Love, Lust & Letting Go: Love & Lust

By Cassandra Cripps

She's my student.
I knew I should have stayed away.
I tried to keep my distance from her.
Tried to fight my feeling.
A lot of fucking good that did.
Now, I think I've lost her...
For good.

 

After catastrophe strikes, leaving Lacy shot during a drug raid, can their relationship triumph? Is willpower enough? Or, can Lacy and Damien learn, that sometimes, no matter how desperately you want something, you must let go?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cassandra Cripps
• Release date: Jul 27, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386247098

Book preview

Chapter 1

Damien

Da junk table wen covered wit little bags. Choke little bags. Too many to count. But, we had fill dem. All of dem. My back stung from da belt. It wen still raw an’ sticky. My fingers hurt. Dey covered wit small red cuts fo da tape dispenser. I could barely move dem. I no look across da table at my little braddah. But I knew he tired. He wen workin moa slow. Dat meant I had work fasta. Or fadda gon see. Dat gon be junk. I no want him hit me again.

It late. Real late. I tired, too. But we no gon sleep ‘til we git done. I sighed an’ grabbed another stack of bags. It hot. Too hot. But we was almost done. Pau hana.

I heard one car out front. In front our shack.

It stopped. Da car doa opened an’ closed.

Someone was comin.

Da front doa opened.

My mom wen walk in.

Fuckin' shit, my fadda grumbled. He wen slam his beer can on da counta.

She home early.

I looked back at da table. I kept fillin bags. I no look up. Dat gon be junk. We no finish in time. I already in trouble. Bad trouble. I no want make it more junk. I kept fillin bags as fast as I could.

Aloha. Why is everyone still up? It's the middle of the night. What are you guys . . . My mom froze as soon as she gon in da kitchen.

I liked how she talk. All pretty an’ fancy. I wish I talk like her.

What is this? she yelled. She saw da bags an’ da coke.

Mind yu business, bitch, my fadda wen yell back.

Boys, stop. Right now. Come here. Her voice shook. She was sked. An’ mad.

I stopped fillin da bags an’ looked up at her. But I no move. I was sked, too. She was wearin a long skirt an’ one white top. Her curly brown hair in one ponytail. Dat her work clothes. Da big hotel on da otha side of da island made all da maids dress dat way. It da only time she eva wore one skirt. She looked tired. Mad. Tired. Sked. All at da same time.

Dorian stopped fillin bags, too. He put his hands in his lap an’ looked down.

Git back to hana! my fadda wen yell.

We started fillin da bags.

No! You can't do this. They are just children! my mom wen yell back.

Listen here, lolo bitch. Dey my keiki. I tell dem what do!

They are just kids, my mom begged.

My fadda grabbed my mom. He started yellin at her. I focus on da bags. I try no listen. He yellin bad. Callin her real mean names. If I bigger, I gon stop him. I tried last time. But I wen too small. He wen broke my arm. An’ cracked two ribs. It hurt. Real bad fo one long time. My arm just now movin again. I no try again now. But one day, I gon be big. One day, I gon be one Koa, warrior. Den, I gon stop him. An’ he no gon hurt my mom or Dorian.

I looked at Dorian. He was sked. He put his hands ova his ears. He try no listen to da yellin. He no should hear dem fight.

Several cars screeched to a stop out front. Da noise made everyone stop an’ look at da doa.

Den, it silent. No noise. No yellin. No cryin. No one came to da doa. Dat junk, no good. My stomach started to knot. I looked over at my braddah. He was staring at da door. It was still quiet. Sked quiet.

Suddenly, I heard one loud boom, like one firework. Den lots of loud booms. Gunshots. Too many too count. Da windows broke. Da glass crashed inside da house. Da guns kept firing. I was sked like I had neva been sked before.

My fadda wen jump. He fell on my mom. Dey wen land on da table. Da table fell ova on it side. I grabbed Dorian, an’ I wen pull him behind da table. We hid behind it, listenin to da guns firin. I wen look around. I saw our slippahs by da back doa, wit my backpack. Dey right behind me.

I grabbed dem all. Da bag still open. I put da slippahs inside an’ scooped up one handful of da small bags. I put dem in my book bag, too. I did it fast. I no tink about it. My heart beat fast. An’ loud. So loud, I almost no hear da gun shots. Den I grabbed Dorian by da hand an’ ran out da back doa.

