Page 60 of Burn for Me

“Eat,” I cut her off, tossing the plate onto her lap. She jumps at my tone, clears her throat, and reluctantly picks up the fork.

“It’s an omelet…” she mutters. I grab my file and head into the living area. I don’t have the energy to explain why I made the same meal I previously claimed was someone else’s cooking, nor the patience to treat her the way she wants right now.

The sun beams through the large glass windows, so I hit the wall button to shut the blackout curtains. A little darkness will help me focus on the forms, but as I sit on the couch staring at the stack of papers, my mind begins to wander.

Maybe someone put their name on the documents to cover their tracks. I can run some of the writing through a database to match it with someone else's. But if it comes back to… How the hell can I cover that? How can I forgive it? I can't. She wouldn’t do that to me. To us.

I glance at the flames flickering behind the glass of the fireplace. It’s ironic how the world works, how it can give you hope only to rip it away. I’m a living example. My uncle, chaos, and now Jasmine can all testify to that. Each one made me feel like I earned something better, only to prove that I never deserved anything more than what I’ve received:hate, torture… betrayal.

Like I've summoned the devil herself, Jasmine tiptoes around the couch with her plate, a fork in her mouth, and a kitchen knife twirling between her fingers. The couch dips, so I glance out of the corner of my eye as she shifts to get comfortable and starts cutting into an apple.

"I used to tell my sister that apples can heal anything," Jasmine says softly as she lifts a piece to examine it.

"Bad hair day? Fixed. Tired? Well, now you're awake. Feeling broken? Now you're put back together." She recites while extending the fruit in my direction.

I ignore her with a grumble. I've never felt guilty about being difficult, but the way her face falls slightly makes me want to leap out of the glass plane separating us from the outside world. She’s finally offering me everything I’ve ever wanted to know with a smile on her face, and I can't bring myself to accept it.

"Sorry," I murmur, and she holds out the apple again.

"Do you need me?" she whispers, causing me to snap my head in her direction and make her pull back slightly.

“I mean… are things too overwhelming right now?” she mutters as she sets it back on her plate.

I sigh, tempted to run my fingers through her hair and soothe her worries, but I do it to my own instead. Even though I understand what my gut is telling me, I also realize that the back-and-forth in my head is pointless.

No matter how unforgivable her sins are, I’ll follow her to hell and back. I’ll scorch my soul if it means keeping her safe. I’ll burn alive rather than let anything rip her from my side. Even if I'm reduced to ashes, I'll cling to her skin because now that I know what it feels like to be loved by her, I can't imagine letting her go.

I nod and extend my arm to the side, giving her an opening to touch me.

“What do you need me to do? I can kiss you until you're breathless. I can dance around the living room naked. Or I can show you my impersonation of Sharkie.” She rambles as she tosses her plate to the table and moves to straddle my lap.

“We’re going to have to give you a safe word,” I murmur as she brushes her fingers through my hair, smoothing it down.

“I’ll be fine,” she laughs, unaware I’m consumed by thoughts of what I might do to her if I'm right.

“I’m serious...” I pull her head to rest against mine, my hand at the nape of her neck.

“Red,” she says quietly, and I nod. I can work with that if needed. I hope it doesn’t reach that point.

“Does that mean you, um...” She glances at my lap and raises an eyebrow.

It’s tempting, but that’s not what I need right now. Instead, I pull her head into my neck, and she wraps her arms around my shoulders, relaxing into my touch.

“Just hold onto me for a moment,” I murmur because this is what I want—to feel her, to know she’s here. Even if I'm right about the situation, I'll fix it and still have her. I might be upset for a while, and my reaction may not be the best, but who knows? Maybe I'm wrong.

I want to be wrong.

“What do you want to do today?”

Her head pulls back at my question, and she gnaws at her bottom lip, so I gently pull the flesh from between her teeth.

“I’ve always wanted to see Central Park. I lived here for years and never really got the chance,” she says, shrugging as if it's a silly idea.

“Then we will do that,” I reply.

“Are you sure you don’t need anything before we go? You seemlost,” she whispers.

If only she knew how much I wanted to take her up on that. My thoughts are consuming me, and the longer I hold her, the more I crave the comfort she provides. However, I need answers, and I can only hope she will give them before I find out for myself. Looking her over, I gently tug at her chin, causing her head to bounce and a giggle to escape her lips.

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