Indigo Sky

CHAPTER NINETEEN

On a normal night, I would get home and tiptoe through the house, careful to avoid every loose floorboard and door hinge in desperate need of oiling. On a normal night, I would be aware and alert, no matter how exhausted I was, and I was always respectful of the fact that my parents were asleep down the hall.

But tonight wasn’t a normal night.

I drove down the dark streets with an acute awareness of my heart being one thunderous beat closer to exploding with every crash against my rib cage. Kate sat beside me in contented silence, sending coy, knowing smiles in my direction every so often. I could see her cheeks were flushed, even in the dark of the car, her eyes alight with anticipation and excitement and hunger.

I had spent years imagining what it would be like to have her in my bed. I had reconfigured the scenario a thousand times, like I was rehearsing the lines for a movie I was never going to be in. But the thing about fantasies was that you never truly believed they’d become your reality, and now, as I approached my parents’ house, I found there was a lot of pressure in knowing I was about to have sex with my dream girl.

Don’t fuck this up , my brain warned on an endless loop. I know it’s been a while, but if you’re about to fuck her, you’d better make it good. Don’t mess this up .

“You’re really quiet,” Kate said.

“Just concentrating,” I replied, keeping my eye on the road.

The last thing I wanted was to get into a car accident and ruin my chances of falling asleep with her in my arms.

How romantic , I heard Nate say in my head, and I almost laughed.

I had always been the more romantic of the two of us—that probably goes without saying—but the romanticism going on in my mind was more than even I was used to.

“Are you nervous?”

A short bark of a laugh rumbled from my chest. “I mean, if I’m being honest, yeah , I’m nervous.” God, it was a relief to say it out loud, and the incredulity in my tone made her laugh.

“Oh, please don’t tell me you were lying when you said you weren’t still a virgin.” She was teasing, and the streetlights leading to my childhood home glimmered off of her playful eyes. Then, she reconsidered and tapped her chin as she continued, “Although … to be your first everything …”

The thought made me wish I had waited an eternity until I could call her mine before giving myself to a woman who had meant something at the time, but not forever. I didn’t have a time machine though, and I couldn’t take back the things I’d said before when I told her about my past.

“Nope, definitely not a virgin,” I confirmed yet again with a smirk.

“Well, think about every woman you’ve ever been with now because I’m going to make you forget they ever existed.”

The comment made me turn abruptly toward her, startled and amused, and, holy fuck , I was turned on, and she laughed, her cheeks darkening in the shadows.

“That’s supposed to be my line,” I joked.

Her eye roll was subtle as she said, “Oh, Revan …”

Hearing my full name come from her lips made my wild heart skip a beat as I choked out, “What?”

“You’ve already made me forget about them.”

With my heart in my throat, I pulled up to the curb and looked past Kate toward the darkened windows on the top floor. Mom and Dad were sleeping; they always were when I got home. They trusted me as an adult living in their house, and suddenly, I worried they’d be disappointed when they found out I’d brought a woman home.

What would their reactions be in the morning? It was almost embarrassing to admit the topic had never been brought up. They knew about girlfriends of the past, of course, and they weren’t oblivious to what I’d done with them. But to be under their roof …

God, my stomach was in a thousand impossible knots over a thousand things, and I didn’t know how to work them out other than to just dive in headfirst and handle shit as it came.

“How quiet can you be?” I asked, already lowering my voice as I unbuckled my seat belt, as if there were any chance of my parents hearing me out here in my car.

She offered a salacious smirk. “Are you asking if I’m a screamer?”

My poor dick could only handle so much of this. I groaned and leaned my head against the seat, rolling my eye toward her as if to say, You know exactly what I’m asking, and it isn’t that .

She chuckled softly. “I’ll be very quiet, I promise."

And she kept that promise all the way up the path from the curb to the porch, through the door and the living room, and tiptoeing up the stairs to my open, waiting bedroom. I pressed my finger to my lips as I flipped the light switch and carefully closed the door, wincing as the hinges groaned in protest until it was closed.

