I wait a few moments before doing what she asks. I turn off the lights and walk back to my room. The reaction is familiar. I’ve had the same type of dreams.
Except they’re not dreams. They’re memories. Traumatic ones.
Maybe my Yellow Crayon has her own darkness locked up tightly inside of her. Unlike mine, she can keep hers under wraps. At least until the night comes.
That could be why I can’t seem to stay away from her. We share something neither fully understands while being the only two people who truly do. Now I want to know more, but I don’t think she’ll tell me. Not unless I tell her the same.
And that’s not fucking happening.
Chapter Ten
Phoebe
Four. That’s how many times I’ve been screwed by Tucker. Four nights of being left alone afterwards. I don’t even get the affectionate kiss to the temple like that first night anymore.
“Everything okay?” Sarah asks.
I force a smile. “Fine.”
Pulling me aside, she levels me with a glare. “Phoebe, you can tell me if something’s wrong. Has Pacino done something to you?”
Oh, if only she knew all the things he’s done to me. Like had me wanting like never before. Soaking wet and waiting for him. Loving how he feels until I get close to orgasm only to remember I’ll be left alone afterwards.
“No, I’m okay, Sarah. Really. I’ve just been having nightmares, so I’m a little tired.”
It’s not a complete lie. I have been having the nightmares I haven’t had in a long time. I think the abandonment after sex brings them to the forefront. But that’s my burden, not Tucker’s.
“You haven’t been experimenting.”
“I can’t afford to waste ingredients right now. Not with the costs we have. We’ll stick with what we have—”
“Is this because of the security system? Because I can help. Scotty can find a way to get us a discount. Or maybe he can work out a payment plan for us.”
Smiling, I appreciate her. Tucker already said we’d work something out, but I have never and will never take something I haven’t earned.
“This isn’t your problem to worry about, Sarah. I’ll figure it out,” I assure her.
“But I want you to be you,” she says, her voice quiet as she walks to the front.
I’ve been avoiding the lobby when I can. Tucker works with Scotty installing everything, and it’s a bit overwhelming to realize every inch of this place has camera coverage. The only place to hide is the walk-ins.
It all seems excessive, but I want Sarah to feel safe. And I want her tobesafe.
If this really is because someone wants to hurt me, I don’t want her suffering in the process. It would kill me if someone got hurt because of me.
The thought fills me with panic, and I can’t breathe as I walk out to the display case to clean it up. Grabbing the counter, I try to get deep breaths in and out. It’s been so long since I last had a panic attack, but it’s a familiar feeling. The imaginary snake wrapping itself around my chest and squeezing.
“Phoebe?” Sarah asks, rushing toward me. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”
Tucker and Scotty turn around, and the attention only makes it worse. Dropping to the floor behind the counter, I try my best to put my head between my knees.
It doesn’t really work.
“Phoebe?” Tucker calls, hurrying around the counter.
I hold up my hand and wave them away. “I’ll… be… fine.”
“Are you having a panic attack?” Sarah asks, and I can see her in my mind right now.
