Page 26 of From the Ashes
“I don’t understand.”
“Perhaps blood, organs, and such, are a bit…frightening to other people, do you ever think of that?”
“Why would blood be frightening?” I frown. This is a waste of time. I hate that I have to do this.
“I, um, well, most people aren’t used to seeing it every day like you, Carter. So it can be very…unsettling for others to be exposed to that, especially in the courting area.”
“Okay.” I nod, thinking about it. I admit I’ve never seen it from this point of view.
“When you give those…things, what are you hoping for?”
“Hoping for?”
“Yes, what are you expecting in return? Do you want to make the lady happy? Do you want her to get to know you better? Is it purely out of lust? What do you want out of these exchanges with women?”
My lower lip trembles, but I catch it and stare at him. What do I want? A normal life. I want a job I like and can talk about to normal folks without their blood draining out of their faces. I want to protect the club and become friends with my brothers there. I want to come home to a woman who knows me and still…likes me. I want the white fence and pancake breakfasts on Sunday. I want it all, but I’ll never have it.
“Nothing,” I rasp, “I want nothing from them.”
Dr. Parks arches a brow, staring back at me with more confidence than when we started. “We will talk some moreabout that in the future if you want,” he says as he writes something in his notebook.
“Now, you talked about struggling with emotional and social cues. Can you tell me more about it?”
I nod and start unraveling my deepest struggles to this stranger, hoping this whole opening-up thing will lead me somewhere.
LANA
The building looks like the one I’ve seen in movies with traders and businessmen walking fast with their briefcases and phones to their ear like they're finding the next cure for cancer or something. Gray, massive, with large doors and a concierge greeting me. It has nothing to do with my little quirky house and the ten square feet of lawn I got in front of it.
I left the hospital fifteen minutes ago and drove to the address he texted me. Parking was easy, but I felt underdressed in this area of town. Everyone walks in suits here, and I’m just wearing a pink blouse with my high-waisted jeans and white Converse. I don’t know what I was expecting, but I didn’t think Carter would live in such a fancy area of town.
Taking a deep breath and clutching my beige fringe shoulder bag, I enter the hall and find the elevator. Thirtieth floor, his text mentioned. My heart thumps hard in my chest.What am I doing here? Is it safe to meet a man I barely know? Should I go back to my car?My turmoil gets interrupted when the two doors of the elevator open and a tall, masculine, blond man stands before me, hands in his pockets, his back resting on the wall. I swallow.Don’t stare, don’t stare, don’t stare.
“Hi,” he says, his voice rough like gravel, and he pushes himself off the wall with his foot.
“Hi,” I reply, trying to compose myself while this Greek God of a man stands before me. “I..I was going to—” I mutter, pointing at the inside of the elevator.
“I wanted to do this the right way.” He nods, stepping to the side to let me enter. He’s wearing a pair of black jeans with a dark gray sweater, and the fabric looks so soft, I wonder how it'd feel on my skin. He looks less…scary without his cut. More approachable. Not that I’m scared of him, because I’m not, which is weird considering how deadly he looks.
“You’re beautiful,” he utters with an icy tone, looking straight at the wall of light buttons in front of him, his hands behind his back like a soldier.
“Thank you,” I murmur, blushing like a teenage girl.
Lana, get it together, you’re a grown woman.
The door closes, and I inhale deeply, the air turning thick and heavy in the little metal box we’re in. He enters a code on the small keyboard under the floor number pad after selecting the thirtieth floor. I look up at the little screen indicating the floors, but even when I try to focus on the numbers, all I can think of is that he is standing next to me, a few centimeters separating our hands to join.
Ten.
Eleven.
Twelve.
I exhale a bit too loud and he glances at me. “You okay?”
“Yes…a bit nervous,” I admit, because why would I try to act all confident when, in reality, I have no idea what I’m doing? I’m a single mom, too scared to stand up to my ex, learning who I am all over again, and clearly out of my comfort zone with this young, handsome man.
You’re here because he’s nice.