"I keep forgetting to oil this damn thing," I muttered, keeping my voice low as I turned the lock. "Then again, I never had a reason to care."

"So, you really don't bring women home," she whispered, sounding like she was actually surprised.

"Did you think I was kidding?" I huffed a chuckle and turned to face her, only to find that she'd begun a self-led tour around my childhood bedroom that, unfortunately, still looked very much like it belonged to a kid in high school.

She quirked her lips with amusement at the five-disc stereo system and the towers of compact discs still stacked beside it.

"Vintage," she commented, then glanced over her shoulder and said, "And honestly? Yeah, I thought maybe you were stretching the truth a little."

I shrugged as I tugged my jacket off my arms. "I wasn't exactly a popular kid," I explained dryly. "Then, I dropped out of high school, got my GED, and went to trade school, which wasn't exactly the best place to meet girls. Nate and I got jobs right after graduation, and we found an apartment not long after that, so …"

"Nate …" Kate touched the top of my dresser, cluttered with folded clothes meant to be put away, then turned to meet my gaze. "Crystal's boyfriend?"

I nodded as I hung my jacket on the hook on the back of the door, never taking my eye off her, as if she might disappear if I did. "That's the one."

"So, when you say you were good friends, you really mean—"

"We were brothers," I said, almost as a whisper, furrowing my brow while remembering what Nate had said after his mother's house went up in flames.

“We can be like real brothers.”

"He's your brother ?"

I quickly shook my head, sending the faded old memory back to the dusty corner of my mind it belonged in. "No, not real brothers, but …" I walked farther into the room and sat on the bed, scrubbing my palms over my cheeks before dropping my hands to my thighs. "We were close as kids. Then, after his mom died, my parents took him in, and we lived together from that point on until a few years ago. That's when I moved back here."

She nodded thoughtfully as her eyes landed on the bed. Her hands fidgeted, her expression suddenly rueful and conflicted. What was she thinking about? From the look on her face, I couldn't tell if she wanted to turn around and run or break down and confess every heartbreaking detail I had yet to know about her life.

"What's wrong?" I asked, tipping my head curiously.

"It's just sad to me, I guess, that we … people … can be so close to someone, and then, one day, it just … ends." Her brows pinched as she frowned. "I've never been able to understand how that happens. I mean, don't get me wrong; I've been there before too. I can't remember the last time I talked to my sisters or mother, and I have no idea when I'll ever want to again. But … how does that just happen ?"

I looked away then to a spot on the floor and shrugged my limp shoulders. "I don't know. I’ve never really thought about it before, I guess. But as far as Nate goes, I, uh … I think I finally realized we would never … grow unless we grew apart."

Kate lifted her gaze but swept it up and over, avoiding me altogether as she stared at the blank ceiling above. She fumbled with her hands, chewed at her lip. I recognized this look, this hesitancy and uncertainty. This was the same way she had looked at the diner a couple of weeks ago. Like the moment had shriveled away to dust, leaving behind this beautiful shell of a woman who wanted nothing more than to hide from the world. Or maybe it was just me.

“Hey.” I leaned forward, resting an elbow on one knee while reaching my other hand out to hers. “Talk to me.”

The air left her lungs in an open-mouthed gust as she shrugged loosely, her hand in mine, but not grasping. She licked her lips, then said, "I … I wasn't suppo—" Her voice broke, and she swallowed. "I wasn't supposed to do this," she choked out.

"Do what?" I asked, clueless.

My heart hammered wildly in my chest, scared that I had somehow ruined every chance I had of making something work with her … but what had I even done? She suddenly seemed as predictable as Nate always had been. Always two seconds away from breaking down, losing control … whatever.

Kate blinked rapidly, swallowed again, then finally met my gaze. "I wasn't supposed to love you," she whispered, her voice carrying on a shred of breath.