I ran as fast as I could. I held Dorian's hand tight, pullin him wit me. My fingers hurt. But I no let go. It dark. It wen hard to see. I tripped on da rocks in da shtreet a few times an’ cut my feet. But I kept runnin. Dorian almost fell in one hole. But I no let go him. I hold his hand tight.

Tere one big boom. Louder tan da gunshots. One explosion. I turned around but kept runnin backward. Da shack on fire. So was da one beside it. I feel da heat from da flames. Da flames huge. Dey almost hit da forest.

Den, I wen look in da back doa. I saw my mom. She saw me. She was standin in front of da table. She trapped. Had flames all around her. I grab Dorian and pull him close to me. I hide his face in my chest, holdin him tight.

I no hear anyting any more. All I hear is my heart beat. I no look away. All I see is my mom. She wen trapped. Had tears in her eyes. Dey wen fall down her dark face.

One bullet hit her in da back. Her body wen jerk forward. One red circle grow on da front her nice white shirt. She put her arms out to catch her balance. Den, she got shot in da arm. Da otha arm. Den, her neck. Her head lurched to da side. I no see her eyes no more.

I start scream. But no sound come out. I try an’ scream louder.

Da bullets keep hittin her. Dey rip her body apart until she falls. Den, da flames wen fill da haus.

A HUSHED SCREAM ESCAPED my mouth. Gasping for air, I woke up immediately. I lurched forward, but my body was trapped, tangled in the dark gray blanket. Ripping the comforter off, I threw it from the bed. A chill spread up my body as I sat up, battling a stifling construction around my chest. My drenched shirt. With quivering hands, I pulled it off and threw the soaked garment across the room. It landed with a soft thwack on the floor near the far wall. My room was still too dark to see exactly where it landed. I ran my hands through my hair, digging at my scalp, willing my fingers to pull the nightmare from my mind.

The sun hadn't risen yet. It was way too early to wake up. That meant more nightmares would come.

My heart raced. I ran my hands through my hair again and across my face. My cheeks felt wet. Salty tears trickled down my face as my body shook.

Fuck, I muttered under my breath, trying to calm down. It was almost always that nightmare. That night.

I fell backward onto my bed and stared blankly at the ceiling, fighting off more tears. Why did it have to be that night? After almost twenty years, why did my mother's death still haunt me?

Every time I woke up, it felt like it had just happened again. The pain and memories still raw. Why hadn't I grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the house, too? Why hadn't I saved her?

My heart constricted in my chest as I fought to control my tears and shaking body. As much as I wanted to, I couldn't change the past. I knew that. Yet, I still needed to remind myself of it every day. Nothing could bring her back. Nothing could bring any of them back. Focusing on my breathing, my heart gradually steadied, and sleep took hold of me once more.

AN OBNOXIOUS BEEPING blared in my ear, reminding me of police cars, pulling me in and out of my recurring nightmare. Gasping for air, my body frantically tossed and turned on the large bed. Without opening my eyes, I reached over and grabbed my alarm clock. I fumbled with the buttons, but the deafening sound did not cease. Groaning, with my eyes still shut, I threw it.

It flew across the room and crashed against the wall, smashing into pieces. The noise stopped. Something moved on the nightstand—it swung back and forth then crashed to the ground. The sound of breaking glass jolted me awake.

I jerked up and glanced around. Fuck, I muttered, examining my fallen lamp. It lay broken on the floor beside the nightstand in a dozen pieces. Sighing, I ran my hands through my sweaty hair, then headed for the bathroom.

After a quick shower, I changed into a pair of long, black shorts and a gray shirt, then began the meticulous task of cleaning up the aftermath of my nightmare. First, the alarm clock. Then, the lamp. It was the third one to break this month. That's why my room was so Spartan—a bed, nightstand, alarm clock, lamp, and dresser—nothing else. Shaking my head, I picked up the broken pieces. 

Fuck, I yelled as a shard of glass sliced through the side of my hand. Dropping everything, I glanced down. Bright drops of blood glistened along the inch wide cut. Luckily, the deep cut wouldn't need stitches. Fuck, I muttered again, heading for the bathroom.

After thoroughly cleaning the wound, I opened the top drawer of my floating white vanity and carefully selected a small glass jar—a homemade ointment from Tutu, my grandmother. I opened the jar and applied a small amount of the white cream.

