just a scorpion, maybe the wisest thing I could do would be to take Micah up on his offer.
I suddenly felt exhausted and defeated. All of this time, I kept telling myself a respectable career, and honest income would change who I was, but maybe nothing could. Switching my name from Mudd to Johansson certainly hadn’t erased any secrets. It merely hid them.
Micah knew me better than most, and he was willing to overlook my past, perhaps because he had a tarnished history as well. Maybe we were better suited for each other than we realized, two hardened scorpions pretending to be civilized. At least with him, I’d know I was safe. I trusted our agreement, and if I took up his offer, I never had to fear being alone.
He took my hands in his, and I braced for the hard truth I sensed coming. “To him, you’re a plaything, a hobby. When you give away something of value for free, it becomes a little less precious each day. He’s young and handsome, and I’m sure charming on some level, but he’s temporary, Avery. Don’t let one transient relationship derail your path when you’ve come this far. Stay focused on the goal, and you’ll get everything you ever wanted.”
My chest constricted. Everything Noah and I shared turned to ash the moment he looked up at me with blood in his eye and called me a scorpion.
My head lowered as I blinked back tears, refusing to let them fall in Micah’s presence. “You’re right. I need to concentrate on graduating and start thinking about where I go from here.”
“There’s the smart woman I know.” He lifted my chin, his eyes watchful. “The ache’s temporary, love. You’ll see.” He kissed my fingertips and stood. “I’m going to say goodnight now.”
I stood and followed him to the door. I wasn’t going back in the hall, but there was a sort of protocol Micah, and I shared. I still had to honor that.
I walked him to the door. “Good night, Micah.”
He brushed a finger down my cheek and stared into my eyes. “We were interrupted earlier, so I’m going to give this another try. Stay still.” His head lowered and breath held in my lungs as his warm lips pressed into mine.
It was a soft kiss, sensual and slow, his full lips teasing in a way that differed from what I was used to. This was a new side to us, something that started after he mentioned renegotiating our association post-graduation—something I still struggled to accept.
He pulled away, and my eyes blinked open, too preoccupied with other thoughts to notice any flutters or chills such a kiss should have created.
“Good night, Avery.” He let himself out, and I hung by the door.
When I heard the elevator come and go, I peeked into the hallway. Noah’s door was shut, no light shining from beneath.
33
Avery
The bitter wind cut through my clothes as I stood outside of the place I’d grown up—the place that never fit the word home. The ransacked yard wore a dusty scruff of brown grass and frosted leaves. Faded, broken lanterns hung like ghosts of merrier times, relics that were once colorful, now a bleak reminder that nothing exciting happened here anymore.
I tightened my arms, not ready to go inside. Cars filled every sanded drive like blemished trophies that no longer served a purpose. The majority of folks in Blackwater were unemployed with nowhere to go.
Bare trees curled like talons, reaching as if they, too, wanted to get out. But people from Blackwater rarely escaped. I was one of the few exceptions.
Breath formed a cloud of vapor in front of my face as I proceeded to the door. The rattle of daytime television penetrated the thin windows. My worn key turned in the lock, and I shut my eyes, bracing for the unwelcome reality on the other side.
The rancid scent of unwashed laundry battled the stale stench of cigarette smoke. My mother, buried in a mix of laundry and blankets, snored on the couch. Plates and paperwork covered the coffee table. The carpet had a few new stains, but the old ones were mostly covered by boxes of God knows what.
A talk show played on the dated television set, the screen scrambling every other second. Not finding the chill I expected, I moved toward the kitchen.
“Jesus.” My disgust cranked another notch higher.
Dried macaroni, crumbs, and other grime coated the small counter. Unwashed pots and pans were pushed to the back of the stove,