Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

Sela

When I wake up, it's late afternoon and Bear's still sawing logs. I hate to get up, but there's something I need to do, so I pull on my clothes, slip on my slippers, and head out.

There's nobody around at all, and that's unusual, until I realize it's a workday and they're all working. An involuntary shiver hits me, and I wrap the thin sweater tighter around me. As soon as I step into the lodge, I'm warmer, and I'm thankful for that. It's super quiet in there, and I'm wandering down the hallway when somebody calls out, "Hey there!"

"Holy shit!" I bark.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you," Sarah says, and I turn to find her in her room, sitting on the side of the bed. "Didn't know you were here. How ya feelin'?"

"I'm good, I guess," I lie.

"That's good. I'm glad you got here during the week so I could see you. We're not here much on the weekends. We usually go to Lenny's house then." Lenny? Who the hell is that? Boy, some shit went on while I wasn't around, that much I can tell. "You here visiting Bear? I hear he got to come home today."

"I'm… I'm actually moving in with him," I explain. Oh, fuck, is she one of those holy rollers who'll have a fit when she finds out we're living in sin?

"Oh! Well, I reckon I'll see a lot more of you then! It's finally my chance to say thank you for saving Natalie. She's a sweet lady, and we really appreciate what you did for her."

"Just doin' my job. Um, do you by any chance know what they did with my stuff that I had here?"

"Far as I know, it's all still there. Nobody's moved it unless they did it on a weekend when we weren't here."

"Okay. Thanks. I'm going to get it. I don't have much, so it'll be nice to have some of my things."

"I bet. Need some help packing it over there? I can't carry a lot, but I'll do what I can."

I give her a smile. She really is a nice lady. "Nah, but thanks. I'll just take some and come back for more later. Right now, all I'm really interested in is some long pants. All I've had in the facility were shorts and I'm about to freeze to death."

"Oh, yeah! It's gotten chilly since you've been gone. So how 'bout this? You pull out everything you want to take in your bags and I'll help you pack it up. Plus I've got some totes for your bathroom stuff. How 'bout that?"

"That would be great! That would help a lot. Thank you. I'll just…" I say and throw a thumb toward my old room.

"Yep. I'll be there in just a minute." As I step down the hallway, I hear her rustling around.

What happens next is possibly the nicest thing anybody's ever done for me. Sarah sits on the side of the bed and folds stuff while I put it in my bags, and it's kinda fun, working alongside her and chatting as we pack. I didn't think I had much here, but by the time we're finished, I've got more than my bags would hold and we're stuffing some of it in totes. "Wow. I've actually got quite a bit here."

"You sure do. Not much of it is winter stuff, but you do have blazers and such that you can wear over tees. That'll help."

"True. Plus I've got a denim jacket and a couple of cardigans. Those will do nicely."

"And quite a few pairs of shoes too, and pajamas. I think you're just about set. Need the things out of your bathroom?"

"Oh, yeah. I do. Thanks for reminding me. I'll start gathering them up." It takes two more totes to get all that stuff packed, but when we're finished, the room is empty and my part of the closet at Bear's cottage will be full. "This is great. I really don't need to buy much. I've got everything I need here already."

"Sure do. You know, my old car is sitting outside. Why don't we load all of this stuff in the trunk and you can just drive it over? Sure beats making half a dozen trips back and forth."

"That's a good idea."

She's already rummaging around in her purse. "Here we go!" she says and holds up the keys.

Ten minutes later, everything is in the trunk, and Sarah hands me the keys. "Just bring them back at dinner," she says. Before I can get out of the room, she insists on giving me a hug, and that makes me a little uncomfortable, but I figure what the hell. The woman has just helped me immensely. Letting her hug me isn't like some huge sacrifice I'm making.

I pull up to the cottage, open the trunk, and grab a couple of bags. When I've set those two down in the living area, I go back and get a couple more. Pretty soon I've got everything inside, and I realize I'll probably have to buy some hangers. It's doubtful that Bear will have that many free in his closet.

"Hey, what's going on?" I hear a croaky voice ask, and I turn to find him standing in the doorway in nothing but his boxer briefs, his hair a royal mess and his eyes half closed.

"I got my stuff from the lodge. Sarah helped me. I guess after dinner I'll have to go get some hangers to hang everything up."

"I would've helped you if you'd asked. Half the dresser is empty, so you're welcome to that for underwear and stuff," he says, then staggers across the room and plops down on the sofa. "Damn, I was wiped."

"You were. You didn't even move when I got up."

"Come sit down. We need to talk."

I manage a sarcastic, lopsided grin. "Don't you need to wake up first?"

"I'm awake. Come on. Now." He pats the cushion beside him, so I guess I'd better take a seat. As soon as I'm stationary, he fixes me with a hard stare. "What's going on with your work?"

"Nothing. What? I don't know what you―"

"I overheard the physical therapist telling you that your employer wasn't going to like it when they find out you're non-compliant."

"They can just suck it. I'm not―"

"Sela, the only way this is going to work is if you, first, talk to me, and second, tell me the truth. Anything less is unacceptable. Now, I'm going to ask you again. What's going on?"

This conversation is one I really don't want to have. Just the thought of saying the words out loud fills me with fury. "Nothing. They're staying in touch."

"When are you going back to work?"

"I don't know."

"And what is your return to work contingent on?"

Whoo boy, here we go. "Me being physically able to do the work."

"And you're not."

"What the fuck do you mean, I'm not?"

"Sela, you're not capable of doing that kind of work right now and you know it."

"Oh, so now you know more about me than I do? I mean, really, what the everlovin' fuck does everybody think they―"

"Hey, slow your roll, WonderWoman! I can't work right now either. Patch said he was too worried about me getting hurt because my job is pretty damn dangerous when I'm at my best, and as bad as I hate to say it, he's not wrong. I don't want to not work, but if he thinks it's best for me to sit back and take a little breather, then that's what I'm going to do. If they want you to take off for a while, that should be okay. You damn near died, Sela. A few weeks isn't going to kill you."

