an eye on the sidewalk to watch for Nora. I’m mid-bite when Mike looks at me and says, “That name is familiar. Nora Robertson. She’s the chick who was in the news a while back. The one who was tortured for months or something, right?” I set my sandwich down and nod at him. “Dude, why? Why would you want something so damaged? She’s probably a basket case. Crazy is not what you need in your life.” I run a hand through my hair, letting my fingers graze the raised scars on my scalp. There is something dark inside of me. A jagged hole that twists and rips through my soul. I’ve always chalked it up to genetics. It’s in my DNA. My mother was disturbed. My father was abusive in a different way. My own brother carved his mark in me. It is something Nora and I share. We both bear the scars of Holden. We both survived him. But I don’t have that need in me. Scaring others does not get me off. I require a different brand of abuse. Pleasure and pain together, safely. I crave being brought, or bringing someone else to the brink and then pulling back. I desire the pain of whips and floggers, accompanied by the pleasure of soft lips or warm cunts and crushing orgasms. I grin at Mike. “I have my reasons.” Mike shakes his head and laughs it off. He knows not to push. He knows the most about me, out of anyone. In school, when we had to come home for vacations, he knew my house was not pleasant. He never pushed. He never asked questions. He never judged. He understood what was going on, and gave me a safe escape when I needed one. “You laugh now, but you won’t when you see her,” I say. “Good luck, man. Seriously, I feel like you’ll need it for this one,” he says. The rest of my day is so busy, that I have no time to check in on Nora. I have no time to watch or stalk her. I check my phone periodically, to see if she has texted, but she hasn’t. It’s best this way. I don’t want to scare her off.



Nora It is three days before I text Liam again. When I do, it is not much of a text. A simple hello. He does not respond immediately and for some reason that pleases me to no end. He gets me. I know his end game is not to be friends, but he is willing to play my game. I relish the feeling of being in control. “How much longer do we have to wait?” I ask. Eve shrugs. “It said it started at six.” “I’ve had naps more exciting than this,” I say. We are packed in a crowded auditorium, waiting for the chorus concert to start. I love watching Lotte perform. I love hearing her voice. I do not love being sandwiched between other parents in a stifling room lacking air conditioning. It makes me feel claustrophobic. The kids start filing in, filling up the risers according to height. I breathe a sigh of relief that they will be getting started soon. The woman to my right elbows me as she shoves her hand into her pant pocket and pulls out her cell. I glare at Eve. I’d rather stand in the back the entire time than be crammed between her and a stranger for an hour in tiny seats. She silently chuckles at me. Lotte’s voice, to me, is clear as day when they begin singing. I could pick her out of a crowd blindfolded. I close my eyes and let the music assuage me. My phone vibrates against my hip. I delicately remove it from my pocket, without bumping the woman next to me. Meet me at the aquarium at 11 Saturday. Liam. I smile at the screen. Eve leans over and reads before I can turn the it off. “Go,” she whispers. I shush her and look to the stage with a grin. I wait hours before replying, even though I know my answer. I wait until Lotte’s concert is over. I wait until we’ve gone out to celebrate afterward at the gelato shop. I wait until Lotte and Eve and I have all retired for the night. Right before turning out my light, I text back. See you there. *** It is my nature to get quiet and observe, to examine. I press my hands flat against the cool glass. Jellyfish gracefully undulate around me. They are so serene. The glass

surrounds me. It is a glass tunnel. Water to the left, the right, overhead. One floats to the spot where my hand touches the glass. I spread my fingers wide as if I might, for a moment, be able to touch it. What does it feel like? “You’re like a child,” Liam says behind me. I turn to him, grinning. He snaps a picture of me on his cell and I frown. “I don’t like that,” I tell him. “What?” he asks. “Unplanned pictures,” I say. He approaches. I step backward until my back is against the cool glass. He plants his hands on either side of my head, trapping me. “I couldn’t help myself,” he says. His face inches closer to mine and I find myself paralyzed with anticipation. Is he going to try and kiss me? His eyes stay fixed on mine. The pupils dilate, our breaths mingle. He takes a step back. “Look,” he says. He holds out his cell. I glance at the screen. It is a picture of me, hands planted against the glass, staring up into the surrounding water. Mostly a silhouette. I do look guileless in it. He flips to the next. In it, my smile is wide. My hair vibrant against the blue water backdrop. I look … blithe. “Okay,” I say. “You are forgiven. This time.” Liam chuckles and wraps one arm around my shoulder. He pulls me to his side. “Come on, camera nazi, let’s go check out the sharks.” A nickname. Me tucked in the crook of his arm. I am not sure how to feel about this but I let myself indulge in the moment anyway. Liam and I spend hours exploring the aquarium. He reads all the placards to me. We make up stories about the various animals. I find myself at ease the longer we spend time together. I don’t mind the occasional brushes of his hand on mine. He picks up a sea cucumber and holds it out for me to touch. We laugh at the way the starfish tickle our palms. I catch him watching me when he thinks I don’t detect it. It makes me blush. He is smitten, I think. He is playful and jokes with me but there is something lurking beneath the surface. Maybe I am paranoid and the simple explanation is that he is interested in me. The sun is setting and we are standing on the sand at the beach outside the aquarium, taking in the waves as they crash against the shoreline. My shoulder touches his body as we stand side by side and I find my mind wandering. Could he be rough enough? If I open up; if I take him to bed; could he satisfy me? He looks like a man who could take charge but I’ve been fooled by appearances before. “I really like you,” he says. I give him a quizzical look. “Maybe you should stop,” I say. He wraps an arm around my shoulders. For a moment, I swear I can feel my future on his skin. The air comes off the ocean. Its briny odor invigorates me. “I could make you happy, Nora.” I look up to him in surprise. He is being serious. We stare at each other for a drawn out moment before I inch out of his hold. It gives me time

to think of what to say. “The best things in life are always worth waiting for.” Liam laughs a naughty laugh. “I wouldn’t know. When I want something, I never wait for it.” He inches his face toward mine. His lips hover inches from mine. I can see each long eyelash framing his eyes. If I move, just a smidge, my lips would touch his. Are they warm? Soft? My pulse speeds. His head moves slightly. “Stop,” I breathe. “I’m not the good guy, Nora. I’m no hero.” His breath smells like coffee. I grin at him and step backward. “I’m no heroine,” I say. Liam grabs my hand and speed walks us to his car. It is jarring and sudden and I let out a small squeak in protest. His grip on my hand hurts, but I don’t dare complain. My stomach clenches. What is he doing? Heat creeps between my legs and I feel myself growing turned on. *** Liam Her flip-flops slap the pavement. It echoes in the still air surrounding us. I know just how bad she is. I know just how she likes it. I am growing weary of the game she is playing. I want to push her on the hood of the car, lift the skirt of her dress up over her hips and show her just how good I can be for her. Instead, when we reach the car, I release her hand and open the passenger side door for her. She looks frustrated but I remain quiet. It is ten minutes into our drive home when she finally breaks the silence. “I … I didn’t mean to upset you,” she says. “You didn’t,” I say through gritted teeth. “I did,” she says. “No, Nora, you’ve been nothing but upfront with me. You said friends. You said you don’t date. It is me who overstepped boundaries.” I grind my teeth as I stare out the windshield. These are not the words that I want to say but they are the right words for her. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I … you know I was …” her voice fades as she stares out the passenger window and she releases a monumental sigh. “What?” I ask. “I had a difficult relationship with someone. It—changed me.” She’s opening up about my fuck-wad of a brother, Holden, but I don’t want her to know that I’m aware of her story.

“We’ve all been in difficult relationships,” I say. “No. This was different. This was … you know who I am, right?” she asks. “You’re Nora Robertson, co-founder of N.E.L.,” I say. She stares at her lap. “That’s not what I meant.” I sigh. Playing this pretend game is tiring at the moment. “What did you mean then?” She shakes her head. “I was in love once. I was …” she makes a pained expression. “it wasn’t a safe relationship. It was, abusive. I wasn’t allowed to be away from him.” Her voice is barely above a whisper. “That isn’t love. It sounds like ownership.” The glare she gives should slay, but here I sit—heart beating. “Who made you an expert on love?” she asks curtly. “No one. I was simply giving an outside opinion on what little information you’ve shared.” “Yeah well, we all know the saying about opinions,” she says. She is angry with me for judging. It is written in the furrow of her brow. In the set of her lips and her rigid posture. “You’re exasperating,” I say. I drag a hand through my hair before shifting into fourth gear. “Vexatious.” “What?” I ask harshly. “Never mind,” she mutters. I almost laugh. She is complicated and difficult but she is also soft and intoxicating. I want to drink her up, inhale her. I cannot wait to see what her face looks like when she comes. I have plans for her. So many plans. I pull up to the curb at the park where she insisted on meeting me, even though I’ve walked her home. I know where she lives. She’s a conundrum. She undoes her seatbelt and turns to me. “Bye.” I arch a brow at her. She pushes her door open and gets out. When she shuts the door, she gives me a half wave. Her rosebud lips are turned down. She is looking at me, continuing to stare—her eyes boring into my face—until I can’t bear her gaze any longer. I’m so irritated with her, that I put the car in drive without a wave. I feel like I’m taking up space, wearing a half-hearted smile. Time ticks by too quickly and it is fraught with uncertainty. Soon enough, I will be a part of her past. I want to linger just a while longer, make the present last. My heart pounds against my ribcage. Maybe it will burst. I crave a bourbon. Bourbon is easy to understand. Tastes like summer on a hot breezy day. I drive like an asshole until my breathing becomes slow and even. It is dusk when I arrive home. My house large and empty. My sneakers squeak on the

spotless tile floor in the entryway. I change into sweatpants and hop on the treadmill. After a cathartic run, a warmed plate of dinner from the fridge and a shower, I take a glass of bourbon to the patio, sit poolside and enjoy the taste. Before refilling the glass, I text Nora. Did you know starfish eat inside out? She doesn’t respond. I fall asleep thinking of all the things I can do to her. All the ways to make her beg.

Nora I’m curled up on the couch watching TV with my girls when my phone vibrates. It is a text from Liam. Aubry pauses our show and I show the text to Eve and her. “I try to fight it, but he sends one text and I am smiling all day long,” I admit. “You hate smiling,” Aubry says. I grin at her playfully. “Exactly.” “Why are you playing hard to get?” Eve asks. Burt nuzzles his nose under my knees to keep warm. I reach out and massage behind his ears. “I don’t mean to.” I shrug. “Yes, you do. Just give the guy a chance,” Aubry says. I roll my eyes at her. She is the Queen of playing hard to get with men. “You like him, right?” Eve asks. I bite my lip and nod. I do. I like Liam Lockwood. He crept up and wormed his way into my thoughts. But If I let it go further, if I let him see all of me, it may end horribly. I am curious about him and want to know more. I’m not sure that is the ‘like’ they are speaking to, but there is tension between us, the kind that leads to lust. “You know what Dr. R. would say,” Aubry says, kicking off her shoes and setting her feet on the coffee table. “It’s not that easy,” I say. My shoulders slump. Why is dating so difficult? “Yes, it is,” Eve says. “I’ve gone out with him. I gave him my number. I feel like these are big steps. Major progress.” Eve throws her head back and cackles. Aubry reaches out and smacks her. “That is progress, but seriously, you can’t even pretend to know if he’s worth dating, unless you let him take you on a real date. And personally, if you don’t even kiss the guy, you’ll never know if there’s a spark.” “You don’t need a kiss to know if there’s a spark,” Eve says. I lean my head back on the couch cushion and listen to the two of them argue about love and sparks and butterflies in bellies. I am distracted through the rest of our show. Aubry leaves when Eve falls asleep on

the couch. I walk her to the door. “Just text him back,” she says, “tonight.” She hugs me tightly. “I’ll see you Wednesday to interview the new counselor,” she says. “Oh, right, thanks for reminding me,” I say. “And you’ll text him back, right?” she asks. I close my eyes and take a deep breath before looking at her again. “Fine. I will text him back tonight. Even though our aquarium date ended terribly.” “You said it wasn’t a date.” She opens her mouth and points at me. “Semantics, Aubry. Good night.” I smile my biggest, brightest smile and close the door. I laugh at her grumbling at me on the other side of it. I wait until I’m in bed, half sleep induced by an Ambien, to text Liam back about the starfish. I did not. Also, that is foul. Night. *** Five days of no Liam has made me jittery. I responded to his starfish text that same night and haven’t heard from him since. I contemplated calling or texting a few times, but talked myself out of it each time. I trudge up the stairs and stick my hand in the mailbox. I tuck it all under my arm and make my way in the house. I drop my purse on the counter and spread the mail out before me. I am shocked to receive a creamy, ivory envelope in my mailbox, my name penned in ink across its matte expanse. Inside, an invitation rests. I breathe deep, filling lungs that have had the air sucked from them. You are cordially invited to attend a reason to celebrate, a reason to dine, A reason to enjoy good company and wine. Come for a delightful evening among friends to honor Mr. Lockwood. “Eve, look at this.” “What?” she calls out as she comes into the kitchen. She picks up the stack of mail and starts shuffling through it. “Not that. This,” I say and extend the invitation to her. Her brows shoot up and a smile spreads across her face. “You have to go.”

“But we haven’t spoken since the aquarium.” I pout. She flips the invitation over and laughs. “What?” “It looks like Liam left you a note.” I take the card from her and flip it over. In his neat but small handwriting it reads; ‘Wear the green gown’. My mind spins. Is this a peace offering? A joke? Why hasn’t he contacted me all week? “Stop overanalyzing, Nora.” Eve’s voice breaks my train of thought. I look to her and she simply nods. I grab my cell, find the number and dial. Eve crosses her legs and waits. The phone connects and rings. On the third ring, he picks up. My hand is clammy. My heart beats just a tad faster. It feels good; it is frightening. I can still hang up. But then Liam says hello. *** Liam “Hello,” she says. Her voice sounds hesitant. I have managed to throw her off balance. I smile at the thought. This week was torture. I watched her. I read her emails. I saw the despondent look in her eye when she checked her phone, only to find nothing from me. From me. I matter. I’ve weaseled my way into a seat at her table. It gives me a thrill knowing that I have that kind of power over her moods, her days. “How are you?” I ask. “I’m well, thank you.” So formal. She doesn’t know which way is up with me. I chuckle. Mike kicks my shin under the table. I glare at him. “What can I do for you, Nora?” I ask. “I was … I received the invitation. I’m …” “RSVPing?” I say, cutting her off. She blows out a breath. “Yes.” “Wonderful. I will have a car pick you up at your house at seven on Saturday.” “Oh, well, I can meet you …” I cut her off. “The car will pick you up Saturday. Good night, Nora.” I end the call and take a long sip of my drink. “Bossy much?” Mike muses. “Sometimes, you have to take control,” I muse. He gives me a look. “I can’t wait to meet her.”

I narrow my eyes. “Hands off.” He throws his hands up in mock defense. “It’s cool, bro, we only share if we both agree.” Candy appears and sits on Mike’s lap. “How’re my boys doing?” she asks. Mike grins devilishly. He loves playtime with Candy. “Better, now that you’re here,” he answers. I laugh because Candy’s job is to please us, yet Mike still works so hard for it. He doesn’t need to. He could ignore her completely and she would still come on to him. “You both wanna have a little fun tonight together?” Mike nods and squeezes her middle. I wonder if he knows he looks like a pathetic puppy when he is this eager. “Not tonight,” I say. Candy pouts but it doesn’t faze Mike. “More fun for me,” he says. “You sure?” Candy asks eyeing me. “I’m sure. My father will be here shortly. We have business to discuss.” “Maybe later then?” she asks. I can see the hopeful glint in her eye but tonight she will remain disappointed. I shake my head. “Go give Mike the time of his life.” Waiting for my father is painful. It reminds me of being stranded. Waiting for him to come get me after practices or school events and him not remembering. He would show up hours late or not at all. Most times Carol would pick me up. I don’t like feeling like a child. I don’t like being the one with less control or power. But soon enough, I can retire from this game. I’ve been a good boy. I’ve been saving my money. Squirreling it away. I’ve been making the right contacts in the industry. My father’s world comes with dirty deals and even dirtier women and for a bit, it was fun. Exhilarating even, but year after year, being his pawn, has grown old and tiring. I don’t want to be a slave to his game anymore. “Liam,” he says and pats me hard on the back. I startle. “Dad,” I say quickly. He sits. Within seconds, his drink of choice is delivered to the table without him needing to order it. “I want to talk about Saturday.” I nod. “Okay.” “There will be some big players attending,” he says. His grin makes it obvious how proud of himself he is. A birthday in our family can’t just be a birthday. Parties are for networking, sealing deals, and exchanging goods, if needed. “Who are you bringing? I want to be sure she is up to the task of accompanying you.”

I lift my glass and kill the last of my drink. “Nora Robertson.” “Very funny,” he says. There is no humor in his expression. “I’m serious. She responded to the invitation moments ago,” I divulge. “Liam.” He slams a fist on the table between us. It makes our glasses jump. “She is an unacceptable conquest—even for you.” “Why? What are you so scared of? She’s a hundred pounds soaking wet, Dad, she can’t hurt you and I’m not about to tell her how you and I are connected to her past.” “Then what’s the point of all this?” he bellows. I look away from his angry red face. “I want her.” I shrug. “Want someone else,” he barks. “I’m sure I will, just as soon as I bag her.” I look to him and wait. We stare at each other for uncomfortably long moments, neither willing to be the first to look away. When I can’t stand his face any longer, I stand and leave. I don’t care if he is pissed. I am a grown man. *** Music is already playing inside. It drifts into the night air around me. It is a perfect warm night. A black car pulls up to the fountain turn around. I watch her step out of the car I sent to pick her up. She looks beautiful, fierce. I feel warm; nerves. Anticipation gets the better of me and I can’t control myself another second—so I don’t. “Nora,” I call stepping into the dim light glowing from the streetlamp. She stops, swings her eyes left, then right before they narrow in on me. I can’t wait to see her reaction. See me. I’m over here! To watch her face display a range of emotions that I can’t predict. The high that rushes through me knowing she’s unable to anticipate my next move, is all-consuming. There is something really exciting about that. She squints in my direction and when she spots me, she does not smile. She does not wave. She simply waits, hands clasped in front of her. She’s different—because she isn’t afraid to just be. And I like being near that kind of bold. Every monster has a voice unique to them. Mine needs to be heard. Dark corners are alive and I’m going to lure her into the dark with me. My cold desire is to hear the thump thump thump of her heart. I crave it. I crave her. My need claws at me from inside, dying to get out. I grin and head for her.



Nora “You look delicious.” I ignore Liam’s choice of words and smile politely at him. “You’re looking very debonair yourself.” Liam mock gasps. “A rare compliment. I may have to document this moment somehow.” I ignore his bait and focus instead on the marble and ornate filigree work surrounding us as we walk into the foyer. “This is amazing,” I say. Liam threads my arm through his elbow and escorts me further into the party. “Do you always throw yourself a big birthday party?” I ask. He makes a sour face at me. I have said something wrong but then he laughs, loud and freely, as though my faux pas is an adorable transgression “This is my father’s birthday celebration and yes, he does.” I arch a brow at him. “Meeting the parents already?” “Don’t go getting any ideas,” he says, before winking at me. As we approach a ballroom, the music grows louder. A live band. It sounds nice but I don’t recognize the song playing. Then again, I’m not a huge music buff, so I probably wouldn’t. “My dad isn’t the … most pleasant person,” Liam says into my ear. I turn my head slightly toward him. Anymore and our lips would touch. “Don’t let him sour your mood.” “I don’t love parties but you already knew that from our first meeting. I promise to behave tonight and put on a good show,” I say, while looking straight ahead. He pushes his lips closer to the shell of my ear. His breathe gives me goosebumps. “The only show I’ll permit you to put on, will be for me, in private.” My breath catches in my throat. This is why I came, right? To see if there was a spark. To push through the tension constantly thickening between us and give him a chance? His words are firm and laced with lust. He straightens as an older man, tall and broad like Liam, approaches us. “I only meant I might afford you the opportunity to catch me again, thus making you the hero.” Liam bites his lip and stifles a laugh. “Liam,” the man says. With eyes sparkling and a wide smile, he pulls him into a one armed hug. “Dad. Happy Birthday,” Liam says as they part. “I’d like to introduce you to Nora

Robertson.” I extend my hand to Mr. Lockwood but am left shaking air. He looks me over from toe to top with a scowl on his face. My cheeks grow hot under his scrutiny. There is a familiar nefariousness about him that makes my heart pound. My hand drops to my side. “It’s nice to meet you,” I say to his shoes. My voice is meek and I do not want to feel his eyes on me a moment longer. “Happy birthday.” “I could think of a few ways it could be happier,” he says. “Let’s go say hello to Mike,” Liam says. His body bends almost protectively around me, forming a barrier between me and his father. I welcome the intrusion. He takes my hand and kisses the back of it. “I am so sorry he was rude.” I try to play it down. “You did warn me.” “I promise you will like Mike. He’s my best friend from childhood,” Liam says. I snag a glass of champagne from a tray going by and nod at him. It does not take long to realize at parties like this, women are worn like jewels to flaunt. Objects not meant to have an opinion. He whispers each guest’s name into the whorl of my ear—how he keeps track of them, I do not know, except that he has been bred for it—and I realize that somehow, inexplicably, I have ended up the guest of honor’s son’s guest of honor. Liam may have beguiled each attendee, but it is with me that he shares his most private observations (“District Attorney—he’s slept with every woman here,” “Miranda Swan—major eating disorder”). One too many glasses of champagne, and an hour later, the overheated room is swimming. I need air, water, something, or I am sure my ankles—bowing under my body’s pressure upon the thin, pointed pair of heels that Aubry insisted I wear, will blow. “I’ll be back,” I whisper into Liam’s ear as he chats with the Chief of Police. He nods with a smile on his face and pats my rear end. It makes me stutter a step as I walk away. I pass the band and several wait staff as I make my way through the crowd. I feel claustrophobic. My pulse jackhammers. I have the urge to tear the heels from my feet so I can run to the bathroom or outside. Anywhere that is quiet and away from the masses. I settle for walking like a baby gazelle. I reach the main hallway, locate the bathroom door and push through. I almost hit a woman with the door as I plow inside. I mutter an apology, head down. What am I doing here? I do not fit in with this caliber of people. I barely know Liam. I fear lust and curiosity has skewed my judgment. I pull my phone from my clutch and text Aubry. This was a mistake. I set my phone down and grip the countertop. The mirror reflects a red-faced woman. I place my hands on my cheeks to cool them. My phone buzzes. No, it isn’t. Get out of the bathroom and go have fun with that hottie. I snicker at my screen. It is just like Aubry to know what is going on without being present. Another message pops up.

Deep breath. Really. Enjoy your night. Have fun. It doesn’t have to be so serious. Easy for her to say. I take three deep breaths like Dr. Richardson recommends. Inhale for four seconds, hold for seven and exhale for four. It crosses my mind that I could just leave without a word. I could go home. Put on a nightgown and curl up with a good book. It would be so easy. Simply walk out the door, turn right and push through the doors into the night air. Turn my phone off and hope that when I wake tomorrow, I don’t have a plethora of missed calls or texts from Liam. I shake my head and push into one of the stalls. When I’m finished, I wash my hands, dry them and head back to the party. I round the corner toward the main ballroom and Liam stands waiting for me. It startles me. “You were gone too long. I was worried.” I shoot him a questioning look. “You worry too much.” “You look gorgeous tonight.” I smile. “Let’s get out of here. Come home with me.” I bite my lip. My stomach churns. I want to. But the idea of spending a night with Liam also terrifies me. My mouth answers without my brain’s consent. “No.” His warm green eyes turn muddy like the river—the light in them snuffed out by a single word. I open my mouth to speak but his palm clamps down around my mouth. I am paralyzed in the moment from the contact. He walks us toward the exit. My heart pounds at the sudden contact. “Nora, we’re good together and I’m sick of crappy first dates with women I’m not interested in.” His fingers are warm and rough on my skin. “And you … you refuse to even date.” He drops his hand and I huff before crossing my arms over my chest. He pushes the doors open for me. “Just … for the love of God, consider it? And please don’t give me any lines about our friendship is too important to chance,” he finishes in his best impersonation of me. I stare into his jewel green eyes. Truthful eyes. Sincere eyes. Good eyes. My heart claws at me from inside my chest. It’s dying to get out. To latch on to him and give in—just once. Just force me. Take me away. Whisk me from this crappy world. Do it. Do it. Do it. A low growl leaves him. It catches me off guard. Liam is done waiting. Done playing. My lips part in surprise as his hand snakes around my waist. He tugs me flush against him. His lips hit mine. Warm. Supple. I open my mouth to him and he emits the smallest groan.

