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My aunt is on my side, and Razor is too.
In a way, I feel unstoppable because of him.
I head downstairs, back into the main living area, and find Razor speaking with a red-haired woman.
She looks familiar, but I can’t quite recall who she is.
The woman throws her head back in laughter, and for a moment, a tinge of jealousy storms through me.
Who the fuck is this chick?
Her eyes drift over to me, scanning me up and down. “I heard Razor brought a stowaway. Never did I think it would be Hammer’s daughter,”
I swallow hard and slowly approach the two of them, eyes scanning over the woman. “Yeah, well, life is full of surprises.”
The woman obviously gets a kick out of my sassy retort. “It sure as fuck is. I think you’re gonna fit in great here. I’m Amara, by the way. We might have met briefly once,”
Oh, shit.
Amara, the charter’s president, who’s married.
Fuck, I just made an ass out of myself.
I plaster on a fake smile, “Yeah, I think it was one time.” The truth is, I can’t fucking remember meeting her.
“You hungry or anything?” Amara asks.
“I could go for a drink, but I’m all right on food.” I answer her.
Amara waves her hand and I glance up at Razor.
He motions for me to follow her, so I do.
Just as I thought, the kitchen is located behind the large wall.
It’s just us two women in the kitchen and Amara stops, turning to look at me. “I heard about the shooting a couple months back. I’m glad you made a full recovery. But, I know a lost woman when I see one.”
“I’m not lost. I know exactly where I am.”
Amara chuckles, “Physically, sure, but emotionally you don’t know jack squat. So, what’s your story?”
Shaking my head, I need to convince her. “I don’t have a story.”
My issues are my own, and I shouldn’t have to lay everything out on the table.
Amara’s dark eyes analyze me even further. "I wasn’t born yesterday, Oakleigh. You're deflecting. What's really going on?"
I look into Amara's piercing gaze, feeling exposed and vulnerable. "I needed a change of scenery, get away from the place where I was hurt.”
"Ah." Amara nods slowly, her expression softening in the process. "I understand that. Sometimes escaping is the only way we can find solace.”
There’s something in her tone that tells me she understands my reasoning more than I think she does.
In time, maybe I’ll understand more about her.
Amara goes to the fridge and pulls out two glass bottles of Coke, handing me one. “Look, being hurt isn’t anything new to me. All I know is that you were shot, but if you need to talk to anyone, I’m a good listener. I’m no stranger to being in pain.” Amara offers me a soft smile, that makes me wonder what in the hell she’s gone through.
A lump forms in my throat out of nowhere and I nod, “Thanks. I appreciate that.”