"We're not talking a few weeks here. They want to… take me out of the field." Fuck, it hurt to say that out loud.

"And the alternative?"

There's a shrieking in my head, and I feel like I'm going to throw up. "They're talking about making me some kind of trainer or some bullshit."

"That's good, right? You'd retain your seniority, your pension, your salary. Hell, it might even mean a raise!"

"So what? And be that agent? ‘Oh, yeah, that's SelaBaldwin. She got hurt in the field and they stuck her behind a desk. SSA? Nah, she's not a supervisory special agent anymore. She's just a pencil-pusher. A has-been. Washed up. Finished. Just waiting for retirement.' I don't want to be that agent. No."

He turns sideways to face me, one knee up on the sofa and his elbow resting on the back as he props up his head with his hand. In that moment, I'm struck by how absolutely gorgeous the guy is. On top of being gruff and a little on the scruffy side, his body is hard and chiseled, and his shoulders are massive. I can see why people who don't know him would be afraid of him, but while I wouldn't call him meek, he's quiet and unobtrusive. Even when he's present, he's not an in-your-face kinda guy. Since the first time I met him, I've found his presence oddly calming, but the motherfucker knows how to tune me up in the sack. I'm staring at his pecs when I hear him say, "Sela? Did you hear me?"

"Uh, sorry. What did you say?"

"What if I had an idea for something you could do?"

"Unless I'd be carrying a gun, I'm not interested."

"You'd be carrying a gun," he says matter-of-factly.

"Then speak."

"Remember SteveMcCoy? The Walters' attorney and friend?" Do I remember SteveMcCoy? He looks like a fucking Viking prince. I couldn't forget him if I tried. His middle name should be Adonis. I nod at Bear's question. "He's thinking of expanding his security firm to Ashland. Remember Marshall who was here helping out?"

"Oh, yeah. Nice guy."

"Yeah. They're pretty sure Steve is tapping Marshall to head up the office. And I bet if he thought you'd come to work for them, he'd be thrilled."

"What all do they do?"

"They do security like you were doing with Natalie, but they also do investigative work, surveillance, things like that. I know their general manager helped to bust up a big sex-trafficking ring, and his second-in-command is a former Nashville police officer and does a lot of electronics work. He's got a technical analyst too, and from what they say, she's top notch. And I could be wrong, but I bet it would pay a lot better than the FBI. Better benefits too."

"You don't really think it would be better than a government job, do you?"

"I bet it would be way better than a government job. Would you be interested enough for me to talk to Tony and Steve for you?"

"Could I still live here?"

"That's something you and Steve would have to talk about. I can't say for sure, but I would think you could work something out. I mean, there would be assignments all over this end of the state, so having somebody who's somewhere other than Ashland would be a good thing, especially since you have enough expertise to be a supervisor and maybe even have a couple of employees working under you."

Me. A boss. I like it. "Hmmm. That's an interesting idea. Yeah, sure. Ask him. See what he says. The worst thing he can say is no."

"But if he does, what are you going to do?"

All I can do is shrug. "I guess go back to Atlanta until I can figure out what to do. I don't know."

"So you're prepared to leave," he says, and I can hear the defeat in his voice.

"I'm not talking about forever. I have an apartment there, and all of my stuff is there. No matter what happens, at some point, I have to go back there and pack up everything. If they decide to put me back out in the field…"

"Is that even a possibility?"

"I'd like to think so."

He dips his head and looks up at me from under his brow. "Realistically?"

It's the first time I've had to admit this, and as much as I hate it, I know the truth. Before I speak, I let out a deep sigh. I think that's what they call resignation. "No. Realistically, they're not going to let me back out into the field."

"Then I'll talk to Tony and Steve. Or Patch will."

"Why Patch?"

Something passes over his face, something I can't identify, before he speaks. "It should probably be Patch. I'm not… I don't feel like I can do that."

"Why not? From what I've seen, they'd probably like to hear from you."

"I just… I can't."

What's going on here? What am I not understanding? "Just call them up. You have their numbers, right?"

"No."

"You don't?"

"No."

"Why not? It's like they're the fairy godparents of this place, and you don't have their numbers?"

"No. I'm not…" And he stops.

"Not what?"

Now he's not looking at me, just at his lap. What comes out of his mouth next confuses me. "I'm not like them."

"What do you mean, you're not like them?"

"I'm not… like them. I'm not… I don't have family or people except here. I'm not a good person, and they're good people."

"What the fuck are you talking about, you're not a good person? You're one of the best people I've ever met."

"You don't know very many people then," he counters. I'm at a total loss. What is this bullshit?

"You're an amazing person. Hell, you're one of the most patient people I've ever met. If I were you, I would've kicked me to the curb, but you didn't. How can you say you're not a good person?"

Those huge brown eyes look up at me, and the sadness snatches my breath right out of my chest. I'm almost afraid to hear what he's about to say, and then he says it. "Sela, I killed a man."

"I know. That's how you wound up here."

"I killed a man who was just doing his job. He hadn't done anything wrong. I got stupid, got high on mushrooms, got all paranoid, and grabbed a gun and killed him." This isn't news to me. Natalie told me what he'd been in prison for, so I knew this already. "I was a dumb kid with parents who were decent, middle-class people, kept us in church, tried to do right by us. I finished high school and got a scholarship to community college until I did something so dumb that even now it's hard to believe. I remember absolutely nothing of the whole incident. Nothing. I don't remember smoking a joint, I don't remember drinking five shots of whiskey, and I don't remember chewing and swallowing those mushrooms, but I know I did it. I don't remember the gun, and I don't remember shooting him. I don't remember the emergency vehicles coming and trying to save him. I don't remember the police questioning me, and I don't remember what I said, but from what I was told, I confessed on the spot. I remember none of it, and I remember sitting in that cell and wishing I could just die because I didn't deserve to live. I still don't. I took a man's life, an innocent man who'd done nothing to me. And I live in fear that I'll do it again. I'm a dangerous man, one who doesn't deserve to even walk the earth. I'm just garbage. I don't deserve their friendship." By this point, I'm pretty sure he's not even talking to me. He's talking to hear his own voice condemning himself, recounting every horrible aspect of the whole thing, reliving it, and I'm powerless to help him.

