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I continuously tap the pen on the desk, and the rhythm I’m creating is somewhat soothing as my mind wanders over how to fix this.
All of this.
Without warning, the office door flies open, jolting me from the dark thoughts I should avoid.
And there she stands, like a fucking angel, albeit a bruised one. Stepping inside, she makes no attempt to disguise her anger and slams the door behind her when she’s normally so considerate of the girls.
Is this it, when my world crumbles?
My mouth goes dry at the realization, and my stomach lurches with a wave of nausea.
She’s going to force me to move out, I know it. She hates me.
I attempt to swallow down the nausea, but that only makes me panic all the more as my chest caves in on me.She hates me.
Gasping for air, I choke as I struggle to regulate my breathing.She hates me when all I want is for her to love me.
“Lucas. Lucas, open your eyes and look at me.” Her soft voice caresses me, and her warm hand touches my cheek. “Open youreyes, Lucas. You’re panicking. Please don’t panic.” My eyes flash open, and my body relaxes into the chair at her touch and the tenderness behind her eyes. I wasn’t even aware I’d closed my eyes as the panic took a hold of me, and I became so lost in the surge it creates while I scramble to escape it.
Tia remains standing between my legs as my pulse rate steadily declines, letting me breathe more easily, and think more easily too.
Her blue eyes bore into me with such intensity I can feel the anger rolling off her while she tries to remain calm enough to pacify me.
I lick my lips, and her gaze trails the action, not missing a thing. At some point, my hands wrap around the back of her thighs, securing her in place, ensuring she remains between my legs while I try and explain things.
Keeping her as mine for a little while longer.
I scan over her face, and my fingers itch to touch over each bruise, each cut, and each blemish on her perfect skin. How I’ve longed to be the one to care for her, piece her back together.
“Give me your knife.”
My body freezes at her words. She couldn’t have shocked me anymore than she is right now.
“Your knife. Give it to me,” she demands again when I make no move to hand over my sacred possession. A lump gathers in my throat, unwilling to hand it over, knowing the consequences of the action could be the end of us.
A tremble filters through me, and I silently plead with her, my eyes imploring hers.Please don’t do this. I need it. You know I do.
She shakes her head, and my stomach sinks. “Give. It. To. Me.” She holds her hand out while glaring at me with a warning in her eyes.
Swallowing thickly, I remove a hand from behind her and fumble in my pants pocket, stroking over the grain of smooth wood before retrieving it and placing it in her familiar, delicate palm.
She licks her lips as she flicks open the blade and places it beneath my chin, forcing me to stretch my neck at the nick of pain.
The irony isn’t lost on me at the predicament I’m in. When I think I have all the control, she reminds me I have none.
“I should hurt you, Lucas.”
My gaze flicks down to hers. “Do it,” I coax.
She presses harder into my flesh, and a warm stream of blood travels down the column of my throat. “I should slit your throat for the lies you’ve told me.”
“I never lied to you, Tia.”
She presses harder, but I don’t care. I’m at her mercy, and I’m there willingly.
“You kept it from me. I trusted you!” Hurt swims in her eyes, and I despise myself for it.
“I... I thought you’d remember me,” I say, the pain evident in my voice of her not remembering who I was.