His fingers press into my lower back with force. I shouldn’t want this, but I do. And I fucking love it. Maybe it is just the game. The push and pull between us. I can’t be sure yet. Maybe I am not as recovered as Dr. Richardson believes I am. “No matter how hard I try, I can’t stay away from you,” he says. “You’re coming home with me.” I almost protest again. But I am going home with him. I am going to let Liam try to please me. He signals to the valet before kissing me again. His fingers tangle in the hair at the base of my neck. He tugs. My head arches backward exposing my neck to him. His lips are feather light as they trail from chin to collarbone. My breathing is ragged. Headlights illuminate us and I mewl in embarrassment. Liam releases me, a wolfish grin on his face. He takes my hand and leads me to the car. I buckle as he rounds the hood to his side. When he is in, he turns the radio off, puts the car in drive and stomps on the gas. I am pushed into my seat with the force of his acceleration. “Chill, I’m not going to disappear,” I quip. Liam glances at me but says nothing. One hand leaves the steering wheel and reaches toward the glove box. Except it reaches just below my knee and pushes the fabric of my dress up. “Show me,” he says. “Show you what?” His erection is hard to miss as he drives. I have an overwhelming desire to touch it. He pushes the fabric higher, exposing my thigh. His hand clutches my skin. I shiver. I pull my dress up so both thighs show. My breathing is shallow. His hand trails up and down my left thigh before dipping between my legs. “Spread your legs, Nora.” I bite my lip and do as I’m told. His tone leaves no room for argument. I want to obey. His fingers toy with me. He rubs and circles the crotch of my panties. I wiggle in my seat. “Guide me,” he orders. “What do you mean?” “Use your hand to guide mine.” I stare at him with butterflies in my belly. I have not touched myself for someone before. He speeds up. I decide to be bold. To be better than I am. I put my left hand on his erection and my right atop his hand between my legs. He swerves and I scream. He chuckles. “Sorry.” I am clutching his hand between my legs so hard my knuckles are white. “How far away are we?” “Ten minutes,” he says. I lean my head on the headrest. I pull my panties to the side and guide his hand between my legs. He moans when his fingers slip between my folds. He does all the work. His fingers work in dizzying patterns over my clit. He dips two fingers inside and I look down to watch. I am merely holding his wrist as heat spreads from my core, up my spine. “More. I need more.” I plead with him. He pulls into a long driveway. As we approach a large Tudor style house, my pussy clenches around his fingers. Ripples of ecstasy roll through me. He brakes, throws the car in park and unbuckles seemingly in one

motion. His hot breath tickles my neck, sending shivers down my body and making my nipples harden. “More.” I don’t know why I’m begging him. I push my hips up to meet his hand. He bites my neck and thrusts his fingers deep inside me. A low groan rips from deep inside me and my body shakes as an orgasm tears through me. *** Liam I watch her face as she comes. It is beautiful the way her milky complexion flares to life. Pink tinges her cheeks and her lips tremble. Her lips are lonely and thirsty. They crave me. I smirk. They are slick and shiny in anticipation. It makes my cock throb. Just her lips. What will the rest of her do to me? I slow my fingers until her breathing slows. She opens her eyes. They are cloudy with lust. “Let’s go inside.” She bites her lip and nods. I hop out and round the car to get her door for her. I hold out my hand for her. Her hand is small in mine. Almost fragile. I squeeze and pull her gently to her feet. She takes a step and it looks painful. “Hang on,” I say. I kneel down on one knee and unbuckle the ankle strap of her shoe before sliding it off. I repeat the action with the other foot. She sighs. “That is so much better,” she says. “Not used to heels?” She shakes her head and hold her hand out for the shoes. I shake my head and carry them inside for her. In the foyer, she stops as the lights come on and looks around. “Do you live here alone?” she asks. “Yes.” “It’s so … big,” She comments. “That’s what she said.” Nora’s eyes whip to mine and she laughs. Her smile is brilliant. Something I could see every day and never get sick of. “Are you hungry? Thirsty?” She shakes her head at me. I drop her shoes and take her hand. Women love tours of houses. Even strange women like Nora. I lead her through each room in the house except for my bedroom. She has childlike expressions. Her eyes widen when she sees something she likes. She looks in every nook and corner as we go. She takes it all in. She is curious. I pull her through the sliding glass doors to the yard. “And this is the pool.” “It’s remarkable. Lovely,” she says. I toss my suit coat over the back of one of the

pool lounge chairs. “It’s a gorgeous night. The water is perfect this time of year. Let’s get in,” I say. She wrinkles her face. “I didn’t bring a suit,” she says. “We don’t need suits.” I approach her slowly. “I do,” she says. “Don’t be shy, Nora.” She cocks her head at me. I trail a finger down her arm. She clears her throat. “I’m not. I have scars. I don’t like to show them off.” “We all have scars,” I say. I lean in and let my lips graze her collarbone. “Not like mine,” she says. Her pulse pounds. I can feel it in her neck under my lips. I lift her arm, find the zipper on her dress and slowly lower it. Her breath hitches as it goes. Down. Down. Down. “Just like yours,” I say. I slide the fabric up her arm, letting my fingers feel her skin as I go. She moves her arm for me, slipping it from the arm hole. I gently lift it over her head. All I have to do is drop the fabric and she will be exposed to me. Her eyes catch mine and we stand silently facing each other, each frozen. She bites her bottom lip. I let the dress drop. The emerald fabric pools around her feet. She trembles. “Swim with me,” I say. She tilts her head again. “Swim?” I can barely understand what she’s asking as I take in all of her. Milky skin clad in lace. Slender and slight in all the right places for my liking. Her tits are full and real. I nod. “Yes, swim.” I unbuckle my pants and let them drop to the concrete. My fingers make quick work of the buttons on my shirt. I toe off my shoes and socks and pull her flush against my chest pressing my cock into her belly. With one hand, I pull at the pin in her hair. It tumbles down past her shoulders. Her eyes scream nervousness but she smiles to try and cover it up. “You first,” she says. I shake my head and release her. With steady hands, I begin to turn her toward the water. “No. Not yet,” she says but her voice holds no conviction. The air I suck in is audible when her back comes into view. It is disgusting. It is familiar. It is my childhood. Nora spins around, hands covering her chest, anger in her eyes. “I told you—”I plant my palm over her mouth to shut her up. With the other, I grab her hand and thrust it into my hair. She looks at me curiously as her delicate, slender fingers trace the numerous scars on my scalp—hidden beneath my hair. She does not say a word. There is no pity in her eyes, no curiosity, and no judgment. I understand her and she understands me and we do not need to discuss the moment. I walk us to the pool steps as she fingers my raised scars. She never breaks eye contact. She stops trembling as I lead

her into the water. “It’s heated,” she deadpans. I laugh so loud, it echoes through the yard. “I told you it was perfect for swimming.” She wiggles from my hands and dives under, not popping up until she is near the middle. I dive in after her. When I surface, she is treading water before me. Droplets of water slip down her skin. I want to take her hard, here in the pool but I refrain. I swim to the edge of the pool to the remote and turn on the outdoor speakers. Music fills the air, a slow jazzy melody. One of my favorites. She swims up to me. She still cannot touch the bottom at the edge but I can. I pull her to me. Her legs wrap around my waist. “This is nice. Who is it?” “Elliot Moss,” I say. I nuzzle my nose in her neck. The chlorine is no match for her scent. “Never heard of him,” she says. “You should. He’s amazing.” “Maybe I will.” Her fingers slide into my hair again. Feeling. Trying to figure out what happened. She does not ask. And for a time, I say nothing. She unwraps her legs from my waist and floats on her back. I swim beneath her and pop up on the other side. I slide a hand along her back. She gasps but does not swim away from me. “I was broken from a young age. Music helped me cope. It’s therapy for me. A song can come on and take me right back to a single moment in time. It freezes memories; makes them forever tangible. Don’t you have a song? One that rips open your wounds and drops the entrails at your feet?” I ask, as I caress her scars. Her eyes pop open. She stares at the stars blanketing the sky. “No,” she says. “You will.” She half smiles and looks at me. She stops floating and secures herself to my waist. My cock throbs painfully. I need her. “I’m not huge into music. Before you go freaking out on me,” she holds up her hands, “I like music, it’s just not an instrumental component of my existence.” I laugh, take her hands and wrap them around my neck. “I can change that.” She raises a brow at me. I wade us through the water. Her body clings to mine. Her skin slippery and silky. “How?” she asks. “I’ll show you.”

Nora Sometimes, when we try to help one person, we hurt another. I keep my art work hidden under sweaters and sleeved shirts. I wear them like a locket, careful to buff and shine every ridge. But Holden didn’t do it out of malice. He did it out of love. He tried to help but he hurt so many. I am surprised with myself for showing that artwork so readily to Liam. To bare my scars without truly knowing him. I am having a difficult time breathing, as Liam leads me out of the pool. I am woozy with desire. Knots in my belly make me feel jittery. Green eyes hold mine as I stand in my underwear, dripping fat drops of water on the concrete. If I allow myself, those green eyes can be Holden’s and it leaves me rapt. Liam procures his shirt and wraps it around me. I have never worn a man’s button up before. It bears a hint of his scent. It feels intimate. His thumb grazes my bottom lip. “You look good in my clothes,” he says. His voice breaks my thoughts of Holden and bring me crashing back into the moment. I am with Liam. He is all defined muscles and sandy blonde hair and stunning green eyes. Eyes that make me feel like I am being devoured without touch. “Where’d you go?” “Memories,” I say. He takes me by the hand and pulls me toward the house. Despite the chlorine, I can smell his scent on me from his shirt. It is arresting. His house dazzles. The decor nothing like my style. It screams wealth and class. We are silent together, Liam wearing a wolfish grin, me feeling meek and inhibited. My feet slap against the tiled floor with wet splats as we traverse the expanse of his home. We enter his bedroom. He stops at the foot of his bed. “I’m going to show you how life changing music can be.” I smile and lick my lips. His hands push his shirt from my shoulders. It makes no noise as it hits the floor. “Don’t move,” he says. Lust I am good at. It requires so little of me. “What happens if I move?” “You don’t want to find out,” he says. Tiny fissures of pleasure race through me. I don’t move. He disappears in his closet but only for a moment before returning. He carries a silk tie. “I’m going to blindfold you.” The notion of losing my sight in such an intimate moment gives me chills. I nod. He secures his tie around my head with care. He walks me backwards until the backs of my knees hit the mattress. “I’m putting headphones on you.” Big clunky feeling earmuffs cover my ears and muffle all sound. He lifts one ear piece and

whispers, “Still okay?” I nod again. “The music will be loud.” Is the last thing I hear before an intoxicating soulful tune blares. His hand secures my lower back and I think his leg sweeps under mine, causing me to fall slowly backward onto the bed. A finger touches my jaw. It trails downward in time with the haunting female voice singing rescue me. I cannot hear my own breathing but I can feel my chest rise and fall rapidly. My flesh breaks out in goosebumps. I squeeze my thighs together to staunch the wetness growing between them. His finger is at my hip and I have the urge to connect with him. I put my hand on top of his. He takes my hand and places it back on the bed beside me. The earpiece lifts again. “No touching. Your job is to experience what I do.” The headphone slaps back in place. I open my eyes but see only darkness. The song changes. Fingers are everywhere. It feels like more than one person touching me. My stomach clenches as they graze different areas. Soft traces. Scrapes of a nail. My whimpers sound as if I am underwater. Garbled and echoey. Lips connect with my collarbone and I have to force myself to stay still. A moan escapes me as his warm lips caress my skin. Nips that sting are followed by a soothing tongue. I want more. More. More. More. My brain is on repeat. A finger delves between my legs. Lips and teeth and tongue devour my skin. He bites a nipple through the fabric of my bra. I want to take it off. I want skin on skin. His fingers tease over my underwear. My legs spread on their own accord to accommodate his effort. The beat picks up and his fingers match. My head lolls sideways. My hips begin to move. I bite my lip. My orgasm is crowning. Building in its intensity with every stroke of his fingers. Teeth nip at my belly. It isn’t enough pain. A low groan leaves me. I push my hips harder against his hand. I arch my back toward his mouth at my stomach. Bite me. Harder. Everything stops. I cannot feel him. I move my hands around. Reaching out for him but I find nothing. “Liam?” I can barely hear my own voice over the music. Hands grab the fabric at my hips and yanks. The lace cuts into my skin before it gives way. My love; my life; it has all stemmed from pain. I sigh at the sliver of discomfort he caused. His fingers gouge into my back, beneath me. My bra is ripped from me. His knees are on either side of me. The music pounds in my ears. Nails scrape flesh. Teeth graze. My legs are pushed apart. With my eyes closed, he feels like Holden. I can picture him. His hands. His body. His touches. Yes. Lyrics pump into my head; pain, grace, fire, blood, believer. Liam’s tongue licks my seam as his nails dig at my inner thighs. He eats me ravenously. Like a last meal. It is brutal, skillful and exquisite. I writhe in time with his licks and the music. I am a victim to his desires. I cannot see him to anticipate his next move. I cannot hear anything but the music he has chosen for me. I am at his mercy, yet he shows no mercy for me. I cannot control my legs, they wrap around his shoulders at his neck securing him to me. I think I feel a muffled laugh into my center but I cannot be sure. Does he have headphones on, too? Can he hear the music? His touch is in perfect time to the beat. It is incredible and sensual and erotic. I cry out when my body cannot possibly take any more of his torture. My thighs tremble, the muscles spasm. I go limp but Liam does not let up. He licks and kisses his

way to my belly button. He sucks on my breasts until I am certain I will come again. The bite he doles to my neck sends electricity from my core up my spine. With missing senses, I find myself delirious. This is not vanilla. This is impeccable. This is more than I’d hoped for. This could be a satisfying alternative to my needs. It is as if Liam knows my desires, my needs. His lips hover over mine. I can feel his breath, warm on my lips. His tongue barely touches my mouth. His lips crash against mine when he slams inside of me. It startles me; his roughness without warning and I cry out in ecstasy. Pain, it rips me up. Tears through my veins. He is big. Bigger than I have had before. It fills me up uncomfortably for long moments. He does not stop or ease up. He pounds. His pace furious. The music in my ears raving. I breathe deeply through my nose. My mind wanders to Holden. Yes, yes, yes. I adjust, match his thrusts, his rhythm. I ignore his previous request to not participate and raise my arms. Feeling blindly for him, my hands make contact and I hold on, nails stabbing skin. I can almost feel green eyes boring into me. I rake my nails down his back. Through the music, I hear him moan. It spurs him on. Holden’s face dances like a ghost behind my eyelids. I grin. *** Liam I didn’t expect to be sated. My desires are, more or less, the same as Nora’s. I had every intention of giving her what she wanted, needed, to keep her coming back for more but I didn’t foresee her reciprocating. We’re a tangled mess of limbs. I switched the music to the speakers and turn the volume down. The blindfold is somewhere on the floor. I take her in. For a moment I swear she looks disappointed, but it is just a flash of emotion before a small grin spreads across her lips as she stares at the ceiling. “What was that song near the beginning,” she asks. “You’ll have to be more specific than that.” She rolls to her side and stares at me. A determined look on her face. “Um, talked about pain and being a believer. I don’t know, that’s all I’ve got. You made it slightly hard to concentrate on remembering lyrics.” I laugh at her openness. Her bluntness is a breath of fresh air. I reach for my phone and scroll through the playlist until I find the song and push play. “This one?” I ask. Nora listens for a bit before nodding her head. “Yes. This one. I like it.” “It’s Believer by Imagine Dragons.” I can’t help myself. Her lips are perfect and in this lighting, they glisten. I reach out,

thread my fingers in the hair at the back of her neck and pull her to me. For a moment, she is stiff, resistant, but the more firmly I hold her to me, the more pliant she grows. I press my lips to hers. She tastes unique. There is something different about Nora Robertson. I can’t quite put my finger on what it is but I am confident there are not many women in the world like her. “You’re insatiable,” she says, when I pull back to examine the flush in her cheeks. “You’re delicious.” She rolls her eyes at me before laying on her back and staring at the ceiling. “What are you thinking about?” She shakes her head. “You’re always so introspective. You’re allowed to speak, you know.” This earns me a faux glare. “Introspective does not mean that I am scared to verbalize.” “So, tell me then, what’s going on in there,” I say and gently poke her temple. “Are you always like that in bed?” She swats at my offending finger. “Like what?” I ask. She hesitates. She wants to say rough but she is, I think, ashamed of her desires. “Aggressive.” “I go after what I want with …” I clear my throat, “vigor. Yes.” Nora smiles. She’s beautiful. Tinged a dewy pink from being fucked, hair spread out around her, white teeth and sparkling eyes. Her stomach growls and I laugh. “Hungry?” “I could eat,” she says. “Let me see what I can dig up. Stay here.” I sit up and grab my boxers from the floor before pulling them on. “What happens if I leave?” I pause in the doorframe and turn to her. “I’ll find you,” I say and continue to the kitchen, a grin plastered on my face. I fucked Nora. I crack my neck and roll my shoulders as I let the reality sink in. I thought perhaps once would do it. That I’d be done with her but I am only more intrigued now. To push her further into my world after tonight. I rummage through the cupboards but find nothing appetizing, so move on to the fridge. Nada. I didn’t stock up for tonight because I had no way of knowing if she’d come home with me or not. I yank open the freezer door, irritated at the lack of options so far. Cherry Garcia ice cream. Perfect. I grab the pint and two spoons. I’m grinning when I enter the room. She’s still lying in my bed. Only a sheet covers her. I watch her look at me. A pint of ice cream in one hand and two spoons in the other. I keep watching her. I don’t believe in safety nets and she doesn’t have enough rage to battle my storm. I feel like the wolf from red riding hood. I’m going to gobble her up. “Ice cream?” she asks. I approach the bed and she props herself into a sitting position. Tits bared. I stifle a groan.

I shrug. “It’s all I have.” Nora laughs, the sound light and cheerful. I hand the opened pint and one spoon to her while I set the lid on my nightstand. I watch her eat ice cream in my bed. I can’t tear my eyes from her mouth. The way her tongue darts out to clean the spoon before sending it spelunking into the pint again. She takes large heaping spoonfuls before offering me the pint. “You’re an ice cream enthusiast I see.” She looks sheepish for a moment before smiling. “I’m really hungry.” “Didn’t you eat at the party?” She shakes her head. “And that was hours ago.” “I didn’t realize you needed feeding so often,” I say and lick my spoon clean. I dig another spoonful out and give the pint back to her. Leaning against the headboard, I watch her read the label. “This is great. I really like it. Haven’t tried it before.” She shoves another spoonful in her mouth and I chuckle. I take the pint from her three spoonful’s later. “I have an idea.” “Oh?” she says. “Yes, if you’re done eating, that is.” She pats her belly. “Sufficiently sophonsified.” “What?” “Sufficiently sophonsified, anything more would be flippity floppity. My mother used to say that when I was little. It means you’re full.” “Your mom sounds funny.” “She was,” she says and hands me her spoon. “I should get going.” I toss the spoon on the nightstand next to the pint and grab her wrist. “Oh no, I’m not done with you.” She eyes my fingers around her wrist with narrowed eyes. “What if I’m done with you?” “You’re not.” “Cocky much?” she says. I push her onto her back and straddle her. I grab the pint and hold it over her. Digging one hand in, I pull out a clump of ice cream. “Listen, Cherry, the fun’s just starting.” “Cherry?” she asks. I hold up the pint. “Yeah, Cherry.” She cracks a smile before laughing. I smear the ice cream in my hand all over her breasts. She squeals but seems to have no issue letting me clean it off my with my tongue. I lavish her tits. Full and perky. Dusky nipples. “I need you,” I say. She hears

the truth, as well as my lie. I am sure of it. It is what women want to hear. She knows the game, yet there she lies, not responding. I dip down, lips at her ear and whisper, “Now, Nora.” I hover over her. Her eyes widen. Fear, only a flash, emanates from her. She reaches up and pulls my face toward her, gently pressing her lips against mine. They give more than I expected. Under my body, her muscles relax. Letting out a low groan, her kissing grows urgent and hungry. I’m just as hungry. Any space between our bodies too much. I want to hold her down. I want to wipe my brother from her memory. If I stick around, I’m bound to lose my mind over her. I stutter like a broken clutch as she touches me. She’s a spider beneath my skin, an itch that needs to be scratched. And that’s why I’m here, isn’t it? To scratch that itch? That’s the game. Our connection right now is unadulterated lunacy. Oppressive. She’s noxiously pretty. Her tongue massages mine. I bite her bottom lip. My heart is cracked like the dusty desert ground. She bites mine back. Hard. Yesterday is right behind me like a loaded gun and tomorrow looms with unknown outcomes. I pull back to take her in. One hand goes around her throat. She tries to move out of my grip but I don’t let her. She’s so petite. So delicate. So mine. With one hand wrapped around her neck, I use my other to sneak between her thighs. My fingers spread her lips and push in. Her pussy is wet; succulent like a ripe cherry. Her moan is intoxicating. She is deviously dirty. “I need more,” she begs, her voice a throaty crack. She will get more. I will give it all to her.

Nora We fell into the nighttime. We fell into a fake world. And then we couldn’t escape. How did we get here? The water comes right up to the bank behind me. My hands are tied to a stake. Rising smoke permeates the air around me. I have angered him somehow. “I will haunt you until the day you die,” he says into the shell of my ear. He may kill me now. I cannot be sure. His blade slices my skin. I grow wet. He kisses the spot he cut. “Are you ready for the final sacrifice, Nora?” I draw in giant gulps of air. “Yes,” I say. “I love you.” “Only ever you, Holden,” I say. He raises his blade, my nostrils fill with the rising smoke around us. Lotte screams in the distance. And I am suddenly filled with dread. I jackknife up. My throat dry and sandpaper like. Have I been screaming again? Liam coos in the darkness. A hand pets my skin. “It’s just a dream,” he says. His voice is tinged with sleep. I try to slow my breathing. “What was it about?” he asks. I look in his direction but it is pitch black and I cannot make out his face. “It’s okay. Tell me. It was just a dream,” he says in a sleepy voice. “No, it wasn’t,” I whisper. He takes my wrist and turns over my arm in the darkness. He traces the scars there. The ones I gave myself. They are fine and faint but still there. And without judgment I feel as though a gift has been given to me. Some form of acceptance or forgiveness. The feeling is ephemeral. “Lay down, Nora. You’re safe.” I do as I am told but do not fall back to sleep. I stare at the blackness with a heavy heart. On nights like these, where Holden visits me in my dreams, I cannot sleep. I cannot do anything but check on Lotte, take comfort in her sleeping form and make a mug of tea. Some nights, Burt licks my arm to soothe me, while I rest under a weighted blanket. Panic settles in my chest. I feel trapped. I want to be home. I need to get out of here. I cannot leave. I do not have a car here. My pulse rockets. When Liam’s chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm, I creep out of bed. I tiptoe through the house until I am outside by the pool. The night is black and the stars blanket the sky above. I let the constellations soothe me for a fleeting moment before I find my clutch and pull my phone from it. I dial Detective Salve. He always answers; no matter the time or day. While it rings, I slink back

into my dress. My hand trembles as I try to pull the zipper up. “Nora. Are you okay?” Salve’s voice speaks into my ear. I visibly calm at the sound of it. “I need you to pick me up.” “Are you hurt?” he asks. “No. But please hurry.” He sighs on the other end of the line. “Where are you?” I don’t know. I don’t know! Panic swells inside me. “Um, hang on.” I grab my shoes and jog to the driveway. No house number. I jog into the street until I am able to give Salve an address from the mailbox. “That’s thirty minutes from me.” “I am sorry. Tell Agent Brown that I’m sorry, too.” A sob escapes me, despite trying to keep myself together. “Don’t be. We’re always here for you. I’m leaving now.” “I’m wearing that dress from the benefit we threw. And Salve, it’s a really nice neighborhood.” “See you soon, kiddo.” He hangs up. I breathe a sigh of relief and tuck my phone back into my clutch. I sit on the grass at the curb and kick myself, repeatedly, for being a mess. I look up and down the street, it is lined with perfectly full bodied trees and immaculate houses spaced just right from each other. It is the kind of neighborhood where women don’t sit on the side of the road in the middle of the night. It screams wealth. It has almost been thirty minutes when a hand on my shoulder startles me. I scream. “Shh. Jesus, you’ll wake up the entire street,” Liam says. “What are you doing out here?” he asks. I look away from him embarrassed. “I’m waiting on my ride,” I say softly. “At this hour? Nora, are you insane?” If there is one term that truly irks me, it is being called crazy. “No,” I snap and stand. “Come inside,” he says and extends a hand. “No.” Headlights flash down the road and relief floods me. “I need to go home.” “I would have driven you, if you’d asked,” Liam says. He looks angry and I cannot blame him. But now is not the time to bicker. “It’s not your fault.” I wave a hand through the air and keep one eye on Salve’s approaching car.

“You’re nuts,” he says. The dig stings. Salve pulls up to the curb in record time, parks and jumps out. “Nora, are you okay?” His policeman voice makes me smile, despite the situation. “Who the fuck are you?” Liam barks and runs a hand through his bedhead hair. “I’m fine, Salve,” I say. “Let’s go.” “Who is this guy, Nora?” Liam asks. Confusion is plastered on his face. Anger or maybe only irritation, too. Salve opens the door for me and I slide in. I roll down my window. “I’m sorry, Liam. I really am.” My voice is barely more than a whisper. Embarrassment rushes my veins. Salve’s door closes and we pull away. Liam looks upset and puzzled. I look away from him and focus on the road instead. “What happened?” Salve asks. “I had a really good night,” I say before tears start coating my cheeks. Salve laughs and turns off his radio. We have an easy rapport, Salve and I. He is the most tolerant and patient man I know. I sniffle and wipe at my face. “I fell asleep. I should have gone home. If I had, I might have stood a chance with that guy. As it is, I’m confident I just blew it.” I wring my hands together. I work at my breathing. “You had a nightmare,” he states. I nod. “Aww, Nora. I’m sorry.” “It’s okay. I just, you know, couldn’t get back to sleep. I need to check on Lotte.” “She’s fine. You know she’s at home sleeping safely,” He says. I nod again. “Yes. Logically, I know that.” My jaw is tight. He is no stranger to my anxiety. We are quiet for a moment. “How’re your sessions with Dr. R. going?” “It’s not her fault that I am broken,” I say. “I’m not implying that.” I blow out a breath. “I’m sorry. I’m tired. It’s going well. I’ve made lots of progress. I just can’t seem to banish Holden from my dreams. From my subconscious.” Salve pats my knee. “You’ll get there, Nora.” I snort. “When?” I know when. In my heart I know when and I am not ready yet. “When you’re damn well ready,” he says. When he drops me off, it is almost four in the morning. I wave him off and creep into the house. I sneak up the stairs, avoiding the ones that creak. I twist Charlotte’s doorknob slowly and push into her room. The moonlight from the window shines over her face. She looks angelic. I am flooded with solace at the sight of her. Burt’s head pops up. I

like it when he sleeps with Lotte. I tiptoe back downstairs to the kitchen. I make a mug of tea and curl up in my armchair with a book. Burt jumps on my lap and molds himself into a bagel shape. The weight of him is comforting. I pet him for a while, occasionally mumbling my love for him. Aubry wakes me up with a gentle shake. The living room is full of sun. She holds my book up and grins. “Must be riveting if you fell asleep.” She thinks the world is good. Aubry thinks the world is magic. I remain silent—feeling like a pinball bouncing around in a careless crowd we call the population. And like a tornado, I seem to touch down in various places and leave a wake of destruction behind. I begin to cry. Everything is wrong. I think maybe I am two separate people now. Before and after Nora. I live a double life. “Oh, shit. What’d I say?” I shake my head. “It’s not you.” “Obviously. I was just being nice.” I snort and wipe my tears away. “I screwed up last night, Aub., bad.” “With Liam?” she asks. I nod. “With Liam.” “Well go on,” she says and plops on the couch. “Tell me everything.” When I am finished with my story, Aubry has a dopey expression on her face. “Dude. You have a better sex life than I do.” “That’s all you have to say?!” I squawk. “What? It sounds like an amazing night.” I shoot her a look, “You’re impossible.” She laughs. “No, you are. Listen, I’m sure it’s okay. I’m still reeling from you swimming with him. In undies. Like, did he say anything at all about your back?” “No,” I say. “Wow.” “Wow,” I mimic. “If he didn’t run for the hills then, you making a hasty exit in the middle of the night isn’t going to scare him off.” “What makes you so sure?” I think she overestimates my charm. She has known me too long, accepted me warts and all over the years. “Do you like him?” she asks. I pause. I still don’t know if that is the right word. I am intrigued by him. I am attracted to him and I want to get to know him better but I don’t know if it is possible to

already be in like with him. “Maybe? I mean, yes I like him. I want to get to know him better.” “Good enough,” she says. “What does that have to do with anything?” “Because odds are, if you like him, he already likes you. And if he already likes you, he will check in on you today.” “Your math and logic are really queer, you know that, right?” I say. Aubry shrugs and stands. “I’m starving. Change out of that ridiculous dress, brush your teeth, and let’s go get some food.” Aubry’s easy demeanor almost brings me to tears again but I control myself and do as I am told. On our way out the door, I grab my clutch. It vibrates on our way to Aubry’s car. “Hold up,” I say. I stop and pull my phone from the clutch. Cherry, at least let me know you got home safe. A smile creeps across my face. The timestamp is only minutes after I left his house. “What?” Aubry says. I look up from my phone, grinning. “He texted.” She wiggles her eyebrows at me. “See. Told you so.” I tap out a reply after I’m buckled in the car. I did. And then another. Sorry. His message back is quick. Can we try again? “Are you going to tell me what he’s saying, or make me die of curiosity?” I burst out laughing and read the text chain back to her. “You’d better say yes.” “I will. Maybe not a sleepover though.” I am embarrassed at my behavior from last night. I wasn’t careful. I didn’t plan. I know my limits. I know how to get through life with the least amount of disruption and anxiety and the lust and curiosity I feel for Liam threatens every miniscule step of progress I have fought to make since coming home. *** Liam

Thanks to Nora, I was exhausted all day Sunday. I barely slept after she left. I’d stomped my way inside and Googled ‘Salve’ to see what popped up. Who was he and why was he at her beck and call in the middle of the god damned night? Turns out, he’s the detective from her case with my brother. I’d slammed the laptop lid shut and felt moderately better but still irritable about the scenario. My text was a necessity to keep her near. Just when I thought I had her hooked, she slipped away. Getting close to and dating Nora Robertson is like trying to pet a fucking fish. I can’t get her out of my mind though. I am not nearly as prepared as I would like for my father bursting through my office door. “What the hell was that about?” he barks at me, with Mara trailing behind him looking scared and pissed simultaneously. “Come in,” I say, before leaning back in my chair. This flippant response makes a vein in my father’s forehead jut out. I wave Mara away. She closes the door behind her. “I told you to leave that girl alone.” “I don’t want to,” I state, leaning back in my chair. “I don’t really give a fuck what you want, Liam. I’m still paying for your last obsession, or has she so conveniently slipped your mind already?” I draw in a deep breath through my nostrils. Of course, he would bring up Candy. I squash the urge to roll my eyes. “Candy is fine and quite frankly, I have a feeling you’d be paying for her, regardless of any time I may have spent with her.” “That girl is ruined because of you, Liam, and don’t you forget it. You condemned her to a life of pleasing men. She was a good girl from a good family before you.” A vein in his neck bulges. His face is a ruddy red. “Is this the only reason you stopped by?” I ask. He tuts and rounds my desk. I brace myself but he simply stands staring out my floorto-ceiling window, admiring the city skyline. “Yuri and Gregor signed the contract.” This is news to me. Something is up. It was supposed to be returned to me, yet I haven’t seen it since handing it off to them. “They returned it to me. Do you know why, Liam?” I bite my tongue and stay silent. “Because they don’t think you can uphold our end of the deal. They don’t trust you. They sought me out at the club and requested a sit down.” “That’s bullshit, Dad.” “They feel you’re not giving them a hundred percent. That you’re distracted. And I tend to agree,” he spits out.