I don't know what to say to make it better, but I have to at least try. "Tony and Nikki don't see you that way, and neither does Steve. The guys here don't see you that way. I don't see you that way. If anything, you should be proud of yourself. You've come a long way and you've done some really great things with your life. You've gotten a fresh start. A lot of guys don't. You have nothing to be ashamed of, babe. Nothing." It's the first time I've used a term of endearment with him and it feels strangely normal. "And you're most certainly not garbage."

"Tell that to the wife and kids whose husband and father I killed."

Now I understand, and I'd probably feel the same way. The guy I know, the patient one, the very calm and matter-of-fact guy, is slowly rotting on the inside with self-hatred. There's an ache in my ribcage just thinking about the pain he must be feeling. Does he talk to that Baxter guy about it? Or is he just quietly letting it eat him alive? "You can't bring him back. But the best thing you can do to honor his life is to live a better one yourself, and you're doing that. You're doing it. You're really doing it. And for what it's worth, I'm proud of you. I know I'm a bitch, and I don't deserve somebody like you, but I'm thankful that you're―"

"What do you mean, you don't deserve somebody like me? You're a fucking FBI agent, for chrissakes. I can't believe you'd even give me the time of day."

"All the more reason why you should believe in yourself. I said it myself―I put people like you away. But here I am. That should tell you something."

He lets out a little chuckle without a smile. "It tells me you're crazy."

That makes me chuckle too. "Maybe I am. Or maybe I just know a good person when I see one."

We sit there for a few seconds, neither of us talking, and he reaches over and swipes a strand of hair from where it drapes down my cheek and puts it to rest behind my ear. "What changed, Sela? Why did you all of a sudden stop fighting me and start believing that I have feelings for you?"

How did that happen? I haven't really thought about it. I just know how I felt the minute they told me he was in the hospital in a coma, and it wasn't good. "When they told me what had happened to you, I felt this…" I search for the word, and finally say, "Emptiness. Like everything good had been sucked out of the world. And I realized that in the whole world, you're the only person who seems to give two shits about me. Consistently, I mean. Don't get me wrong. I know everybody out here wanted me to survive after what happened, and they were glad I was going to be okay. But they weren't finding time to come to the hospital, or sitting with me when I couldn't even respond. That was you. I don't know why you did it―"

"Maybe because the sex was good?" he says, grinning.

"Yeah, it was pretty awesome, huh?"

"Very awesome."

"Be serious," I say and play-slap his leg.

That gets a laugh out of him. "Do I have to?"

"I'm baring my soul to you, and you're being all ridiculous and flippant?"

"Okay, okay! Sheesh! Sorry," he says, grabs my hand, and squeezes it.

"I'm just messing with you. I don't mind smiling a little more."

"That's good. I'd like to see you smile a lot more. But right now, we've got to get ourselves pulled together and get over to the kitchen for dinner. It'll be ready and we'll miss it."

After the horrible stuff I've been eating, missing dinner is not optional.

Bear

Even with everybody's assurances, Sela still feels like she's not wanted here. I'm not sure why. Nobody doesn't want her here, and everybody wants me to be happy. My eyes are constantly scanning in the big kitchen, looking for anybody who's staring at her funny or doing anything to make her feel unwelcome, and it's just not happening. No one is doing anything but trying to include her, but she's simply having none of it, or at least that's the way it seems. Natalie is sitting beside her across the table from me, and they're chatting a little, but I get the impression Sela feels weird being friendly with someone who used to be her responsibility. From time to time she glances up at me, and I give her a tiny smile, but that seems to make her uncomfortable too.

As soon as dinner is over, I start helping clean up, picking up plates and glasses, but Sela disappears out the back door of the kitchen. A female voice whispers to me, "I think maybe you need to go check on her," and I turn to find Natalie standing there.

"Yeah. Probably. Thanks." I set down the things I'm holding and make my way to the back door, trying to draw as little attention as possible.

She's sitting in a lawn chair out there, staring at the tree line. Instead of heading toward her, I let the door close behind me and lean back against it. "Whatcha doin' out here?"

Eyes never leaving the tree line, she answers, "It's going to take some adjusting."

"What?"

"Being around people after being alone for so long, especially in that nursing home."

"Rehab facility," I correct.

Her dark hair swings as she shakes her head. "No. It was definitely a nursing home. Me and dozens of old people. My roommate couldn't talk anymore. The old woman in the next room screamed all night long every night, so nobody got any sleep. Then I'd try to sleep in the day, but they were coming to get me to go to physical therapy and they wouldn't leave me alone, so I was so sleep deprived that I couldn't think. I pretty much decided they must like it that way. Compliance bred from exhaustion."

A sarcastic little chuckle erupts from my throat. "I'll have to remember that tactic."

She finally turns to look at me and her eyes bore into me like a couple of drill bits. "You'd best forget it."

"Nope. Filing that one away for when you get too sassy," I answer with a little laugh. "You about ready to go back to the cottage?"

"Can I watch TV?"

That strikes me as odd. "Of course you can watch TV, if that's what you want to do."

"I didn't get to watch TV in there. They only had a couple of channels, and the TVs were horrible. I've missed all of my favorite shows all this time."

"Oh, yeah? What are some of them?"

" Criminal Behaviors , Murderous Masterminds , San Diego S.W.A.T ., stuff like that."

"Then we should get along just fine. Wanna know what my favorite is?" She nods. " Born to Protect and Serve . It's my absolute favorite show."

