With my back to Trent’s sleeping form, I let my soaked dress drop to the floor. I unsnap my bra and toss it alongside the dress. My panties follow next. Removing a tank top and shorts from my top drawer, I’m considering hopping in the shower to cool off when a soft voice says, “You have the prettiest red hair.”

I freeze, my cheeks flaming, acutely aware that I am standing completely naked in front of a guy that can make me climax with the right look. I hear the bed creak and footsteps approach slowly, but I don’t move. Trent edges up behind me and the air in the room grows thicker. I can’t turn around. I can’t face him and I don’t know why.

I can feel his very existence as if it’s wrapping its hand around my soul, cradling it, trying to protect it from harm and I’m terrified. Terrified because I don’t ever want the feeling to end.

Every nerve in my body short-circuits. I stiffen as his hand grazes my shoulder before shifting my hair over to one side, exposing one side of my neck as he likes to do. A cool breeze tickles there as he leans down close.

“You’re so very beautiful. All of you.”

He yanks my PJs out of my grasp and lets them drop to the ground as he takes my hand in his. His mouth trails off to my right shoulder and he begins to sweep across my scar line with tiny kisses, sending shivers everywhere. Pushing my arm up so my hand rests on my head, I sense him shifting his body. Down, down, he continues, his mouth moving gently along my rib cage, over my hip, all the way to my outer thigh, kissing each line marking my tragic past. The entire time, my left hand holds his while my other one rests on my head. And my body trembles with anticipation.

Trent’s hands move to grip the outsides of my thighs securely as he lays a final kiss on my tail bone and I wobble slightly from weakened knees. I sense him standing behind me again, his hands skating back up and around to my belly, pulling my body firmly against him, letting me feel him hard against my back.

My head falls back against his chest with a mixture of excitement and frustration—excited that Trent is allowing me close to him again after weeks of keeping me away, frustrated that this will end all too abruptly.

But he shows no signs of ending this now as his hands continue up to slip over the contours of my breasts, cupping their fullness. I hear the sharp intake of air in his lungs. Slowly, he turns me around and pins my arms behind my back.

I don’t know why, but I can’t bring myself to look at him, so I stare at the tiny scar line along his collar bone instead, and feel his chest rise and fall against mine, my nipples hardening as they graze against his skin. My breath comes out in short pants as he leans down and whispers, “Look at me, Kacey.”

I do. I look up and let myself sink into those blue eyes, so full of worry and pain and desire.

“I’ll make you whole again, Kacey. I promise you, I will,” he whispers. And then his mouth covers mine.

I’m faintly aware of the wall now flattening against my back, of his boxers dropping to the ground, of strong arms lifting me up, of my legs wrapping around his hips, of feeling him against me.

Pushing inside me.

Making me whole.

***

It’s still dark outside when I wake again. This time my head rests on Trent’s chest, my body entwined with his. His fingers doodling over my back tells me he’s awake. It’s not a nightmare that’s woken me up this time. It’s Storm and Dan’s raised voices through the wall.

“He could have killed you, Nora,” Dan yells. “Forget the money. You don’t need the money.”

Storm’s voice isn’t nearly as loud or booming, but I manage to hear it all the same.

“You think I spent all those years training with a place like Penny’s as my goal? I screwed up, Dan. I made bad choices and I have to live with them. For now. For Mia.”

“Mia is who I’m thinking about. What if that guy killed you tonight? Who would take care of her? Her father? From prison?” There’s a quiet moment and then Dan starts yelling again. “I don’t know if I can do this, Nora. I can’t be afraid you’re going to die every time you go to work.”

I snort. “Look who’s talking,” I mutter to myself, but then I bite my tongue. This is between them.

“Well, I’m not making decisions based on what some man wants because when you’re gone and I’m still here, I have to live with the outcome.” I hear her voice crack at the end and I know she’s crying. The yelling dies down and I’m glad. I don’t want to hear Dan and Storm break up.

“Can I ask you something without you getting angry, Kacey?” Trent asks into the darkness.

“Uh huh,” I agree without thinking.

“What do you know about the driver who hit your car?”

My body instantly tenses. “He was drunk.”

“And?”

“And nothing.”

“Nothing at all? No name, face, anything?”

I pause, deciding if I want to answer. “Name. That’s it.”

“Do you remember it?”

I inhale sharply. I’ll never forget. “Sasha Daniels.”

“What happened to him?”

“He died.”

There’s a long pause as Trent continues drawing swirls on my back and I start to believe the conversation is over. Stupid girl. “Was he alone?”

I hesitate but decide to answer. “He had two friends. Derek Maynard and Cole Reynolds. Derek and Sasha weren’t wearing seat belts. They were both thrown from their vehicle.”

My head rises and lowers with Trent’s deep breath. “Has the survivor—this Cole guy—made contact with you?”

I close my eyes and enjoy the warmth of Trent’s chest, fighting the dread as he drags me back into the deep, dark place. “His family tried. I filed restraining orders and told the police that if any of them so much as approach me or Livie, I’d kill them all.” At the time, I was bound to a bed and unable to move, let alone murder. Still, the cops came through with passing the message along.

Now though, now I know I’m capable of anything.

Of murder.

Trent’s fingers stop drawing on my back and he hugs me protectively. “I’m going to suggest something, Kacey. Please don’t get mad.”

I don’t answer. I just listen to his heartbeat. I let it consume me. I feel it with every fiber of my body.

“I think you should meet this Cole guy. Maybe there’d be some sort of closure. You two are the only survivors of a horrific accident. You have something in common.”

Now I sit up. I sit up and stare at Trent. I stare at him like he’s grown five heads and set three of them on fire and the other two are eating the flaming heads. Pacing my racing heart and calming myself, I speak.

“I will say this once and never again.” My voice is even. I don’t yell, I don’t cry, I don’t shake. “I do not want to see, or talk to, or know Cole Reynolds.” The name twists my mouth with distain. “It was his car that plowed into ours. He handed his keys to his friend who then shattered my life to smithereens. I hope wherever he is, he is suffering. I hope everyone he loves has abandoned him. I hope he doesn’t have a dime and has to eat cat food and maggots. I hope he goes to sleep every night and wakes up reliving that terrible night. Reliving what he did to me. To Livie.” I let out a vacuous sigh and lie back down on Trent’s chest as if unloading that sheer magnitude of hatred is somehow liberating. “And then I hope his balls catch on fire.” My voice is cold and hard. I don’t bother to conceal the hatred of my words. I unleash full-heartedly. I revel in it. Hatred good. Forgiveness bad.

Silence takes over as Trent’s arms tighten around me, his chin resting on the top of my head. I feel a new tension in him and I’m not surprised. I stare at the wall and wonder just how screwed up Cole Reynolds’ life really is. I wonder if he’s resorted to working in a strip club to give his sister the life she deserves. I wonder if he had to abandon his dreams of college. I wonder if he winces in pain with every rain fall because his body is held together with metal.