My eyebrows rose with shock— she loves me?!— before lowering immediately with worry. "Wait, wait, wait … you weren't supposed to … but what … why? Wha-what do you mean?" I stammered like a bumbling idiot who had, just this second, forgotten how to form coherent sentences—because, holy shit, she loved me?! And this was how I found out? This moment of apparent panic and something too close to regret for comfort?

Kate huffed and pulled her hand from mine. I thought she might leave, but she didn't. Instead, she plopped herself down beside me on the bed and leaned forward, laying her face in her palms with a despairing groan.

"Jesus," I muttered, staring at a stain on my bedroom carpet from a time when I'd dropped a glass of grape soda when I was nine. "If I had known that loving me would be so awful, I would've—"

"I'm assuming your parents are married," Kate hurried to interrupt, dropping her palms to her lap.

I nodded. "Yeah, they are."

"Right. And they're happy, I'm guessing?"

"Yeah, I mean, I've never asked, but—"

"My parents hated each other for as long as I can remember," she continued, keeping her gaze forward and down.

Maybe she was looking at the same purple stain.

"They fought constantly—like, really fought. They were miserable. Their relationship thrived on make-up sex and toxicity until my mom confessed that she’d been sleeping with pretty much all of my dad’s friends, including his old business partner, and left to live with her fucking boyfriend," she said, anger and resentment dripping from every word. "And it was only after she left that I realized it was her . She was the problem. My dad … he wasn't perfect, but he tried , you know? But she would start shit with him all the fucking time until she just decided to … not. And I don't understand it. I've never understood it. Something brought them together in the first place. They fell in love. They wanted each other … until she stopped wanting him."

"Did he ever stop wanting her?" I asked quietly, not sure what else to say.

She barely shook her head. "I don't think so. I mean … he never dated. But he also didn't have much time before he got sick, so …" She sighed, her breath trembling. "I think he thought he had failed her or something. Like he was the one to make her so goddamn miserable and angry all the fucking time—and who the fuck knows? Maybe he was. But he never hit her, never hit us , never … hurt us the way she hurt him—not that I know of anyway—and I just feel like, what the hell did he do that was so horrible to warrant what she did to him?"

I shook my head without a single clue of where to start. "I … I don't know—"

She turned to me abruptly and snapped, "What did Nate do to you ?"

I tipped my head and narrowed my gaze at the accusation threaded between every word. "How can you—"

"You said you were like brothers. You said you were close. His mom died. And you … what? Got sick of him, so you—"

I held up a staying hand, needing to put a stop to this sudden attack on my character while feeling acutely aware of the guilt worming its way through my bones.

"Okay, okay, listen to me," I said carefully, finally understanding and hating the distrust that was now reflected in her eyes. "What happened with Nate … I took the blame for something he'd done at work. He let me take the fall, and I lost my job. He didn't even bat an eye. He just … let it happen, and I was mad. I was unemployed. I couldn't afford my share of the rent, so I moved back home. That was the catalyst, but there was other stuff. He sabotaged relationships. He hurt me . Okay? You asked me before if he was a bad guy, and the answer is, yes, he was. He was bad. He was bad for me, and he was bad for himself. I had to do the selfish thing and cut him out of my life. Otherwise, he would've dragged me down with him, and I couldn't let that happen. It had to happen because I wouldn't be where I am now."

The war waging in her eyes had softened, but a bitterness still burned the edges of her bright irises as she sniffed a blunt laugh. "What, in your childhood bedroom in your parents' house?" she muttered sardonically.

"Jesus, Kate," I muttered back, raising my gaze to the ceiling. "That's not what I mean. I wouldn't be here . I wouldn't be with you . And in case you haven't figured it out by now, I fucking love you, too, and I'm sorry if that seems like the end of the world to you, but to me, it—"

"I'm scared ," Kate blurted out before clamping her lips between her teeth.

"Of me?"