Her jaw drops. "You've been in prison and you like cop shows?"

"Yeah. I like watching how they figure out who the bad guys are, but a lot of times, I figure it out first."

"How did they figure out who did your crime?"

That gets an eye roll directed to her. "Duh, I told them? Remember?"

"Oh, yeah. Solved your own crime."

"Kinda sorta did. Come on. Let's go see what's on."

To my surprise, after she rises, she reaches for my hand. "You have streaming services?"

"Do I have streaming services? Does the App STAR team have a helicopter? Of course I have streaming services! Pretty much anything you could ask for." Her palm is warm against mine, and I close my fingers around hers and lead her around the side of the building and out toward the cottages.

The cottage door closes behind us and I think of something I need to tell her. "Hey, before we turn on the TV, I wanted to tell you that I'm going to talk to Patch tomorrow about you working for Steve, see what he thinks. Is there anything special I should tell him to ask about?"

"Yeah. Ask if he has need of somebody who can do investigations. I'm pretty well-versed and I'd love to get into something like that."

"Will do. Now," I say, throwing a thumb toward the kitchen, "you want popcorn?"

"Not yet. Maybe in a bit. Come sit with me," she says and pats the sofa.

What follows is the most normal evening I've had in years, and by normal, I mean the kind of evening most people have. It's sweet and uncomplicated, and we watch TV, talk about the plots, guess at the bad guys and their motivations, use the internet to look up actors and actresses we think we recognize from other shows, and go through several soft drinks. I'm getting up yet again to grab one when she asks, "Can I have a beer?"

My question is automatic. "You taking any kind of pain meds?"

"Nope."

"Then sure." I grab her one, but I take out a diet soda for myself. "Here ya go," I say and hand it off to her.

"Thanks." She pops the top, takes a couple of swigs, and then asks, "Why did you ask me about meds?"

"Because alcohol and pain meds don't mix."

"So now you're my protector?"

I shake my head. "No. I'm trying to save myself some trouble with a woman who's both drunk and high."

"I'm not going to get drunk from one beer."

"You might if you're also taking pain meds," I point out.

"Ugh. Always with the logic," she snaps.

"Hey, I'm figuring out the plots of these shows before you are. Maybe my logic is actually good for something."

"Something other than bossing me around?"

"No. It's always good for bossing you around. But it's good for figuring out the shows too. Maybe we should call one of the networks and suggest that as a new game show: Logic Bosses . Could be a hit."

"Are you kidding?" she asks with a smirk. "Look around at the world we live in. They'd have trouble finding contestants."

"Yeah. That's true. Not a lot of logic and common sense going around these days," I answer in agreement. Well, there's not. I don't know if humankind is actually getting dumber, but it sure feels and seems that way. "Be right back," I tell her and head to the bathroom.

I've just gotten my fly zipped when I hear a weird sound outside the bathroom window. Then I hear voices. My shoes are by the door, so I head straight there. Sela goes from relaxed to red alert. "What's going on? What are you doing?"

"Something's going on outside." I've already got the door open, and she rises. "No. You stay here."

"I'm coming―"

"No! Stay here. I'll be right back." Before she can protest, I draw the door closed quietly and head down the steps.

The voices I heard are clearer now. One of them is Reboot, and the other is Ghost. As soon as I round the corner, I hear Reboot say, "Stop!" and I freeze.

"What the hell―"

"Shhhh!" Ghost says and points. There's something on the ground under my window, and it's whimpering.

"What the hell is that?" It's hard to focus in darkness this deep.

"Some kind of dog," Reboot whispers. I can see a light bobbing a little farther away. "Looks like Patch remembered his flashlight."

"What are you guys doing out here?" Patch asks when he gets close enough.

"Shine that beam over there, wouldja?" Ghost asks and points toward the sound.

The flashlight's brightness illuminates the entire area, and there, cowering under my bathroom window, is some kind of dog, a frayed, dirty rope hanging from its neck. "What the hell?" Patch whispers.

"It's a coydog. A lot of people kept them down where I grew up. This one…" Reboot is creeping closer, and the dog begins to growl. "Looks like he's been beaten on. Maybe kicked. Paw's messed up. Anybody got any lunch meat?"

"Uh, I think I've got a couple of hot dogs in my fridge," I answer.

"Go get 'em. Looks starved too," Reboot adds, so I turn and head back in.

"What's going on out there?" Sela asks as soon as I'm inside.

"Dog under my window. Beaten-up, bedraggled thing. I'm getting it something to eat." Before I've finished the explanation, I've got two hot dogs and two buns in my hands. "Be right back."

"What kind of dog?" she asks as I open the door.

"Reboot says it's a coydog."

"Need a gun to put the thing out of its misery," she says dispassionately, and I'm shocked.

"Nope. I'll be back."

I get to the corner and round it to find that Reboot is a little closer to the dog. "Do I just throw them to him?" I ask.

Reboot nods. "Yeah. Don't get too close. He's scared and hurt."

I pull a hot dog from the package and toss it in the dog's direction. For a few seconds, it seems too scared to go for the food, but I guess hunger takes over, because it snatches the meat with one step and the hot dog disappears. Then I toss it a bun, which was easier to get closer to it, and it wolfs that right on down. In a few seconds, the second hog dog and bun are both gone. "He was hungry."

"Yeah. Looks like somebody's been starving him. Shouldn't feed him too much right away." Patch is quiet for a bit before he asks, "Do you have some kind of shallow pan we could put water in?"

"Yeah. I've got a big bowl. Would that work?"

"Perfect. Just fill it with water and leave it out here. At least he'll have something to drink without having to try to make it all the way to the creek."

I head back in and grab the bowl and an old beach towel that's in the linen closet. This time, Sela says nothing. She kinda pissed me off with the execution order, so it's best that she stays quiet. When I come back, I step toward the dog until it growls, then set the bowl down. Once it's in place, I spread out the beach towel, hoping the dog will take the hint and find it a more comfortable place to sleep. "There ya go, fella. Maybe that will help."

