My head turns into a giant screen. The images flick so fast. My mother losing her mind, hallucinating, my father ramming his fists into her head, the degenerates watching, touching me against my will since I was twelve. How I preyed on Mia, then cried under my bed when Mom screamed that I killed Dad. Blood on my thighs, hands on my hips, filthy words.
Hundreds of broken scenes, a projection of the worst moments in my life. Of mywholelife, because there was no happiness in it. Not real happiness. Artificial, manufactured. Fake.
Just like the face I show the world.
Cody rocks me gently in his arms, my head under his chin, his arms around me, my nails clawing his flesh so hard I’ve left long, red lines.
I broke the skin.
A powerful shudder shakes me as reality re-emerges. My face is wet, and I’m naked under the comforter Cody’s tucked around us. I’ve never had a panic attack in front of anyone other than my father. The last one happened when I hurled those glasses across my kitchen at him.
“There you are,” Cody breathes in my hair, his hold tightening around me when I try to move. “It’s okay, calm down. It’s me, baby. I’ve got you.”
“I’m fine,” I rasp, swallowing the tears and prying myself away. “I’m sorry, I... zoned out.”
“Blair,” he utters, taking my chin between his fingers to turn my face his way. “Does it happen often?”
“Nothing happened.”
This has gone too far. Cody’s too perceptive, too clever and hecaresenough to dig deeper, to ask questions.
“You had a panic attack, B. That’s notnothing.” He cushions his fingers round my wrist, dragging me back to him. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on.”
Against all reason, I curve myself into him, hiding my face in the crook of his neck. He smells of sex, cologne, smoke, and me. Soothing. Heady.
My negative emotions fade with his every word. It doesn’t matter what he says. It’s his voice that calms me down. He could be reading the phone book for all I care.
“I did,” I answer truthfully. “I hurt me.”
There’s a long pause, his muscles tensing until he’s wound up so tight he might never unwind. “Will you ever answer any of my questions?”
“That’s not part of the deal.”
“Fuck the deal,” he whispers in my hair. “You want me to break someone’s neck? I’ll do it. Tell me who hurt you.”
He shouldn’t care. I’m not worth it. Not worth his attention or the rules he’s breaking.
My lips part. I want to tell him we’re done. Over. No more sex. Not even aheyinpassing, but I can’t push the words out.
Cody’s my first taste of calm and safe. My first taste of normal. I don’t pretend when I’m with him. I don’t feel I have to, and that’s scary. Scary and addictive, so instead of closing the gates, I take the cowardly way out, leaving them open.
“Checkmate,” I say, bracing both hands against his chest to push him away.
He doesn’t oppose, lifting his hands so I can move away, every next word sharp as a bullet. “Next time you need a shoulder to cry on—” He pauses, teeth gnashing between his lips, anger dancing in those deep, brown eyes.
I know what’s on the tip of his tongue:don’t come crawling to me, but with a long exhale, his shoulders slump, and something else comes out.
“You made it clear you won’t tell me what’s happening. All you’re after is a good fuck, so fine, we’ll stick to that, but if you need help... if anyone hurts you... I’m here, B. Come to me, okay? I’ll help.”
The hurt in his voice cuts me so deep it briefly steals my breath. He cares and I... I’m pushing him away.
It’s better this way. I don’t have anything good to offer.
TWENTY-FIVE
Cody
THE BACHELOR PARTY GUEST LISTends up being thirty-two men long.Thirty-twoguys in the wild of Las Vegas for two days straight. I don’t know if I want to remember every minute or blackout and not know a thing because I just know I’ll make a shitload of bad decisions.
