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Silas has been so sweet through it all.
The man takes my laptop away after midnight and makes me forget my troubles. Yes, he enjoys it too. The intensity of his moans is primal when he’s inside me. There’s no torment in the time we’re connected.
And through it all, I feel so damn guilty. I’m the center of this storm wrecking everyone’s lives, and I just want to collapse on the sand and beg for a fucking break.
“Hey, enough of my shit.” Stacey’s witnessing my mental descent. “I worry about you too.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re full of shit. I’m not holding back with you, missy. Don’t start doing it with me.”
If she can confess to threesomes she’s been having while cheating on her shithead husband, I guess I’ll share too.
“I’m so confused. I’m so overwhelmed that I just want to drown, you know? I have no fucking clue what to do with my life but catch evil men. And that sounds all lofty and shit, but it isn’t. It’s all my fault in the first place.”
Stacey knows everything, but what’s not my right to tell. Redix’s scar. Redix’s maybe rape. That I almost committed pre-meditated murder for him, but my parents did it instead.
Yeah, there’s a lot of fucking drama swamping my life, and I’m sinking.
“So it’s your fault some men have fucked-up, violent ideas of the world?” She challenges me. “It’s your fault they think if they want something, they’re entitled to it? It’s your fault they want all the power and no damn responsibility when they wield it? It’s your fault when they make rules that only serve them?”
Damn, look at the brain on Stacey.
She’s smart. As fuck. And pissed. As hell. I love her.
“You know better.” She pats my hand. “You’re just tired. You’ve been through a lot for so long, and you need a break, and no bullshit, it doesn’t look like it’s coming yet, but it will.”
“Fuck.” I throw my chin up. “If I finally get a break, what the hell will that look like?”
“Look. Silas is as fine as a frog hair split four ways, and maybe he’s the one. Maybe he’s the break for you.” Her pause weighs a ton. “Or maybe you just need a break from them.”
That grabs my chin down. “Them?”
“Yes, them. Silas and Redix. Girl, I ain’t one to talk, but you got a lot of steamy pots on your stove. Maybe it’s time you get out of the hot kitchen and give yourself a cool break.”
Why she makes so much sense makes me feel dumber than a tree stump.
All I’ve ever known is loving Redix. Or missing him. Or fighting for him. Or escaping into Silas, hiding in his simple and seductive world because I didn’t want to face my own.
Who am I if I don’t let a man define me—a lover or an enemy?
I’m about to answer her. I’m about to go down the list of things I want to do alone. Find a porch and sit with a stack of books. Travel. Scuba dive. Do jigsaw puzzles and drink beer. I’m about to start finding some smutty books online like my mama reads when my phone vibrates.
It’s Silas… and it’s odd. He’s busy showing a boat to some wealthy asshole.
“Hey,” I answer while Stacey starts clearing our table. “What’s up?”
“He’s here.” Silas sounds out of breath. “Derek Baucom is here at Shelter’s Cove, wearing a black T-shirt and khaki cargos. Call it in now.”
“Okay.” I have a dozen questions, but there’s only time for one. “You okay?”
“Yeah, we are. Hurry.”
We?
I don’t have time. “I’ll be right there.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