"Let's just leave him alone for tonight. If he's still here in the morning, we're going to have to make some kind of decision," Reboot says.

Patch nods. "Agreed. He'll either be gone, or we'll have to figure out what to do next."

"I'll get him to a vet. That's a no-brainer," Reboot says.

Ghost's eyes widen. "You want to keep him?"

Reboot actually sounds pissed when he answers. "I promised my son a dog, and a dog has shown up out here. I'm not sending it away, if that's what you're thinking."

"Okay then. I'm going to bed. Y'all figure it out," Ghost says and turns toward his cottage.

"Me too. Let me know if I can help," Patch adds and heads away.

Reboot gives me this look that says he feels helpless. "I feel bad for him. Look at how torn up he is."

"Yeah. Me too. He's welcome to sleep here for as long as he wants. If he needs to go to the vet, I'm on the DL for a while, so I'll figure out a way to help you."

I see my friend's eyes soften. "Wow. Thanks. I appreciate that. I mean, this is an animal who's obviously been abused, but he showed up here at a place for humans, hoping for some help. He's not feral. He's just hurt and needs somebody. A second chance maybe."

"He came to the right place. That's what we specialize in," I answer with a smile.

"I think you're right. Hey, if you hear him whimpering or something in the night, call me, okay? I'll come see about him."

"Will do. Night, buddy," I tell him as I turn to go back inside.

"Night," he calls back.

As soon as the door closes behind me, Sela says, "Well, that was quiet."

"What do you mean, that was quiet?"

"Somebody got a gun with a silencer?"

A wave of fury breaks over me and I can feel every muscle in my body tensing. "No. Nobody's killing that dog. End of discussion."

I hear her snort as I reach for a bottle of water in the refrigerator. "Oh, so now you're an animal activist? PETA member?"

"No. I'm a human being who actually has empathy for other sentient beings. You should try it sometime." I'm getting angrier by the second.

"Why? So I can cry at those dumb ASPCA commercials? No thanks."

"No, so you can actually connect to something or someone in a meaningful way. I swear to god, Sela, you're one of the angriest humans I've ever met, and that's saying a lot, considering where I've been."

The look on her face is easily recognizable, because I'm pretty sure it matches mine. "Oh, I'm angry, huh?"

"You are! You do everything you can to slap a prickly paw at anybody who tries to get close to you, to be friendly to you, to spend time with you. You keep saying nobody wants you here, but I watched at dinner― everybody wants you here. Everybody's been friendly and kind to you. Everybody's gone out of their way to do whatever you need. And honestly, the way you've treated me, I'm not sure why I keep trying with you, because it's obvious that you're determined to care absolutely nothing about me." There. I've said it. I've been wanting to say it for a while, but now it's out there, I can't take it back, and she knows how I feel.

Ever smacked somebody in the face out of the blue? That's how she looks. "You think I care absolutely nothing about you?"

"It sure feels that way."

"Then what do you think I'm doing here?"

"I have no idea. I'm your ticket out of the nursing home?"

Any other time, I'd feel like I'd gone too far based on the expression on her face, that lost, hurt look, but this time, no. If I've learned anything from Shaggy, it's to be honest and talk about what's going on. "You really think that's who I am? You think that's what I'm doing here? Using you?"

"If it's not, you tell me what you're doing here, because I'm trying like hell to understand. You're so fucking edgy that nobody knows how to even approach you, and anything I do gets tossed back in my face. So tell me, Sela, what exactly are you doing here?"

She squirms slightly and doesn't look at me when she answers, "Trying to find a place to fit in. And it seems I've failed."

"You've failed because you chose to fail. Everybody here is trying, Sela, they really are, but you're not even meeting them a quarter of the way. Everybody here is here because they needed a second chance and a place to fit in when the world rejected them. What do you do? You swat at everybody who gets near and criticize a wounded animal who's terrified of humans but came to a human place for help because it was so desperate. Maybe you're not desperate enough yet. Maybe that's the problem."

It's like she's shrinking before my eyes. "You don't know me. You don't know anything about me."

"Yeah, well, how 'bout you enlighten me? I'm here, Sela. You can talk to me. You can lean on me. I love you―I want to love you―but you're making it almost impossible. I don't know you because you won't show me who you are, which is ridiculous because you know I won't turn away. It can't get so ugly or nasty that I'd turn away, and you know that's true because you know all about me. I know you do. You were probably briefed on all of us before you came here to work Natalie's detail, am I right?"

"Not really. What I know, I learned from being here with all of you."

"But you know who I am and what I did."

"I don't know who you were before all of that happened."

Instead of sitting on the sofa beside her, I pull up one of the dinette chairs and sit down to face her. "There's not a lot to tell. Average Midwest kid, lived in the same house my whole life, mom and dad worked in the community, older brother did too. Got decent grades, didn't get into a lot of trouble, played football―"

"No surprise there," she mumbles.

"Yeah, you could've guessed that. Made it to state―lost the championship game, but our little school had never been to state before, so it was super important. Graduated and wanted to go to the community college. Got through my first year and did pretty good. Second year was when everything went to shit. The kids I was with when it happened were all kids I'd grown up with. We were stupid. We knew nothing about psilocybins. Somebody's older brother sent them to him from college, and we couldn't wait to try them. Danny's mom was at work, so we all went to his house. And two hours later, you know what happened."

"And none of them got in trouble?"

"Oh, they got in trouble, but they didn't kill anybody. That was me―all me."

It's quiet for a couple of minutes before she asks, "Why didn't you ever get paroled?"

Even though I was sure she'd ask, I hate having to answer. "Every time I knew I had a parole board hearing coming up, I'd intentionally get into a fight and hurt somebody. That stopped the hearing."

"But why?"

"Because the guilt was eating me alive. I didn't want to get out. I was terrified I'd do something as equally stupid again and hurt somebody else. At least the guys in lock-up with me were just as bad as I was. Anything I dished out to them they probably deserved."