"Yes!" she exclaimed before catching herself and laying a hand over her mouth. "I'm scared of you, I'm scared of losing you, I'm scared of you just … deciding out of fucking nowhere that you don't want to be with me anymore, I'm scared of driving you away, I'm scared—"

"Yeah, and I'm scared that I'll wake up and realize this was all just a fucking dream," I interrupted, taking one of her hands in mine. "Listen, I don't know what's going to happen, but what I do know is that I've spent the past nine years holding you on a pedestal in my mind. Every woman I've ever been with has been compared to you."

One side of her mouth twitched into a forlorn smile as she bumped her shoulder against mine. "Are we sure you're not my stalker?"

"Yes, but I'm not sure Saul's convinced yet," I grumbled sarcastically. "But seriously, if I haven't gotten sick of your memory in all that time, I cannot imagine ever getting sick of the real deal ‘cause, sweetheart, I feel like I've won the fucking jackpot right now. But … if, for some reason, I ever do, I won't just skip town, okay? You'll know. I promise."

"Did Nate know?" she asked quietly, still unable to look at me. But her hand held mine, and I took that as a good sign.

"If he didn't, he's more oblivious than I ever realized," I said. "And, hey, Nate and I are working out our shit. So, take that as a good sign."

Her gaze finally met mine then, and I released a relieved breath.

"But you still don't trust him," she said warily.

"No," I replied honestly. "But I'm open to the idea. I just …"

"You need time—I get it." Her shoulder hung beside mine and she laid a hand over her face as she groaned. "God, I'm sorry. You probably think I'm absolutely insane."

"Nah," I said, threading my fingers between hers. "I just love you."

Her pulse quickened beneath my touch.

"But I-I'm here, comparing your old friend to my parents' marriage, and—"

"I still love you," I said, bringing her hand to my lips and pressing a kiss to the inside of her wrist.

"And I have completely ruined this freakin' night, and I'm so tired, and—"

" And I still love you," I said, pressing another kiss to her thumb.

She released a calming sigh. "Yeah," she said, hushed, as she turned her head to bring her eyes to mine, holding me steady with the confession I'd been aching to hear. "I love you too."

To have those words come from her mouth and land against my chest—softly at first, only to explode upon impact—was all I needed to feel like my life was complete. As if, at thirty-one years old, I had reached the pinnacle of my purpose here on Earth, and I could've left, knowing I'd found pure and true happiness.

It was the lamest moment of my life, easily the sappiest, but as I pushed forward and thrust my lips against hers in a crushing, bruising kiss, I didn't give a fuck how lame or sappy it was. Because it was ours.

My tongue invaded her mouth without invitation, and she groaned in response, reaching her hands out to tug at the forever-disheveled lengths of my hair. Our heads realigned, dancing with choreography we both somehow had memorized, as she turned and straddled my lap in one swift, fluid motion.

I've been here before , I thought instantly, a memory rushing back from years ago—when we had been cocooned in the darkness of the club, the music thumping and every pair of eyes on us, but I hadn't cared.

I wasn't allowed to do this back then , I thought as one of my hands cupped her breast through her hooded sweatshirt.

Her back arched, pushing herself deeper against my grasping palm. I squeezed; she moaned. I grazed my thumb over her pebbled nipple, noticeable even beneath her bra, and her lips parted with a shuddering gasp. It was a delicious, tantalizing give-and-take as she ground her hips repeatedly against mine, and I chuckled against her lips.

"Are you trying to make me come in my pants again?" I asked, unable to keep my grin from spreading wide.

"No," she said, faking innocence as her hands left my hair to grip my shoulders. "But if you wanted me to, I could."

"Oh, you think so?" I raised an eyebrow to accompany my smirk.

"Don't forget, I'm a professional," she replied, a coy glint in her eye.

"Yeah," I muttered with a snorted laugh. "A professional tease." I nudged my head over my shoulder. "Lie down."

Kate tried to fight her smile as her lips fell open with feigned shock and a horrified gasp. "Are you giving me orders ?"

"Sweetheart, I might have to pretend we aren't something while we're working, but right now, in this room, you're mine," I said. "Now, go lie down."

