“I sometimes get overwhelmed with what…with the things…” She hiccupped, letting it all out now.
Alex barreled across the desk, snatching her by the arm and holding her arms firmly. “With what?”
“With the things that happened to me here,” she finished softly, gaze skating down to her feet. To the shoes that were too small, too old, too torn. She’d lost a toe a few years back. And she had lost other parts, inside herself, that were much more important than a piece of flesh.
There was a part of her—not a small one, either—that wondered what the point was in running away. She could never outrun all the things that had happened to her. She could never escape the memories.
Alex knew exactly what she meant and jerked her into his body in a firm hug. He cupped the back of her head, his warm breath tickling her ear. “You need to forget all about those things, Tierney. Shove them to the back of your head, to a place where no one—not even you—can reach them, and you move on. You don’t have a choice. The only way to survive is to deny what happened to you.”
“But it’s all I can think about.”
“Tierney,” he barked, pulling away and holding her face in his hands. Alex never barked—rarely raised his voice—so the action anchored her back to the present. “Listen to me carefullynow.” His eyes held hers. “You’re going to forget every single thing that happened to you. You’ll bottle it up and soldier through. Because you’re strong. Because you’re brave. Because you’re a Callaghan, goddammit.”
“Kiss me.” The demand was guttural, coming from a place deep inside her. “I need to feel something else.”
Something that wasn’t angst and pain and despair.
“Not tonight.” He thumbed away a stray tear, then rubbed the arch of her brow tenderly. “You’re upset tonight. Tomorrow, if you still want me to kiss you, I will.”
Tomorrow I won’t be here,she wanted to scream.And you’ll hate me forever for leaving you and taking your best friend with me.
“I won’t regret the kiss,” she whispered.
“But I will.” He tucked a piece of her red hair behind her ear. “I will never take advantage of you, Tierney. But one day, when you’re strong enough…” He left the sentence unfinished.
He reached down and pressed his lips to her forehead so softly, she had the oddest thought.
That he knew they were running away, and he still let them.
Sending them off with a gift more precious than matching ink.
A tattoo of hope.
Chapter Six
Tierney
“Well,well, well. If it isn’t my favorite blow-job artist.”
Achilles stood in the doorway of my apartment at ten thirty in the morning, looking both smug and bored.
My stomach bottomed out. That couldn’t mean good news for me, and I really wasn’t in the mood for more of his abuse.
I barely managed to scrape myself off my bed today. Had spent the last couple days crying uncontrollably after my messages to Hamish remained unread.
Selfish bitch. You did this to him. It’s all your fault.
I was usually careful with my hookups, making sure Achilles didn’t know about them. I used burner phones, hotel rooms, and aliases. And I always made sure the encounters were few and far between and concealed any bruises with makeup. But the loneliness I felt after Gennaro’s christening cut too sharp, sliced too deep, and I needed warmth. Another human body to drown in.
Hamish provided that, along with some manhandling that left me with a shallow cut on my cheekbone and a blue bruise on my neck.
“The answer is no,” I said, keeping the terror out of my voice. “I don’t want to hear about your Jehovah’s Witness journey.”
“Glad I caught you in a perky mood, Piccola Fiamma. I have some good news.”
“You have an incurable disease?” I pretended to brighten up. “You’re saying your final goodbye to people?”
He glanced down at me with the interest a panther afforded a mouse, an unabashed menace. For a moment, his gaze flicked to the cut on my cheek. His eyes darkened, like a light had been switched off behind them. “You gonna invite me in?”