"At least you had a conscience. They were much worse."

"Yeah, I guess some of them were. I was one of the biggest guys in there, so nobody fucked with me and if they did, they wound up sorry. The day those bars closed behind me, I made it my mission to serve my thirty. That guy I killed had two little girls. He never got to see their dance recitals, or their graduations, or their weddings, or his grandkids. That was on me . I did that. And I didn't deserve to be out walking around."

"That's not true, you know."

I nod. "Yeah. Shaggy has―"

"Shaggy?"

"Yeah. Baxter. The counselor. He looks like Shaggy from Scooby-Doo. He's been helping me a lot. I'm trying to forgive myself, and doing things like I'm doing for that dog out there helps a lot. I feel like I'm making a difference to somebody , which is more than I was doing before."

"You make a difference to a lot of people." Her eyes have softened and she's looking straight into my face. "The guys here all love and respect you. So do the women. Natalie always spoke very highly of you."

That's a surprise. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. She said she always feels safe when you're around because she knows you'd lay your life on the line for anybody here."

Warmth spreads through my body. The people here love me. They respect me. I used to have a hard time accepting that, but now I want to enjoy that feeling, let it seep in and take up residence in my bones. "Thank you for telling me that. It means that all the hard work I'm doing on myself is actually being recognized, and it has definitely been hard." When she doesn't respond, I ask, "So, what's your story, SelaBaldwin?"

The shrug she gives me makes me wonder if she's going to shut down, but instead she says, "I wanted to be a police officer. But I was in college when an FBI agent came to speak to us in one of my criminal justice classes, and after that, being an agent was all I wanted to do."

"Yeah? How'd you get in?"

"After graduation, I got a call because I'd filled out an interest form. They said my grades were high enough that they wanted to talk to me. They offered me a job at entry level and I worked my way up from there after my twenty months at Quantico."

"What were you doing at first?"

"Field agent. Just your run-of-the-mill investigations helping local law enforcement when the crimes crossed state lines. But they found out I had a knack for seeing things others didn't, so they asked me to do more training and education so they could work me into the Behavioral Analysis Unit."

"You worked with the BAU?"

"Yeah. I'd been a field agent for eight years when they pulled that on me. Didn't last long."

"What happened?"

"Two years in, we were looking for a guy who'd killed three women. My partner and I walked up onto a porch in a neighborhood eight of us were canvassing. Guy opened the door, blew my partner in half with a sawed-off shotgun, grabbed me by the hair, pulled me into the house, and slammed the door shut. The other agents heard the blast, found my partner, and set up a perimeter. The guy held me hostage in the house for over thirty hours and tortured me while negotiators tried to get him to turn me loose. It wasn't until the local S.W.A.T. stormed the house that I got out. By then, he'd done a bunch of stuff to me that I really don't want to talk about."

"That's fine. You'll tell me when you're ready and if you never are, that's okay too."

"Thanks for understanding. Anyway, I asked to be transferred to protective details. I figured that was about as dangerous as I could handle. Garden-variety stuff. Couple of governors who were threatened. Woman who'd been abducted, got away, and was being stalked by her abductor."

"Did you catch the guy?"

"Eventually, but he was one of the sneakiest, most persistent assholes I ever saw. I got Natalie's detail and I really thought it would be fine. Never dreamed it would turn into what it did."

"I can imagine." It's clear I'm going to have to do it, even though I don't want to. "I get the guy who dragged you in and tortured you, but you're not telling me the whole story. Something happened between you and people you trusted. What was it?"

The pain I can see on her face is heartbreaking. Something horrible happened to this woman. If only she'd let me in, I… Hell, I don't know what I think I could possibly do to help, but I'd like to try. It seems like forever before she says, "It happened while I was at Quantico." Instead of speaking or asking, I just wait. She's got to want to do this. I've about decided she's not going to say anything else when she finally starts. "We had a test we had to do. Simulated attack. I scored highest of everybody in the class. Went to dinner that evening alone and when I went out to get into my car, three guys jumped me in the parking lot."

"Random guys?"

"No, Bear. Three of the guys in my class."

Holy shit. "You knew them?"

"They were wearing masks, but I knew their voices."

"But why―"

"They told me they weren't competing with me for spots and if I stayed, they'd kill me."

"Did they hurt you?"

"Broke my jaw and cracked a bunch of my ribs. Bruised my kidneys. Broke one of my occipital bones. Really worked me over."

"You wound up in the hospital?"

"Went, but didn't stay. I had to get back to training."

"Did anybody say anything? Instructors? Admin? Anybody?"

"Asked me what happened. I told them three random guys jumped me in a restaurant parking lot."

"Didn't you tell anybody?"

There's a wickedness in her grin that surprises me. "Nope. I just followed them, one by one. And when I'd catch one of them alone, I beat the holy hell out of him. The only reason three of them jumped me was because they knew they couldn't take me alone. I studied martial arts as a kid, plus I was quicker on my feet."

"Did you do them some damage?"

"Oh, yeah. One of them had to transfer out of Quantico and go into the private sector. I don't fuck around when somebody fucks with me."

"Jesus Christ, Sela!" I can't believe she's telling me this. "Didn't they report you?"

"What are they going to say? ‘Hey, the woman the three of us almost beat to death beat me up.' You think that's likely? Nope. They'd never admit it. But I did watch my back from then on." She stops for a second before she says, "So now you know. They drummed into our heads that we had to be there for each other and other agents, and then they did that to me. I never trusted anybody after that. Not really."

As much as I hate it, that actually explains everything. They taught her to distrust everybody in a five-minute timespan with a lesson that didn't fade in her mind. My brain is trying to figure out what to say when I manage, "Sela, I'm so sorry."

"For what? You didn't do it. Had nothing to do with you. Had nothing to do with Quantico. Had everything to do with me being a woman in a man's world."