Her cheeks flushed a bright shade of crimson as she bit down on her bottom lip before replying, "Yes, sir."

She stood from my lap and held my gaze as her fingernails dragged over my shoulders until they were gone. She ran her hands in a graceful, slow-motion dance over her hips, stomach, and the full, round swell of her breasts until reaching the zipper at the neck of her sweatshirt. One hand lingered at the base of her throat as the other dragged that zipper pull down, down, down until it was undone, both sides of the sweatshirt falling open to reveal nothing but her bejeweled navel and the black bra she wore underneath.

"Fucking hell, Kate," I muttered, shaking my head as my gaze dropped from hers to take in the sight of her smooth, flawless skin.

Fuck, the amount of time she must devote to ensure she looked so damn perfect … I could only imagine, and knowing that, at this moment, it was all for me was likely the closest thing I'd ever come to nirvana on this side of heaven.

The jacket fell from her shoulders and arms, dropping softly to the floor at her feet. Her hips swirled in a hypnotizing dance as she turned, her hands falling to her waist as she worked her sweatpants off her hips in slow, tantalizing precision, revealing centimeter after centimeter of her shapely, curved ass.

"Are you trying to kill me?" I murmured as she bent at the waist, dragging the pants to her ankles.

"No," she replied, whipping her pink hair back as she pulled herself back to a standing position. She glanced over her shoulder as her thumbs hooked into the sides of her matching black thong. "I'm trying to make you hard. Is it working?"

I rolled my eye up to hers with a deadpan glare. "You already know the answer to that."

"Then, I guess my job here is done," she replied cheerily, bending down to reach for her pants.

She had begun to pull them back up when I grabbed her by the waist. "Oh, no, you don't," I growled, laughter injected into every word as I wrapped my arms around her and fell back onto the bed, taking her with me.

Kate's surprised squeal was followed by a slew of giggles as we lay against my mattress, her hands finding my cheeks and mine diving deep into the lengths of her bubblegum-colored hair. She pulled me in for another endless kiss as her leg wrapped around mine, drawing my jean-covered thigh toward the apex between her thighs.

Is she as wet as I am hard? I wondered and worked my hand down and between our bodies to slide my fingers beneath her silky thong then lower, lower until I found what I was looking for.

"Fuck," I groaned into her open mouth as one finger, then two found themselves easily inside her tight, wet heat.

The knowledge that I was touching her—my dream girl, the woman who had starred in the majority of my fantasies over so many years—was enough to make my head swim in a dizzying cyclone of disbelief and desperation to make this moment last. Every second that passed, every strangled moan dripping from her tongue against mine … it was all so fleeting, racing between my pumping fingers, and I knew it would be over sooner than I wanted.

Hell, if I had it my way, this would never end.

"Revan."

The sound of my name purring against my ear, the feel of it feathering over my lips …

My veins pulsed with an intense need to free my aching erection and thrust into her, hard and fast, and as she tugged at my wrist, I sensed that feeling was mutual.

"Fuck me." Her voice was breathless, choked by need. "Now, please, God."

"You should know better than to call a man God," I teased, my grin spreading until it hurt. "I can already feel my ego growing."

"Oh, is that what we're calling this?"

Her hand left my wrist to stroke along the front of my jeans, her fingertips dragging over the length of my cock. She hummed with approval, and I wasn't sure my ego was capable of inflating any more than it already had.

I didn't want to untangle my limbs from hers, and when I sat up to pull my shirt off, I missed her immediately, which was as ridiculous as it sounded, but, shit … I loved her. I loved her in a way I hadn’t been sure was possible. I loved her in a way I'd always thought was bullshit—the kind they sang about, the kind in all those cheesy chick flicks Mom watched when Dad wasn't bogarting the TV.

Her hooded gaze stared up at me, her fingers lingering in the valley between her breasts. Her lips quirked, a reluctant smile tugging at the corners.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she whispered as I knelt on the bed, unzipping my jeans.