“Again. I call bullshit. I’ve done everything they asked. All appropriate players are in place. As soon as the money is wired, the docks are theirs to do with as they please. They won’t have any trouble,” I say. “I’m withholding your commission on this one.” My blood boils at my father’s words. The muscles in my neck and shoulders tense. That money is mine. It’s my safety net. My out. “Good,” I grit out. My father whips around to face me and raises an eyebrow. “Withhold it. When the wire clears and they don’t run into problems, let’s say, over the following thirty days, you’ll see I earned that commission. So, hold on to it.” I wave a hand through the air. “Give it to me when I prove them wrong.” Dad holds my eyes for long, uncomfortable moments before nodding. Without a goodbye, he leaves. When I hear Mara exhale, I know he’s gone and I let my head hit the back of my chair and close my eyes. *** At six, a courier arrives. Mara is gone for the day and I am glad to have the office to myself. “Just sign here,” the kid says. I scribble my name on the paper before me and hand him the package. “You’ll deliver this tonight, correct?” He nods and tucks the package beneath his arm. It has taken more of my willpower than I’d like to admit not to contact Nora today. Something about her haunts me. Maybe it’s the way she appears so innocent, when I know she is anything but. The kid schleps his way onto the elevator. When the doors close, I return to my office. With a few clicks, I pull up Nora’s email. Angela has emailed some pictures to Nora. From when, I’m not sure. People are posed in small groups, smiling at the camera. Greenery surrounds them. In the background, Nora sits near a tree, book open and in hand, staring down at the pages. A small grin on her face. I click through the other pictures. Must have been a cookout of some sort. The last picture opens and I suck in a deep breath. It is of Nora alone, her red hair looks almost unnatural in the sunlight. Her eyes are crinkled at the corners and she smiles around a popsicle in her mouth. She looks like she is up to no good. About to burst out laughing perhaps. Her lips are tinged purple from the popsicle. I can’t help but picture that popsicle as my dick. Hard and between her soft lips. That same playful look in her eye as she takes me. I save the picture to my desktop before marking the email as unread and closing out the private browser. I unbutton my pants and pull my cock out, then open the picture of her again. “Nora, Nora, Nora,” I groan while stroking myself. “How you intoxicate me.”

Nora Dr. Richardson tilts her head at me and says, “He gave you a spoon?” I nod at Dr. Richardson, “Uh huh.” She blinks twice, three times. “I really don’t know what to make of that one.” “Well, the spoon says ‘Ice Cream Killer’ on it and it came with a pint of Cherry Garcia.” I am unable to stop the blush that hits me at the mere mention of said ice cream. “It was a little inside joke. But that’s not really why I’m telling you about it. I freaked out. Not only that, I dreamt of Holden while I was in his bed. That can’t be normal.” Dr. Richardson pushes her new bangs from her forehead and chuckles. “Nora, do you think that you are the first woman in history to think of an old lover while with a new one?” I furrow my brow at her. “You are not. That behavior is normal. It was the relationship with Holden, that was not. But considering we are going forward in an alternative therapy fashion, and exploring your recovery through this ‘idea’ that you and Holden were in love, I’m going to say that this particular situation was normal.” I groan. “But I still had a panic attack. I still had to leave. I ran.” I want to hide in a dark hole away from everyone and everything. “You did all of that yes. But you tried. You took a chance on this, Liam, and let it work itself out naturally. That’s something you should be proud of. And consider the facts; you panicked, you fled and he still extended an olive branch to you. So, the worst case scenario of allowing yourself to be vulnerable in this situation, was that he still wanted to try again. That’s a positive, not a negative.” “It’s rather annoying when you get all wise on me.” “It’s that word a day calendar. Makes me smarter I think.” I laugh as Dr. Richardson points to the small square calendar on her desk that I replaced this past January for her. “Listen,” she says when my laughter dies down. “Let’s work this out another way. If you tuck your embarrassment aside, do you want to see Liam again?” “Yes.” My answer rushes from my lips. Dr. Richardson smiles. “Good. Let’s begin there. So you start over. Go on a proper date. What do you need from him to let him inside your walls? Not sexually, Nora. Sex and intimacy are not synonymous. You can give your body away without ever letting

someone in your head or your heart.” I slip my hands beneath my thighs and bite my lip. “I don’t really know him. We don’t really know each other. We haven’t talked much about our lives. Just little bits and pieces, but I guess if I felt like I knew him better, I would feel less nervous around him.” “Trust is essential. That is a great observation. So, a step forward would be?” I dislike her open-ended questions. “To get to know him.” “Without?” “Being intimate?” I state, but my voice tips up at the end, making it sound like a question. Dr. Richardson grins at me. “Well that would be the ideal scenario. I’m sure lust makes that difficult.” “So, homework for the week, is to go on a couple dates and not sleep with him.” Dr. Richardson smiles at me. “That’s the idea, yes. I realize that as a young twentysomething, that doesn’t sound appealing, but I do recommend it.” “Har har.” I stand and adjust my shirt. “Have you visited Amelia lately?” Dr. Richardson shakes her head. “Would you like to go with me on my next visit?” “I would.” “Remember, Nora, you are always you, even in a relationship. A man should never define who you are, nor should you feel like you exist only as an offshoot of him. Two individuals make a relationship. Two. Not one. Be you.” She walks to me, and throws her arms around me. I hug her back tightly. When she untangles herself from me she says, “I will text you when I plan my visit to Amelia.” I nod and exit her office. The afternoon sun is strong and the heat on my skin makes me feel invincible. Summer is a good season for me. The gray of winter makes my anxiety spike. Anxiety is a tricky issue to deal with. One moment I feel fine. Confident and strong and upbeat, and the next, I am sure the world is ending, that I’ve offended someone to the point of no return, or I am an utter failure, unfit to even exist. There is no rhyme or reason to it. I know, logically, rationally, in my brain, that the feelings, the panic, are irrational, but I have no control of it. Once the physical symptoms set in, my brain follows suit, regardless of what I attempt to remind it or tell it. My therapy with Dr. Richardson is helpful in that it allows me a sounding board and perspective when I lack them. I know Liam is aware that I am … plagued with something, but I dread having to admit just how much it affects my life and if he wants to pursue me more—our relationship. Thinking about how to best acquaint him with me is difficult. I am and have been, surrounded by women who understand who I am. Lotte, although to a lesser degree, has some acute anxiety. Eve suffers regularly from panic attacks but is open about them and talks about them. Me, I like to stay quiet. Aubry and her Mom understand feeling panic. They can relate to it. They can remember feeling it when they realized I was

missing. And even the peripheral people in my life have been trained to deal with such issues. Agent Brown and Detective Salve and Dr. Richardson. Dr. Richardson gave me a weighted blanket for Christmas. It rotates through our bedrooms regularly. If it’s not me who needs it, it is Eve or Lotte. So I have been sheltered by these people and now I have to be around people who may not understand or be supportive and it terrifies me. Being rejected or used or talked about negatively terrifies me. I stop before yanking open my car door and shake my head. I’ve just rambled. Gone on a full blown tangent in my mind. It is these moments that force me to wonder if I am sane. I tilt my face to the sun and let the warmth penetrate my skin until I feel as though I have soaked up all I can take. *** I am tucked into my window seat reading, when my phone buzzes. It is a text from Liam. Only a thank you? I furrow my brow as I type out a response. What do you mean? I set my phone aside but his response is nearly instant. I thought maybe the spoon/ice cream would have gotten me more than a thank you. I chuckle and try to think of a witty response. I end up typing out, Would a date be better? My screen doesn’t even have time to dim before his text appears. I thought you’d never offer. What would make you happy? Reading, I think. Reading makes me happy. Being in the garden. Cooking. Yoga. None of those things make very good dates. I blow out a breath. Do you like fairs? N.E.L. volunteers are running a dunk tank at the local fair over the weekend. It’s not exactly my idea of a great date, but it is public and a start. I like fried dough. Fairs seem to be the best place to find it. My lips tip up at the corners. His answer is cute. Even if he doesn’t love fairs. Great. Pick me up at seven, Friday? I wait, but no text comes through. I put my phone in my lap and pick my book up again. It is not long before I am lost in the pages of the story. It is about a girl and a boy

who continuously find each other through every life they’re forced to live. It makes me wonder about reincarnation and past lives and soul mates. It is hours before I realize I have a missed text. Deal. Can’t wait. *** Liam She’s sitting on the stairs of her front porch in jean shorts that show off her long legs and a T-shirt that looks soft and well worn. Her pert tits push the fabric just enough that the lace pattern of her bra is visible. Her hair is braided and hangs down over her left shoulder. If I fuck this up, my time with Nora will be over. This is my last chance to hook her. I can sense it. There is a scruffy looking mutt laid out next to her. She shyly smiles at me, while petting the dog. “This must be Burt?” I ask as I approach. Nora nods. Truth be told, dogs make me nervous. “Friendly?” “Very,” she says. I sit on the top step. Burt the dog, between Nora and me. She smiles at me. “You don’t strike me as a dog person,” I say. “I wasn’t but Burt here swayed me. Dr. Richardson suggested a pet in our household. It’s been proven to lessen anxiety.” I pet the dog. I raise an eyebrow at her. “Really?” “We’ve had him for six months now and I have noticed a calming effect. It’s not a cure but it helps in managing.” “Who is Dr. Richardson?” I ask. “She’s my therapist.” “I feel like there is so much I don’t know about you,” I say. She regards me through narrowed eyes. “I think starting over was a good idea. I know nothing about you either. Not really and I think that the limerance between us will only morph into more, if we take our time.” “Limerence?” I ask. Nora grins. “Sorry, I’m a logophile. I have a thing for words.” “That’s a first. I thought I knew all the different kinks and fetishes out there, but you got me.” She laughs and shakes her head at me.

“No, no, if it were just the sound of words I liked, you know, to be considered a fetish of some sort, you’d call that eutony.” Listening to Nora spew words I’ve never heard before, like they’re as common as pie, makes me hard. The words, they roll off her tongue. She takes her time with them. I think perhaps eutony is for me. “Okay. Back up. Limer-whatever. What does that mean?” I ask. “Limerance. Being infatuated or obsessed with another person,” she says and looks away from me. I reach over the dog and hook her beneath the chin with my index finger. Her eyes meet mine. The dog’s do, too. “I like limerence,” I say. I drop my hand. “So words. Big words. That’s your thing?” “Yeah. Thinking of them. Learning them. Pronouncing them. There is a beautiful structure to words and language that is comforting to me.” “What else, Nora?” I ask. She shakes her head and pushes to her feet. “Come on, Burt.” I watch as she puts him in the house and turns to me. “Now, it’s your turn,” she says. “What is Liam Lockwood about, besides music?” I extend my hand and she takes it as we descend the stairs. “I don’t know. What do you want to know?” “You must have something to tell,” she says. We walk down the sidewalk, hand in hand toward the park where the fair is happening. Her hand is soft and slight in mine. We can hear the noises from the fair from here but the sidewalk is mostly empty outside of us. “I run my dad’s company. It’s not my dream job but I don’t know anything else.” “Where’s your mom?” “Dead,” I answer. Nora stops and looks at me. “Mine, too. I’m sorry.” “It’s been just me and my father since I was a boy.” “At least you had him. My parents died together. Car accident.” “Who raised you?” I ask. Nora lets out a small laugh as we continue toward the park. “My aunt for a little while. She was young though. Didn’t want to be a mom. Once I was in high school she took off. My best friend’s mom took me under her wing when I’d allow her to. I’m sort of a self-sufficient loner, if you haven’t noticed,” she says. “You? A loner? That’s ridiculous,” I joke. “You’re the most social person I’ve ever met.”

When Nora laughs earnestly, the sound inspires joy. It also inspires my cock. It jumps to attention, as if she’s stroked it’s fragile ego. “You’re funny,” she says. The Ferris wheel comes into view as we cross the street. “Have you always lived here?” I ask. “Yes. My parents left me the house. How about you? Always been in that mansion?” I roll my eyes at her. “No. I like the location though. It’s far enough away from my father that he doesn’t stop by unless necessary and close enough to work that I don’t loathe my commute.” “Where did you grow up then?” she asks. “Boarding school with Mike in Massachusetts.” “Wow. Did you like it?” “No. Yes. I don’t know, Nora. It’s complicated. My father and I don’t have a great relationship, so, it was for the best, I think.” Nora nods and squeezes my hand. “I didn’t mean to pry.” “You weren’t. I just never know how to feel about my childhood or explain it really.” Little does she know I am still haunted by the memories of living with Holden and my mother. That I’m still picking up the pieces of growing up with my father. Abuse came in many forms, from many people for me. “However you feel is valid. Explanation is unnecessary. If you had said my childhood was complicated, and I’m not over it, I would have understood.” Now it is my turn to laugh. “Nora, you’re an odd duck, you know that?” “I’m aware. But that is my burden to shoulder.” “It’s not a burden. Do you like fried dough?” I ask, as we pass the first food truck. She wrinkles her nose and shakes her head. “I used to but since …” she bites her bottom lip and looks to me. “I prefer fresh foods now.” I want her to say it. I want to know all about her time with Holden. What he did. Who he was. The things he liked, but I only smile and nod at her. I watch her face as we wander around the small town fair. I remember the first time I came to a fair after the mountain. I remember thinking there were so many people. There was too much noise. Too many smells. Too many bright lights. I felt claustrophobic in the middle of a field full of people and rides and food. Nora’s face is flushed. Her eyes dart everywhere. Her hand squeezes mine. I tug her hand and lead her to the Ferris wheel. There’s no line. There never is for the Ferris wheel, the bastard child of fair rides. I hand the attendant a twenty dollar bill because we don’t have tickets and I don’t want to stop to buy some. He grins and waves us forward and into a car. Once we’re seated, I tuck Nora under my arm. “The view from the top will blow your

mind.” “Oh?” “Trust me,” I say. “I’m not sure you’re trustworthy.” “You’re a smart woman.” I grin at her and dip my head, letting my lips brush hers. Not a kiss. Not even a half kiss. An almost kiss. I look up and point. Her eyes follow my hand. She gasps and leans forward. “That is breathtaking. Stellar. Look at the town,” she breathes. “I told you.” She snuggles into the crook of my arm after turning left and right to take in the full view. “So, what else?” I ask. She looks up through her lashes at me. “What else, what?” I want to dip down and kiss her but I don’t. “What else about you?” “I don’t know. I’m quiet. I always have been. I’m in therapy for …” She sighs and looks out over the town as we crest again. “I took a job tutoring. When the job ended, I wasn’t allowed to leave. He kept me hostage for a little over six months.” I feign surprise. “Jesus, Nora. That is terrifying.” Her face wrinkles, giving away just how torn she is about the situation she lived. “At times, yes. I had developed feelings for the guy before the job ended. Before he kept me. I don’t know how to say this, Liam, I loved him. It was wrong and he did terrible things to me but I did not hate him. In the end, he made me choose. I would have loved him but he made me choose—Charlotte or him. I never had someone choose me as a child, I couldn’t do that to her.” She looks out over the town skyline, lips pursed together. I pull her to my chest. “I can’t imagine. But I’m sure it’s all very complicated. Emotions are tricky beasts. Is that why you run N.E.L.?” Nora’s skin is soft under my palm. I relish the feel of her tucked into my side. The neon lights from the rides cast her face in a healthy glow and her hair color is accentuated by the lights on the poles of the Ferris wheel. “I started N.E.L. Not alone. Eve and I. We’re passionate about it. My time has been split lately though. I’m trying to write a memoir of my life. Of what happened. But it is hard. What about you? What exactly do you do for work?” Nora pulls away from me and I swear I can feel the absence of her skin against mine in my veins. “Lockwood Enterprises deals mostly in commercial real estate deals. Multimillion dollar deals.” Nora nods. “Siblings?” “No,” I answer. “You?” “No. My family is Lotte, Eve and Aubry.”

“And Burt,” I say. Her eyes widen and she laughs. “Did I forget the dog? I’m a terrible fur mother.” The Ferris wheel spins us around again and slows as we approach the bottom.

Nora When we exit the Ferris wheel, Liam takes my hand again and laces his fingers through mine. I have never been a ride person, but Liam seems to understand what I will enjoy. I think once, when I was little, I rode a Ferris wheel, but that was so long ago, I had forgotten the fun of it. The sensation of being in the air. The breeze across my collarbone. The view from the top. How all the people below look like little ants furiously moving about. I liked the way Liam’s arm felt slung around my shoulders. The scent of him mixed with fresh air. “I don’t want to go home yet,” I say. He grins at me and tugs my hand. The fair grounds are crowded and it sets me on edge. The cacophony. The bodies and eyes all vying for space. I am relieved when he leads me along the path that follows the river. Only the occasional lamp light illuminates our walk. The lights and noise of the fair are distant now as he leads me up a small berm. We aren’t too far from my yoga studio when he stops and pulls me flush against his chest. I peer up at him. “Look,” he says. He is staring at the sky. Occasional thick clouds make the otherwise clear sky look ominous. I inhale sharply. The night sky is glorious. It makes me miss the mountain. I push away from him and lie prone in the grass. The sky is full of pinprick sparkles. Glitter. Stars. My stars. Holden’s stars. I close my eyes and let Holden drift from my thoughts. “What are you thinking about?” Liam asks. “The past, I guess.” I wonder briefly if Liam craves nature and silence the way I do. “Sounds dangerous.” I roll my head to the side and face him. “It is.” “Know any good words for the past?” “Not that mean, ‘the past’ but to describe mine, sure. Tristful, hiraeth, exulansis.” Liam chuckles. “Sorry I asked. I have no idea what any of those mean.” “Your homework is to remember them long enough to look them up.” “I’ve already forgotten them,” he admits.

“You’re the worst,” I say and laugh. His arm snakes under my head and I allow myself to snuggle into his side. Rest my head on his chest. His fingers massage my scalp. His heartbeat thumps steadily in my ear. His breath moves in and out rhythmically. Could this be real? I wonder what kind of life we could have together. Is that bad? Do all women do this? Is vorfreude common or am I again fixating on something unhealthy. Would he understand my needs wholly and without judgment? If I let him in, will he respect my ups and downs? Rubatosis sneaks up on me. If Liam notices, he does not make a show of it. He plays with my hair. My elastic is long gone. My braid undone. His fingers comb through my locks gently. He does this until I am no longer aware of my pulse. Of my heartbeat. It is only his in my ear again. I clench my thighs together to alleviate the sensation building there. “What’s going on in here?” he says and taps my noggin. “Apodyopsis,” I say. I know he will not know that word and I like that I can tell the truth without embarrassment or repercussion. “I find it highly unfair that you use big words to throw me off.” He finagles his phone from his pocket. The light from the screen makes me squint. I realize too late what he is doing. I try to swat the phone from his hands with a little huff. “Oh, no, Nora, I’m onto you,” he says. I flop, rather ungracefully, atop him but he moves his hand, clutching his phone, just out of my reach. He holds me back with an arm across my collarbone and makes a show of clearing his throat. “Eh hem, Apodyopsis. To mentally undress someone. My, my, my, Nora.” His tone is mischievous. There is a devilish glint in his eye as I freeze above him. I bite back a smile and roll off him. “I’m not perfect. But I do use sex as a way to not have to deal with certain things. So, although I may be mentally undressing you, I expect you, as the gracious gentleman you are, to know that mentally undressing is as far as I will take it right now. If I attempt to sway you further, you must, and I mean must, tell me no. It is imperative for the success of our potential relationship.” I cross my arms over my chest. Liam laughs. It is loud and hardy and I cannot keep my serious face. “You expect me, a red blooded man, to turn you down?” he asks. I bite my bottom lip to stifle my grin and give him a look. “You drive a nearly impossible deal, Nora, you know that?” “I’ve thought many times that perhaps my expectations are too high.” “I’ll do my best to keep my filthy paws off you,” he says. I beam at him. “That is excellent news.” “You will have to be clear though. What exactly are the rules of this game?” Rules. I never thought of setting rules. I prop myself up on an elbow and take in his defined jaw line; one I’d like to kiss, his shapely lips; ones I’d like to bite, his chest as it rises and falls; a chest I’d like to feel against mine. “I suppose, kissing is okay. People dating kiss, yes?”

“Definitely,” he says. “Handholding is okay, too.” “Can I make you come?” he asks. My jaw drops. I gasp. “Excuse me?” “If I promise to keep you dressed. If I promise to not touch you anywhere intimate. Can I make you come?” I give him a curious look. He is up to something. “How is that even possible?” “I will show you. But not tonight,” he says. I fear the sensation of his fingers on my skin have lulled me into a false comfort as they stoke gently. “No sex?” I ask. “No. No sex. No naked bodies. No funny business either.” “I feel compelled to say no, but I am so intrigued, that I am going to say yes. I will allow it.” Liam laughs loudly. “Excellent.” I drop back down, flat on my back and stare at the sky. “I love the skyline. I love stars. I miss the peacefulness.” He stops abruptly. I look to him. “The peacefulness of what?” “Nothing. Of nature, you know.” But that is not what he meant. I can see it in the set of his jaw. He has made a mistake of some sort. Doled out more than he was willing; but of what, I do not know. *** Liam Nora is currently ass up, face down in her backyard. Some yoga pose. She flows in and out of poses effortlessly. Her sports bra and leggings cover little. My imagination runs rampant. I am crouched like a lovesick fool in the brush between her yard and the neighbors’, watching her. We have a date tonight. At my place. I offered to come to her but she refused. It has become apparent that Nora does not let people into her house often. I make a note to learn the names of some yoga poses for tonight. She ends up on her back, like a corpse staring upward. She is so still, it is difficult to tell if she is even breathing from this distance. Finally, she moves. Stands, surveys the yard with hands on hips and heads inside, wiping sweat from her brow. I push through the bushes and through her backyard. Her head bobs past one window, then the next. I peek inside. My phone buzzes in my pocket. I reach for it, check the caller ID—work—and accept. “Hello,” I say softly. “Mr. Lockwood.” It’s Mara, my assistant. “Yes,” I say, still looking through the window. She’s in the bathroom, stripping naked.

“You have a meeting this afternoon and it’s almost one. I just wanted to see if you’d like me to cancel or reschedule?” “No,” I say quietly. “I’ll be in.” I end the call and put my phone back in my pocket. I move left for a better view. Nora’s got her eyes closed as water flows down her face, breasts and hips. If she opened them right now, she’d see me. But she doesn’t. A frisson of excitement sweeps through me. “Fuck,” I whisper, as I unzip my pants. I pull out my cock and let my hand slide up and down in long, slow strokes. I promised her no sex until she says so, but I never agreed to not please myself in the meantime. My hand pumps my cock as I play a singular scene over and over in my head of her pleasing me. The way her nails would feel. The crack of her palm against my face. I try to make it perfect. And when it is, I come in silence outside her bathroom window shrouded by the trees and bushes in her backyard away from neighbors’ eyes. I pull a tissue from my pocket and clean myself up before tucking my cock away. The shower water is cut. I can hear her humming softly through the cracked window. I step out of sight and lean my ear toward the window. It is one of the songs from my playlist, the night we fucked. A grin spreads across my face. I move through the backyard brush like a ghost. I cut up through the neighbors’ bushes to the side street where my car is parked. *** Mike swings by at ten of five, just as I am packing up to leave for the day Normally, I would be happy to see him, but tonight I just want to get back to my house. “Yo homie. What’s up?” Mike says. “Headed home. Why?” “The Blackies miss you.” His polo shirt collar is popped and he’s wearing sneakers. He must have just come back from a flight. “If by Blackies you mean you … I’m not concerned,” I say. “Not just me,” he says and plants his ass on the corner of my desk. I sigh. “Candy doesn’t concern me either.” “Since when, man?” He gives me a look just short of pleading. He wants information. I shrug. “I don’t know, since Nora.” “What is up with this chick? Anything I need to know about?” “You sound like my father.” Mike cringes. He witnessed firsthand what my father could do when we were in high school. We’d been in the den playing video games. It was Thanksgiving break. Mike had finally pushed hard enough, and asked enough questions about my childhood, that I’d

started to tell him about my mother, siblings, about the mountain. My father had burst through the door, belt in hand. He directed Mike to leave and me to kneel. We both obeyed. I got a beating and a harsh verbal reminder of why we were never to speak of our time on the mountain. Mike overheard just enough to know something was wrong. That us Lockwoods were harboring a secret of some sort, but he never asked me about my childhood again. He just motioned me to follow him when I exited the den. He drove us to his house. “Nothing. And no. This isn’t a Candy situation. This is … different. This is about my childhood,” I say. Mike’s eyes snap to mine. “She’s not your sister or something is, she?” I laugh and shake my head. “No. Just let me have her. I promise when I’m done with her, I will come back to you.” Mike throws his head back and laughs loudly. “Fine, but listen, at least come to the club sometimes. It’s boring without my wingman.” “Deal,” I say and slap his shoulder. “Now get the fuck out. I have a date tonight and need to get going.” Mike stands and walks to the elevator with me. “Any chance you wanna share her for a little fun?” I glare at him. “This one’s not for sharing.” “Dude, relax. We always share.” He puts his hands up in surrender. “Not this time,” I grit out. “Whatever, man. Chill.” He shrugs as we enter the elevator. I push the parking level button as the doors close. “I’m chill Mike. Just trust me this time. Nora’s different. She’s not a plaything like the others. She has a purpose.” He jams his hands in his jean pockets. “So, tell me what that purpose is.” “Can’t or I would,” I say. He is quiet a moment and then, “Your dad’s been talking, Liam. None of it good.” “Is that why you’re here? Did he send you?” He pulls his hands from his pants, throws them in the air again. “No. I’d never do that. I’m just giving you a heads up. I’m just curious is all. If you’ve got your dad’s blood pressure spiked, I wanna know what’s going on.” The elevator dings and the doors slide open. “I’m just making amends. Getting a little closure for myself. Just keep your mouth shut and don’t talk to my father.” “Alright man. You got it. But don’t disappear on me again for weeks on end.” “Fine. Monday night, you and me at the club. Bring your hoe-of-the-week,” I say,

then chuckle. “Very funny,” he says and lifts a hand in lieu of saying goodbye.



