remain in that place—the safe, back-of-my-mind place—when I want this so badly. I want to feel the way he touches me. Even if it’s bad, I still want to feel the weight of his arm around me, the warmth of his skin. I slam back into the moment in a rush of panic, a hard, terrified lump wedged into the back of my throat.
He doesn’t fight when, with a sharp turn of my head, I lurch away, stumbling from his hold.
“Stop,” I gasp, unnecessarily. He’s already frozen there, palms in the air, but I still walk away from him, just in case.
Just in case that feral, eager thing in his eyes is too much to fight.
I crouch on the ground there, knees tucked up beneath my chin, and try to breathe. They’re awful, shuddery things. My heart is going off like a goddamn jackhammer, and it’s stupid—oh my god, it’s so fucking stupid—but I have this crystal-clear image in my head of Doug’s hands, just like that. Rough, big, stained with grease, grabbing my neck, choking me. The look in his eyes when he did it, so fucking full of hatred, like he wanted to kill me, but something flimsy and indistinct was holding him back.
It’s not fair, but it’s like my blood cells are turning themselves inside-out to get away from the ghost fingertips—Doug’s, Sebastian’s, my brain doesn’t care.
I barely register Sebastian coming to crouch beside me. He doesn’t touch me or watch me. Through my periphery, I can tell that he’s just lingering there, waiting, silent as I try to wrestle this fear back into the dark pit of myself.
When I can speak again, I say, “This is a waste of fucking time. It’s just going to make us both more frustrated.”
“Do you know what happened when I tried to change the battery on the Shelby?” he asks. I stare down at my hands, trying to hold back a hot tear, not interested in one of his car discussions. “It was supposed to be an easy fix, something I could do quickly, but the old one was corroded and completely welded to the inside. My instinct was to rip it out, but Merle told me that if I did that, I’d fuck up the connectors, make a bigger mess, and possibly burn myself on the acid. So, I had to slow down and use the right safety gear, gloves, goggles and all that shit, then use the correct solutions to clean off the corrosion. Something that should have been easy, a fast repair, took time and deliberation to do it right.”
I chuckle darkly. “Are you saying I’m corroded and broken inside?”
“I’m saying that I have way more patience than you give me credit for.” He shifts a little, ducking his head to catch my gaze. His face falls at the sight of my tears. “We can do this, Sugar. You and me? We’re not like other people. We don’t give up and we don’t break. All you need to give me are the right tools and the opportunity. Can you tell me what happens when people touch you?”
I shake my head, but Sebastian is right. People like us don’t get to run from our problems. It’s not the way we’re made. I think about it, closing my eyes and searching. “It freaks me out, like something bad is going to happen, or—it’s just the idea that you could—not that you would—but when… with your hands, and it feels like my body isn’t... mine? Just for a while, like you could do something, or take something, and it’s not really you, it’s just this idea of it all, when it’s… it’s scaring me, and I can’t talk myself out of—and you might… I don’t know, go too far or be too much, and it just makes me sick.” My face feels hot, cheeks flaming with embarrassment. “That made zero fucking sense. I’m sorry.” The last part comes out too soft, spoken more to the wind blowing in from over the lake than the man I’m apologizing to.
But Sebastian just looks curious. “That’s… I think I get it.”
I give him a skeptical look. “How could you?”
“Okay, I obviously don’t get it, but I think I get what it’s about. You like to be in control, right? That’s fine, that’s so fucking…” I watch the wheels turn in his head, like this is a very exciting breakthrough. “Will you let me try again? I have an idea.”
My shrug is passionless. “Whatever.”
“Perfect.”