was eighteen.
Everything had changed when that community service had taken me to a church.
To a priest who’d changed my life.
At the time, I’d felt certain it had been for the better. But looking back, I know I’d have been better off sticking to the path I’d been on.
“I’ve lost you again.”
There’s a sadness to her tone that has me blinking, even as I register her.
Her words have me shaking my head. “I’m here. I’m found.”
Her smile is twisted. “I’ve never known anyone as lost as you, Savio.” She squeezes my wrist. “But I see you, and I want to make things better.”
She wants more than she’s telling me, more than she wants to verbalize, but she is, I sense, harmless.
I’d known that earlier though. It was the only reason I allowed her to stay.
Hearing it now, after catching her touching her pussy, after her seeing me during a night terror… well, it changes things.
“Were you really feeling ill earlier? Or were you lying?”
“I told you, I won’t lie to you. I was feeling...” She hesitates, and for a second, I think she’s going to get creative. “Fragile.”
I repeat the word in my head, frowning over it for a second. “Fragile?”
She sighs, reaches up with her free hand and rubs at her temple. “Yes. I pushed it today. I’m supposed to nap and take cabs instead of walking places.”
My eyes narrow as I read between the lines. “You discharged yourself too early, didn’t you?”
Andrea licks her lips. “Maybe.”
“Why did you do that?”
“My parents returned home to California to clear up their house because it had sold. I knew if I didn’t leave then, they’d never let me out of their sight.”
Whatever I’d expected her to say, it wasn’t that.
“They know where you are, don’t they?”
She shrugs. “I send them texts. I tell them I’m fine.”
“How kind of you,” I say dryly, but even so, I’m taken aback. When she doesn’t say another word, I query, “Why are you obsessed with me?”
She furrows her brow at that. “’Obsess’ is a harsh word.”
Her huffing makes me smile. “I don’t think you’re a danger to me—”
“Good, because I’m not.” She rolls her eyes.
“But why are you?” What about me is so special that I’ve gained the attention of this beautiful woman?
I’m not sure she’ll answer, and because I know she responds to sharp, stern commands, I’m about to break out that voice, but she mutters, “Your story connects with mine.”
“Explain.”
She purses her lips. “I’ll explain if you tell me what happened to you too.”
I’d prefer to dance in sulfuric acid than share that particular story, but she’s right. She doesn’t have to tell me anything. Not unless I’m willing to open up to her also.
I know I could toss her out, know that I could discredit every word she could say to the police about Paulo, but something about her... I don’t feel as alone when she’s here.
And I’m not talking physically.
I’ve shared the house before. I still felt isolated.
She tears through that haze, and I have no idea why.
“I’ll tell you what I can bear to share.”
My qualification seems to appease her, because she grabs some of the cover off me and nestles it around herself like she’s getting ready for a long story time.
The gesture amuses me.
Even while there are many childlike gestures in her repertoire, she’s the most sensual creature I’ve ever known.
She’s so at ease with her body that I don’t think I’ve met a temptation more powerful than the one she offers without even really offering it. It just exudes from her, and because I’m so close, it’s like that’s all I can breathe.
“I see things.”
“What things?”
“Details. Stuff most people don’t notice.” She turns her head on the pillow to look at me. “I see someone’s pain. Someone’s fear. Someone’s anger.”
“You’re empathic,” I guess.
“Maybe. But not really. I don’t feel what they feel, I just see it. I notice what they’re going through, and instead of bypassing them, instead of just moving on, I figure out what’s going on and I help them.”
Her words have me tensing. “What do you see in me?”
After all, I have to assume that’s why she’s here.
“All three. Pain, fear, and anger. But that’s not why I’m here,” she murmurs, like she read my mind. It’s uncanny how she can do that.
Okay, that’s an understatement. It’s fucking freaky.
“Why are you here then?”
“I already told you that—I’m yours.”
“I’m not yours.”
Her lips twitch. “So stubborn. You are, you just haven’t figured it out yet. But I’m