"It does have to do with me. For too long, guys like me haven't held these men accountable. Of course, I wasn't in a position to, but I will now when I get a chance. Won't hesitate."

"Good. Because the good ol' boys' network in law enforcement sure is still alive and well."

"I can tell you that if you go to work for Steve, he won't put up with that bullshit. Somebody gives you trouble, he'll squash it. I haven't been around him much, but he's a straight-up guy who does the right thing every time. He has to be like that. Otherwise, he wouldn't work for the Walters."

"I hope you're right. I'm afraid if I beat the piss out of an agent who works for the Walters' attorney, my days will be numbered. You know, Italian mafia and all that," she says with a shrug.

That makes me laugh. "I've got news for you. I don't know who told you that, but TonyWalters is about as far from the Italian mob as anybody can get."

"Oh, you don't think he can make things happen?"

"I know he can make things happen, but there's no mob involved. He knows how to pull strings in all the right ways."

We sit there for a few minutes, silent, until she finally asks, "So you still think I'm a waste of your time?"

"I never said that, babe. I just said I wasn't sure why I was bothering because you didn't seem to care. Do you? Care, I mean?"

"Of course I care. I was scared out of my mind when I found out about your accident."

That makes me grin. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." She's chuckling when she says, "You're the best fuck I've ever had. Sure don't want to lose that!"

"Okay, you run with that, bitch babe. C-Y-A. See if it deters me." The smile fades, but the feeling doesn't. "I wasn't lying. I love you. I really do want to be with you, but I can't stand any more of the abuse. Are we past that?"

Her head dips before she lifts it and she smiles into my face. "I'm trying to trust."

"That's all I'm really asking for, honey. I don't want the moon. I'd just like a little of its glow, that's all."

"You're gonna get a lot more than that." There's not a chance to say more before she climbs up to straddle my lap, facing me. "A lot more." I just rest my hands on her thighs and wait to see what she's going to do.

There have been a lot of kisses shared between us, but for the first time, I think I feel some kind of emotion in it, at least more than I'm putting into it. Her palms press against my cheeks and even through my beard, I can feel their warmth. When I feel her tongue press against the cleft in my lips, I wait, wondering what she'll do if she senses that I won't open to her, but she just works more insistently until I finally part them just a tiny bit.

She forces her tongue in and it's game on. There's no holding back now. Mine meets hers and it's almost like a wrestling match, thrashing together, wrapping around each other, and I'm smothered by the sensation of her hands stroking down my chest and the feel of her lips against mine. I vaguely remember the sex I had with girls back in high school, but that was nothing compared to fucking this woman. Everything about her is tight, firm, smooth, muscular, and strong, and I want her naked and in my bed now―right now, not a minute later. It's a struggle to get her to turn loose. "Hey, get in there and strip. I'm right behind you. Go," I bark at her and point toward the bedroom.

"Aren't you supposed to sweet-talk me or woo me or something?" she asks with a chuckle as she heads that direction. I'm already unzipping my jeans.

"Seriously? Wouldn't you rather I just fuck you?"

"Actually, yeah. Why waste time?" she asks, and turns to make sure I see her as she strips off her bra. "Just bone me hard. That's what I'm really looking for."

It's hard to get my briefs down with my dick this rigid, but I manage. "You realize we're gonna make love someday, right?"

"Yeah, but that day is not today." She's already on the bed, legs spread and one knee up. Everything is open, wet, and blush pink, glistening in the low light. My cock starts to throb as I watch her run a finger from the entrance to her pussy up to her clit. "Hungry kitty," she hisses.

"It'll be full," I growl as I roll on a condom.

"Good. It needs feeding."

No time for a grand entrance. I just slam into her and listen to her cry out as her back arches. "Oh, fuck! Yeah. Hard, babe."

"Be careful what you wish for. You might get more than you really want." Her weight seems like nothing as I slide my hands up her back and grab her hair, pulling it hard to force her head back. With it tipped that way, she's almost totally helpless except for her arms. And that leaves me in my favorite position.

I hunch into her like a madman. In my mind, she's a bitch in heat and I'm taking her my way, fast and rough. I feel her hands between us and realize she's stroking her nub herself, trying to get off, but right now, I don't care if she doesn't. My body needs to slam into her, my dick smacking home over and over, the head abrading the end of her channel, her tightness around me driving me on. "Oh! Oh, damn, Bear! Oh, fuck me," she cries out.

"Miles. Call me Miles when I'm fucking you." I ramp it up, and I can feel her legs churning, trying to dig into the top of the mattress and failing. "I'm gonna fuck you until you pass out, you hear me?"

"Oh, damn. Oh, fuck me, Miles. Harder. Faster. Yeah. Oh, yeah. I need it so bad." She's whining, and I like it. Whining, begging, crying out, screaming, I don't care. I want her to make a lot of noise, because I want to tear this thing up. Lovemaking is for later. Right now is for fucking like the stallion that I am, fucking my mare into oblivion under me, making her shriek. "Oh! Oh, god! Damn it, Miles! Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck…"

I have to bow my back harder and stretch my arms out straight, but I manage to pull a nipple into my mouth, suck it hard, then give it a nip. "Oh, fuck! Miles!"

"Get that finger busy, girl. I want you pulsing around me," I bark into her skin.

"Oh, oh, oh, ohhhhh…" she groans as her hips start to churn. I'm hunching into her so fast that my knees are burning, and I don't care. Fatigue is setting in and I'm wondering if I can keep going when I feel myself hardening a little more, that burning sensation taking over, and I fill the condom, everything inside me groaning with the release. I give her three more hard stabs, hesitating inside her with each one, until I'm sure I'm finished.

She's limp underneath me when I grab her hips and roll her. "What are you doing?" I hear her whimper.