Nora Summer air swirls around me. The breeze, a cool blast on my sun soaked skin. “I don’t think I can keep coming to see you.” My voice is small and hesitant. I stare at Holden’s headstone and worry my lip. “It’s time, Holden.” I let my palm slide across the smooth cool granite as I stand. Tomorrow perhaps, I will tell Dr. Richardson about this. But no, I won’t. This place will always be my secret to keep. I bend, tighten my shoelaces and start my jog home. This time, with a playlist blaring in my ears of Liam recommended songs. The door slaps closed behind me and before I have time to pull my earbuds out, Lotte is spewing words at me in a furious manner. I blink a few times and put my hands up. “Slow down, Lotte.” She crosses her hands over her chest and shoots me a pointed look. “What is with you lately?” “Me?” I ask. “Yeah. You’re always gone or off in lala land. We were supposed to go to yoga today at one and then you were going to drop me at N.E.L. for my group session.” I look at the clock behind her and cringe. “I’m so sorry.” I pull my arm band off and set it on the counter. “I miss you,” she says, before dramatically dropping herself into one of the kitchen chairs. I take the seat across from her and pull out my elastic. “I have the rest of the afternoon free. We can do yoga in the yard and then I’ll take you for ice cream,” I offer. She gives me a slight scowl but I can tell her irritation is thawing. “Where have you been lately?” “I’ve been working on my book and seeing someone.” “That Liam dude from the silent auction?” she asks. “Yes.”

“Do you like him?” I hesitate but only for a second. “Yes. I do,” I answer. “Do you think you could love him?” she asks. I cock my head and take her in. Charlotte is coming into her own. She is thriving in school, has made some great friends and the group sessions at N.E.L. that she participates in have helped her make giant strides with her confidence. Not to mention her physical changes. She’s no longer underweight and childlike. Her inner beauty is now evident on the outside. Soon she will be the envy of all her girlfriends with her silky blonde hair and her innocent doe eyes. The boys will come knocking to try and claim her soft curves. I blow out a breath. “I don’t know. Why do you ask?” “What happens when you move on?” she asks, tucking silky strands of blond behind her ear. “Move on from what?” I ask. “From needing me and Eve. From Holden,” she says, elbows on the table, chin cradled in her palms. “Lotte, you are not something to move on from. You are family. I suppose someday I may end up married but then again, you will grow up and move out, too.” “Eve doesn’t date. She’s not moving on. I miss the mountain,” she says. This surprises me and I am sure my expression conveys it. “No, you don’t,” I say. “I miss the peacefulness of wide open spaces. I miss the simplicity of a world where there were only two people to worry about or interact with.” She tucks her long hair behind her ear. I sigh. “I miss that, too, sometimes. But that world was not the real world.” Burt meanders in and lays down under the table at our feet. “If we decided to be hermits, it would be,” she points out. I laugh loudly. “You would hate your sister and me very quickly. This is the right place for you, Lotte. And even as we all grow and change paths, we will still be a family. A cord of three strands is not easily broken.” “I don’t like change and it seems like change is coming. I can smell it, feel it just below the surface. Eve has been busy lately. Staying out later than normal. You’ve been distracted with your new guy, who by the way, we haven’t even really met. What if he’s crazy? Don’t you think our opinion matters?” “Of course, it matters, love. You’re feeling left out. Would you like to meet Liam?” I ask. She nods. “And I’d like yoga and ice cream, too.”

“How about this? I will invite him to Aubry’s birthday party next weekend. So he can meet all of you. I hope you will be nice to him though. And tonight after my date, I will come straight home and read to you. What are you reading now anyway?” “Fallen. I’m about a third through and liking it. It’s a paranormal romance and it’s a movie, so when I’m finished, we can watch it, too!” she says. I grin at the young woman before me. We are so lucky to have each other and I must try harder to not take my home life for granted. I am not used to balancing a social and home life. “Deal.” I stand. “You grab the mats and I’ll get the portable speaker.” *** Liam’s kitchen is a cook’s dream. It is spacious with more counter space than I could ever hope for. He unpacks the groceries I brought over, while simultaneously telling me which cabinet the required pots and pans live in. “I’m perfectly capable of cooking you dinner,” he says. “I know, but I thought it would be nice for me to treat you.” “What are you making?” he asks, eyeballing the various vegetables laid out before him. “It’s a vegetable pie, essentially. Do you know how to make a pie crust?” His eyebrows dart to his hairline and I laugh. “I will take that as a no. Will you slice the veggies up while I do the crust? Nice and thin. Cut length-wise.” Liam moves to the cutting board and grabs a sweet potato. “I’m a meat and potato kinda guy, generally speaking.” He slices a sweet potato in half. “I promise this will suit you. Do you trust me?” I ask and sneak a look at him while brushing the pie crust with butter. “I do. What’s not to trust?” His answer makes my stomach knot but I do not know why exactly. I slide the crust into the oven and look to him. “What do you want from me?” I ask. It is a question that has weighed on my mind often recently. “Honestly, I want all the beautiful parts of you and all the ugly parts, too.” I suck in a breath. Surely he can’t mean all the ugly parts. There are some things that are better left unsaid. Things that are meant to be carried in solitude. I cannot tell him those things unless he is worthy. And how can I know that unless I know his darkest desires? “Tell me your fantasy,” I say. “Fantasy?” he asks, looking at me across the island. I nod and dig deep for some bravery. “Your darkest desire. Something you can’t tell just anyone,” I say.

“It isn’t a fantasy. It’s my reality. It is what I need, Nora,” he says, while cutting vegetables. I swallow thickly and nod. “Okay. Tell me that.” “It isn’t typical. It isn’t for everyone.” He stops chopping. His eyes capture mine, unsure. I want to tell him that I am not for everyone, but instead I say, “I won’t laugh or judge. In fact, if it is as sordid as you are making it out to be, I will tell you my fantasy.” Liam’s jade eyes hold mine captive for long moments. I cannot breathe when he pins me with those eyes. I cannot move. It is as if one look from him paralyzes me. Stops time. “I need pain. I like to be restrained and hurt. I like whips, Nora. I like nails dug into my flesh.” His eyelashes are thick and black as he stares at me. The oven beeps and I jump. I pull the warmed crust from the oven and set it on the stovetop. “Where do you find women who are willing to do that?” I ask, my back to him. “I belong to a gentleman’s club. There are certain perks to the membership. I haven’t been successful in finding a long term relationship where my partner is willing to go as far as I need.” I clear my throat and shift my weight. “You’re judging me.” “I’m not.” I shake my head. “I’m surprised, but I am not passing judgment. Liam continues to slice the vegetables. “And you, Nora? What do you crave?” I swear I catch a slight grin on his face but it is gone before I can be certain. I debate telling him anything other than the truth, but when he clears his throat and looks at me, earnest and curious, I decide it is time to at least try to put my true self out for him to see. “I want to be held captive and … forced.” I dip my head and look away. “Do not be ashamed of your needs,” he says. He moves to my side. “Look at me, Nora. Tell me all of it.” “I want it to be a surprise. Not choreographed. I don’t want to know it is coming. That makes finding a man … difficult. I want someone to commit to the role. To make me believe it. That I am their captive. That it is authentic. That I don’t hold the power. Pain and pleasure have become synonymous to me in the bedroom since … since Holden.” Liam opens his mouth to speak but I interrupt him. “I know, okay. It is depraved. Twisted—” He slaps a palm over my mouth to quiet me. I stiffen. “Shh. I’m not judging you. In fact, the idea of it intrigues me. Would you want to fight back? Try and hurt your attacker?” His hand is still across my mouth as I nod. He drops it and grins at me. “A bit, yes. I would struggle. You, I mean he, could get hurt.” “I think maybe you and I are suited for each other, even more than I thought,” he says. I blush and straighten my shirt. “You never told me where those scars on your scalp came from. I’d like to know,” I

say. He returns to his cutting board and I join him in prepping the veggies now that the crust is warmed. “Abuse. During my childhood. From someone close to me.” He does not say more and I do not need more from him. I abandon my slicing to grab two beers from his refrigerator. He pops the top for me and we cheers. “To scars and dark desires,” he says. I mimic his words and take a slug of my beer. The vegetable pie not only looks remarkable, it tastes amazing. Liam groans at his first bite and I preen with pride. I like the praise. I like the slippery feeling it gives me. “You win. This is definitely a thousand times better than I anticipated.” I laugh and stuff another bite in my mouth. “I wish you did that more often,” he says. I look to him and cock my head. “Eat?” I ask. “No. Laugh. Your laugh is infectious,” he says. “I laugh.” “Not often enough.” I shake my head at him and finish my dinner. “This was perfect. I don’t generally enjoy cooking but you made the entire process more enticing,” he says. “I love cooking. I think to take lonely ingredients, and combine them into something, that when combined, makes you think, wow, is superb, cathartic even. The idea of it really. That lonely and boring individually, becomes something stunning combined is lovely.” Liam blinks once, twice, three times. “That was deep.” I realize how ridiculous I must have sounded. It’s just cooking. It’s only dinner. And my shoulders slump with embarrassment. “Don’t do that. It was adorable. I fucking love your little rants. Your deep thoughts. It is fucking sexy, Nora,” he says. “Sexy?” I question. Liam’s gaze makes my skin break out in goosebumps. “Sexy.” He stands with his plate and saunters to me to clear mine. “Do you need to rush home?” His question momentarily makes my pulse spike with anticipation. “No.” “Could I convince you to take a ride with me? There is something I’d like to show you.” I lick my lips. “As long as you behave,” I say. He winks and disappears into the kitchen as I laugh.

*** Liam leads me into his massive garage. From a peg on the wall he pulls down a leather jacket and puts it on. Next he hands me a matte black helmet and points to a motorcycle. “Oh, no,” I say, beginning to back away. “Oh, yes. Have you ridden before?” he asks. Slowly, I shake my head at him. The very idea of motorcycles terrifies me. “I prefer cars.” “You’ll prefer bikes when I’m done with you.” The idea of plastering myself against his body, of clinging to him, feeling his muscles turns me on; but I am uncertain I will be able to enjoy it with the anxiety that is sure to come. “Liam, I’m not sure I can.” “I have a jacket you can wear, and the helmet. I’ll drive nice and leisurely for you. I promise you’ll love it. Do you trust me, Nora?” I look to him. At his outstretched hand holding a helmet, at his boyish grin and those mischievous green eyes. “I don’t think you’re going to give me a choice.” “Excellent. Now,” he says and pulls the helmet down over my head. He flips the visor up and buckles the chin strap. “I’m going to play you some music while we ride. All you need to know is this; keep your feet on the pegs and mold your body to mine. When I lean you lean. Got it?” “Um.” “If you need to stop, triple tap my chest.” He leaves no room for argument and grabs a second jacket from another peg. I slide it on and fumble with the zipper. Liam, helmet on and straddling his bike, motions for me to climb on. “I’m already feeling anxious,” I say. “Just hold on to me. You’ll love this.” I swing a leg over the seat and scoot against him. My helmet bonks his. Liam lets out a laugh that echoes in the garage. “Try to keep your helmet from hitting mine, okay?” I nod and bonk my helmet against his again. “Sorry,” I squeak as the bike fires to life. It rumbles beneath my legs. I squeeze my thighs together, pinching Liam’s hips. I close my visor and slide my arms under his armpits and lock my fingers together at his chest. He revs the engine. Music begins as we lurch forward toward the opening garage door. The first five minutes I am terrified. The landscape rushes past us in a blur. But the beats and melodies in my ear combined with the soft steady thud of Liam’s heart beneath my locked hands, begins to calm me. I chance looking around. We are on a windy road

that runs parallel to the ocean. The sun is just beginning its decent, casting everything in rich orange and pink hues. I am pressed into Liam’s firm body. A strong body. He wiggles his hips a little and a tiny sound escapes me that I know he cannot hear over the music. Attraction is not random. It is science; fact. It is pheromones, instinct, physiological arousal and biology. Attraction is not something you can control. You can be afflicted by it in a nanosecond and feel its physical symptoms for years to come. You can recall it. Draw upon it, even, despite having never spoken to the person who caused it in the first place. It is an oxymoron; ephemeral and indelible. And I am attracted, unreservedly, to Liam Lockwood. My pulse is surely noticeable. The hair on my arms stood at attention when he brushed against me in the kitchen. My stomach is a flurry of butterflies right now. It is agonizing to rein in my lust for him, to feel him so closely without being able to do anything about it. Dr. Richardson would be so proud though. I am doing what is healthy and morally sound. I loosen my grip around his middle slightly as I gain confidence as a passenger. There are few cars on the road at this time. It feels as if we are alone in this universe. Just me and him. Him and me. If that were the case, would I hold back or would I let him ravage me as he liked? Can I be so bold to inflict the kind of pain he desires? Questions rush in and out of my mind. His hair curls out just under his helmet at the nape of his neck. His shoulders, broad and leather clad, make me want to rest my head on them. Waves crash onto the shoreline to our right. The view is glorious. He rests one of his hands for a moment on my knee and gives a little squeeze. I savor the sensation. Yes. I can hurt Liam. I can hurt him to please him. In fact, I want to. *** Liam Nora fucking Robertson makes my cock hard. Her slight body presses against mine in a way that makes me want to pull the bike over and fuck her on the beach for anyone to see. But I don’t. We’re almost to my beach house and I’m still gaining her full trust. When I pull onto the single wide road that leads to my seaside cottage, Nora’s grip tightens around me again as we cross little bumps in the pavement from years of frost heaves. I pull up to the house and kill the engine, which kills the music as well. Nora hops off the bike and lifts her visor. I put the kickstand down and stand. My hand brushes hers away from the chinstrap she is struggling to undo. I set her helmet on the bike followed by mine. “Whose house is this?” she asks.

“Mine.” I grab her hand and lead her inside. It’s not much. A sparse, but comfortably decorated, thousand square foot cottage on the ocean. Every window on one side of the house looks out over the sea. I have no TV here. No internet. It is an escape. Not even Mike or my father know that I bought it. “This is phenomenal, Liam.” She puts her hands against the glass and stares out. “It’s my oasis. I’ve never told anyone about it, let alone brought anyone here.” “Really?” She turns to face me. “Really.” “Why me?” she asks. I shrug. “It just felt right.” I take off my jacket and toss it over a wingback chair. “I’m flattered.” She turns back to the view. “This is the perfect place to write.” “So, come write here,” I offer. The words leave my mouth before I realize what I’ve said. A knee-jerk reaction. The very thought of Nora in my private get-away makes my body vibrate with excitement. “I couldn’t.” I watch as she unzips the jacket, and removes it. “You could. There’s no internet. No cable. No distractions beyond the view.” “I am behind on my manuscript,” she muses. “Use the house then.” “I don’t want you to think I’m using you,” she says. “Some of us want to be used.” Nora blushes and I’m forced to adjust myself. I’m trying to stay afloat but secrets buried in the floor create so much pressure. She is starting to get to me. To worm her way into my thoughts in ways I didn’t intend. There’s a riot in my life, a big bad wolf at the door. With her, my blackness is shrouded in heavenly light. “Come sit with me.” I lower myself into the plush cream couch facing the window. Nora begins to come but gets sidetracked. I watch as her fingers trail across the rustic side table, the burlap lamp shade, the spines of the paperbacks in the floor-to-ceiling bookcase on the west wall. There is no simple explanation for the things I feel while watching her. “Have you read all these?” she asks. I chuckle. “No.” She pulls one from the shelf and holds it out. “This one?” It is a copy of The Search by Nora Roberts. I shake my head at her. “I think it is hilarious that you have though,” I say. “She’s my namesake! Of course, I’ve read almost all her work. Let me read it to you.” “You want to read it out loud?” I ask. “Yes.” She sits at the far end of the couch, toes off her Converse and stretches out

until her feet are on my lap. In a soft voice she begins reading. This woman is dazzling and refreshing in so many ways. As she reads, I massage her calf, she eyeballs me over the top of the book, but keeps going. Her legs are milky white and the shorts she’s wearing suit them. I am going to make her come. I am going to show her my trick. I massage the back of her knee gently, her breath catches slightly. I work my way down her leg, until I have a hold of her left foot and begin caressing it, with special detail to the instep followed by long strokes along the arch to the ball of her foot. I massage hard and slow. She moans quietly and the book drops open to her chest. “What are you doing to me?” she asks. “Giving you a foot job.” Her breathing stutters and I know it is starting to build. She shifts her hips faintly. “Liam,” she breathes. I knead slower. Harder. I press into a trigger point, followed by long deep strokes from heel to big toe. She is breathing through her nose, eyes closed. “Relax into it, Nora. I told you I had a trick up my sleeve.” Three more passes over her arch and her body clenches. Her knee pops, straight and rigid, forcing her foot almost to my chest. She shudders and relaxes. Her eyes open, lust glazed and hooded. “Was that actually a …” she stares, mouth agape. I nod. “Is that a thing? A real thing?” I chuckle and start on the other foot. “You tell me.” She snaps her knees together and curls her feet to her chest. “Nuh, uh buddy. I think one is enough for an evening. I can’t. I’m … speechless.” “Come here, Nora.” She shakes her head. I twist and plant my hands on either side of her hips and crawl until I’m hovering over her. “You said I’m allowed to. You also said I was also allowed to kiss you. Are you reneging?” Her smile fades, her mischievous expression is replaced by a sinfully sensual one. I dip down until my lips are on hers. Her tongue darts out, wetting her lips and mine. I nip at the tip of it. She sucks on my bottom lip, before letting her teeth graze it. I groan into her mouth. She is gasoline and I am a match. It’s strange what desire will make people do. We make out like horny teenagers, until our lips are numb and mouths are swollen. “I hate to break up our moment,” I say sitting up onto my knees. She grabs my shirt and tries to pull me back to her. “No, no, Nora, you made me promise to behave.” She releases me and sighs. “You make my brain stop.” “Is that a compliment?” I ask. “It is. All my rage and anxiety subsides when we’re together,” she says quietly. I surprise myself by saying, “I like that.” “Do we have to leave now?” she asks and tucks her hair behind her ears. I glance at

the clock. If we wait too much longer, the bugs will be bad on the ride home, but I am willing to endure a visor smeared with dead insects for extra time with her. “We can wait a little longer if you like.” She nods. I go back to my corner of the couch, while she sits up and adjusts her shirt. She grabs the book from the floor and finds her place. Using her finger as a bookmark, she comes to my lap and rests her head on it. I’m overcome with sticky sweet emotion. “Here,” she says and hands me the book. “You read to me for a while.” I scrunch up my face. I don’t read often, let alone out loud. “It’s not really my thing.” She pouts but opens the book and begins reading again. I could listen to her voice all night long. The softness of it. The slight rasp. I play with her hair while she reads. It’s silky, long and fine. It slips through my fingers with ease. I massage her scalp, too. It feels nothing like mine. It is smooth to my bumpy. I enjoy the feel of it beneath my fingertips. I am zoned out, eyes unfocused on the steady rise and fall of her breasts, the tactile feeling of her hair and it is long moments before I realize she is no longer reading. I blink away my fog and look down. Her eyes are closed, a gentle curve to her closed lips, her chest ascending and descending steadily. I have put her to sleep. I would like to enjoy this moment. To memorize her features closely without her noticing. To be able to scrutinize every miniscule feature undetected but a sleepy passenger on the motorcycle makes for a dangerous ride. I tickle her ski jump nose but she doesn’t rouse. I lean down and brush my lips against hers. She stirs. I kiss the tip of her nose and let my hands wander. Her breasts are firm and warm as I palm them. Her nipples stand at attention. My cock is painfully erect under her head. I try to shift my hips but the spell on sleeping beauty is broken. “Liam Lockwood,” she says sleepily. “Are you breaking your vow to behave while I’m unconscious?” I laugh and remove my hand from her breast. “Never. That would be creepy. There was a bug.” Her eyes widen. “In that case, thank you for protecting me.” This fucking woman is madness. “I love looking at you. Taking you in. All of you. All your expressions, your curves.” Her cheeks tinge pink and I grin. “I need to get us home. It’s getting late and it will be a buggy ride.” “Thank God I have you to save me from the bugs.” She arches a brow. I help her sit up. We do not speak while we suit up and head out to the bike. I help her with her chinstrap before securing mine. I cue up the playlist I made for her, not that she knows that, but I did. Every song is there to make her feel something. To seep into her subconscious and make her think of me. Want me. We climb on the bike. I start the engine and wait for her arms to encircle me before racing up the long drive through the copse of trees.



Nora Aubry’s birthday party is an event. When she said she was throwing a party, I assumed it would be a small friends-and-family type gathering in the backyard. I assumed wrong. There are lights strung up, zig-zagging across Angela’s yard, making everything twinkle and look magical in the dusk. I am barely over Liam’s glass house visit. It flits to the forefront of my mind many times throughout the days afterward. Aubry laughed at me, wholeheartedly, when I told her about the foot job. She said the man must have magical hands and I’m prone to agree with her on that. I find myself thinking of him often. Always with a small bit of trepidation. Part of me is perpetually waiting for the other shoe to drop. Things cannot be this … normal. There is always something lurking in the shadows. There are four long tables, capable of seating six people each, arranged in and around Angela’s gardens, with ivory tablecloths on them. They have just a little tinsel weaved into the fabric, making them shimmer occasionally. It is mesmerizing to look at. Peonies, bright, broad and prominent are in short square glass vases down the center of each table. It looks more like a wedding reception than a birthday party. “What can I do to help?” I ask, as Angela brushes past me carrying a large tray of food. “Tell my darling dimpled daughter that birthdays are not national holidays,” Angela says. “I’m not good at telling Aubry anything. She dictates, I am simply along for the ride.” “Aren’t we all,” Angela says with a light laugh. “If you set the tables, I’d be forever grateful. Aubry should be here soon and I don’t want her to have to worry about running around getting things set up for her own party.” “You spoil her. That’s why she expects all this,” I say. “You’re probably right.” There is a knock at the front door as I stack plates to bring outside. I leave the plates and pull open the heavy wooden door. “Hey! Just in time to help out,” I say to Eve and Lotte. Eve laughs and Charlotte’s face drops slightly. I bump her with my shoulder. “Oh, come on, it’s not that bad.”

“I know, but Eve made me clean my room, which practically took all freakin’ day.” “You had life forms living under your bed. It was necessary to our survival.” I laugh and usher them through the house, and into the kitchen. I load us all up with a stack of plates to put on the tables out back. “Is Liam coming tonight?” Lotte asks, rounding a table and placing plates. “He is.” “If I don’t like him, I’m going to tell you,” Eve says. “I wouldn’t expect anything less. But you know, give him a chance, you’re typically kind of hard on men.” “I am not.” She plants her hands on her hips. “Are, too,” Lotte says. “Remember that guy who hit on you in the grocery store. If words or dirty looks could kill, that guy would have been decapitated. Oh! And remember that waiter from the Clam Shack?” “Oh, that was hilarious,” I giggle. “Poor guy.” Eve sighs and rolls her eyes at us. “I’m not hard on them, I’m just not interested.” “Oh, good, so you should be a joy with Liam, since you know, he’s not interested in you.” “Charlotte, sometimes you make me crazy,” Eve grits out. Lotte and I dissolve into a fit of laughter. “What’s so funny?” Aubry asks from the patio doors. “Happy Birthday!” Rings out in unison from me, Lotte and Eve. Aubry grins and heads our way, arms outstretched for hugs. She looks dazzling in the evening light. Dewy and youthful. Liam arrives with his friend Mike at his side forty minutes after the time I told him to arrive. Fashionably on time, he says, as he hands me a wine shaped gift bag. Mike leans in and kisses my cheek in greeting. An odd thing. I am surprised that Liam brought Mike. “I hope it’s okay that Mike came with,” he says, as I set the gift on the table with the others. “I am sure it’s fine. Aubry has so many people here, she won’t even notice.” Lotte appears at my side just as Liam leans in to properly say hello with a kiss. She clears her throat before Liam’s lips can connect with mine. Crestfallen. I give him a pleading look but he only grins at me. “Hello, you must be Charlotte,” he says and reaches for Lotte’s hand. She takes him in from toe to crown before taking his hand and shaking it. “I am. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.” “What are your intentions with Nora?” Mike makes a choking sound that mimics my own but Liam remains cool and unfazed. “I intend to attempt to make her happy.” Lotte’s eyes narrow a bit as she considers his response. She tilts her head left and swallows hard as they relentlessly hold each other’s gaze. I sense that something is bothering her. Her breathing has changed and I can see a pink tinge crawling up her neck. Liam looks to me as I wrap an arm around her. He steps backward instinctually, giving us room. I turn Lotte and me slightly for more privacy. She turns into my chest and wraps gangly teen arms around me. “What’s wrong?” I ask. “I don’t know. Those eyes. They’re so …” “Like his. I know,” I say. “It just … it made me … how do you stand it?” she asks. “It was never Holden’s eyes that hurt me, Lotte.” I squeeze her to me. She pulls back after a moment. “Well, this is really embarrassing,” she says loudly enough for Mike and Liam to hear. She faces Liam, “Nora deserves happiness. So you’d better make those intentions a reality.” “I will do my best,” Liam says. Lotte bites her bottom lip, shoots me a quick glance and heads back out toward the crowd of party goers. “She is really something.” Liam grins at me, while I sidle back up to him. “She is. I owe her my sanity.” Liam cranes his neck and kisses me until I feel dizzy and breathless. He pulls away just before I can lose myself in the moment. “Then I suppose that means I owe her, too,” he says. “So, where’s the bar?” Mike asks. “Not to interrupt, but watching you two is making me gag. Just a little.” He holds up his thumb and forefinger to accentuate his point. I laugh when Liam jabs him in the arm. “Let me introduce you to the birthday girl, Aubry, and to Eve. Then you can get your drink on,” I say. *** Liam

Aubry’s party is in full swing. Lights twinkle, food is everywhere and there are drinks aplenty. The music has started and people are beginning to dance their inhibitions away for the evening. Aubry and Nora are a strange pair. I’ve never seen two more unlikely personalities be best friends, but I like her. She clearly forces Nora to chill out and go with the flow. Eve is another story. She skewered me with a glare when introduced. It faded quickly with a nudge from Nora, but there is obvious tension. Can she tell I am related to Holden? Is she that protective over Nora that she will dislike anyone she dates? If I am to gain all of Nora, I have to gain the approval of her small and tight posse. Eve will be a challenge. I watch Mike with Aubry. She glows in the fading daylight. She smiles at me and lifts her champagne glass just slightly. She knows I am watching her. He leans in near her ear to whisper something that makes her throw her head back and laugh. My stomach clenches. If there was ever a woman to avoid, it is all of the women here. He should not be pursuing anyone close to Nora. I raise my hand back at her and smile. Mike turns and grins wolfishly at me. I shake my head at him. It does not deter him though. Nora yawns from her spot on the swing hanging from an old tree in the yard. We are surrounded by string lights and flower beds, slightly removed from the chaos of the party. “Are you tired?” I ask. “A little. Parties, as you know, aren’t really my thing.” “You’re a good best friend.” “She is a good best friend,” she deflects. I grab the strings of the swing and pull her back, to my front. “Say the word and I will bring you home,” I whisper into the shell of her ear. I let go and she laughs with delight as she soars through the air. She looks at me over her shoulder as she swings near, then further away again. She doesn’t pump her legs and the swing gradually slows again. “I have to help Angela clean up. I can’t leave. That would be rude,” she says over her shoulder to me. “Let other people help. You were here early,” I say. “Clearly you don’t know women. That’s not how we function.” “Then I’ll stay and help, too.” I give her another push up into the air. “Don’t be silly,” she laughs. “I’m sure Mike would hate that,” she says, as she nears me again. I grab the swing, holding her close. “Mike is fine. He seems to be enjoying Aubry.” “Yes, I noticed that. Is he worthy of her?” she asks.