I swallowed, an attempt to dislodge the lump in my throat, only to find it was immovable. "I just …" I exhaled and shook my head. "I can't believe you're here ."

Kate reached out, assisting in tugging my jeans off my hips as she replied softly, "I'm here."

The jeans were kicked off, thrown to the floor, and her hands were at the waistband of my boxer briefs, not sparing a second to get rid of them as well. I lay with her, unhooking her bra, tugging at the scrap of fabric she called underwear, and we were both naked, bare to each other in ways I’d thought would exist in my dreams but had now become reality. My mouth sought hers as she took the reins, throwing her leg over my hip and using her hand to guide my erection to a place it'd always wanted, but never thought it'd call home.

"Wait," I said hurriedly, a question hanging in the air, and she shook her head. "Are you—"

"On birth control?" She nodded, her hand squeezing around me with a sort of reassurance that made me groan. "It's fine, yeah, just …"

I surged forward before her sentence could be finished, and in unison, we sighed with what I could only describe as relief, as if we'd waited years for this moment, this connection, to bring another piece of our souls home.

It was completion, and as much as I didn't want to say it was everything, I thought maybe it could've been.

We were still, holding on to each other with a viselike grip, breathing heavily and adjusting to the new and incredible sensation of being together.

My forehead touched hers, and with a deep breath, I began to move. Taking my time. Not rushing anything, but wanting to feel everything. In, out. In, out. In … fuck . I slowed the rhythm, worried I’d embarrass myself in her presence again, but, dammit …

“Why do you feel so good?” I thought aloud, swallowing.

“You do too.” Her voice was hoarse, like she hadn’t spoken in days, unused and rasped. “Oh my God, don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

She spoke like this moment was all that was keeping her alive. Like this bed, this room, was the precipice of heaven. Me . She clung to my neck, dipping her fingertips into the hair at the nape. She pressed her lips to mine, whimpering breaths of need passing through her nose, as she moved her hips, searching for more as I searched for the willpower to not explode.

But I didn’t want to disappoint her.

So, I pinched my brows, held my breath, and met her thrust for thrust, slowly, carefully. Desperate to ignore how right, good, perfect her body felt, wrapped around mine.

“Get on your back,” she muttered before pulling my bottom lip between her teeth.

I said nothing but listened, rolling over and taking her with me. When she straddled my waist with my cock still buried inside of her and I looked up over her body, meant for the pages of a dirty magazine, I knew—I knew —I was the luckiest man on this entire fucking planet.

Her fingernails dragged over my chest. They pierced my skin and left their half-moon marks. I reveled in the coalescence of pain and pleasure as she rode me with a carnal determination to find the finish line. One lithe hand slithered lower, over my stomach and to the juncture where her body met mine, and I was caught between wanting to watch her eyes, glazing over in a haze of lust and euphoria, or her fingers, sliding over places I longed to taste.

“Are you close?” she asked.

"Sweetheart," I choked out with a gruff chuckle, “I’ve been close.”

Her face lit up with an elated smile, her cheeks flushed.

“Can you come with me?”

I nodded erratically. “Just tell me when.”

And, fuck, she did. After only seconds of working her fingers right there and watching me with her lip bitten and her chest heaving, she commanded my orgasm with her own. She threw her head back, her nails impaling my chest and, I was sure, leaving their mark. Her voice rose, ripping through her throat, and I sat up quickly to clamp my mouth against hers, swallowing her screams and moans and oh Gods as, together, we rode wave after euphoric wave.

Then, we collapsed, pressing kisses to cheeks, necks, chins, and lips. Smiling and giggling and feeling younger and more alive than we had been yesterday.

“Oh my God ,” she groaned into my shoulder, followed by a fluttery laugh. “I am so glad I wasn’t your first.”

I barked a laugh as my fingers combed through her hair. “I think that’s the first time a woman has ever been glad that a man sowed his oats before being with her …”

She propped herself onto an elbow and looked down at me. “Well, I mean, how many oats are we talking about here?”

