Page 161 of Paint the Town, Dove
I cleared my throat. “For what?”
“Pretending to be my manager, my first gig at Cobalt Blues.”
I chuckled softly. “You did, idiot. Too much.”
“Guess yeah,” he paused. “I don’t like thinking too much about that night. It ended up being…”
“One big fuck show,” I finished for him. I could still hear the sirens now. The white cast of the TVs. Her name up on that screen. Her beautiful, perfect face crooked and mangled all because someone careless got behind the wheel –
And stole my precious Emory’s life.
“It’s noble, Dove. What you did,” he turned to face me. “ScarlettEmory-Blake.”
I legally changed my name after that, wanted her legacy to live on.
Bury Violet, breathe life into Emory.
It was about time.
She deserved this life just as much as me.
She deserved better.
“Her spirit’s around here somewhere,” I said, sweeping my eyes across the room before landing on Ryden. “Her spirit probably saw you eat me out.”
We laughed for what felt like ten minutes. My abs were on fire, but it was worth it.
We hadn’t laughed like that in so long.
To share that kind of innocence again (over something sonot), it took control of my body. I scooted out of my sheets, and padded over to Ryden’s bed.
“Room for one more?” I asked, swallowing my nerves.
He lifted up the covers and shifted his body against the wall. “C’mere.”
My body fell flush against his, the warmth of him enveloping me in that refuge Sue was talking about.
This is safety. This islove.
Remind yourself before you let those beasts out.
His strong arms wrapped around me, cradling me against his chest like a fragment of glass. “You don’t need to hold me like I’m breakable,” I spoke softly, thinking back to that time in Hank’s studio. The way Ryden held me just the same. “I’m not the same girl I used to be.”
“You were never breakable, Dove, you always knew how to lift yourself up,” he whispered against my ear. “But I like to think I gave you the strength to stand.”
Gently, ever so gently, his lips pressed against the back of my neck. Small, tiny kisses, trailing up and down my pebbled skin, and then nothing.
I swallowed, the apparentness of his muscled torso against my back, the lower half of him pushed into my ass…no, no, no this is NOT a re-do.
And yet, I couldn’t stop myself from turning to face him, still a cradle of a bird in his arms, leaning down to press my lips lightly against his.
“Dove…” He breathed, lips tasting like apple whisky and cider. “You don’t want this.”
“I do,” I whispered, leaning into his kiss. “I hate that I do.”
“Don’t play with my heart,” he murmured, gripping onto my waist. “You break it, there’s nothing left.”
Well…