“Definitely not but that won’t stop him from trying,” I grumble. “Aubry always has had a penchant for bad boys or men incapable of settling down.” “They’re a match made in heaven then. I will tell him she’s off limits, if you think it would be bad for them to hang out,” I say and release the swing. Nora drags her feet back and forth across the grass until the swing stops. She tilts her head backward and looks at me. “Not tonight. A one night stand won’t hurt either of them. It’s her birthday. Let her have whatever she wants,” she says. I mock bow. “As you wish.” “I love that movie.” “What movie?” I ask. “The Princess Bride. As you wish.” I shrug and she laughs at me. “Doesn’t sound like a movie I’d watch, sorry.” She shakes her head at me. “It’s funny. You’d probably enjoy it.” “Watch it with me sometime?” I ask. She stands and rounds the swing. Pushing up on her tiptoes, she kisses me. She smells like sangria and fresh cut grass. I wrap my arms around her. “Deal,” she says. I take her hand and walk us back into the mix of the party. “Who does Angela’s landscaping?” I ask, looking around. Nora looks at me with a furrowed brow and wrinkled nose, as if I’ve asked a preposterous question. “Angela.” “Really?” I ask. “Yes. Why?” “I’d love some better landscaping at the cottage. Speaking of, how productive were you this week?” I ask. “Hire Angela, she’d love that. Oh! It was glorious. I wrote almost ten thousand words there. That breeze. The brine of the ocean. The waves crashing. Totally motivating and inspiring.” I kiss her forehead. “I’m glad. You can use it whenever. I tucked a spare key in the light fixture next to the front door.” “Really?” she asks, wide eyed. “Yes.” We walk to where Angela is watching the festivities. Nora sits down beside her and I begin to inquire about her gardening services, when I am tapped on the back. “Do you dance?” Charlotte asks. Her smiles is broad and her eyes clear.

“If needed,” I answer. “My song’s up next. I need someone to dance to it with me,” she says. “What song?” Nora asks. “Your Mama Don’t Dance,” she calls out. Nora and Angela cackle with laughter. I am nothing but confused. “Um, I don’t know that one, but sure?” I answer. Lotte takes me by the hand just as the current song dies down and a new one starts. It is … not at all what I expected. It is old. Something Mike’s parents would have listened to. “Come on,” she urges. She takes my hands and pulls in, followed by pushing us apart. The next round I twirl her and channel my boarding school required dance lessons. Swing specifically. It doesn’t take my body long to begin leading. Charlotte squeals as I whip her around the yard. Mike yells something over the music, and from the corner of my eye, I can see him dragging Aubry to the makeshift dance floor. People are clapping and dancing around us. Charlotte laughs and allows me to be in control. She’s a decent dance partner, for a teenager, then again, she must be an old soul to have requested this song. I am tapped on the shoulder. Charlotte and I stop and Nora asks if she can cut in. “Sorry, buddy, it’s kinda our jam,” she says. I bow out and step away. Nora and Lotte have an entire routine together. They move each other around the dance area and sing along. Eve appears on my left. “They are my world. Do not fuck with my world and we will be good,” she says in between claps to the beat. “I have no intentions of fucking up your world,” I answer. “Good.” She slaps my back and disappears into the dance mix as a new song comes on. I can’t help the chuckle that slips out. Nora fucking Robertson has a goddamned security team. Who would have guessed? It is late. After midnight. Music still blares but Nora and I are in the Clarks’ living room. I have her hand in mine, massaging it. “You’re not going to do that thing again, right?” she asks. I laugh and shake my head. “Good, cause this actually feels good. Where did you learn to dance like that tonight? I think Lotte is star struck.” “Boarding school. Mike, too,” I say. “Sounds like you two have been friends as long as Aubry and me.” She yawns and rests her head on the couch cushion. “Tired?” “Wicked,” she answers. I drop her hand and slip off the couch to my knees. The bottom shelf of the coffee table is lined with books. When I find one about dragon tattoos, I slide back on the couch

and motion for Nora to rest her head on my lap. She gives a curious look but does what she’s asked like an obedient pet. I crack open the book and read to her until she falls asleep. Her lips part slightly when she’s really out. They swell with sleep, looking more plump than normal. This fiery redhead has weaseled her way into my life in a way I don’t know how to feel about. Like a boxer, she knows where and when to strike to evoke fondness. For now, I just listen to her slow breaths and take in her delicate features as the party rages on in the back yard.



Nora I wake up Sunday morning with a crick in my neck and Aubry hovering over me. Us. Us! I jolt upright. Aubry puts a finger to her lips to shush me before I say anything. Liam is sound asleep, head lolled backward, mouth agape. Soft snores wheeze in and out. I creep up with the help of Aubry pulling. She ushers me into the kitchen, hands me a large mug of coffee, fixed perfectly and heads to the patio. “He is fucking dreamy, Nora. And don’t tell me differently. Charlotte went inside to use the bathroom last night and came out gushing about how he was reading out loud to you.” I sigh and sip my coffee. He is dreamy. And messed up. But that part can be a secret that we carry, just he and I. Maybe. People say time heals all wounds but I do not agree. Every wound leaves a scar and I am covered in them. They remind us where we have been and in theory, should teach us where to go. Lately, I have felt so monumentally far away from the cabin. From Holden. My scars remind me that the past is real. For the first time since coming home, those scars don’t define me. I do not cling to them the way I once did. “I really like him. I feel, bolder lately. I think I want to try you know, the whole sex thing again.” “Oh, my God! You were serious? I totally thought that was like a week. You’re still not physical? That poor man.” “Aubry, lower your voice. I was serious, so no, there has been no sex.” “But the orgasm?” she asks. “It was a foot rub only. I told you.” “This is a big deal. I feel like now you have to make a show out of giving it up to him, since it’s your choice and all and he’s just waiting on you.” “Leave me alone, will you? I don’t have enough coffee in me yet. What about you? Did you love your party?” I ask, changing the subject. “Yes!” she says, too loudly. “And I loved Mike. He is like honey on a stick, that one.”

“I don’t even know what that means. Is he still here?” “Gross Nora, at my mom’s house? I’m not that messed up. We did mess around for a while after everyone left. Since Liam was out cold, he had to call an Uber, but we made plans for tonight. Did you know he is a pilot? He owns his own plane. He’s taking me for a sunset flight over the coast and then I will properly thank him for it after we land.” She waggles her brows. I stare wide eyed at Aubry because it still amazes me how much information she can get out of people in such a short amount of time. How brazen and brash she is. Sometimes I wish I could live a slightly less inhibited life like her. When Liam appears in the patio doors rubbing sleep from his eyes, hair a mess of unruliness, I am utterly speechless. I feel him in my loins. I have never quite felt this level of attraction before. He yawns and Aubry laughs. “Coffee?” she asks. He nods and I hop up from my seat to fix a mug for him. “I’m sorry for falling asleep on you,” I say, as I pour his coffee. His arms snake around my waist, his chin sets up shop on my shoulder. “I’m not,” he says quietly. *** Monday I cannot stop thinking about Liam, which is a problem because each time he pops into my head, I get turned on. After pacing my morning away and half-assing through a lunchtime yoga class, it is during my shower at the yoga studio that I make up my mind. I am going to surprise Liam at work. I will be bold and brazen and waltz into his office, shut the door behind me and give him his fantasy. I will hurt him and please him. It takes me half an hour of walking to get to his building from the yoga studio. I stop outside the front doors of the building and stare upward. The glass building is sexy in its architecture and ominous in its size. I wring my hands together the entire elevator ride up. When the doors open, I cautiously step out. I don’t know what I am concerned about, only that my gut is in knots. My heart sounds like it’s coming from outside of me, like it’s a pair of high heels on wooden floorboards. I wander down the hall until I see a vacant desk. It must be Mara’s. I round it and stop short. I lean against the door frame, eyes closed, trying to regulate my breath and settle my pulse. Who the fuck is on the corner of his desk with legs spread wide to him. I can only make out his hair from this angle, as the mystery woman’s back is blocking my view. No. Drapetomania strikes. I cannot do this. I do not want to feel this. My heart throbs in my chest. Monachopsis. Zemblanity. I cannot come up with a third word. He spots me when I am turning away to make a speedy exit. “Come on, Liam, please,” the woman whines. It is a needy plea.

“Nora! No. Wait.” I hear the female protesting but it does not slow Liam down. “God fucking, dammit! Wait, Nora. Let me explain,” He urges. I stop and spin around, fantods. Furious at myself for believing that this was something between us. For allowing my heart to be used again. For being so gullible. “What could you possibly say to make me stay?” I bark out as I take a step backward. He grabs my shoulders and shakes me. “Do not leave! I’ll explain,” he commands. I am tempted to stomp on his foot and take the stairs three at a time to get away from him. But I don’t. He makes me weak. He is duende and minatory. I bite the inside of my cheek in deliberation. Maybe it is not what I thought. An imbroglio. I stand rigid, unsure what to do next. He steers me to his office bathroom. “I will be right back.” The floor shakes as Liam storms out of the room, I hear muffled footsteps and the woman’s voice. It is destitute sounding but I cannot make out what is being said. Fury builds in me. I will not wait. I will not be used. My hands clench into fists and I am one step forward in storming out, when the bathroom door swings open. Liam towers before me. Abience hits me but I stand my ground. “You’re a slubberdegullion! You should be punished. My heart is fragile, I can admit that. But just now, the emotions that bubbled up when I saw her, you, I … I want you to hurt the way I do.” Liam steps closer and appraises me. “That is the sexiest, fucking thing I’ve ever heard.” He hesitates, as though summoning nerve from inside himself. “I think of you every hour of every day. I don’t want Candy. I want you.” I lash out and slap him. His head whips left before righting itself. His fingers immediately touch the spot that is already turning red. He steps forward again. “Yes, Nora. Punish me.” I am so furious, that my words tumble from my mouth. “That’s why I came. But you’ve ruined my surprise. I was going to … I wanted the fantasy for you. I …” A tear slips down my cheek. Liam’s demeanor changes. His expression shifts, softer. “Let me explain. Come here.” He pulls at my arm but I yank it away, still angry. He drags his hand down his face and walks to his office. I stomp behind him. “I thought you were echt, but you’re nothing but a liar and a cheat.” He sits on what appears to be a very expensive leather couch. “Candy works for The Black. The gentlemen’s club I told you about. She works there because of me.” He pushes a hand through his hair and sighs. I stand in the doorway, uncertain if I want to listen or not. “I met her one summer during spring break and became infatuated with her. I was constantly high and drunk, Nora, not quite right in the head. Anyway, she made it very clear she was not interested in me. I didn’t like that, so I followed her.”

“Stalked her?” I ask. My body begins to relax. “Yes. And I harassed her. And eventually, I cornered her and told her if she wouldn’t fuck me, she wouldn’t fuck anyone. She liked that. And it turned her on. We had a fling for a while. But I grew bored and she grew too attached. I told her what I liked and she tried to give it to me but I wasn’t interested anymore. She flipped out. Said she’d go tell the world what disgusting things I was into. She lost her mind over me. She even went to a reporter. As you can imagine, my father didn’t like that much. It looks bad. Reporters draw attention. Slander. She ran her mouth. Stalked me. Crashed high profile events. Our family reputation was at stake. Cost my father a pretty penny in legal fees. So, he went to her father to have a chat.” “And?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest. “I don’t really know all the details. She came from an affluent family. After my father’s visit, she showed up here, begging me to take her back in tears. That her parents disowned her. Cut her off. She had nothing. No one. They stopped paying for college. I brushed her off because she wasn’t my problem. I was young and stupid. Next thing I know, she went to my father. After that, it was too late. My father owned her. She’s worked at The Black ever since. Part of me thought for a while that it was to stay connected to me somehow, but now I don’t know.” “What is her job?” I ask. “To please men,” he says and looks away from me. “She’s a sex slave?” “Not exactly. She doesn’t have to sleep with them. Just please them. It is her choice to put out and she’s compensated.” My heart beats erratically in my chest. “She is the one who beats you?” “She did. Not anymore,” he says. Jealousy seizes me. She gives Liam pleasure that I have not been able to yet. “Why was she here?” I demand. “To her, I’m the reason she’s in this mess. She was trying to persuade me to get my father to let her go.” Liam stands and approaches. “I think I might be sick,” I say and swallow down the lump in my throat. Liam drops to his knees before me. “Please, Nora, this is my father’s doing. Not mine.” “But you aren’t helping her. You’re participating. You’re…” “Sick. Depraved?” he asks. “Yes.” “And you’ve never been mixed up in something sick or depraved before?” “That’s …” my voice fizzles out.

“Don’t say different. Because it is not different. I don’t hold the key to Candy’s existence. I treat her well. She has a penthouse apartment for fuck’s sake that my father pays for. She’s treated like a goddess. Ask her what she plans to do when she’s free.” “I don’t think I want to know,” I say. I pace around his office, riddled with uncertainty. “Were you really coming to give me my fantasy?” he asks. “I was. But now, I don’t know.” I wring my hands together. If he is telling the truth, I am the one in the wrong. I mistook the situation and ruined things. If he is lying, how will I know? “Do it. You’re angry and hurt, use that. Hurt me, Nora,” he says. I glare at him. “You really have no desire for her?” I ask. “None. Not since we started …” I’ve been holding back in fear that he might change his mind about me. It dawns on me that I can be in control now. I can do this. My confidence is bolstered by my thoughts and Liam’s remorseful expression. She was here just moments ago. As soon as he saw me, he booted her out like trash. That is an admirable sign, isn’t it? “Seeing each other is the phrase you’re looking for,” I say. He nods. I leave Liam and retrieve my forgotten yoga bag that I dropped in the bathroom. I rifle through it to find one of my tops with the string ties piped through it. I am not exactly sure what I am doing, only that if he wants pain, my dented pride wants to oblige. I yank the string from the shirt and march back into Liam’s office. He’s standing, facing the window, staring out. He turns and lifts his chin at me. I go to his desk and search the drawers until I find something I can use. A ruler. It will have to do. I’m flying blind. I know nothing about how to do this. I’ve read about it in books but execution is an entirely different game. “Take off your clothes,” I say. His eyebrows jump to his hairline but he begins undressing. He is methodical about it, folding each garment and placing them all in a pile on his desk chair. When he is naked, he gives me a ‘now what’ look. I walk around him trying to figure out what to do first. I take his hands and pull them behind his back and secure them at the wrists with the string from my shirt. I grab the ruler from the desktop and slap it across his ass. He yelps and jumps a bit. I come face to face with him. The sound of my palm on his cheek rings out loudly in the air around us. Liam groans. I lean forward and gently bite one nipple, followed by the other. Not hard enough to draw blood but enough to leave a mark. “You like this?” I tease, to his cock, which stands at attention near my belly button. A surge of confidence rushes through me. “I want to see you,” he says. I slap the ruler against his stomach and step backward. I

undress down to my bra and panties. I stalk around his naked body, slowly. Even with my back to him, I can feel him trembling—it ripples out at me, fluttering against the backs of my legs, and arms. My skin absorbs his anticipation. “Tell me what you like, Liam,” I whisper in his ear, on my tip toes, before I bite the lobe. “Hit me again.” I swat the backs of his knees with the ruler. “Again,” he moans. The crack of the ruler on his lower back is shocking. My stomach clenches and I position myself in front of him and drop to my knees. I take him in my mouth and suck as hard as possible while clawing at his ass. I know my nails will leave marks, bruises even, at the rate I am clutching. I am enjoying this. I nip at his lower abdominal muscles before dragging my teeth back down to his cock. I take him in my mouth for a moment before standing again. I bite his nipples, his neck, his ear lobes, I round his quaking body and drag my nails from shoulders to ass cheeks. I grab his tie from the pile on his chair and rope it around his neck. I untie his wrists. I press my body flush against his backside. “Make yourself come.” I pull the tie tight around his neck, while sinking my teeth into his shoulder. His hand moves at a furious pace up and down his shaft. It is intoxicating to witness. His jaw is clenched and beads of sweat take residence at his hairline. I am panting with exertion at how powerful I feel. The ribbon of come is long and his grunt of satisfaction exhilarating. I did this to him. I release my hold on the tie. It flits to the floor silently. He turns to face me. I am aroused. Heady with dominance. Without warning his hands are on me. He spins me, pushing me against the window. My bra is unclasped, my panties ripped from my hips. The turning of the tables; the power shift, is electrifying. His lips caress my neck and shoulders all the way down to the backs of my knees and up again before repeating the trail with licks and nips. It leaves me filipendulous. My cheek presses against the glass and fog forms each time I exhale. His hands slip under my breasts and squeeze. His cock hardens, brushes against my ass, the space between my legs. He pushes me against the floor to ceiling glass that looks out over the town. My breasts flatten out. My nipples ache against the chill. People could see. They could look up and see my naked form plastered against the window. It is exhilarating. Liam slides inside me and I am frantic for more. He pumps in and out, holding my hips, fingers digging into the flesh, bruising the skin. “Finger yourself,” he says. I do not hesitate. I reach a hand between my legs and gently swirl the pad of my finger over my nub. “Harder, Nora.” This time I do hesitate but he begins to pound in and out of me. So, I pinch my clit then circle it. I match his pace. It is furious and passionate. I am titillated, just looking down at the litany of people milling about the street unaware. We are in the throes of rapture. I love how he touches me, how breathless and eager he is. A chill surges through me with such power that I lunge forward, panting. A frisson. He pulls out and spins me so I face him. Liam takes my cheeks between his hands. “I can’t believe you fucking came here to give me my fantasy.”

Then he lifts me by my rear end. I toss my arms around his neck to steady myself as he slams my back against the glass. He adjusts us until he is again at my opening. His biceps bulge under my weight as he holds me. Slowly now, he pushes in and out. A form of torture I am not accustomed to. His hips swivel a little as he goes, his teeth nip at my collarbone and neck. It is a slow burn that builds between my legs. A deep seated itch inside me that I cannot grind hard enough on him to scratch. He takes me to the precipice in this languid style, until I am no longer in control of my own body. My eyes roll. The thud of the glass as my head hits it sends little reverberations down my back. A baritone groan. My groan, leaves my lips and stars begin to dance behind my eyelids. “Breathe, Nora,” he says against my neck. I am breathing, I think. Or maybe I am not. I open my mouth but all that happens is a silent scream of pure ecstasy. My body goes rigid, muscles tense and paralyzed momentarily. Tiny earthquakes ripple through me every few seconds as my orgasm passes. Liam slowly moves inside me still. Just little fidget movements until I blink a few times and his face comes into focus. He pulls out and sets me to my feet. “Water?” he asks. He grins and chuckles. “I’ve fucked you right, if you’re incapable of speaking.” All I can do is nod. *** Liam I grab my cock, ready to fuck her again. She’s bent over my desk. Legs spread wide. My fingers are wet with her juice, the perfect fucking lubricant for my dick. I slide inside her. Her pussy clamps onto me, muscles tightening around my shaft. My dick slips in and out of her wet folds. It finds its way inside her with so little labor, I could fucking die from satisfaction. Playing the good guy has finally paid off. She is my bitch now. Signed, sealed and delivered. I have Nora right where I’ve wanted her. I pull out and tug her hair until she stands. Pressing the backs of her knees with mine, she drops to the floor. I push her head so she is cheek to floor, as I slip in and out of her. Her ass bucks up a little, urging for more. So, I give it to her. I play with her pussy with one hand while thrusting hard and fast. I love the way my cock looks sliding in and out of her. Her hands are planted on the floor on either side of her head. Nails digging into the carpet. I flick her clit in rapid succession. A deep throaty groan escapes her. She goes wild like I’ve never witnessed before. She gasps for air. Writhing beneath me. I thrust harder, sending us both inches forward each time. Rug burn is inevitable. She cranes her neck to try and see me. I abandon her pussy and push her head to the floor again. Nora laughs. It sounds maniacal in the silence of my office. I pull out, flip her over and hover above her face.

“What is so funny?” She bites her bottom lip. Her nostrils flare with each breath she takes. “I’m not keen on repeating myself,” I say. Her big innocent eyes stare up at me. “Nothing is funny.” “You laughed,” I say. “Hysteria,” she says and shrugs. “Euphoria. Rapture.” She laughs again. “I’m sorry. I promise you I was enjoying myself immensely though.” This woman is like witchcraft. I don’t know whether to punish her or applaud her. She makes no sense and yet is completely rational. I dip down until my lips meet hers. “You baffle me,” I say. She looks up at me, eyes sparkling. *** We’re cramped on the couch together—spent. Nora is sleeping soundly in the crook of my arm. I lost feeling in it hours ago but I don’t mind. I’ve been craving her for months now and this is the most she’s ever let me into her life. It should feel like a blessing but right now it’s a curse. She raged. She came. I came. She gave me pure emotion. She made it clear I am more than a fling. I am not casual to her. Eventually, when the sun appears to sit on the horizon, I wake her. We clean up and dress before I load Nora on my motorcycle and take her home. My body is tender from our playtime and I can’t wait to get home and soak in the Jacuzzi but the air around me feels constipated. I’ve never had someone I couldn’t walk away from. Each goodbye leaves me anxious for the next hello. I’m still haunted by the memories of my mother. I’m held captive by the hole inside me. The thought of Holden lingers, haunting me. I shake off the past and remind myself to focus on the future. On the goal. In front of her house, I kill the engine. She hops off the bike and returns my helmet to me with a quick kiss. “Are you sure you have to be home tonight?” I ask. She blushes and mumbles something about Burt and Charlotte and school supply shopping. “Right. Tell Charlotte and Eve I say hello.” “What about Burt?” “Is he a wonder dog with human-like comprehension?” She laughs and shakes her head. “Then if you forget to pass along my greeting, I don’t think he’ll be crushed.” I watch her turn toward the front steps. Before I can start the bike again, she’s swinging around. “I know this sounds … whiny, but the whole Candy situation … it’s not something—” I cut her off. “Never think of her again. She is not part of my life.” She swallows thickly and nods. “And Nora, that wasn’t needy or whiny. Given what you walked in on,

it’s a valid concern to have.” It’s fun bolstering her. She’s a breath of fresh air with her earnest reactions and expressions. Almost child-like. I wait, bike running, until she is inside and has closed the door behind her. I wait until I see her head bob past the kitchen window, a smile plastered across her face. I lift the kickstand and take off. Tonight I bypass my house and keep riding until I arrive at the cottage. When I walk inside, the smell hits. It smells like Nora. It is then that I am struck with the most epic idea. I am going to make Nora’s fantasy come true. The cost be damned and it will cost plenty, considering it is all for sex. My phone vibrates in my jacket. I unzip the chest pocket and glance at the screen. Nora. I ignore the text. Her fantasy will be that much better if I have no contact with her between now and then. A grin sweeps over my face. This relationship is strangely fitting. Instead of analyzing my emotions, I grab a beer from the fridge and plant my ass in an Adirondack chair on the back porch overlooking the ocean. For the first time in the years since I’ve owned the cottage, I wish someone was sitting with me to enjoy the view. It’s an uncomfortable feeling for me. I don’t want to but I find myself wishing Nora was here.

