Page 14 of The Scars We Heal

She nodded with a smile. “Plenty. Help yourself. Come on, Whitley, let your mom grab some dinner.”

Mom followed me over to the stove, handing me a plate.

“What’s your plan for getting the rest of your stuff out of Washington?”

“Tory is going to ship it to me,” I explained.

Her eyebrows scrunched. “You’re sure Adam’s not going to try to, I don’t know, prevent you from getting it?”

“Pretty sure that’d be a crime at this point, Mom.” I plopped a small scoop of mac and cheese onto my plate. “Besides, the storage unit is under my name. I made sure of that.”

“I don’t trust that man as far as I can throw him,” she muttered. “You’d think he’s put you through enough hell.”

“Well, he hasn’t done anything besides cancel my credit cards, Mom. It’s not like he’s come after Whitley or anything.” I at least had the confidence he wouldn’t do that. Adam was too proud a man to fight me in a custody battle and lose. The evidence had always pointed to me being the more present parent anyway.

“You know me. I just worry about you kids.”

I gave her arm a reassuring squeeze. “I know. But Whit and I are here now. We’re okay. I promise.”

“I’m happy you found a place to live.” The words came out slow, almost practiced. “Jake is a nice kid. Very generous, isn’t he?”

“Mm-hmm.” I narrowed my eyes.

“I think he’s always kind of looked out for you, you know.”

What was it with everyone and their obsession with Jake?

“What are you getting at, Mom?”

She shrugged, feigning indifference. “I just think it’s good you have people here to support you.”

I couldn’t exactly argue with that.

Moonlight peeked through the curtains in my bedroom, mixing with the warm light from my bedside table lamp. Whitley had gone to sleep a few hours ago, so it was just me and my lonesome.

My mind kept drifting back to my conversations with Ellison and my mom, trying to figure out what the hell they meant when they were talking about Jake always looking out for me and being more than willing to help me.

Those simple words turned into thoughts about what I would like help with. I definitely had some ideas that had nothing to do with carrying boxes or decorating the house.

Warmth crept up my body, heat pooling in my core at the imagery of rough, callused hands. I imagined them running over my body, my skin burning under their touch.

Ugh!

It had been too long since I’d been with someone. I couldn’t remember the last time Adam had so much as looked at me in that way, much less given me an orgasm. Sex had felt like a chore in our last couple years of marriage, and it was always about him. He’d get off, and I’d get disappointed. My only saving grace had been my trusty vibrator I’d hidden in the drawer of my nightstand, an essential I’d been sure to bring with me to Montana.

Thoughts of a cowboy doing filthy things to me swarmed my mind as I reached into the nightstand beside my bed, feeling around for the familiar shape. My hand grasped it, and I pulled it out, a satisfied smile spreading across my cheeks.

Hello, old friend.

I switched on the toy, turning the vibration up to the highest setting. No easing into it for this girl. I was chasing any kind of release. Guiding the tip down, I pressed it to my clit, a breath falling from my lips at the sensation.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I let myself fall into a hazy dream-like state.

The cowboy in my fantasy brushed his lips against my skin, darting his tongue out to flick against my clit. Using his hands, he spread my pussy, thrusting a finger inside. I bucked my hips up toward his face, his short stubble scratching the inside of my thigh.

My hand slipped under my shirt, skirting up to my breast. Pinching a nipple between my fingers, I moved the vibrator in circles on my clit, a warm sensation creeping up to my core from my toes.

A moan tore from my lips as I pressed the tip of the vibrator into my entrance, the toy easily slipping inside. Fucking myself with it, I conjured the image of the cowboy’s cock slamming into me, pulling out every ounce of pleasure.