hasn’t tried hers. When I glance at her, I can see she’s concerned.
“I’ve been looking for your mother’s death certificate, but I haven’t found it yet. I’m sure it’ll turn up, or maybe your uncle could shed some light.
“He’s not my uncle,” I snap. “He used to be my father’s brother, that is all.”
Ella nods with sympathy. I don’t want her to feel sorry for me. I don’t want to turn into a pitiable figure.
“Okay, yes, I just wanted to update you. I’ll follow up on this tomorrow.”
I’m not sure if she plans on just walking away right now or not. Ella hesitates and lingers in the room for a few extra seconds.
“Reed,” she says my name with a sigh. I force myself to look up at her.
I shouldn’t have created this job. Maybe I should tell her to stop now. There’s no need to go on. Just knowing I may have some family—who never bothered to contact me in all these years—is enough to make my blood boil.
Ella comes towards me. She’s standing on the other side of the counter.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks.
I want to drive my fist into the wall. That’s what I really want to do. That and throw her over this kitchen counter and spread her legs wide open. I have an insatiable urge to take her right here. Just so that those other thoughts in my head go numb.
“It’s not your job to console me,” I say with a growl in my voice.
Her face falls, turns a little brighter pink.
“I’m just trying to help. I can imagine this is going to be a difficult journey for you.”
“There is something you can do if you really want to help me,” I say. I feel like her eyes have brightened up when she hears this.
“Tell me!”
“You could take off your clothes. Right now, all I have is my imagination.”
I don’t know what’s urged me to say this. It has the potential to ruin everything between us. But I’m desperate to feel something. Anything other than this feeling of being a helpless, abandoned infant. I want to use my desire for Ella to feel other things, but I know she’s going to say no.
8
Ella
I can’t believe he just asked me to take off my clothes. Is he serious about this? It looks like he is. He’s staring right at me, his eyes roaming over my body. Head to toe. Undressing me with his eyes.
I can see he’s troubled. He’s having a hard time dealing with the fact that he may have an extended family he didn’t know about all these years. Family that didn’t try to help him or contact him in any way.
I want to do something to help him feel better, but is taking off my clothes the answer? He seems to think so.
He slurps the dregs of the smoothie from the corners of his mouth.
“Why don’t I start?” he says, and before I can look away, he pulls up his sweatshirt and throws it to the floor. He’s sitting there on the stool at the kitchen counter, with his chiseled naked torso on full display. I feel a tug between my legs. Has a sexier man ever existed? I can’t look away now. It’s too late.
His broad shoulders are strong and dependable. He has a light smattering of hair in the center of his chest, and I’m dying to bury my nose in there, breathe in his scent. There are goosebumps on my flesh.
There is something I can do—just walk away. That is what I would have done with Rodney. With any of the other guys I dated. I would have made a scene, protested, run away. But I feel like my feet are frozen to the ground now. Reed is different from all the others. There is something about him that’s keeping me stuck here. Staring at his delectable body.
He’s wearing track pants. He has a slim waist with muscular ridges chiseled on the sides of his hips. He is a man who knows how to take care of his body, and I am a girl who has always been self-conscious about my own.
I don’t look like the size-four models I imagine he usually parties with. The kind of women he is used to having on his arms.
I have thick thighs, my breasts are too big and always in the way, I have love handles. My body is not perfect. Yet, he is looking at me like he has