I didn't need a bandage. The bleeding would stop in a few minutes. In just a day or two, the cut would heal completely. The pain already started to subside. I never asked Tutu what she put in her ointment that made it work so well. But it worked and was probably the only reason I wasn't covered in scars.

Sighing, I returned to my bedroom to finish cleaning up. At least today was Tuesday. After a long, long weekend without seeing Lacy, I could hardly wait to get back to school and see her again. The mere thought of her made me smile.

When I had told her I wouldn't be coming over to her place this weekend, I had forgotten that it was a three-day weekend. I jogged near her place probably half a dozen times. But each time, I somehow kept running right past it. No matter how badly I wanted her, or how much I loved her, she was still my student. I was her teacher. I had tried not to date her, tried to keep away from her, but I felt helpless in her presence. She was all I wanted, all I thought about. It was wrong, I knew it. But I couldn't stop myself.

This was the longest I had gone without seeing her. It was tearing me apart. I needed her. I needed to see her smile, feel her arms around me, her lips on mine. Fuck, I missed her. 

SECOND PERIOD COULD not come fast enough. I waited, watching as student after student filed into the gym from the locker rooms. No Lacy. More students flooded into the large room. Still, no Lacy. I glanced at my modern, black watch and sighed. It was time to start class.

Glancing around, I began counting the students and taking attendance. Everyone was here. Everyone except for Lacy. Fuck. I ran my hands through my hair then recounted and looked back at the women's locker room. My heart started to beat heavier.

Kat, is Lacy here today? I asked calmly.

No. She shrugged. I haven't seen her at all.

Fuck. Fuck.

My heart beat faster. I looked around as I struggled to control my racing emotions. Kat was her best friend. If anyone knew where Lacy was, it would be her—unless something was wrong.

Have you heard anything from her?

Kat shook her head. I haven't been able to get a hold of her all weekend.

Alright. Soe, you lead stretches. Then divide into teams of two, grab a soccer ball, and work on passing. I'll be right back.

I walked into the men's locker room then ran the rest of the way to my office. My legs barely cooperated and I could hardly breathe. My heart raced as memories from last Monday flooded my head, when Lacy had been attacked by a state trooper. My body shook. Calm down. Stay calm, I whispered to myself as I fumbled for my phone in my desk drawer.

I called Lacy. She didn't answer. Fuck, I muttered as I fought back the urge to throw the small device or punch something. Instead, I texted her.

Damien: Lacy, where are you?

Damien: Why aren't you at school?

I wanted to say more. But, I couldn't risk someone glancing at my phone and seeing the message. So, I merely stuck my phone in my pocket, ran my hands through my hair, then turned on my computer. I had to stay calm, I couldn't panic. Focusing on my breathing, I quickly logged into the school database and filled out the attendance form, then headed back to the gym.

HALFWAY THROUGH CLASS, my phone vibrated in my pocket. A text message. My pulse thundered in my neck. Without hesitating, I pulled the device out and glanced at the screen.

Lacy: Sick

The one-word message from Lacy resonated through me. Sick. Lacy was sick. She wasn't running. Nothing happened to her. As my nerves calmed down, I typed a quick response.

Damien: I'm coming over during lunch to check on you.

Half an hour before the end of third period, my phone vibrated again. One simple message appeared on my screen.

Lacy: Patio door open

Chapter 2

Lacy

My bed felt soft and warm, like sleeping on a giant marshmallow. With my flowery curtains wide open, a warm patch of sunlight fell just right, bathing me in its renewing warmth. I smiled, snuggled down under my soft blankets, then drifted back to sleep as I rode off on the back of a giant, yellow, marshmallow duck.

A DARK SHADOW BLOCKED the warm sunlight. Even without opening my eyes, I could feel it. A cloud, maybe? No, it was too dark to be a cloud. Maybe a giant ice cream cone?

I snuggled deeper under my blanket. Mmm, sleep. Sleep and ice cream.

The shadow shifted. A cloud doesn't do that. Neither does ice cream.

Forcing my eyes open a crack, I peered around my bedroom. A dark, fuzzy figure stood between me and my window. Everything was too blurry to see clearly. I furrowed my brow.

You're not sick, a chocolaty deep voice whispered from the doorway.

I blinked several times as my eyes cleared. Slowly, Damien's figure came into focus.

Why did you tell me you were sick?

Sick? When did I tell? Oh, my text message.