Nora The store is relatively empty which pleases me. I’m not in the mood for people or crowds. “You’re a real joy, you know that?” Eve says, as I randomly toss items into the grocery cart. I shoot her a look. “I know, I know. Mr. Pretty Boy has disappeared on you. Not cool. But come on, it’s been four days, snap out of it for a few minutes.” “I wish it were that easy.” “You really liked him, didn’t you?” “Yeah,” I answer. Eve tosses an arm over my shoulders and we wobble in a hip to hip hug down the aisle. “Sorry. I know it sucks.” “Do you?” “What’s that supposed to mean?” she asks. “You haven’t had a relationship since I’ve known you,” I say. “I didn’t realize you’d been keeping track.” I cock my head at her. “I’m not trying to be mean. I’m just curious.” “Chill, Nora. Dr. R and I are all over it. I’m just, not ready yet.” I hold up a pint of ice cream, Cherry Garcia, and look to Eve. She shrugs noncommittally, so I toss it in the cart. My eyes well up at the sight of it sitting there next to a head of lettuce. “Fuck this!” I shout. I take the ice cream out of the cart and jam it back in the freezer. Eve’s eyebrows currently reside at her hairline when I turn back around. “No,” she says. “What?” I ask and sniff. “He ruined ice cream for you? Impossible.” “I don’t want to talk about it,” I say and push the cart forward. Eve chuckles at me from behind. “I mean, four days. He told me everything was great. I put myself out there

for him,” I look around and lower my voice, “I hit him with a ruler. I choked him. I feel like a complete idiot. I probably did it all wrong. He probably called that bitch Candy the second he pulled away from the house that night.” Eve slaps her hand over my mouth. “Stop this. As much as I wish I could hate him, he hasn’t given an indication that you did anything wrong. Maybe something came up with his family, maybe he’s been really busy or his phone broke? Has he emailed to say ‘get lost’ to you?” I pout. “No.” “Give him like … twenty four more hours before you decide to hate him,” she says. I cringe. Another day of waiting is torture and for what? My mind spins when I am struck with another thought. Eve has refused to jump on the I-hate-Liam-bandwagon, which is suspect. “Why?” I ask. Eve shrugs. “Oh, grab those highlighters on the end cap—Lotte needs them.” The pack gets tossed in the cart. “Something’s up.” Eve remains quiet but rolls her eyes at me. “Ah ha! Something is up. What is going on?” Eve frowns but finally breaks. “He’s planning a surprise. I refuse to give up any further information. You’ve already ruined the fact that there is a surprise coming.” I beam with delight and abandon the cart to squeeze Eve. “God, you suck. Lotte and I were about to move out, if he took any longer.” I laugh at her melodrama and take control of the cart again. It is already dark when we arrive home. Eve loads her arms, wrist to elbow, with bags and marches into the house. She detests making more than one trip to unload. I take a lighter approach, so I can stop and collect the mail. I push through the front door, drop the mail on the table and slide the plastic bags from my wrist and forearm onto the counter. “Lotte, come help unload,” Eve hollers into the empty downstairs. There is a faint thud as her feet hit the floor. I shuffle through the mail; bills, junk mail, a personal letter. Addressed to me. I slide my finger under the corner and down the side. Lotte rounds the corner and bumps me. “Hi,” she says. “Hey.” I pull the card from the envelope. Something drops to the kitchen floor with a metallic clink. I bend to retrieve it. It is a key on a satin ribbon. I open the card. The inside reads; 9 Bell Street Friday, 7 p.m. You are to stay there for the night. Do not leave. I look up, perplexed. Eve is watching me, a slight grin on her face. “What is it for?” She shrugs. “I didn’t get details, just that a surprise has been planned, and to keep you from losing your mind in the meantime,” she says.

*** With bated breath, I pull up to the address listed on the card. It is a newly renovated townhouse in a part of town that is supposedly up and coming. But the row of townhomes are mostly under construction still and the street is ghost-like. I am anxious. My hands tremble slightly as I exit the car. I shove my hand into the outermost pocket of my purse to find the key, as I take the first porch step. “Cherry,” a deep voice calls out. I spin around toward it. He looks like some frat boy Casanova. His polo shirt collar popped. His hair a sexy mess. My phone vibrates in my purse. Not now Aubry, I think. Liam stops just inches from my body. He’s domineering. Taller than me, even though I’m standing two steps up from him. “Surprise,” he answers as his arm darts out toward me. I flinch but he only tucks a tendril of hair behind my ear. I am bemused by the entire scenario. One large hand clamps over mine. My breath leaves me in a strong gust. He drapes an arm over my shoulders, tucking me against his side. My heart rate explodes as he squeezes possessively. I look to him and open my mouth but his expression causes me to swallow the words I want to say and stare at the ground like a dog, dominated by its alpha. He slips the key into the lock with ease and turns it. I slink inside submissively. He follows, shutting and locking the door behind him. I hate the sound of that lock clicking. I cannot place why though. My feet pulse in my stylish but tight heels that Lotte insisted I wear. I shift my weight to relieve the tension a bit. He’s so handsome. I hate handsome, I realize. It distracts. Good looks hide questionable intentions. I am not sure what his game is. I am uncertain what to do. I feel awkward after not speaking to him in days. Like we’re strangers. His palms cup my face. His thumbs stroke my cheeks softly. I put my palms on his forearms and add a little pressure. His jaw twitches but he doesn’t remove his hands from my face. Instead, he leans forward, resting his forehead against mine. “I hope you like your surprise,” he says. It strikes me that he is giving me something. He wants me to share an intimacy with him. I close my eyes. Can I let go with him? Can I hand him my queerness? My insecurities? I let raw emotion take over. Anger fills me. Anger I rarely let myself indulge in at the tenderness, the intimacy of his action. I let all the rage and love for Holden, for the mountain, for my time at the cabin swell inside me. His head tilts, grazing the corner of my mouth with his. A half-kiss. His mouth trails to my ear. “Haven’t you missed me?” he whispers. I tug against his fingers but they hold me in an iron-clad vise. He pulls back to inspect me. The icy chill in his eyes cools the sweat on my neck and causes goose bumps on my forearms. “Cherry,” he snaps. “Answer me.” I can’t believe he is doing this. For me. He runs a shaking hand through his hair, an enormous knot twisting in my gut makes it hard to breathe. How will he do it? When? I let the emotions I keep locked deep in my

belly loose. He slouches toward me like a big cat homing in on its prey. His right hand moves to my face, his fingers curl into the hair at the base of my neck. I want to move, to run away but I’m frozen like a possum, hoping the predator will pass me by. My scalp smarts at his grip, but I refused to rub my head. His nostrils flare. He is enjoying this, I think. “I thought you’d be begging me to take you, hard and fast.” he spits out. He’s leading, as I wanted him to. As I told him I desired. His hands on me, make me feel strong but the feeling is all wrong—just like I crave. I hold onto the fire he’s spitting, as if it were rain. I am nothing without this pretend. Without the pain and struggle. I know my truths. His face gets hard and I can tell he’s grinding his teeth. I bite my lip and shrug my petite shoulders in indifference. Liam is the kind of man who loathes indifference. Click. Click. Click. I blink my eyes. Is it Holden or Liam I am thinking of? Yanking the handful of my hair, he tugs me closer to his face. His fingers wrap tighter, burning my scalp. Bring it, I think. My breath comes in shallow pants. I let my words loose. “Things change.” “No, Nora. Things don’t change.” Unwinding his fingers from my hair, he trails them down my neck, along my clavicle, and down my arm. “But I’m not a monster.” His salacious smirk makes me think otherwise. I pull myself up to full height. “Get out,” I say. It is hard for me to fully give in to this scenario. To keep a straight face but if Liam is trying and succeeding, I can, too. “Make me.” I walk to him and give him a hard shove on the chest. “Get out, Liam.” I sidestep him and unlock the door. I notice it is the kind of door that can only be locked or unlocked with a key. He pulls the key from the lock and sets it on the side table. He reaches for the doorknob, pauses then twists, pulling the door open. My chest rises and falls noticeably, waiting for him to step through the threshold and shut the door behind him. Will he leave? Was this just a taste? I cannot control my heart. It thunders inside its cage of bone. He steps outside. The door clicks shut behind him. I frown but recall the note. I am to stay here for the night. I am not to leave. There must be more. I head upstairs to explore. I take the stairs too fast, reaching the top step but thinking there is another, I stamp down on the landing clumsily and lose my balance. My knee locks and then all I can think is—I must look like a baby gazelle learning to walk. How ungainly is that? It is weird to think about your own life from outside yourself. It’s like having a front-row seat to your own demise. I’m overcome with exhaustion. The lead up to this night has tired me. I grab onto the handrail, catching myself. Tonight I am not in control. It makes me dizzy with anticipation. He has managed to tap into my insecurities. Is that why he did not contact me for days? To create this scene for my fantasy? My lungs drag in the scent of his cologne. Words desert me. His hands wrap around my waist like a noose. I squeak in surprise. His grip is tight and his fingernails dig white

crescents into the sensitive skin at my waist. He pulls me toward him, till his chest touches my back. “You know what, Cherry, I think I want to stay. I think I deserve it. I think you want me to,” he whispers. How did I miss the sound of the door opening? “This is how you want it, Liam?” I ask, lifting up my chin. He growls under his breath, grabbing my elbow and holding firm as he spins me to face him. I play the victim well. *** Liam I bite her bottom lip until I taste blood. She is flush against me and trembling. I step back and grab her upper arm and pull her into the bathroom. I start the water in the shower. It is muggy and humid today and a shower will feel good. She will feel clean. For a little while anyway. “Cherry,” I sigh, watching her. She crosses her arms over her chest. The vein in her neck pounds fast. She’s covering something up, something she doesn’t want me to know. I want to ask but I don’t. Have I taken this too far? No. This is how she wanted it. It’s what she deserves. She looks at me with big, round, needy eyes, making me feel guilty and angry in the same instant, without knowing which emotion precedes the other. It’s the anger I can’t hold back, though. This has to work. I want to break her. To show her that Holden was nothing. A speck in her history. The man she will long for will be me, in the end. I lean toward her and lift the hem of her shirt and lift. She doesn’t protest. I unbutton her pants and let them slide to the floor around her ankles. Her shoulders slump with exhaustion. As she steps into the shower, I pull at her bra strap but she yanks her shoulder away, indicating that she isn’t going to remove her underwear. She is good at this. It’s exhilarating. “Stop calling me that, Liam.” Her voice is flat. Defeated. I need her fight. She craves it. I watch water cascade down her body. Defeated is pointless. Something she can be any day. I turn the water off when I’m tired of waiting for her. Defeated is boring. “Why?” I ask as she steps from the shower and grabs a towel. Mmm, that body. “Come on, Cherry, tell me,” I taunt. She wipes the fog from the mirror with her small hand before inspecting herself—or rather the marks I’ve left on her. Her eyes slide to mine in the mirror. She licks the wound on her lip. My cock gets hard. She is waiting for it. The finale. But I want to drag it out. Make her question that it is even going to happen. “I’m tired,” she says. “By all means, Cherry, let’s go to bed then.” “You can’t stay here,” she says, but her voice lacks conviction. “You aren’t strong enough to force me out.” I wink at her and she clenches her teeth. She swallows hard. I know she is not comfortable sleeping away from home. That was part of the plan though. I hold out an arm toward the bedroom. She stomps past me

without touching. I follow her and watch. She throws open the closet door, frantically searching, then moves to the armoire against the wall. She turns to me with her arms full. Nora dumps a comforter on the floor at my feet. “You sleep there then,” she says while snatching a pillow from the bed and tossing it at me. I almost laugh. She is great at this. Better than I imagined. *** Beside Nora, the clock shows four a.m. I have no idea what I’m doing out of bed: It’s as if, standing there in the darkness, I’m unencumbered. I don’t feel tired, despite the hour, nor is my conscience troubled by any recent incident. In fact, I’m alert and inexplicably elated. This bedroom is large and uncluttered. My footsteps are muffled by the carpet as I cross the room. The pile still plush enough to hold the Ms and Vs that Marie left as strokes of the vacuum cleaners wand. I’d rented the place for the weekend and had Marie come clean it top to bottom. I stop at the window, pulling back the curtains. I lean forward, press my weight onto my palms against the sill, thrilled in the emptiness and clarity of the night. I was not prepared for what she had to offer. I wasn’t prepared to feel something for her. Something real and tangible. I have never had a women meet all my needs. I’ve never had a women keep me on my toes, keep my mind sharp with her own needs from me. Nora is a beast I couldn’t have anticipated. Her fantasies, her desires are just depraved enough for me to want to fulfill them. And mine either put women off or break them. But not Nora. She thrives on pleasing me, no matter what that entails. I feel like a buoy without a line. I lie back down on the floor spread eagle and stare at the ceiling until I cannot keep my eyes open any longer. *** My bones protest as I sit up. God, I ache. My stomach flips with dread. The bed is empty. I panic. She better not have left. If she left, things will get out of hand quickly. I head for the en suite bathroom, since the bedroom door is still shut. I definitely would have felt her bump me with the door if she tried to leave that route. I twist the knob and pull as it begins to push. “What the hell!” I bark as we collide. I grab her arm to keep us both steady. “I thought you left.” She wrinkles her nose at me. “I’m not allowed to use the bathroom?” she asks, sarcasm dripping in her tone. I roll my eyes at her and give her arm a squeeze in frustration. With a disingenuous smile, I set my lethal green eyes on her. She stops dead in her tracks. The prey knowing the hunter has caught them. Her nostrils flare and her breath

halts. I stomp to her and take her neck in my hand, pinning her against the wall. Reflexively, her fingers come up and wrap around my forearm. Yes. Her eyes fix on mine, fierce and unblinking. But she doesn’t resist. I push a little harder at her throat. Her eyes narrow. Her pulse pushes spastically against my fingers. She wrenches herself away, almost violently. And without a word turns and flees downstairs. Before following her, I use the bathroom and finger comb my hair. When I enter the kitchen, she steals a look at me over her shoulder before resuming her furious whisking. Ingredients are haphazardly strewn on the counter. She’s rushing. She’s beautiful when she’s mad. Skin flushed. Movements frantic. I can smell fear and anger rolling off her. I slap her ass. She squeaks in surprise. I sit at the table. Lean back in my chair. Watch her. The way she moves carefully about the kitchen. As if she’s afraid to make too much noise. As if she’s walking on eggshells. Waiting for my wrath. It gives me a thrill I didn’t expect. The muscles in her shoulders flex as she whisks the eggs. I like the way they move. The way they fight against her arms. Her skin is not flawless. It is a mess of small raised scars. It is silky though. Enticing. And it’s mine. She pours the mixture into the pan and stands waiting with a spatula—ready to flip. “Coffee?” she asks, without looking at me. “Yup.” She nods left to the machine on the counter. “You know where,” she says. I fix myself a mug and grab hers to top it off. I wonder if she tries to derive all the different scenarios beforehand, so that she has some reaction for each one. I wonder if the not knowing thrills her as much as the act itself? She eyes the kitchen door as I drink my coffee. Will she try to run? I excuse myself for a moment and step out of sight. In the hallway, I listen. I can hear the knob turn and the frustrated breath she blows out when she discovers it is locked. I head upstairs and change my clothes. When I get back to the kitchen, Nora is sitting staring out the kitchen door window. “Why don’t you get dressed?” I say. “Are we going somewhere?” she asks. “Get dressed.”

Nora Is it a sin that I want Liam so badly? Even though, truthfully, I’m a little frightened of him at present? I pull the skirt and shirt from the wardrobe. They are not something I would normally choose but I guess that is the point. When I descend the stairs, he’s sitting in his chair with his legs wide, waiting. He looks beautiful and harsh, exactly what he is. Is it time? The uncertainty of the situation thrills me. “That skirt is far too short.” He stands and strides to me, coming so close, that I have no choice but to back against the wall behind me. His hand moves possessively between my legs. I push at his hand but he uses his free one to slap away my feeble protest. Dipping a finger inside my panties, he rubs it from my clit down to my opening and back up. Sliding his fingers out, he brings them to his mouth and licks them slowly as I watch, my lashes heavy as I blink up at him, disgusted yet fascinated. “I changed my mind. I won’t share you with the world today.” He spread his fingers over the thin material covering my breasts, his thumbs stroking my nipples gently. Despite myself, I shiver with pleasure. “You think you’re so perfect, you wouldn’t scream my name, Nora? Do you think you’d be able to say no, if I dragged you to the bedroom?” I stare at him, silent. Weary. “Answer me.” I still get wet when I’m in these situations, it’s almost embarrassing. My body betrays me. It’s been conditioned to perform. To like it. To crave it. Want it. Maybe it’s because I get to be someone else for a little while. Maybe it’s because I’m not supposed to want this. Normal women don’t. The allure of participating in something that could go wrong, something that could hurt. I don’t know. I shake my head. Liam grins. My body feels exactly what I crave. Fear. Adrenaline, desire. He lifts my chin with his index finger. I breathe through my nose. His lips connect with mine. He doesn’t stop kissing me until I give in. Until I melt and merge and become part of him. For a moment, I feel settled but he pulls away and wipes his mouth. I look around, uncertain of what is coming. Liam watches, a curious look in his eye. “Cards?” he asks. I shrug and sit cross-legged on the floor behind the coffee table. I am vibrating, radiating anxiety. There is no clock ticking, saying our time is nearing its end. There are no rules to this fantasy and that is what makes it dangerous.

“Is this the kind of scintillating conversation we’re going to have now?” I look to Liam and sigh. “I’d love to play.” “Better work on that enthusiasm,” he answers. *** Liam I feel a chill starting deep in my gut. I had the same feeling the day Dad took me from the mountain. I felt it when I learned we were never going back. It’s almost time. She is confused and uncertain and as far as I can tell, I’ve flipped her sense of reality upside down. Now, is the time to strike. We’ve been playing gin rummy because it was the only card game I could remember the rules to. Her body is rigid. She’s nervous and uncertain and I know that now is the time to strike. I set my cards down on the table and look her over. “I’m thirsty.” “Okay. What do you want?” “You.” “Liam, stop,” she says. “Do you think this is easy for me?” I ask. She scrunches her nose. “Do you think this is normal?” Embarrassment washes over her face. “What?” I shake my head at her. “Never mind. Just, how ‘bout some more coffee?” “Okay,” she answers. She sets her cards on the coffee table, stands and smooths her skirt awkwardly. I watch her walk away, hesitantly. She looks over her shoulder at me twice before she’s out of the room. I drag in a deep breath and mentally prepare myself for what I’m going to do next.

Nora The coffee is almost ready when Liam appears in the kitchen. I point to his mug on the table. He grabs it and slides it across the counter to me, then takes a seat and waits until I sit down across from him. I am uncertain what to do, so I look at my hands. A distinctly nervous gesture that matches the wide-eyed expression he’s throwing me. Liam drags a hand through his hair. Does he need something stronger? A little liquid courage to finish this fantasy of mine? I want to reach out and slam his head on the table. I shiver at the thought. There would be something satisfying about the thunk of his skull on wood, but I don’t. Of course, I don’t. This weekend is about me. He is doing this for me. “You should probably drink that,” I say, as he eyes his mug. Liam stares at me with narrowed eyes. “Don’t tell me what I need.” He whacks the table with both hands. The sound cracks through the house. His face goes white with rage. This is the moment where all my desires have flown. I stupidly thought I had it under control. Now, I’m stripped down to something I don’t understand. I see that he had the power the entire time. I asked for this and I am getting it but I will not be allowed to control it. Liam stands and I cower. “This is what you like? Being at someone else’s mercy?” he says, looking away as he clenches his jaw. My legs begin to shake. I force myself to stand up. My skin jumps with the prickle of nerves. My heart beats faster, even though I breathe more slowly. Liam takes two steps toward me. I take two steps backward. I fumble to the living room. He follows, cursing at me. The look in his eyes is one I’ve not seen before. One that genuinely terrifies me. “Stop!” I shriek. “Seriously, stop!” He picks up a vase from the mantle and throws it at me. It smashes against the wall when I duck. He charges me and instead of dodging him, I punch him square in the jaw when he’s close enough. “Bitch!” he bellows. His leg sweeps out sending me flat on my back. I writhe on the floor, Liam watches, gratified. “Enough with the games.” A nasty smile of expectation creeps across his face. The finality in his words rips through my chest like a knife. He flips me to my stomach. Flings one leg over my body, straddling me as I lay prone on the floor. I don’t want to be naked. I don’t want a shred of intimacy in a lie that feels so cold and out of control. I’m glad this time he’s too rushed to bother with clothes. His fingers grab my hands and yank them behind my back. It’s almost time, I sense it. I willingly give him

control over me. For survival. The fabric of our clothes makes a funny sound as he pushes his pants down and my skirt up. Panties are ripped away violently. “No,” I state, “Please, not like this.” His breaths are ragged. Fingers toy with my clit but not for long. It is no matter, I am wet for him. He’s forceful. His forearm pins my head to the floor. I half-heartedly try to struggle as he thrusts in with such force, that my breath catches and I go stone still. He lays into me blunt and heavy. It’s punishment. The unrelenting grip of his fingernails burrowing painfully into the skin of my wrist is too familiar—a necessary evil of my affliction. He pounds repeatedly into me. A tear leaks from the corner of my eye. Drips across my nose and disappears into the carpeting. My orgasm crashes into me quickly. I try to hide it but I know he can feel it. He’s done in a short countdown. He lets my wrists go. My shoulders ache, as my arms drop to the floor on either side of me. His forearm is gone. Fabric rustles. A zipper sounds. Footsteps disappear. The sound of the door slams. I’m forsaken. Prone on the floor. Used. Vandalized. In this moment, I am unabridged. My mind feels as though it is in complete balance. I forgive myself unreservedly for my desires. The door opens and closes again. Liam flies through the door like a storm and drops to his knees next to me. He blinks rapidly. I don’t know what he is thinking. My breaths leave me in great pants. Was this endeavor something he could truly accept? “Damn, Nora, that was amazing.” Relief washes over me. I smile, as he helps me up to a sitting position. Tears prick my eyes but I hold them back. “Did I hurt you?” I ask, looking him over. He is disheveled but not hurt. “I’m fine. Are you okay? Was it too rough?” he asks, looking me over. His hands are on my biceps gently massaging. I shrug. “It was perfect.” I roll my neck and close my eyes. A hand moves to cup my neck, the warmth of his palm on me gives me a chill. “Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” I shake my head and bite my lip. He presses his forehead against mine. The intimacy of it is transcendent. I am redintegrated and maudlin. His lips graze mine, tenderly, briefly. I feel at home. “I’m fine. I’m great. I promise. I didn’t know what to expect. I didn’t know you could

be like that,” I answer. He helps me to my feet. If I am honest, I am thrilled with how it all played out. I am surprised at how powerful I feel. I decide that with Liam, I am all in. He took a risk for me. He tried. For me. He kisses me, softly, yet ravenously. When he pulls back, he looks me over. “Tell me,” he says. “Is that what you wanted? What you need?” “It was more than impeccable, ataraxic, delectable. I … I didn’t realize,” my voice drifts. He twines his fingers through mine. “Didn’t realize what?” he asks. We sit on the couch together. I tuck myself into his side. His arm comes around my shoulder possessively. “That it was possible. Dr. Richardson was right. That I could garner that feeling again. Capture it. You made me feel everything that I wanted, needed to. Was it terrible for you? Do you think I’m a freak?” I ask and bury my face in his chest. He squeezes me to him securely. His index finger hooks my chin, lifting until his eyes capture mine. His expression of wonderment makes my belly clench. “No, Nora. You’re not a freak. You’re brave. You asked for something despite knowing it’s not mainstream. I wasn’t sure I would live up to your standards but honestly, we’re a good pair, don’t you think?” I nod. “I don’t need that every time. But it is something I crave.” A small wave of insecurity hits. Will he want to take it this far again, just for my pleasure? “Don’t look away from me. It was hot, sexy. I enjoyed it, too. If you’re willing to meet my needs, Nora, why shouldn’t I reciprocate?” “I don’t know. I suppose I never gave it much thought because the reality of it happening was impossible.” Liam kisses the crown of my head. “In a way, your fantasy aids mine. I liked the feeling of you fighting back.” “You did?” He nods. “We can figure this out together. Grow together. Find a balance.” Balance. I like the idea of it. The notion that in this life I can have it all. The dirty and depraved and the normal and mundane. His fingers trail over my arm, my side. The sensation is divine. We sit quietly together for long moments, cuddled together. This man, this relationship, is felicitous. Something worth embracing. Liam is worth holding on to. “What now? Do we have to leave? Whose place is this?” It is growing late. I promised Lotte I would spend time with her this weekend. My responsibilities tick off in my brain. Make sure the dog is watered, fed, let out. Make time for Lotte. Return Aubry’s call. Tell Eve how much I love her for trying to keep a secret. “It’s a weekend rental. We can stay.” I look up to him. “I should probably go home.” “Why go home, when I could keep you handcuffed to my bed, for your safety, of

course.” I love how violently protective it sounds when he says things like this. “Because … Burt. Lotte. I have things I have to do,” I say. “Things?” “Yes, things,” I laugh. “You’re so mysterious,” he says. “I think a good night’s sleep is necessary.” “Okay, then, let’s clean up and pack up.” Disappointment flashes in his eyes. He doesn’t want our time to end. I swallow thickly and consider staying another night but I hadn’t planned on a full weekend away. Within the hour, we are on the street in the late afternoon sun. A pang of guilt and longing strikes. I don’t really want to leave. I open my car door. He dips inside and kisses me before shutting it for me. *** Liam Her stature is small but she travels like a dart, slowing for nothing. She crashes into me and wraps her arms around my waist. I don’t get many hugs. It makes me think. I hate thinking. As a child, I got flutter hugs. That pathetic excuse for a hug, where the other person’s hand just flutters against your back in rapid succession before they feel it’s appropriate to pull away. Nora’s hug is all-consuming. Tight. Fierce. I think, maybe, I’ve genuinely made her happy. The corners of my mouth creep upward before I remove her arms from me. My eyes trail over Nora as I take in the twists in her hair, the slope of her cheekbones, her lips, the cleft of her breasts. She’s a beautiful woman. “What was that for?” I ask. “I just … wanted to.” I grin at her and walk her back to her car. I kiss her again, deeply, before holding her door open for her. “What now?” I ask. She looks up at me, a tinge of insecurity in her eyes. “We jump off the cliff together.” “Are you ready for that?” I ask. She nods. “Yes.” I beam at her before kissing her again. “Okay, go get your things done. I will text you later.” As Nora drives past me, a deep sadness takes hold of my gut. I get in my car. When I pull in my driveway, the feeling is still there. Is this what love feels like? Love was not, is not part of the plan. Love does not serve my needs but Nora has invaded my being like a

pin prick. The longer we play. The more I see her, the more that pin hole opens, letting her flood inside. If I keep my secret, can I keep Nora? Is it possible? I hate my fucking girly thoughts. I lock the car doors and head inside the empty house. Empty. I liked empty before her. It suited me. Now it feels wrong. At eleven thirty I am wide awake staring at my bedroom ceiling, unable to sleep. I grab my phone and text Nora. I need you. Can’t sleep. I get no immediate response. She is probably fast asleep, lips parted, breathing shallow, fiery hair spread out across her pillow. I get up, frustrated. I pull on my sneakers but don’t bother dressing further than the boxers I have on and hop on the treadmill A good run should tire me out enough to sleep. The doorbell chimes as I’m rinsing off in the shower from my run. I wrap a towel around my waist and head to the door. Through the glass panels on the side of the door I see a dog, Burt, sitting. A grin spreads across my face and a buoyant feeling elevates my chest. I swing the door open. “You came.” Nora has a glow about her. A swing in her step. I’m keen to slip my fingers between her legs and see what’s waiting for me. She’s here. In my house. “I couldn’t resist your sad text,” she says. “Sad?” “Pathetic. So needy,” she says, with a smile. I look down at her feet. “You brought Burt.” “I hope that’s okay. We were lying in bed together and I couldn’t bear to leave him behind.” I reach down and tousle the dogs ears. “It’s fine. I like dogs. Come on, it’s chilly out.” Nora isn’t dressed, which makes me laugh. She is in a cute pajama set. Black with cherries printed on them. “I’ll have you know that I’m exhausted, so it’s bed for us,” she says. “Do you want a weighted blanket?” I ask. She spins to face me. Burt stops at the end of my bed and sits. “You told me. And I bought one so that, hopefully, you’d stay over sometime.” She bites her bottom lip and shakes her head. “I think I’ll be okay now. It is a trust thing and I trust you, Liam.” I scoop her up in my arms in a single sweep. She is so light, like a doll. Porcelain skin and big eyes. “That makes me happy.” “Oh?” she says grinning.

