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All my life I’d worked to make sure no one owned me. I’d thought it’d be music that would set me free. Then I’d just turned around and sold my soul to the devil.
Because I was curious, and fucking curious and me usually turned out to be a bad combination.
Funny how I’d come to think of him as his own entity. A ship in the night that only I could see. Alone. Lonely, even. Just like me.
A smirk tugged at my upper lip. “You have a bad habit of over-tipping, Mr. Guy-Whose-Job-Is-Being-Called-Into-Question.”
She’d asked me what I wanted from her. The problem was I had no clue. All I knew was it was more. That I wanted more of her dark and her light and her heavy and her soft. I wanted more of her sweet breaths and more of her pounding heart.
grief could do ugly things to people, especially ones who already had a propensity toward violence running through their veins. Pair that with bitterness and unrelenting pain? That was the kind of fuel with the power to create a monster.
And a monster he’d become.
That’s what I wanted for her. For this amazing child to grow up every single day knowing I loved her with every piece of me, that I wanted nothing from her other than to see her become a loving, kind, strong woman. That she chase her dreams, whatever they were. That she learn to respect and demand it in return.
“Thanks for being there for her…jumping in when she needed someone. Not a lot of people are willing to risk themselves for someone else.”
driving me closer to going mad. How
wanted someone to look at me the way Shea had. Knowing I had absolutely nothing to give her and still she wanted it all the same. Me.
A smirk pulled at her red lips. “What? I like my boys tattooed and screaming.”
and with every part of me I hoped she was hating me so she wasn’t suffering like I was, so she wasn’t sitting there missing me the same way I was missing her.