It was . . . Easier, I strained to say the words. They came out mumbled. I felt exhausted just from that short conversation. My eyes started to blur. I blinked. My eyes stayed closed. Giant ice cream cones and marshmallow ducks floated around my head. Mmm, ice cream. Sleep. Sleep called to me. The ducks called to me. They wanted to fly.

LACY. A DEEP VOICE woke me up.

I opened my eyes and looked around. Mmm, Damien . . . Why are you here? My voice sounded slurred.

Lacy, are you high? Damien asked, running his hand through his hair.

No. I tried to sit up, but it was like I was on a cloud. A very nauseous moving cloud. My head spun in rapid circles. No . . . Maybe . . . What's it feel like? I mumbled.

Lacy, what did you take?

I glanced over at my nightstand. Before I could open my mouth, Damien rushed to it and opened the drawer, grabbing the small prescription pill bottle.

These are opioids, Lacy. Why are you taking these? he asked, setting the bottle back down beside my phone.

I tried to sit up again. Piercing pain shot through my head. Cringing, I tried to grasp my head with my left hand. I cried out in agony, closing my eyes as I winced from the pain. I still couldn't move my injured shoulder.

Damien was by my side before I could open my eyes. Lacy, what's wrong? He held his arms out to brace me.

My shoulder. D-Don't touch my shoulder, I stuttered as I cringed from his touch.

He gently held me by the waist, helping me sit up. I leaned back against my headboard, instantly regretting it. Ouch, I cried as my head hit the hard wood. A few tears dripped down my cheeks.

What happened, Lacy? Damien asked, his hands still around my waist. Sitting down on the edge of my bed, he looked deep into my eyes. Rich, brown eyes implored me, begging me for answers.

I . . . I fell, I stuttered. I tried to look back into his eyes, but my head spun even faster. My eyes blurred again.

Lacy, look at me. The concern was evident in his voice. He held my chin up and looked into my cloudy hazel eyes.

My eyes felt so heavy. Too heavy to stay open. My lids closed as I rested my head in his hands.

Baby, open your eyes. He let go of my head and held up one finger. Follow my hand, he directed.

My head flopped down to my chest. I jolted upright then cringed from the sharp pain. Damien's hand was too blurry to see. I swatted it away.

I'm fine, I mumbled as I slowly leaned back against the headboard.

When did you fall? he continued.

Umm . . . A few days ago. An itchy, dizzy wave washed over me, like an army of ants crawling under my skin. Closing my eyes, I focused on my breathing and I ran my nails up and down my body, scratching at my agitated skin.

Baby, I need you to concentrate. What did you hurt?

I blinked a few times then tried to keep my eyes open. Umm . . . My head . . . And shoulder. My voice was weak, still slightly slurred.

Where did you hurt your head?

On the back.

Lean forward, he directed as he guided my body forward. Slowly, Damien turned me around, then parted my black hair. Gently, he ran his hands along my skull. His fingers grazed the staples in my head. He sucked in a deep breath. Then, he helped me lean back against the headboard, careful not to touch my shoulder. Lacy, this is the type of thing you should tell me about when it happens.

You said you weren't coming over this weekend.

Damien ran his hand through his hair and sighed. That's not what I meant and you know it. Why didn't you tell me?

I closed my eyes and tried to recall the last several days. When I woke up, I found myself in the hospital with armed members of Myers' team standing guard. I didn't have my phone at all. I was there for a day. Or was it two? I couldn't remember. It was evening when I got released. Lieutenant Myers took me home. Then I slept, a lot. This morning was the first time I felt half lucid. Was I lucid? Or was this just a dream?

I . . . I wasn't really awake, I replied as pink unicorns and ice cream cones twirled around the room. I was getting too tired to think or talk.

Damien glanced at his watch and sighed. I have to get back to school.

School? It's Sunday . . . Why do you have . . . Have to . . . School?

Lacy, it's Tuesday, Damien stated. How many of those pills have you had?

I stared at him, confused. It couldn't be Tuesday. What happened to Monday? The unicorns started dancing with the ice cream cones again.

He grabbed my hand and held it tight. Yeah, you're in no shape to go anywhere. I'll be back after school to check on you. If you need anything, anything at all, call me. Please. He squeezed my hand then leaned in and kissed the top of my head. Get some rest, baby.

After helping me lay back down and wrapping the blanket tight around my body, Damien grabbed the small bottle of pills. I'm taking these with me. I'm not having you overdose.

