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I don’t need a fucking post to tell the world I love you. That I always have. And I know you hate that shallow shit too.
But now I gotta spend three months with Angie wanting to tan my hide. No, fuck my hide, more accurately, but I can ignore her.
Because I’m gonna see you as much as I can. I’ve got a week in Atlanta next with pre-production bullshit… and then I’m coming home.
Luca, my friend who owns the golf resort, remember? He’s putting on a charity golf tournament. We’re going to build another Teen Crisis Center.
I want one in Charleston next.
Luca cares about kids because he’s a dad. He’s got the cutest little girl, and he’s a widower and raising her by himself.
And now you know why I do those centers.
If I’d had a safe place, I could’ve gone ten years ago. Like where counselors talked to me, maybe I wouldn’t have left you to find a fucking bottle in my hand for the next nine years.
But I’m okay.
You’re my safe place now. You always have been. When I hold you, I don’t hurt. You’re my world and all I want.
It makes me wonder what you’re doing now. It’s two here, five there.
Are you home from work? Did you get my gift yet? I sent it special delivery. It should be waiting by your door.
I want to see you open it and smile.
I’ll FaceTime you now.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
My phone vibrates on the cocktail table. I glance down. It’s Redix trying to video call.
“Romeo is ringing.” Penny sees it too. “Millions of women would answer that call.”
I text him.
Still at work
Gimme a couple hours?
His reply is fast.
REDIX
Any time for you, Candy Cade
“Girl, you got him wrapped.” Penny sucks down her Sprite before declaring, “That video of your ice cream kiss is all the evidence required. It’s so hot, and I gotta say, sweet as fuck.”
Our ice cream kiss went viral, and people glance at me now. It’s why I can’t go undercover. Between being five foot ten and the woman Redix Dean loves bound in leather or covered in ice cream, I’m as obvious as an airhorn blasting through a funeral service.
Fuck it. Our love is worth it.
This is worth it, too—watching Derek Baucom, who knows we’re watching him work. I wanna see what he’ll do. Because guilty men always crack. You just gotta step on their nerves hard enough until they do.
“Yes, and everyone can know,” I answer Penny, “we’re back together, and yes, it’s for good.”
“What exactly will that look like?” she asks. “A sergeant dating a celebrity? The hottest one, in fact, with a wild past?”
“He had his reasons.” Flashes of that scar on his buttock hit my mind like ice water, shooting guilt through my veins. “And he’s not wild anymore.”
