Page 110 of Painted Scars
I lean on my knees by her bedside and kiss her tears away. “What’s wrong, baby?”
“I’m a dragon breathing fire,” she replies.
“I’m not scared of fire.” I stroke her face, brushing under her eye. “Lie back, Glitter Bomb. Don’t worry about a thing. I’ve bought remedies for that, and I’ll take care of you, beautiful.”
“Thank you, Daddy.” Her pained smile drives me downstairs fast.
Phase Two: Remedy preparation. I’m quick and efficient. I’ve done this enough times in my head. When it’s ready, I carry everything upstairs and return to her bedside, setting the tray on her nightstand.
“Cuddle this, Glitter Bomb.” I hand her the hot water bottle wrapped in black Merino wool that’ll ease her cramping.
Wrinkles on her forehead vanish and her eyes shimmer. “Oh my God, it’s a Hottie!” She cuddles it to her chest and does a little shimmy.
I love the way she says it like a caress. “You’re a hottie.”
She laughs and shows me the label. “No, the brand is calledHottie. But I’ll take that compliment.”
Names mean nothing to me. I care about the fabric. Grayson chews my ear off about synthetics and polyester that leech microplastics under heat. I’ll bleed for her before I let her skin absorb that crap.
I place it over her belly. “Only the best for my Glitter Bomb.”
“Black with biker helmets.” She strokes the cover’s pattern like it’s couture. “Black’s my second favorite color next to orange.”
Trust Kate to turn period pain into sunshine in leather. Her enthusiasm about the small things warms my heart.
“They didn’t have any in orange.” I tuck her under the cover.
Her grin stretches wider, the sparkle creeping back into her eyes. “You’re my ultimate book boyfriend. Come and get a thank you kiss.”
I don’t know what hits harder, hearing her say that, or the guilt sucker punching me in the ribs, hammering in that I don’t deserve her. She has no idea that the man she’s kissing is the one who left her to deal with the wolves alone. Every stolen smile and spark of trust is built on a foundation rigged to blow.Lying to her makes me the worst kind of bastard who takes what he wants and knows he’ll ruin her in the end.
Yet, I still want her. Us. Sunshine. Rainbows. Fucking confetti raining down on me. The only thing that will make me leave this time is her telling me to, and the clock is ticking down to detonation.
“Eyes closed,” I tell her, and she dramatically closes them.
I remove my boots and line them up neatly out of sight under her armchair for my neat freak girl. Helmet off and bare to her, I’m giving her the opportunity to take me all in if she chooses to, sins and all. She stays where she is, telling me that she doesn’t want the fairytale to end any more than I do. I slide behind Kate, snuggle up behind her, and pull her back to my chest.
“Mmm,” she moans into me.
Josh claims my lap and my attention.
I laugh. “Not tonight, boy. Tonight’s all about Mommy.”
He groans and stomps off to sulk on the opposite pillow.
“I think I lost favor with him,” I say.
She cuddles her water bottle. “You’re definitely getting the cold shoulder.”
I lift Kate’s second surprise from the tray I carried it on. “Drink this, baby. It’ll help calm the dragon.”
She lifts the mug to her nose and inhales deeply. “Hazelnut hot chocolate. My favorite.” She pats my thigh. “Good stalker.”
Being called that gives me a thrill when I should hate the label. The thrill gives way to a sting that scrapes away at my conscience. I’m not the bright orange she calls me. I’m cut from the same black rot as the Romans, and she should run instead of leaning into the comfort I bring.
“Good girl,” I praise as she sips, swallowing down my guilt.
Her drink’s laced with magnesium, cinnamon, and ginger to ease her cramps without the strong taste. Menstrual crampstook my sister out for a day or two, and I won’t have my diamond suffer the same.