MY BRAIN POUNDED AGAINST my skull. Dry and sticky, my mouth ached like I swallowed a desert. The dull burn in my stomach kept growing, overpowering the pain in my shoulder. My body shook and itched, like I was simultaneously on fire and sitting in a tub of ice, covered in crawling insects. As wave after wave of nausea swept over my body, I opened my eyes.

Damien sat at the end of my bed, watching me like a specimen. The light from the sun hurt, making my head throb even worse.

How long have you been sitting there? I mumbled as I reached my right arm up, shielding my eyes.

I just got here. His voice was like chocolate. Dark, deep, silky chocolate washed over me, calming my aches. How do you feel?

Like shit. I was certain I looked like shit, too. I hadn't showered since Friday morning. And I was still wearing the outfit I changed into when I got home from the hospital, whenever that was. It was the only shirt I could easily put on without moving my arm—an old, orange and black flannel and a pair of black sweatpants. I didn't even want to know what my hair looked like. I hadn't brushed it since Friday.

What hurts?

Everything.

Damien stood up and walked away. I tried to say something, but nothing came out. My mouth felt like bricks. My brain felt like somebody forgot to turn it on.

Instead, I silently watched Damien through the slits between my fingers. He moved gracefully toward my window and shut the curtains before he returned to my bed and sat down beside me.

Removing my hand, I looked around my room. The darkness eased my headache a bit, but, the lack of sunlight left the room feeling cold. I shivered then tried to pull my blanket tighter around me. The movement instantly made me sick to my stomach.

Damien scooted closer to me and gently rubbed my arm. What can I do to help, baby?

Umm . . . I . . . I need another pill. My hoarse voice quivered. It matched how I felt.

What hurts the most? Damien asked softly.

I closed my eyes and thought for a moment, weighing the pain in each of my body parts against the others. My stomach, I said at last.

Did you hurt your stomach when you fell?

I opened my eyes and struggled to stay focused and think. No. I shook my head. My body started to itch again. I ran my nails along my arms.

Lacy, you’re going through withdrawal. Your body is addicted to those pills. I'm not letting you have any more. That will only make it worse. His voice remained calm, caring.

I knew he was right, but the pain seemed almost unbearable. Curling my legs up and closing my eyes, I cringed as more pain rippled through my abdomen. A muted groan escaped my lips as I tried to stifle my cries.

When I opened my eyes, Damien was gone. I looked around frantically for him. He wasn't in my room. A sharp noise echoed outside my room. Brisk, rhythmic steps climbed up the stairs. The sharp thump . . .  thump . . . thump grew louder.

I looked over at the door and watched Damien reenter carrying a glass of water. He sat it down on my nightstand then carefully helped me sit up. After propping me up and wrapping my white blanket around me, Damien handed me the cup.

My hands shook, but I held on to the glass, taking several small sips.

How much have you had to eat today? Damien asked.

Umm . . . I tried to eat some ice cream last night . . . Or maybe it was the night before.

Tried?

Yeah . . . It . . . Didn't go too well. I took another small sip of water. That's why the patio door was unlocked.

Damien ran his hands through his hair, looking agitated and torn, then glanced at his watch.

Where are you supposed to be right now? I asked, looking up at him. I already knew from talking to him during school over the last month that he volunteered a lot and was busy every night of the week.

A community center downtown for Big Brothers. There are five kids that Marcus and I are mentoring this year.

Go.

They will be fine for one evening. Marcus will be there. Besides, you're more important. Damien took the glass and set it on the nightstand, then grabbed my hand. He squeezed it and looked deeply into my eyes.

Go, I insisted. I will be fine here.

Are you sure you'll be alright?

I will be fine. I tried to smile, doing my best to ignore the itching and pain.

Alright. I will be back right afterward. If you feel up to it, I brought you your homework. It's downstairs on the dining table. He squeezed my hand again then stood up.

I nodded then held my stomach as another wave of nausea came, overpowering my urge to roll my eyes. I felt like shit, could barely sit up, yet Damien was talking about homework.

Take it easy on the water. I'll bring you something that should settle a little easier. Call me if you need anything.

The sun hung low on the horizon when I heard the front door open. I had cried myself to sleep shortly after Damien left, half out of pain and half because of the memories from Friday evening.

How do you feel? Damien asked as he placed a small glass jar on the nightstand, then knelt beside my bed.