“Very.” I put her in bed before climbing on top of her. “I hope you’re not too tired for a kiss.” Nora laughs at me and pulls my face to hers. Our kiss is fire. It is desire and need and acceptance. I pull back and look at her. Her fingers twine in the hair at the nape of my neck. “Love always seemed like madness to me. Like suffering. And for what? But then you came along and I know I’d put up with anything for you. It scares the shit out of me. I never knew a heart could feel so full.” Her eyes widen, a blush climbs up her neck, I let my lips follow the rose color from chest to cheek. Her nails scratch at my skin. Her thighs wrap around my waist and squeeze. I cannot get her pajama top off fast enough. We are a mess of breaths and limbs as we shed our clothing. “Fuck me, Liam,” she says. It is a command I will not disobey. I flip her to her stomach and take her from behind, first with my mouth and then my cock. Our lovemaking is violent and passionate. She fights against our position until I let her roll me to my back. She climbs on top of me and drags her nails down my chest. I squeeze her hips hard enough that tomorrow I know bruises will appear. She writhes atop me, panting. I grab her hands but she is quick and pulls them from my grip. With a crack she slaps me and my cock hardens impossibly more. “Again,” I say, thrusting up into her. She backhands me this time and I nearly come. One hand reaches between us and I finger her, pinching her clit until her bucking is so over the top, that I slide out of her. She groans but I right us quickly. *** I cannot sleep. Nora is out cold in the crook of my arm, which has no feeling anymore. Burt snores, spread across her ankles. Holden haunts me. My fucking childhood comes round like an angry hornet and stings. I can’t tell her. I can never tell her. I don’t want this to end. I don’t want what I wanted months ago. I think back, try to pinpoint when things changed for me but I can’t. It was a slow build, a plodding journey. My hate for Holden led me to my salvation. Nora has given me nothing but acceptance and trust and somewhere along the way, I decided I wanted to give her the same. Somewhere in my manipulation, I was manipulated into wanting her.

Nora Liam is up. The water in the bathroom is running. He’s in a towel. Beads of water drip down his sculpted chest. With a smile plastered on my face, I crawl from his bed and head to the kitchen. I tug open a cupboard for a coffee mug. I am sublimely content. Liam is filling parts of my soul I didn’t realize needed filling. I reach my hand toward the shelf. My favorite coffee mug sits in front of me. Wrinkling my brow I realize it cannot be my mug. “Nora,” Liam says behind me. Something is wrong. He does not sound the same. My vision swims and I find it hard to stand. “Nora,” his voice comes at me, breaking my thoughts. I gingerly take the mug from the shelf and inspect it. The chip in the handle, the crack in the glaze underneath. The inside bottom that says Good Morning Gorgeous. It is mine. “I can explain,” he says. I spin to face him. “How did you get this?” I ask. He has never been in my house. I have never had him over. “I took it.” His hands grip the kitchen island. He closes his eyes and sighs. “From my house,” I deadpan. It is not a question. “Yes,” he answers. “You broke into my house?” I breathe. His shoulders tense, sending a ripple effect through his muscles down his torso. “Before. That was before.” His eyes meet mine. Green and glimmering. Seductive and secretive. He takes a step toward me. Before? “Before what?” I ask and put my hands up to stop him from approaching. He stops mid step. “Before we started dating. Before I fell for you.” “You … stalked me?” I ask, as the pieces fall into place. He nods his head. I squeeze the mug in my hands. “Curious about the freak from the mountain?” I spit out. “Curious about how fucked up the captive might be?” “No. Not really.” He shakes his head. “Then why?” I demand. “Curious about my brother’s taste in women.” I inhale slowly. Time freezes. My body goes cold. Confusion must be evident, because Liam continues, though I do not want his words. “Holden Douglas Lockwood was my brother. Laura was my sister.” Those green eyes. Those scars on his scalp. The jaw line. The need for pain. Click. Click. Click. My brain crackles like a live wire. I want to scream. I want to see Holden. Grief muddles my thoughts. I have offended Holden even in death. I have made a gross error. “There is no reason left for you to stay.” I point toward the door. Tears well in my

eyes. My body begins to tremble. “Nora, you’re at my house.” Rage sweeps through me. I drop the mug. I barely notice the sound of shards of ceramic bouncing on the tile. My hands encircle Liam’s neck. I scream like a wild woman. Like a feral animal. My heart; tormented. Liam does not fight back. He does not restrain me. He does not do anything. My words are garbled. My brain cannot make sense of what is coming from my mouth. I claw at him. At his face. At his heart. At flesh. I am panting with exertion when my arms drop to my sides numb. “I’m sorry.” Two words. Two words that cannot possibly be sufficient. I scratch my ear, my fingers drag across my jawline until my index finger is inside my mouth, teeth biting on the nail. “I loved him,” I say. I am vacant and distressed. “I know.” His expression is timid. Hesitant. “Why would you do this? Why did you leave him up there with her? And Laura? Why didn’t you tell me? How …” He takes me by the shoulders and gives me a gentle shake. “I will answer what I can but you have to calm down.” “Calm down? I’ve been sleeping with my dead lover’s brother! Holden will kill me.” “Holden is dead. He won’t be doing anything to you,” he says. “He does not own you.” I laugh in his face. He knows so little. “Why? Why would you do this?” My voice is frantic. “I wanted to punish him. I wanted to make you love me. To hurt you. To hurt him.” I inspect his face. He is serious. He is telling the truth. My bottom lip quivers. “You’ve succeeded,” I say. I pull from his grasp and storm to the bedroom. I gather my things without care. Tears drip from my chin to the carpet, leaving little wet marks. Little traces of Nora. With my shoes and Burt’s leash clutched in my arms, I make my way to the front door. I call Burt. He comes to my side. “Please, Nora,” he says. His voice is hoarse and pained. Good, I think. “Let me explain.” I stand in the threshold. Part of me wants to give him my words. To say something to him. To be cunning and clever and vindictive. But I cannot. I will give him what Holden gave me in those last moments; nothing. I step forward and pull the door closed behind me. His footsteps echo on the tile floor and I dart to my car. I throw everything in as I slide into my seat. Burt jumps in over me and settles in the passenger seat. I slam the door closed and lock the doors. Liam is at my window. I dig through my purse for my keys. The glass vibrates with the force of his pounds. I start the car, throw it in drive and leave. His house grows small in my rearview mirror. When I can no longer see it, I pull to the side of

the road, throw open my door and lean my head out. Vomit splashes on the pavement. With a shaking hand, I wipe my mouth and sit up. I pull my phone out and dial Aubry. We are all interconnected. Nothing exists on its own. Attraction is not random. I have to get out of the car. I cannot cry, my tear ducts are too tired. I can’t feel anything. I function on muscle memory. I think but don’t feel. I’m broken and that makes me dangerous. *** The sobs don’t stop for a long time. I can’t see anything but black. A hand gently rubs my back. I don’t remember getting home. I don’t remember Aubry leaving or Eve coming in. But she’s here, urging me into the shower. I step underneath the warm water in silence, letting the water absorb into my hair and seep into my skin. I breathe in the steam, two deep draws of air, gulping it down, desperate for it to soothe me but it doesn’t. Red tinged water swirls at the drain. The last remnants of my angst. Of my own nails. Empty. Vacant. No soul, no thoughts. Shadows creep into the corners of my vision. “I’ll kill him, Nora,” Eve says. She vibrates with rage. “Aubry told me. Holden’s brother?! That fucker tricked you. Used us all. For what? To bring more torture to us all? What was his plan? Did he hurt you? Oh, my God, we have to tell Lotte. We have to get an alarm system. He was in our house!” I say nothing because I have no words for her. “He’s fucking sick. He probably would have done the same thing to you as Holden. We can sue. We can fight back. Something. Nora! Are you listening?” “Stop, Eve. Just stop. Your voice is too loud.” I cover my ears and focus on the sound of the water. She sighs, loudly, from outside the shower curtain. “I get that you’re hurting. I don’t really know what to say to make it better,” Eve says. “Don’t say anything.” *** His lips meet mine. I melt into him. I kiss him ferociously. I use up all my passion on him. Holden pulls back and regards me. His eyes cloud. His face morphs. I have displeased him. “Only ever you, Nora.” His voice is ragged. I nod rapidly at him but he looks at me as if I disgust him. “How could you?” he asks. “Liam.” He has one hand in my hair as he tugs and leads me to the river. I cry out. I beg. I plead with him. I didn’t know. I didn’t know. I didn’t know. I am dragged down to the banks. Holden holds me down until I struggle no longer. Until I’ve drowned in my sinful will.

On the side table, my cell phone vibrates like chattering teeth. It startles me from sleep. From dreams. I’d forgotten to turn it off and now someone is calling. I grab it. “Yeah?” I whisper exhausted. A whisper comes back. “Forgive me.” I hang up. Liam is relentless. My phone vibrates again and again. I am too weak to simply turn it off and eventually I answer. “Nora,” he groans. “Don’t hang up, please.” “Why? Because you love me?” I spit out. “What am I supposed to do? I could say it, but you won’t believe me.” I inhale deeply to steady my voice. “Say it.” “I love you,” he says. “You’re right. I don’t believe you. Love is a sacrifice, Liam. Maybe you weren’t supposed to save me. Maybe I was supposed to save you.” I hang up the phone. *** Liam I don’t want her to leave me. My eyes roll as a pain shoots straight through my temple and embeds itself behind my ear. I try to focus, but it seems impossible. A migraine takes root. I groan. I want to call her again. Tell her all of how I feel. I want to give her everything she needs to hear. She’s got my heart in a choke hold. I love her wickedly dark desires, her hair, and the way she dances around the kitchen when she cooks in the comfort of her home. The way she gave me her scars. Her body. Her mind. She offered it all up and I wanted it, so I took it. I don’t know where to go from here. It has been long days. She won’t pick up my calls. She doesn’t answer my texts. I stalk her. I watch her. I pretend she didn’t cut me off. I take each day slow. She makes my heart pound like bass beats in a stereo. I need her. She sets my soul on fire. I watch her at yoga, unhidden. She scowls at me. It is better than nothing though. I’m a pawn in my own game now. I wanted revenge. I wanted to hurt Holden, even if only in death. That morphed to sick curiosity about him that only Nora holds the answers to and then it shifted completely. She became my absolution. We’re meant for each other. The abuse inflicted by my brother, a shared bond. Without him, there would be no relationship between Nora and me. My plan was destiny. We’re fated for each other. Without Holden, our paths would have never crossed. I am at her grocery store, hoping to catch a glimpse of her but she isn’t here. I buy

nothing. I walk through the park down the path she loves, past the Daisy plaque. Outside her house, I stand and peer through the windows. Mike comes out onto the front porch. “What the fuck are you doing here?” I ask. “I’m here with Aubry. What are you doing here?” “I’m here for Nora,” I say. “Leave her alone, Liam. She’s a wreck. You really fucked up this time.” He runs his hands through his hair, a telltale sign that he’s stressed. “Look at me! What am I?” I bark. I feel weary and I know I don’t look good. Mike shakes his head and goes back inside. Traitor. Or maybe I can use him to get to Nora. To weasel my way back in. I go home when Charlotte comes outside. She says nothing, only stares at me curiously. Like I am some sort of puzzle that needs solving. I sit at my desk with a pen in hand and a blank page in front of me. Cherry, You won’t listen to me, so maybe you will read what I have to say. I will send this letter a thousand times if necessary. I saw the magazine article and I admit, at first, I was only curious about you. That feeling grew and spread and changed. I watched you, this woman who was the last person to live with and know my brother. A brother who I loved and looked up to. A brother who was abused and who in turn passed that abuse down to me. Those scars on my head are from Holden. He was sick like my mother and eventually that sibling fondness turned to hate. Why didn’t he protect me? I watched you. I learned about you. I wanted to punish Holden any way I could and it seemed you were the only one he cared for, and you were able to love him back, flaws and all. My whole family was on that mountain. I was wrenched away by my father and abused in a different way but one thing stood—we were never allowed to discuss the cabin. You had answers I wanted. Glimpses into the lives of people that shared my blood. But then I fell for you. For every nook and cranny of your soul. I am sorry. I am bereft without you. I will give up everything to have you back, Nora, because we’re meant to be together. Don’t you see it? Without Holden, our paths would never have crossed. He led us together. I am not my brother. I don’t want to nor have I ever thought of abusing someone, cutting them or holding them hostage. My abuse and yours have caused us to crave different things, but we are the only two people who are suited to give those things to each other. Please give me a chance to prove my feelings for you. Please. Don’t let Holden have any more power over our lives. Put him to rest once and for all. Take his control away. Make a choice, Nora, choose me.

—Liam

Nora “Lotte didn’t take it well. She’s having night terrors again and it’s my fault.” I sob openly but Dr. Richardson lets me ramble on without interruption. “Eve is … well, herself. Angry and vengeful. I blocked his number but it doesn’t make me feel any better. Agent Brown stopped by to help us set up a security system but when Eve and Lotte aren’t home, I don’t bother setting it.” Guilt swallows me whole as I think of Liam. “I’m concerned for you, Nora,” she says. “I want you to be safe. I’m not sure you’re taking this seriously. Holden has family. Presumably, they knew about him and did nothing.” “I know,” I wail. “But I don’t think that’s how it was.” “Why not?” she asks. “He sent me a letter. And the way Holden had talked about his family, it was as if he was abandoned. It wasn’t a friendly parting.” “Who sent you a letter?” “Liam,” I answer. “I didn’t open it right away. I put it in the trash. But then another came the day after. And another the day after that. It was freaking Eve out, so I finally opened one.” “And?” she asks. I pull the folded letter from my pants pocket. Unfolding it gently, I smooth the page. I keep it on me. I’ve read it hundreds of times now. I barely need to look at it to read it to Dr. Richardson, as I’ve almost memorized his words. She listens intently until I am done. “I miss Liam. He made me laugh. He understood my needs.” I want to dance around in his smoke and flicker out. I know he knows that he’s killing me, my heart. He holds my soul in his hands and squeezes it, even from a distance. “That is natural, Nora,” Dr. Richardson says. “I don’t know how to trust that what he gave me was true. He didn’t mean to do harm, he only wanted revenge. I can understand that. Holden left us both weak in different ways. He used me. But haven’t I used him, too? Isn’t that love? He did not judge or reject my needs. If getting back at Holden was all he was after, why didn’t he tell me months ago? It still would have hurt then. If that was his only objective, why did sorrow swim in his eyes when I left?”

“Love is irrational. And you are very lovable. Has it dawned on you that perhaps, over the months you dated, that he really fell for you?” “Are you saying I should be with him?” I ask staring at her. She shakes her head and leans her elbows on her knees. “No. I’m saying that people’s motives change. You, of all people, should know that. What do you want, Nora?” I shrug and pick at my cuticles. “I wanted Liam. But now he represents something sinister.” “He didn’t lie to you when you found the mug. He came right out with the truth.” “So what? He lied the entire time leading up to that.” She nods. “Yes, he did.” “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if it is forgivable. What about Lotte and Eve?” “I can’t answer that for you. You are the only one who can make that decision.” “Aubry said that Mike told her that Liam is miserable and he’s never seen him so, and I quote, ‘effed up over a piece of ass,’” I say. “How did that make you feel?” she asks. “Vindicated, if I am honest.” Dr. Richardson laughs. “Your honesty has always been refreshing.” I groan and push my braids behind my shoulders. “That’s what Liam said. He’s been following me. Watching me.” “That is not acceptable.” she says. “I kind of like it,” I admit. She shakes her head at me. “You make my job very difficult sometimes. Do you think your personalities, your desires were aligned? Did your love for Holden affect your relationship with him?” “Yes. We are a perfect match. And no, I barely thought of Holden while we were together.” “And you and Liam, were able to function in the ‘real world’ together, without feeling ashamed.” “Yes. Even Eve said he was alright. Until this, of course.” Dr. Richardson uncrosses and crosses her legs before leaning back in her chair. “I want you to think long and hard about your relationship with him. What it gave you, how it helped you and what you want in life because, Nora, everyone deserves happiness and fulfillment—even you.” ***

It has been three weeks. Long weeks of sleepless nights and grotesque dreams. Liam has replaced my ‘Good Morning, Gorgeous’ mug. He has sent flowers—so many flowers. He sent a new spoon that reads ‘Let’s Spoon’. Three pints of ice cream have been delivered, all with handwritten notes from Liam. He is relentless. Yesterday a mix cd arrived. I knew I shouldn’t listen, but I could not help myself. I put it on at bedtime and fell asleep to the melodies Liam chose for me. I have battled dreams of Holden and Liam together. It has been a whirlwind of emotions. I have thrown myself into my memoir. The words, the memories, getting them down on paper have distracted and sometimes even been cathartic. Although some days, it makes me miss his cottage. N.E.L. has received a half million dollar anonymous donation. It has been the only joyful moment of the last month. But Eve, never content to let things rest, started digging. She complained that the size of that donation required acknowledgement. “Who cares where it came from, Eve?” Lotte asked. “I do,” Eve said. Lotte tucked herself into my side on the couch. “It’s anonymous for a reason. Anonymous implies they don’t want a thank you.” I looked at Lotte with curiosity. Eve stood, annoyed at our lack of curiosity and left us sitting quietly, mumbling about finding out where it came from. “Promise you won’t be mad at me,” she said. I leaned down and kissed her forehead. “I can’t promise that, but go on, say whatever you’re going to say.” “I read the letter.” “What letter?” I ask. “The one you keep throwing away, from Liam.” I gasp. “Why would you do that?” “I was scared at first. That he was sending them over and over. And following you. And … and that he was related to Holden.” I frown and pull Lotte into my chest. “I’m sorry for all this. I’m so sorry,” I told her. She pushes away from me. “He’s not like Holden,” she said. “And I’m not scared of him.” “What?” Lotte inhaled deeply. “It’s not the same as it was before. I read his words and I believe them. I am not like Eve and we’re sisters. She is consumed by past circumstances. She can’t adapt but I can and do. I know I was having nightmares again but they stopped,

Nora, after I snuck the letter and read it. Holden would never have written or said those words. I’m not saying forgive Liam, but I don’t think he is a monster.” Tears poured down my face as I realized what Lotte was trying to give me. “I hate you,” I say out loud. Holden’s’ headstone does not speak back. “I hate that you ruined me. I hate that even in death you found a way to steal my joy.” It strikes me then that I have let Holden win. That Liam was right about that. My heart desires Liam, not Holden, and the only thing keeping me from the man I want, is a dead man who skewed my reality and used me. I will not let him win. Emboldened at my realization I kick Holden’s headstone and go home. “Thank Christ you’re home,” Eve all but yells when I enter the kitchen. “What?” I ask. “I found the anonymous donor.” I hang my head. “Seriously Eve, let it go.” “It was Liam,” she says. I freeze, unable to fully register what she has said. I look up to her puzzled. “Did you catch that? It. Was. Liam.” “He wouldn’t have.” “He did,” she states. “Are you going to give it back?” I ask. Eve paces the kitchen shaking her head. “No. Nope. We’re keeping it. And we’re not saying thank you.” “We’re keeping it?” I ask. She turns to me with tears in her eyes. “I don’t know what to do, Nora! I don’t know. This is all so …” “Sibylline. Dysphoric. Perplexing.” She groans but the corners of her lips lift slightly. “No words, Nora. Not right now.” She seats herself in a chair and puts her forehead on the table. “We can return it,” I say and sit across from her. “No, we can’t. We need it.” She lifts her head, “but more than that, Lotte made me read that horrible letter he wrote to you.” My jaw falls open. “You read it?” She nods. “I didn’t believe a word of it. At first,” she says. “But I kept thinking about it. For the last twenty four hours, it’s all I’ve thought about. And then today, I found out Liam made that donation and … I don’t know, Nora, it all adds up. It isn’t right, but it

adds up.” “What are you saying exactly?” I ask. As much as I want Liam in my life, I cannot have him at the expense of my makeshift family’s emotions. “That Lotte and I are okay. That you don’t need our permission to live your life the way you want to.” A tear streaks down her cheek. “That if he’s something you want—and don’t lie to yourself because you’ve been a miserable hag the last month without him— then I will find a way to support your choice.” I push backward, causing the chair legs to screech against the floor and fly around the table to Eve’s seat to wrap her in a fierce hug. *** Liam I have never felt so lost. I’m freefalling with no way to catch myself. Mike has spent the last week at my place, insistent that I need to be watched. For what, I don’t know. I’m not about to off myself. I’m lovesick. I begged Mike to tell me what’s going on in Nora’s life but he maintains that she doesn’t talk to him and that Aubry is incredibly tightlipped on the subject. The only plus is that I finally told him the whole truth. I told him about the mountain, about Ma and Holden and Laura. I don’t think, in his wildest dreams, he’d imagined what I told him, if his reaction was an indicator. But to his defense, always the best friend, he didn’t judge me for my past. He stayed, talked it out as best he could with me and promised never to tell a soul. We’ve drunk ourselves stupid in the last two days. His feeble attempt to lighten my mood but all the alcohol does is make me more sullen. My days feel like an eternity. I run. I eat. I work. I drink and I try to keep Mike from thinking he needs to stay any longer. My computer speakers ding, alerting me I have an email. There is a spark of hope at the sound. Maybe it’s Nora? I click open the screen and frown. It’s Yuri, complaining of a breach of contract regarding the police and their shipping containers. I grind the heels of my hands into my eye sockets to relieve some tension before responding. At six, I stroll through the front door. Carol stops me dead in my tracks. “You’ve got to stop this moping business.” I almost smile. “I’m sorry. I’m trying?” She tilts her head to the side and frowns at me. “My darling, Liam, love, real love is hard. Moping never solved a broken heart. If you want the girl that badly, you fight for her. True love is painful sometimes.” She pats me on the shoulder as she passes by. Love

is painful. If I had known that, I never would have succumbed to it.

Nora I stare upward at the glass panes of the top floor where my naked body was pressed against just short months ago and debate if this is truly the correct thing to do. I have debated coming here for days. I’ve thought of every possible outcome. Maybe he has moved on. Maybe it will only lead to hurt down the road. Maybe it will be everything my heart desires. I waited for Eve to change her mind. To tell me that I am twisted and wrong for not hating him, but she hasn’t. I waited for Lotte to protest, but as ever, she is accepting and adapting, so here I am, standing outside of Liam’s office building, prepared to go in and tell him how I feel. “Nora?” I cast my gaze downward and find myself face to face with Mr. Lockwood. Holden’s father. My belly flips and knots. “Hello.” “What are you doing here?” “I’m … I am going to see Liam.” He regards me for a moment. “I think that is a poor choice.” “Excuse me?” He grabs my hand in an iron-like grip and tugs me toward a parked black sedan. “Take a ride with me.” His driver opens the back door and I am nudged inside. I slide to the opposite door to get out but the locks click into place. Mr. Lockwood laughs. It is not a jovial sound. It is menacing and deviant. “I think you’ve caused enough damage to my family.” “Your family?” My stomach clenches. “One son is dead because of you and the other is a weak, pathetic mess.” “How can you lay claim to Holden after what you did? Let me out.” “What I did? He was no idiot. He could have left that hell hole mountain on his own.” “He was sick! He was abused. He was …” he cuts me off. “Yes, we all were. Poisoned by a woman.” I dig my nails into my palms.

“How can you say that? You married her.” I slide away from him until I am pressed against the opposite door. “Men are often reduced to morons when women are involved. I am not proud that I let her control my life as long as she did. But you, Nora, have inflicted enough pain on my children and I will not allow it to continue.” I let out a shaky breath. I will not let another man cause me fear. I straighten my posture. “I don’t think you get to choose.” The car stops and the doors unlock. He grabs my forearm and drags me from the car. The street around us is devoid of passersby. There is a sign above a doorway; The Black. “Let go of me,” I say firmly. He pulls me inside. We walk through a smoky, dimly lit bar area and down a hall. I stumble twice but he does not let me go. He throws open a door. A blonde is in lingerie and heels, whipping a fat-bellied man. Sweat drips down his face. “Meet Candy,” he says. Candy turns to face us and smiles coyly. “Hello, sugar,” she says. Her eyes are tired and vapid. “Oh.” She cocks her head. “You look familiar.” Liam’s father slams the door shut, blocking the scene from my view. “Stay away from Liam unless you want to end up like Candy.” Tears prick my eyes but I do not let them fall. Mr. Lockwood releases my arm and I bolt back the way we came for the exit. The early fall air hits my face and I cannot catch a breath. I heave on the sidewalk, while still trying to move further away from the club. That repugnant establishment is where Liam spent his time? That noisome hole is where Candy spends her days? I round the corner and try to get my bearings. Fishing my cell phone from my clutch I call an Uber. *** At home, I collapse against the wall outside my bedroom door in a mess of tears. Lotte is at school and will not be home for hours yet. Eve is at N.E.L. and I do not want to bother Aubry. I try to collect myself but I am unable. Burt curls up next to me as I sob. That man is vile. Interested in no one, but himself. I want strong arms and shaggy hair and a soothing deep voice to console me. I will not let Holden’s father deter me from my happiness. From my life. I pull up my contacts on my phone and unblock the number, then call. There is a deep exhale on the other end of the line. “I need you. Here,” I state, trying to compose myself. “Nora,” He whispers.

