Page 39 of From the Ashes
“I’m not just talking about dealing drugs and guns, Lana,” I warn her, staring at her face.
Her lip trembles and she bites it. “I know.”
“Why doesn’t it scare you away? You’re a mom, a survivor of abuse, you’re kind and smart and beautiful. Men must be crawling at your feet. Why do you accept this when you could have something better?”
It’s true, perhaps that’s why it seems too good to be true. Because why on earth would such a precious creature agree to link herself to a damaged and twisted soul like mine? Clearing her throat, she turns to her side, letting her mug on the counter, her fingers grip the edge of the sink, her shoulders tense, and she looks away at the window above it. Her smile is gone and her gaze is drifting, like mine when I tune people out.
“I wasn’t always like this, you know, I was more…delicate back then,” she begins softly. “I used to believe everything was simple, that things were either good or bad, black or white. Like, if someone said the right things, they were a good person. And if they didn’t, they weren’t. My ex… He always knew what to say, you know? And everyone thought we were perfect. I thought so too.” Her voice catches, but she pushes through. “I followed that belief straight into our marriage. He was all words. But his actions… They were dark. Cruel. The words meant nothing.” She pauses, her breath hitching, as if reliving the weight of it.
“I’ve learned something since then, words don’t make a person good or bad. It’s what they do that matters. And you, ” she hesitates, “you might have a dark side. I know you do. But you’ve never pretended otherwise. You protect people. You protected me that day. And since then, you’ve saved me in ways I can’t even explain.” Her gaze turns to me, and there’s a steadiness there, an unyielding clarity. “So, no. It doesn’t scareme. I know darkness. I’ve lived through it. But yours is different. And that’s why I’m here with you. Not because of what you say or what people think I should believe, but because of what you do.” Her eyes flicker with intensity, and I wonder if she can see past my ribs, my heart pounding like a drum trying to break through a cage. She’s so fucking strong, and I can’t help but think she’s prying open a part of me I’ve never let anyone see. Not willingly. Not until now.
"You’re not perfect. Neither am I. But I’d rather have your truth than someone else’s lies,” she murmurs as she wipes her cheek with the back of her hand. “I spent years suffocating when I should have been living the best years of my life. Now… Now I want to breathe, to feel alive. I’m done pretending that my life is perfect because it isn’t. I don’t need perfect, Carter. I need honesty. And if that means living in the gray, rather than the black and white everyone else tried to shove me into, then so be it,” she says, her hands trembling before she crosses her arms.
Glancing away, she lets out a trembling exhale. “Would… Would you run away if you knew I wished I could have killed him back then? Would it make your idea of me change? If so, then it’s better that whatever we are stops now.” She nods a few times, and I stare at her, mesmerized by her strength and character, by the way she doesn’t let me or her past define who she wants to be.
“No, not knowing what you’ve been through. It’s logical you thought about it,” I say, hoping she’ll see that I’m not running. I’m right fucking here and I’m not going away.
“Would you run away knowing I killed my father the day of my eighteenth birthday to avenge what he had done to my sisters and mother?”There, I said it.A silence as loud as a bomb fills the room. She shakes her head, her eyes becoming glossy. “Anything you want to know, I’ll tell you. I won’t spare any detail, I won’t try to sugarcoat it, but I think some thingsare better left unsaid. I don’t do what I used to do for the club. I protect people now, I’m not… I’m not doing this anymore, but I might still do it one day, for the club's sake. And you have to know that.” She nods, exhaling as though she'd been carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.
“As long as you keep me and my son safe, then-”
“I will.”
“Then nothing changes.”
“If you’re ever scared of me, if you’re-”
“I won’t, Carter, but if this day ever comes, I will push you away so fast you won’t even have the time to say goodbye,” she states, swallowing hard, and I sense that the admission hurts her. She doesn’t want this to happen, but if it does, she’ll have no issue cutting me out of her life. And I admire that. I admire her.
“I won’t expect any less,” I tell her, my heart coming back to a normal pace while my senses are on alert as if our conversation had sealed something between us, something deeper I never expected to share with any other human being.
“Good.” She chuckles, wiping her eyes, and looking up as if she could put the water back in her eyelid. “Now, let’s just, can we talk about something else? I…I didn’t expect our breakfast to be this intense.” I try to smile, but I notice her eyes creasing like she knows what I’m trying to do. I stand and circle the island, stepping closer to her.
Human touch.
I need human touch and I need it with her.
She opened up to me, and I want to take her in my arms and kiss her tears, make them go away. She steps back, her hands falling back on the sink as I get closer, slowly enough for her to push me away if she wants too.
“Thank you for telling me that,” I say, the air turning heavy, compact, as if the energy between us could be cut with a knife. “Can I touch your face?” She bites her lip and nods slowly,her white T-shirt melting on her skin as she looks up at me, her chocolate eyes threatening to drown me in them. I inhale deeply and lift my hands, cupping her face as gently as my large calloused hands can. Then, with my thumb, I stroke her lower lip, the softness of her skin reminding me of velvet.
“I want to kiss you,” I murmur, realizing how close we’ve gotten, our shirts brushing together, her hand drifting from the sink to rest on my bicep.
“I…I want you to kiss me,” she whispers, and I get closer, one hand cupping her cheek while the other lands on her waist.
Time stops as I close the gap between us, and our lips meet softly. Her mouth is warm and tender, and for a moment, everything fades. Her fingers tighten on my arm, and I keep my eyes shut, savoring the taste of the stunning woman I’m holding in my arms and that I can now call mine. Our chests rise and fall together, slow and synchronized, like we’re learning to breathe in unison. I cradle her face, my thumb brushing her damp cheek. I let go of her tender lips, and our foreheads connect.
Lana.
Four letters now tattooed on my heart.
LANA
My body is like a cloud, resembling more cotton candy than actual bones and skin. My knees are barely holding me, and yet I'm not worried about falling because I know that Carter will catch me.
“I…I really liked it,” I whisper, his body still so close and the urge to tell him how I feel overpowering me. Carter can't read emotions like people usually do, but I want him to know exactly the effect of what he does to me. I know I'm blushing andprobably looking like a full-on tomato right now, but I couldn't care less. He won't make fun of me for this kind of thing.
“I've been wanting to do this for a while,” he admits, his voice so low it sounds like rocks crushed together. I smile, his softness mixed up with his cold ways, and I don't know why this combination just became lethal to me. Perhaps Carter hasn't been lucky with girls before, but to me, it's actually insane that no other women have been able to read him like I do. To connect with him, other than just lusting over his God-like physique. Carter's kind, strong, safe. He's an iron vault, but the inside is much more complex than what meets the eye.
