Page 194 of Dirty Discipline, Vol. 1

I pull her to me, bury my nose in her hair, and inhale the lavender scent, reveling in the peace I feel when we’re together. Peace I don’t deserve.

Peace that can be destroyed with the flick of a finger.

With a click of a gun…

“Did I ever tell you what made me stay here?”

She shakes her head. “Nope.”

“There was a girl.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Another girl.”

“Hey!”

She tries to get up, but I hold her tight. “No need to feel threatened, bunny. This was a long, long time ago. Another life.”

Summer props herself up on her elbows and holds my gaze. Her eyes, innocent and naïve, and still somehow wiser than her years, shine with curiosity. “Not threatened, just teasing you.”

I tut. Teasing earns her spanks. She’s piling them up on purpose. “Savannah Wilder was everything I wasn’t. She was smart, funny, and kind to everyone. And she liked me. Even I didn’t like me, but she did.”

“She was your girl.”

I shake my head. “Yes, but no. She was my friend. And I got her killed.”

Summer twitches. “Oh. How?”

I stroke her cheek and grit my teeth against the onslaught of both joy and despair at the same time. Joy for being here, with Summer. Joy for the memories of the good old days. Despair for everything else.

“A long string of bad decisions, my foster dad with a shotgun, a bunch of stupid kids out for his booze. And most stupid of all…” I gesture to myself.

She frowns, her expressive eyes as always filled with emotion.

“She was the most compassionate human being I’d ever met. I lost her. I was in the dark for a very long time. Then came you. Except we’re not only friends… are we?”

“Did you love her?”

She sounds nothing but honestly curious. I shrug. “I don’t know what love is. We were friends.”

Summer stiffens slightly. “So, what about all this made you stay here? Do you love me?”

My mind flips from the realization she asked that. How the fuck do I even answer? One moment stretches into two.

“Of course, I do, bunny.”

I hold her gaze, watching as the light in it dulls. An unexpected ache flares up. I’ve touched her soul, and she’s touched mine. I feel it down to my blackened core.

So why the fuck can’t I tell her I love her?

I try it in my head.

I love y—

Even thinking it seems impossible. I have no natural connection to the word. There is this deep black void in me, a self-destructive vein. It ruins everything I touch. Even love.

Especially love.

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