The line goes dead and I sink to the floor, holding the phone to my chest. Twenty minutes later, Liam is looming over me. I am still on the floor with the phone. Liam bends at the waist and lifts me into his arms, as if I weigh nothing. I don’t have anything to say to him that will make any of this better, so I stay silent. He carries me to my bedroom and lays me on the bed. I watch as he kicks off his shoes and grabs a blanket from the arm chair in the corner. He covers me with it. I’m shivering. He climbs into bed with me and pulls me to him. It is strange to have him in my home. In my bed. *** Liam “I will always come for you, Nora.” I hold her tightly to me, as though she might evaporate. She called me. She needs me. I couldn’t even form an appropriate response when I heard her voice. I grabbed my keys and sped here without thinking it through. “That is what scares me,” she says. “Why?” I ask. I missed this. The feel of her. The smell of her. “Because of your family.” “Who, Holden? He’s just bones in dirt, Nora.” She shakes her head against my chest. “I came to see you. I was going to come to see you. Your father took me.” Did I hear that right? “What?” I growl. “I was at your office, outside. He forced me in his car.” Her shivers of terror alone are enough to ignite the rage that simmers below the surface of my soul. “What the fuck did he do to you?” “He took me to The Black. He showed me Candy working. He told me I will end up like her if I don’t leave you alone.” “When?” “Today! I was right outside. I was coming to see you.” She trembles, despite how firmly I am holding her. Fury vibrates through me in small shockwaves. I shift, ready to leave. “Please don’t go now.” Nora’s plea sends a dagger to my heart and I cannot disobey her. “Okay.” I continue to hold her, wishing that I wasn’t a Lockwood at all. I decide to

ask the obvious. “Why were you coming?” She pushes back from me slightly so she can see my face. “Because I deserve happiness and you make me happy.” I can’t contain the grin that takes over my face. “You’re complicated as fuck but I love that about you. I love that you’re a mess. I love that you use four letter words in the same sentence as a four syllable word. I love your scars. I love that you wear them like jewelry. I love that … shit, Nora, I’m telling you I love you.” She is smiling, too, and it makes my fucking heart swell knowing that I put that smile there. I will deal with my father later, right now, I am going to fuck my beautiful, crazy girlfriend. “I love you, too.” I dip my head and rest my forehead against hers. “I’m going to kiss you now.” She doesn’t pull away. She doesn’t resist. When my lips connect with hers, a groan escapes me. My world rights, clicks into place like a missing puzzle piece. Her fingers thread in my hair, holding my face to hers. Our tongues taste, teeth nip. It’s heaven. “Fuck me,” she says against my lips. My cock jumps to attention, a salacious grin sweeps the corners of my mouth up. She bites her bottom lip and I lose all control. “I won’t go easy, Cherry.” “I don’t want you to,” she says. *** As I knock on the door, I realize that my heart feels like it is in my throat. When the door swings open, I side-step the help and march to my father’s office before I lose my nerve. I let the heavy ornate oak door creak closed behind me. “What the fuck, Dad?” I bark. He looks up from his paper. “Liam.” “I’m done.” He laughs. It is a cold and hollow sound. “Don’t be so dramatic.” “I don’t think you understand. You cannot keep Nora and me apart. I won’t have it. I don’t care what you want. I’m done with the business and I am done with you. You’re no better than Holden or Ma.” At this, he stands. His fists clench at his sides. “Be careful what you wish for, boy. That bank account you have, is funded by me. Nora is a liability, a weakness. One you nor I can’t afford.” He rounds his desk toward me. My instinct is to cower but this time I stand tall. “There is strength in my weakness, old man. I don’t need your money. I don’t need you. Stay the fuck away from Nora and stay the fuck away from me.” He stands inches

from my face, seething. Little bits of spittle fly with each breath he takes. His arm cranks back. I move aside. I don’t need his abuse. I am not his. I am Nora’s. I pop him in the jaw. He stumbles backward and clutches his face. “You will live to regret that.” His voice bellows. I turn and head for the door. “I don’t think I will.” I step into the hall and slam his door behind me. I don’t speak to anyone on the way out. In my car, I text Mike. I don’t want him hearing anything from my father’s mouth. I want him to know the truth. As I pull into traffic he replies; ‘Bout fuckin’ time. I laugh, feeling heady and bold and head back to Nora’s. *** Exhaustion settles in when I knock on her door. Adrenaline leaving my bloodstream. The door opens and Nora’s face drops. I don’t need words with her. She can sense my emotions. It is one of the things that I find so endearing about her. That she pays attention to the miniscule things. “Do I want to know?” she asks. “Move in with me. Don’t need any more time or space. We’ve gone through enough to know it’s right. I know what you need and you know what I need,” I blurt. “What?” she laughs. “That is random.” She pulls me inside. “It’s not. I’ve been thinking about it for ages.” “Bullshit,” she says. Music plays from a speaker in the kitchen and it smells like heaven. Eve is at the stove stirring something and Charlotte is chopping vegetables at the counter. “Hey,” Charlotte says. I lift a hand and smile back at her. I turn to Eve. “Don’t,” she says. “I’m still not sure how I feel about you being related to that monster.” “Okay,” I say and toss my hands up in mock self-defense. “Noted.” I look around the room. Everyone seems to have a place and I don’t feel a part of it. “Sit,” Nora says. “It’s Monday night. It’s our night to cook up a big meal and all be home to eat it together. So, you just sit while we do our thing.” I nod and take the beer that Charlotte’s outstretched hand holds for me. Although she smiles, I notice she moves her hand so our fingers don’t touch as she gives it to me. I am going to have to work hard at gaining their trust back. Burt saunters into the room and curls up under the table at my feet. Watching Nora and her girls ‘do their thing’ from inside the kitchen, versus outside looking in, is a completely different experience. Charlotte likes to sing along to the music, while Eve pretends not to dance. Nora full on dances between them, bumping hips and

prepping food. I feel like an intruder. The moment is intimate between them. They’re like a tight knit family. The kind of rapport that I never experienced. Nora comes over and sits on my lap for a moment. “What’s wrong?” she asks. “Nothing at all. I like this. I’m not used to it.” I relish the feel of her in my lap. She nods as if she understands. “I get it.” “Do you?” I squeeze her hip playfully. “I used to walk home at night and look in people’s windows. Families sitting around tables, eating together, talking. I didn’t have that. I came home to an empty house. I ate alone. I do get it, Liam. There’s damage that needs to be repaired. Dr. Richardson would actually like to do a couples session, but know this, we’re glad to incorporate you into our fray, if you’ll have us. It might take a while to adjust,” She gives me a mischievous smirk. “What was he like?” Charlotte asks. “Who?” She clears her throat. “Holden. As a kid.” I cringe but Nora nudges me. “Honesty.” “He was quiet and for a while, he was a good brother. He liked birds and fishing. He hated when my dad left us alone with Ma.” I notice Eve’s white knuckled grip and look to Nora. She murmurs in my ear, “Time and honesty.” “Hmm, weird. I kinda thought maybe he was just always a monster,” Lotte says. “Monsters are made, not born,” I say. “And I’m sorry to you two, as well.” “Go on,” Eve says and leans against the counter. “I’m sorry for what you’ve all been put through because of my brother. I’m sorry for lying to you about who I was. I’m sorry for a lot of things these days.” “Ugh, I hate too much seriousness all at once,” Charlotte says, and moves to turn up the volume on the speaker. Eve gives her a pointed look but I am thankful for her interruption. I grin as I watch Charlotte bump hips with Eve until she relents and her scowl is replaced with a smile. “Soon enough, you’ll be singing into a ladle, too. No one can resist,” Nora says. “Did someone say ladle singing?” Mike’s voice cuts through the kitchen. He snatches the spoon from Eve’s hand and holds it to his mouth like a microphone. He sings along to The Shape of You, wiggling his butt ridiculously and dancing around Charlotte. Aubry laughs loudly and takes a seat next to me. I am shocked to see Mike. In all his time at my house, he made no mention of being serious with Aubry, nor did he mention family dinner nights. “Did I miss something?” I ask.

Nora leans into my ear, “Aubry and Mike are just ‘hanging out’, so they say.” I throw my head back and laugh because Mike doesn’t just ‘hang out’ with women. “Uh huh, sure,” I say. *** Dinner is a ruckus of conversation. Everyone getting the chance to talk about their day and what will be going on the following week. Charlotte has a Halloween costume dance at school that Nora is chaperoning. Eve is collaborating with a sex trafficking support non-profit to expand N.E.L.’s services and Nora proudly announces that she has nearly finished her memoir. Mike says nothing interesting is slated for him this week, which makes the table laugh. “I have big news,” Aubry says. Nora bites her lip to hold back a smile. I squeeze her thigh under the table. She rests her hand on top of mine. “I am officially starting my own interior design firm.” “That is amazing,” Eve says. She looks at Aubry with a funny look in her eye. One that is familiar to me. It is longing. I don’t know what to make of it, though. I will ask Nora later. “So, what are you going to the dance dressed as?” I ask Charlotte. She grins, “Mrs. Who from A Wrinkle in Time.” I scrunch up my nose. “Come again?” “It’s a character from a book that Lotte and I read together,” Nora answers. “Yup. Because she makes sure that the main character knows that people’s faults,” she pauses dramatically, and looks at her sister, “can really be sources of power.” “Gotcha, and you, Nora? What are you going as?” “I was thinking of dressing up as a spoon. But I need a partner so it makes sense.” “What are you getting at?” I ask. Nora grins. “Chaperone with me. You can go as a pint of ice cream.” Mike bursts out laughing. Gasping for air, he says, “Liam Lockwood does not dress up for Halloween.” Normally, I’d agree, but with Nora, I am glad to step out of my comfort zone. “I’ll do it.” Everyone at the table goes silent. When I look around, I am met with five pairs of wide eyes. “What?” Mike laughs again and this time everyone joins in, including Nora.

Nora Lotte and I are at the store shopping for fall clothes. She has outgrown all her cold weather clothes from last year. Liam’s question has still gone unanswered. I don’t know if moving in with him is right quite yet and I wanted to give it adequate thought. He’d laughed at me and said that was a very Nora-esque thing to do. While Lotte is trying on clothes in the dressing room, I walk around and look at the different housewares they have. Discount stores are my favorite. I love a bargain. I am drawn, as always, to the mugs and bowls. I have too many as it is but I cannot resist. I pick them up and turn the smooth ceramic in my hand while inspecting them. I grin and put one of the mugs in my cart. “Are you excited for the dance?” I ask Lotte, who is exiting the dressing rooms with an arm load of clothing. She shrugs. “Yeah, I guess.” “You guess?” “All the girls are tittering over who is going to dance with which boy. It’s annoying. Their costumes are all about how pretty they look, too. I mean Halloween is supposed to be scary but if you’re not going to go gruesome, you might as well try and be original, you know?” I regret asking the question. I school my features so that I don’t offend her with a smile or laugh and instead, just nod at her as solemnly as I can. She cracks me up. “Well your costume is original, so there’s that,” I say. She unloads her choices into the cart. “Yeah, but no one will get it. I don’t care. I like the music. Dancing will be fun.” “I am sure you will have a great time.” We head to the check out. “I can’t wait to see Liam in a costume,” she giggles. I smile and agree. *** I can’t say I look sexy dressed as a spoon but Liam and I have been told numerous times throughout the evening that our couples costume is hilarious. I watch Lotte as she jumps and shakes to some pop song that Liam said is popular and grin. “She’s never going to be normal,” I muse. Liam pulls me as close to him as he can in

his costume. “I told you what she said at the store the other day, right?” “You did. But it’s okay, Nora. She will be fine. Look at us.” “Mmm, yes, look at us.” I make a show of looking him up and down. “Well, not literally, right now.” “I know what you meant.” I laugh and he rolls his eyes at me. “Our needs are different from most of society’s, yet here we are, together, happy. Or at least mostly happy,” he says. “Mostly?” “I won’t be entirely happy until I’ve got you under my roof.” I nudge his shoulder playfully. “Speaking of that,” I say. I leave Liam staring at me quizzically, and jog to my purse. I pull out the wrapped box and return to him. “This is for you.” He eyes it warily, which causes me to laugh. “Is it appropriate for a high school dance?” I look around the poorly decorated gym before looking back to Liam. “As appropriate as it gets.” He takes the box from me and slowly, torturously undoes the ribbon, followed by the paper. “Are you aware that you are tapping your foot?” he asks. I stop moving and look at him. “I have no patience for gifts and surprises. You’re taking too long.” “Christmas must be painful for you,” he says and winks at me. If he only knew. I hate the wait. I want the gratification of seeing the person’s expression when they see the gift. “Just open the box,” I say. He laughs and does as asked. When he pulls out the mug, he looks confused. I pull the tissue paper from the middle of the mug. He tips it and looks inside. It says ‘Good Morning, Handsome’ at bottom. His eyes dart to mine. “Does this mean what I think it means?” A slow grin spreads across my face. “Yes, Liam. It does. I will move in with you.” He drops the empty box to the floor and with his newly free hand, his arm scoops around me and picks me up, crushing both our costumes. “I fucking love it.” “I fucking love you,” I whisper into the shell of his ear.

Three Months Later Nora Aubry has outdone herself. I hired her to decorate Liam’s, our, house for our housewarming party. Since it is doubling as a New Year’s Eve party as well, I wanted the decorations and overall feel to be just right. I honestly didn’t give it much thought when I left her alone in the house to get done what she needed but when I came back from the grocery store armed with ingredients for all the appetizers I wanted to make for the party, Aubry’s face was flushed and she was quiet. “What’s up?” “Nothing, Nora!” I dropped the grocery bags in the entryway and followed her as she made a beeline for the dining room. “Liar. What is wrong?” “I couldn’t find my fishing line to string up the decorations, so I thought, Oh! Floss will work. Don’t kill me, Nora. I looked in the guest bath but couldn’t find any.” I burst out laughing because I know exactly where she was going with her tirade. “So you went in the master bedroom bath?” I ask. Liam and I had a particularly fun night the night before and in my haste this morning to get up and to my meeting with the publisher, I’d not picked up our room. I blush remembering what he made me do to him. The way it made me feel. “They’re just toys. I had no idea you were such a prude, Aubry.” “Toys? Toys imply fun and lightheartedness. Those toys evoke fear and pain. Ball gags? Whips, Nora?” “It’s called a flicker whip.” “I don’t give a hoot what it’s called. I mean it’s … a lot to take in. Especially when my brain still thinks of you as this virgin book nerd who couldn’t even talk about body parts without blushing.” “Okay, that’s fair. But you know I’ve changed and it’s not like I haven’t seen your giant black dildo hanging around next to your bed.” Aubry stopped, jaw slack and burst out laughing. “Touché, my dear, touché! To each their own. It’s just, you know, caught me off guard.” “I get it.”

The dining room is decorated in gold and coral and Aubry incorporated so much glitter, at my suggestion, that I can’t help but smile. There are fresh cut flowers placed all over the kitchen, living room and dining room. Not only does everything look perfect, but the smell is remarkable, too. I do worry that perhaps Liam has spent too much money on this soirée. He does not have the income he did before his father cut him off. The day Liam quit Lockwood Enterprises, I knew he was worthy of my love. He left his father high and dry. There have been incidents where Mr. Lockwood has shown up to the house, drunk in the wee hours of the night to berate Liam, but together, we have been able to handle it. Liam is still trying to figure out what he wants to do now that he doesn’t work for his father. Of course, that’s been challenging, given he also lost his contacts and standing at The Black. He’s never had to stand on his own two feet in the working world and I know he will be okay, but it will take time for him to find his place. I know he has plenty of money socked away but still I worry when he so lavishly spends on frivolous things. Liam spanks me as he walks by. My rear end is still tender from our play last night but I don’t mind the sting. It is now a happy reminder of my life. Mike and Aubry are shamelessly flirting near the bar. Charlotte is with a few girlfriends from school in the kitchen picking at food. Dr. Richardson and Detective Salve and Agent Brown are congregated, drinks in hand to my left. Some of Liam’s friends from boarding school have come, simply, he says, because they didn’t believe he had settled down and had to witness it for themselves. And Candy is here at my request. Liam was not pleased about extending an invitation to her but I wanted her to see us together. To understand that he is happy and that she can have a life outside The Black someday. Fucked up or not. Secretly, I hope she will end up in conversation with Dr. Richardson. A glint of metal catches my eye and I follow it. Eve’s key ring. The key ring that is one puzzle part of three that I had made for Lotte, Eve and myself when I moved out. When I moved out, I deeded the house to them as a surprise. I had the key chains made so that when you put all three of ours down, they fit together to make a whole. As I watch Eve, I can’t help but smile. She is animatedly talking to Candy. Eve’s eyes sparkle. The excitement in her movements. The flush in her cheeks. Liam brushes his lips against mine. His kiss is feather light. I nip at his bottom lip. “Don’t start something you can’t finish right now,” he says against my mouth. I am overwhelmed with emotion. I have found my people and I am surrounded by them right now. It is a striking revelation to feel such happiness and accept it. Lotte taps my shoulder and Liam releases me. She hands me my Good Morning, Gorgeous mug with champagne in it and Liam’s Good Morning, Handsome mug to him. “Happy New Year, Nora,” she says. I pull her into my chest one handed and whisper Happy New Year back to her.

I stand in front of the log cabin and a chill sweeps through me. I take a moment to gather myself. Even for me, this hits a little too close to home. I turn on the porch and glance around. There is nothing for miles. The last house I saw was a twenty minute drive back. Goosebumps breakout along my arms. I rub my hands over them. I’m surrounded by thick evergreen trees. “Cherry,” he says. I spin around. He stands in the doorway like a wolf eyeing its prey. “Come inside.” “I’m not sure I can do this one,” I admit. Liam’s hand darts out, capturing my wrist. He tugs me through the door, into the cabin. I lose my footing but land firmly against his chest. He looks down at me, expressionless. “You can and you will.” I try to look around the cabin but his hands are tugging at my clothes. A ripple of fear hits. This place is too like before. His fingers grapple with my shirt, lifting it over my head. I shirk out of it and step away from him. He lurches at me, arms outstretched. He grips my upper arms so tightly, they will bruise. I inhale sharply at the sudden pain. He pulls me to him and crushes his lips against mine, forcing my mouth open with his tongue. I delight in the power struggle. His hands move from my arms to my buttocks and squeeze forcefully. Arousal settles in. I grip the back of his neck with a hunger no one else besides him understands. My nails bite into his flesh. I draw back when I taste blood on his lip from my teeth. He is smiling. Against the wall to my left there is a case. In only my bra and skirt I walk to it and open it. I choose the eight tail braided flogger. I stroke it slowly before turning to face him. “Undress,” I say. With Liam, there is always a slight fight for power. Who will take who first. Tonight, given the location he has chosen, I am going to take charge. I want to feel my power before I’m made to feel powerless. Liam’s green eyes penetrate mine with such intensity, I have to force myself not to look away as he strips bare. I approach him slowly, giving the flogger a test whip through the air. He reaches out and pulls me to him. One arm banded around my back and one hand between my legs. “You’re so wet, Cherry.” His words titillate me to my core like a bolt of lightning. He fingers me harshly. My head lolls to the side and he goes in for the kill. Sucking, nibbling and licking my neck, while his fingers send white hot heat from my center to my nipples. I groan and pull away. I whip his belly fast and hard, earning me a groan of pleasure. I whip him again and he smiles. Through hooded eyes, he pins me with his gaze. “I bought this cabin for you, Cherry. So, give it to me. Take your power back.”

I let out a wail. Only Liam would understand the sentiment. Only Liam would give so selflessly. He offers me his back. His skin. His pain and his love. Braids fly through the air. The crack that sounds when they make contact with his skin is something I’ve come to enjoy. When his back is marred with red welts, much like mine, I stop. He stretches, winces and turns to face me. His cock is hard and ready to claim me. The whip falls from my hand and makes a dull thunk on the carpet. My arms carefully go around him, avoiding the tender areas. He allows me to pull him to me and we kiss. Ravenously. It is in these moments where I cannot get enough of him. There is no way to be close enough for my liking. His hands cup my breasts and begin massaging. I shimmy out of my skirt and kick off my heels while he tastes me. When I pull back, the glint in his eye tells me that he’s ready for the chase. “Catch me if you can.” I turn and make a run for it. The End

Releasing 2018 Twenty-seven days doesn’t sound like a long time but it feels like a lifetime. My shoulder blades ache and my nose drips. I can’t do anything about it. My heartbeat and ragged breaths are all I can hear. I silently berate myself for letting my guard down. For all of us letting our guards down. Safety is an illusion at best. We are never truly safe. Why I ever believed I was, at this point, is beyond me. Twenty-seven days ago, I was happy. My interior design business, AC Interiors, was just beginning to take off thanks to Liam Lockwood, Mike Chesterfield, and friends. I was thrilled. Thrilled doesn’t even describe what I felt looking back now. I wish I had Nora’s vocabulary, but I don’t. Twenty-seven days ago, I went down to the docks to set up an incredible photo shoot for my website. I wanted to use the backdrop of the colorful graffiti wall against the clean lines of the décor I had in mind. It was going to be epic. Twenty-seven days ago, the click of my camera shutter was the last happy sound I heard. Twenty-seven days ago, I heard a muffled scream. I turned around. That was my biggest mistake. I saw enough to make me a liability. Terror gripped me. My pulse pounded in my ears when they shoved the scantily-clad girl into a shipping container. I stood frozen when the men set their sights on me; nostrils flaring. I dropped my camera and ran but I wasn’t fast enough. Add it to your TBR To see where it all started keep reading…

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The Tutor Copyright © 2017 by K. Larsen Cover by: Cover Me Darling Editing: Indie Edit Guy Formatting: Integrity Formatting All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.





Trigger Warning All of them. This is not a romance. It will not elicit warm and fuzzy feelings.



Him Not just any woman will do. I require a special woman. I honored the last woman by staying with her overnight. Outdoors in the woods. I am not a monster. Because she was so lovely to look at and at one point I had wanted her. I tried to make her understand me but she never returned my affection. I can still picture her begging me to let her live. She promised to do anything, if I just let her live. But she wasn’t worth saving. None of them are. No matter, though. I will find another. There is always another. I will keep searching until someone is worthy of keeping. They are easy to find, when you know what to look for. A simple classified ad. A few interviews. Does she turn her body toward me in the interview? How about a wide open and innocent gaze? Does she bow her head slightly or sit with her shoulders rounded forward? Does she blush or become flustered at something I say? Given a compliment, does she dismiss the validity of my praise or laugh nervously? All these little characteristics help me choose the right woman. A background check seals the deal. No family—or—no family that cares, and no older than twenty to start. Not just any woman will do. She has to be the right kind and I am a master at finding them.

Her I am a logophile. A lover of words. Perhaps it’s because of my namesake or maybe just because I’m quirky but since I was a child, I’ve loved words. I assign all the important people in my life words. For instance, Aubry, is winsome, callipygian, multifarious and capricious. Just pronouncing those words makes my brain happy. Me? I’m demure, acquiescent, and a logophile. Words inspire me. Always have. Certain ones sound magical when said aloud. Aubry thinks I’m ridiculous but that’s because her attention to detail is evanescent. Without Aub though, I’d be a total outcast. She basically saved me throughout high school —socially that is. Aubry is my toran to others; her peremptory confidence paves a way for me and my slight self-consciousness. “So, are you going to be ready when I pick you up tonight?” she asks. I roll my eyes. “Aub, you know I hate parties.” She holds her hands up. “Wait, wait, if I play your game, will you go?” “What game?” I ask and make a face. She looks all over the living room quizzically. “Um, nadir optimum,” she says, before bursting into a fit of giggles. When Aubry Clark laughs, everyone laughs. She has an infectious air about her. When I stop laughing, I mock seriousness. “Fine.” I cross my arms over my chest. “What’s your nadir?” “Ugh, the new manager at the burger joint. He is so crude.” She pouts and shakes her head. “Okay,” I say. “And the optimum?” Aubry’s eyes light up. “My bestie is going to a party with me tonight. Woo!” She jumps up and does a little victory dance, causing me to laugh all over again. I clutch my stomach because it’s too much to attempt keeping a straight face. “Okay, girls, dinner’s ready,” Angela, Aubry’s mom calls from the kitchen. Anton and Aimee start arguing over who has to set the table, while Aubry stares at me. “Stay.” I shake my head. “Nope. Especially nope if you want me to get ready for a party.” She lolls her head back and groans. “Fine, turd. I’ll see you at eight.” I call out goodbye to Angela while walking to the front door. It’s warm out. Summer has just started and I can practically smell it in the air. My

walk home takes me down quiet side streets. I like to look into people’s windows as I pass by. Families gathered around tables, passing food to each other. It makes me smile while simultaneously causing a pang of loneliness in my gut. There will be no family dinner for me. Most of the time, it doesn’t bother me. I prefer to be alone. I prefer books to parties, fictional characters to live friends, music to concerts. I’m a little antisocial. I’m also a little laser-focused on my goal of going to college. Aubry and I graduated a year ago and I have until August to save up enough money for my second year’s tuition. I sigh and jam my key into the lock. The door clicks open quietly. I flip switches on as I walk through the house, illuminating it room by room. Tossing my purse onto the kitchen table, I purse my lips and deliberate what to make for dinner. I haven’t gone grocery shopping in a week and the pickings are slim. I settle for an apple cut up, paired with some slices of cheddar cheese. I take my plate to the living room and curl up in the oversized arm chair. Pulling my book from the side table, I open to the dog-eared page and dive back in while popping apple slices and cheese into my mouth occasionally. The doorbell startles me out of my fictional escape and I let out a small yelp. My empty plate falls off my knee onto the floor. I curse under my breath, while stepping over it. I swing the door open, ready to tell who ever it is to just go away and see Aubry. “Dude. Really?” I wrinkle my face. “Sorry. I was …” “Reading. Yeah? I know. I’ve heard it a hundred times,” she says. Her hands are on her hips and she looks annoyed. “I’ll grab my bag and we can go,” I say. She shakes her head no, sighs and marches past me into the house. “No. Nope. No can do. You need to change,” she says. I cock my head right and widen my eyes. Aubry crosses her arms over her chest and with a smug expression says, “I’ll wait.” *** When I wake the next morning, I am left with a feeling of disorganized nostalgia and terror that stays with me all day, like a vice grip around my ribcage. I’m a wreck. Aubry calls multiple times and I send each one to voicemail. I shower three times and wish I had a mother to talk to, to hold me, to tell me what I should do, but I don’t. I feel dirty and used. I’ve been betrayed. I grab the paper from the front porch that the paperboy tosses every Sunday morning, despite my not having a subscription, close the door and lock it behind me. Skipping my

morning coffee, I grab a yogurt and open the classifieds. As I pour over them, one jumps out at me. OPPORTUNITY KNOCKS Seeking live in summer tutor for 11-yr old girl. Great pay. Room & board included. Interested women leave message at 555–774–0854 Pocketville I could tutor. And I most certainly could stand to get out of town for the summer. I don’t think I could stomach seeing Anton any time soon and Aubry will wonder what’s up if I just stop coming over. I pick up my cell and dial the number. It rings once and goes straight to voicemail. “This is Nora Robertson. Um, I’m interested in learning more about the tutoring position in the classifieds, if it’s still available.” I leave my number and email address and hang up. The rap, rap, rap at the front door startles me and I fling yogurt on my pajama pants. Muttering curses, I peek out the kitchen window. Aubry. Tears prick my eyes. I want nothing more than to let her in, but I can’t. I can’t face her. Not yet. She will know something is wrong and there is no way in hell I’m telling her what happened last night. I duck down before she sees me and head to my room. I huddle in the corner, knees pulled up under my chin, eyes closed, holding a picture of my parents to my chest as I let out my hurt and disgust in silent sobs. *** Monday morning, I have twenty-six unread texts, four voicemails and six missed calls, all from Aubry. I blow out a breath and force myself out of bed. I pick up the plates and cups scattered by my bed and drop them in the kitchen sink. Today I have to function. I gave myself twenty-four hours. I gave him twenty-four hours. Now it’s time to dust my shoulders off and move forward as best I can.

The Girl The excitement I feel is inexplicable as I come to. It’s more like hysteria. I push my emotions back, until they are as small as possible. I blink stars away until I see Nora. I beg her not to leave me alone out here, but she only lies there in the broken glass and metal of the truck. A stiff wind whistles through the pines and kicks up dead leaves. “Nora,” I whine and jostle her again. Guilt eats at me for lying to her, but the threat of what he would do to me if I told her the truth, was enough to keep me quiet. There is a crunching in the snow near me. I turn my head too fast and a wave of dizziness claims me. I clutch Nora’s shirt and tug at it urgently. “Wake up. Wake up.” She doesn’t move. I look up and try to wiggle from the wreckage. I hurt everywhere. A boot lands in front of my hand. My eyes bug out. When I look up, I want to die. Holden reaches down for me. The sound that follows is like the sky being torn in two. It ends with a soul-deep scream that rattles bones. His eyes darken; his scowl grows more intense as he yanks me from the totaled truck. It is my scream.