I pulled in a deep breath, held up a hand, and counted on my fingers, only to pretend to lose count and start over.

Kate’s eyes widened with mirth as she shoved against my arm. “Oh, come on!”

“There were two,” I finally admitted. “Both were girlfriends.”

She rested her cheek in the palm of her hand. “Who was the first?”

"Emily," I said, uttering the name aloud for the first time in years.

"Emily," Kate breathed out, closing her eyes, like she'd just taken a sip of wine to roll it around on her tongue. "Was she any good?"

A disbelieving chuckle rumbled through my chest. "Why the hell are you asking me these questions?"

Kate shrugged innocently. "Because that could've been me," she replied. " I could've been your first, if you had come home with me that night, so … I'm just curious … if she was good."

"You mean, better than you?"

She rolled her eyes and fell back down against my shoulder. "I don't care if she was better than me."

"Well, she wasn't," I said, wrapping my arm around her back. "And, yeah, she was okay. Not that I had anything to compare it to at the time, but—"

"Sex is sex, and you're a man—I get it," she replied, her voice teasing. "You could've fucked a goat, and it would've been decent."

I snorted a laugh. "Well, now, you're just being nasty, but okay."

Kate laid her arm across my chest and nuzzled into my neck. Minutes went by, and her intake of breath deepened. I thought she might've fallen asleep, and despite the overhead light shining down on us, exhaustion barreled over me like a freight train. I'd been awake for nearly twenty-four hours, and suddenly, I couldn't remember a time when I had been this tired.

From pure muscle memory, I pulled the eyepatch off and tossed it onto my nightstand. I never did like sleeping with it on. Then, I rested my cheek against the top of her head, so fucking happy and hardly able to believe she was there, and embarked on a journey toward slumber.

But Kate shifted beneath me and sat up.

"I should use the bathroom," she announced quietly. "Where is—"

She cut herself off when she glanced over her shoulder at me. Her mouth was left open as her eyes danced over my face. At first, I wasn't sure what she was looking at, but just before I could ask, I remembered she'd never seen me without the eyepatch. Shame and embarrassment rushed to my cheeks, my face growing hot, and I knew if I could feel it, she could see it.

I reached over to grab the discarded eyepatch from the nightstand. "Sorry," I muttered, lifting up to pull it back on. "I-I didn't—"

"No, don't," she said, laying her hand on my arm. " I'm sorry. I shouldn't have … I just never …" She sucked in a deep breath and pressed her eyes shut, shaking her head a little. "I didn't know what to expect—that's all."

"It's okay," I said.

I couldn't blame her for being shocked at the sight of the scar tissue that ran over the patchworked eyebrow and barely there, pieced-together eyelid or the dark, vacant eyesocket where my right eye had once been. Most people were made uncomfortable by it, even those I'd known the longest, and I couldn't have expected her to be any different.

But she hadn't flinched, I noted. It didn't scare her, and that … well, that was something, wasn't it?

She cleared her throat and looked at me like I was a man with two normal, functioning eyes and asked, "Where's the bathroom?"

My throat felt constricted, my chest felt heavy. Emotion had swept over me quicker than I could react, and I blinked, startled and fucking grateful.

I gestured toward the door. "Across the hall," I said. "The door's always open if nobody's in there."

***

She asked to borrow a shirt. I got her one from my dresser drawer, and she slipped it on before tiptoeing from my room. She left me standing there in front of my dresser mirror, staring at myself comfortably for maybe the first time in … shit, I couldn't even tell you how long. And I stood there, wondering how the hell a guy like me had lucked out with such a phenomenal woman like her … and if there was any chance for me to keep her. Not just for tonight or tomorrow, but for the weeks, months, years after. Hell, maybe even forever, if I had my way.

But guys like me, man …

Our luck doesn't come easily, does it? And whatever little comes our way doesn't get to stick around for long.

At least not in my case anyway.