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And then we can be each other’s ride-or-die.
Candy’s voice pulls me back out of my thoughts. “I’m just saying he has options. Some of us bunnies are open books.”
More like open legs.
Before I can reply, Candy snags a pastry, tasting it. “A little dry,” she jabs, lifting a shoulder daintily. “Not your best.” She dumps the pastry puff in the garbage as she exits the kitchen.
Silently, I count to ten to ensure Candy didn’t see me before I speed walk to the bunkroom.
I close the door behind me before picking my cell up from the dresser. There’s one text message from Gauge. My heart swells with relief before shame slams into my chest. I should’ve known better than to doubt.
But he sent one to Candy too.
It drives Candy’s point home that Gauge has other options. I trust him enough to share my story, showing him I’m committed. I need to tell him and soon.
CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO
GAUGE
“There you are, Gorgeous,” I cajole as I enter the bunkroom.
Opal’s sprawled on the floor with her little keepsake box open in front of her. She makes no move to close it as I sit beside her, claiming her sweet lips with mine.
“What are you up to?” I ask. I glance down at the contents scattered in front of her. A couple childhood photos sit on top of the pile. I rip my eyes away from the tempting paraphernalia, focusing on her lovely, heart-shaped face.
“Just…taking a little stroll down memory lane,” she explains with a melancholy smile.
Tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear, I ask, “You okay, baby?”
“Yeah, it just hurts remembering a childhood cut too short,” she admits. She digs through the pile of photos and hands one to me. “Look at this shot.”
I take the photograph between my fingers. My eyes scan the photo, showing an image of Opal in all her beauty. The photo doesn’t look too old, having been taken before she dyed her hair all the shades of the rainbow. Her thick platinum locks look like a halo around her head. Her smile lights up her entire face with angelic innocence. She’s wearing a white sundress that hugs all her luscious curves and tapers in at her tiny waist.
“Daaaamn,” I drawl. “Look at you, all fine as hell.”
Opal giggles, trying to take the picture back.
I shoo her away. “Nu-uh. This is mine. It’s going in my wallet.”
Opal throws her head back, laughing. “That’s so old school. Most people use their cells these days.”
I give her a sour look. “Are you calling me old?” Yeah, we have an age gap. Not large, but enough to make me feel insecure when portrayed as an old man.
“You’re not old, Handsome. Maybe an old soul, but not old. Anyway, I’m not sure you’d want to carry around a picture that is nearly seven years old. I’d think you’d want a current one.”
Say what?
I examine the picture again. There’s no way she was fourteen in this picture. She looks exactly the same. “Impossible.”
She pinches the photo out of my fingers, placing it back in the box. “Yes, way. This was taken right before…” She trails off, her eyes going glassy.
Before the devil did what he did.
Fuck.I’m disgusted with myself for sexualizing her teenage image the way her abuser had done.
The more I think about it, the queasier I feel. Being physically attracted to a teenage girl is abso-fucking-lutely wrong. Doesn’t matter that she looked like a full-fledged woman. She still wasn’t an adult. Is this why her abuser was attracted to her? Because she looked like a woman and not a teenybopper? Hell, am I as sick as him?
Opal pulls me out of my thoughts when she says, “Can I ask you something?”
