Page 60 of The Potter

Fuck, what are you doing, Vance? Calming her or attending confession?

“What do you mean youblack out?”

The plane begins to taxi the runway, but Halle doesn’t seem to notice. She’s now completely latched on to the dark skeleton I work hard to keep out of the limelight.

“Is that what happened the day I found you in the bathroom?”

So curious…

“Yes.” This method of indulging my secrets to distract her is clearly working, but not for me. Now, I’m the one with the racing heart and tight chest.

“Just, yes? Seriously, Vance.”

I’d be relieved her attitude is back if it wasn’t at the expense of me elaborating. “You asked me a question, and I answered it. What more do you want to know?”

Halle’s lip twitches as she fights off a smile. “Well, since you asked…”

Wrong thing to say, dumbass.

“I’d like to know when these blackouts started.”

I growl out my displeasure at this line of questioning, but it doesn’t seem to bother Halle. I swallow and look out the window, seeing we are now in the air. At least she doesn’t seem to notice.

“Vance,” she turns my head toward her. “How long?”

“A while.”

She quirks a brow, her hands going to my shoulders, kneading the tension there. “A while as in a year ago?”

I snap my gaze to hers. “What do you know about last year?”

Someone’s been fucking talking, and I intend to put an end to it as soon as we land. There’s no way Halle could know about Logan. Could she? Not without my brothers telling her, and they wouldn’t. They know how sacred the Potter secrets are. If one falls, we all fall.

“I don’t know anything about what happened last year. Just that you changed from the man I heard about to the man you are now.”

Ah. Well, she could have easily figured that out. The critical piece of information, she’s still missing. And I plan to keep it that way.

“Did what happen to you last year cause the blackouts?”

It’s an innocent question. One a friend would ask. Are Halle and I friends? I’m not so sure. We’ve helped each other during difficult situations, but these situations wouldn’t be as difficult if she’d just taken no for an answer the first time we met.

We wouldn’t be here on a plane with me calming her PTSD symptoms with stories of my own.

I sigh and lean my head back against the seat, my gaze drifting to the ceiling. “Yes. My therapist calls them psychogenic blackouts.”

My throat bobs as the weight lifts from my chest just by speaking the words aloud. The psychogenic attacks aren’t something my brothers and I talk about. That’s what I pay a therapist for. However, telling someone else, who can understand, holds a certain freedom I didn’t know existed.

“Oh, Vance…”

All I can feel is her heat on my thighs as she leans in, pressing her lips against mine. I want out of this feeling. I don’t need another friend. Sharing horror stories leads to bonds. And I can’t afford to destroy another soul.

But her moans…

I find it impossible to ignore anything regarding Ms. Belle.

“Can I touch you?” Her words are a whispered plea to both of our ears.

“No.” I nip at her neck. “You’re gonna let me touch you, Ms. Belle.”

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