Not good, I choked out, trying to fight back more tears and the vomit that kept lurking in the back of my throat.

Do you want to try and sit up? Or rest some more?

Sit up.

Damien grabbed my waist and carefully helped me up, but brushed against my arm when he helped me lay back against the headboard. I closed my eyes and cringed as a sharp pain stabbed through my shoulder.

He sighed then sat down on the edge of the bed beside me. How badly did you hurt your arm?

I . . . Umm, it . . .

Can I look at it? Damien asked, peering into my eyes. I could feel his sincerity pouring into me from his gaze.

I nodded, unsure of what to say.

Cautiously, Damien raised his hands up. With gentle hands, he grabbed my flannel shirt, his warm fingers just grazing my neck. Slowly, he undid the first button. Then the next two. He looked into my eyes as he guardedly opened up my shirt and slipped it off my left shoulder. My heart raced as heat swelled from his soft touch.

Hesitantly, his eyes traveled down my face, down my neck to my shoulder. His eyes widened as a mixture of shock, concern, and horror etched across his face. Holy fuck, he whispered as his fingers traced the large bruise.

My entire shoulder contained a massive, uneven, purple and blue bruise with a greenish outline. Toward the center, just under my clavicle, a small, dense, red and purple bruise raised up, nearly a quarter in size, revealing where the bullet had hit the Kevlar vest.

Lacy, how did . . . What h-happened? he stuttered, his eyes still glued to my shoulder. His hands shook as he continued to lightly trace the edge of the bruise, barely touching it.

I fell, I muttered, looking over at my curtains. I couldn't look at him. He would be able to tell that I was lying. But, I couldn't tell him the truth either. Tears pooled in my eyes.

Lacy, this is a bullet wound, Damien countered, his voice, hushed and full of concern, started to quiver. You didn't get this from falling. How did you get shot?

It’s just a bruise, I reiterated, pulling my shirt up. 

Lacy, please, Damien pleaded, tell me what happened.

I fell.

A tear ran down my cheek. Damien wiped it away and caressed my chin. Then, he reached down, grabbed my hand and held it tight. For several minutes he watched me, silently waiting. Waiting for me to give him answers that I couldn't.

Alright baby, I'm going to put some ointment on your shoulder. It might tingle a little, but it will help. He sighed, shifting on the bed. How bad is the pain and what exactly hurts?

AFTER DAMIEN CAREFULLY rubbed some white lotion from the jar he brought all over my shoulder and the back of my head, he carried me downstairs. There, he fed me egg drop soup and crackers. The hot broth did wonders to restore my energy. Then, we retired to the living room with my homework.

Wrapped around each other, we cuddled on the couch. His arm reached around my waist. My legs sat on top of his lap, our heads touching as I tried to ignore the pain and itching enough to concentrate on the Algebra textbook sitting on my lap. It was surreal. I had been shot. My body wracked with pain, but I was doing my homework. For him.

So, are you going to bring me my homework every time I miss school? I asked, glancing sideways into his eyes.

Hopefully you don't miss any more days. But, yes.

Why don't you want me to miss any more days? My voice was hushed, like his, just over a whisper.

I like seeing you there every day, he breathed into my ear.

I glanced down his torso then back up to his eyes. Mmm, I like when you come over here better.

A small smile creeping onto his face. Keep working on your Algebra.

I don't want to do it.

Why not?

My stomach still hurts, and my head hurts, and my arm, and—

Baby, focusing on your homework will take your mind off of the pain. Besides, you're almost done.

Fine. I sighed then continued with my math problems.

ALL DONE? DAMIEN ASKED when I put the pencil down inside the book.

I nodded as he grabbed the book and paper from my lap and set them on the end table. He glanced at his watch.

How late are you staying?

All night. I'm not leaving you alone until I know you're alright. He was using his counseling voice again. Even through all of my pain, I could tell he was treating me like a child. Not his girlfriend.

I can take care of myself.

Lacy, you got shot.

I fell.

He shook his head and ran his free hand through his hair. Reaching back on the end table, he picked up a bottle of Gatorade. Here, open this. He handed it to me.

Taking the plastic bottle, I tried unscrewing the lid, but I couldn't hold it tight enough. Not with my bruised shoulder.

Reaching his arms around me, he wrapped his fingers through mine and helped me open the bottle. You need help. Let me help you.

I closed my eyes and nodded, relaxing my body into his comforting