"I'm taking what I want. And when I'm finished, you can do to me whatever you like. But right now, you're my toy, Sela. And I plan to play with you until I'm finished." My hands grip her hips and pull upward until she's on her knees, her torso slanting away from me and her face buried in the mattress. I've already started stroking myself again, and I roll off the condom and reach for another one. The small bottle of lube I keep in my nightstand drawer for jacking off is plenty for this, and the minute I dribble some onto her dark star, she whines. "You know what's coming," I say, my voice low as my free hand keeps stroking my shaft. "You'll likely pass out before I'm finished with you."

"Do your worst, devil," she mumbles into the sheets, and I very nearly come undone. With the head of my cock lined up at her rear entrance, I give a mighty shove and send my hardness straight into her.

The little squeal she lets out almost makes me laugh, but it feels so damn good that I couldn't laugh if I wanted to. All I can do is moan, pull back, and thrust into her again. I watch her slap the mattress with her hand and I know it's getting to her, so I just ramp up the speed and the force and listen to her cry out. And that's the moment that I realize something odd.

I'm not enjoying this. I'm really not. My gaze falls on the woman in front of me, resting on her knees, face down, my rock-hard dick in her ass, and I feel a little sick. All I really want is to have a relationship with a woman, the kind of relationship Patch and Penny have. Like Paddy and Natalie. Like Priest and Aggie. And instead, I feel like I'm fucking the hell out of some slut I paid fifty dollars to bare her ass to me. It's not what I thought I'd feel, or how I want to feel.

Then it occurs to me that she seems to be enjoying it. And if that's the case, what is this? Does she understand what I'm really looking for here? Probably not. And she most likely doesn't care, if past experience continues. Am I just a hard cock for her to ride? Does this mean anything to her? Do I mean anything to her?

No. I can't. There's no contemplating it―I'm already going soft. My ears are buzzing, but I hear her ask, "Bear? What's wrong? You're getting soft on me. What the hell?"

As soon as the tip of my cock clears her ring, I slip off the condom and head to the bathroom. From behind me, I hear her say something, but I just mutter, "No," and keep walking. When the bathroom door closes, I toss the condom in the trash can and sit down on the toilet. It's clear to me that I can't do this. She says she loves me, but there's no tenderness, no softness, no connection. And I'm not the animal I used to be. Even when we were together before she wound up in the hospital, I never behaved like this. Right this moment, I don't know what to think or how to feel. I only know that this feels wrong somehow.

There's a tap on the door and I hear her say, "Bear?" When I don't answer, it changes to, "Miles?" What am I supposed to say to her? How can I explain what's going on in my head? Whatever it is, she's not going to like it. She wants to be a balls-to-the-wall bitch babe. That's all she's comfortable with. There's no… vulnerability. Maybe that's what's missing. I don't know. All I know is that what we were doing a few minutes ago, it's not what I want. It's not what I need. "Miles, please. What's going on? Talk to me. Miles? You okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. No, I'm not. I don't…" Nothing is making sense.

"Please come out. I don't understand."

Instead of answering, I just sling the door open and she almost falls into the bathroom, naked and confused. "I don't understand either."

"You mean you've never had… that problem before?"

"It's not that."

"Then what is it? One minute you're giving it to me like a bronc and the next―"

"And that's the problem, Sela."

She rolls her eyes and lets out a big sigh. "What's the problem? I don't get it."

"Me either." As I drag toward the living room, I pick up my briefs and draw them on, then drop onto the sofa. When she steps into the room, she's got the sheet off my bed wrapped around her. I'm at one end of the sofa, and she sits on the other, waiting. I really don't know what to say to her right at this moment.

Five silent minutes go by before she says, "Okay. Tell me what happened in there. I thought we were having fun."

"We were. Until we weren't."

"We weren't?"

"I wasn't."

"Because you lost it."

"No. I lost it because…" How do I explain? After another full minute of my scrambled brain shredding every thought, I come out with, "I lost it because I wasn't happy with what I was doing."

"I was fucking ecstatic. What weren't you happy with?" There's a pause before her eyes lock with mine and a look of horror spreads across her face. "You mean you weren't happy with me?"

"No, no. Yes. But no. That's not…" Somehow I've got to say this without sounding like a total nut job. "Look. I love you. You know that. I've told you that."

"Yeah. I know. And I told you the same."

"Right. But I want to love you. I mean, love you. I mean, I don't want to use you like a fuck puppet. Yeah, okay, maybe sometimes. Occasionally. But that's not the kind of physical relationship I want. I want a real one."

"Bub, that's about as real as it gets," she says with a snort.

"That's not what I mean. I mean, I want a real relationship, like, you know…" That's a sentence I'm not brave enough to finish.

"No. I don't know. Spell it out for me."

"Like, um, not like fucking. Like, um, uh, making… making love."

I can't interpret the look she's giving me. "Making love? Like huggy, touchy, kissy stuff?"

"Yeah."

"That's not what I do."

"I was afraid you were going to say that."

"So that's a problem?"

I nod. "Looks like it."

"But guys like to fuck."

A breath involuntarily huffs out of my mouth before I can stop it. "Well, yeah, but not all the time."

"Hasn't been my experience."

"Then you've been with the wrong guys. Because some of us want deep, passionate, meaningful relationships where we enjoy cuddling, long kisses, things like that." Damn, I sound like the biggest pussy on the planet, but right now, I don't care. Baxter keeps telling me to be true to myself and express my feelings, and by damn, I'm trying. It's not coming out the way I want, but I'm still making one helluva pitiful attempt to explain.

"Uh-huh." That's all she says, but her face is saying it all. Her mouth is set in a straight line, her brows are furrowing inward, and her eyes are slitted. I think this is probably over.

There's nothing else for me to say. I've verbally shot my load, so I stand from the sofa. "I'm, uh, gonna go get dressed and go over to the lodge to sleep. That'll probably be best. We can decide what to do in the morning."

"Please, Bear, don't―"

"You don't have to feel bad about this. It's just best if―"

"Miles. Please." As I try to pass her on my way to the bedroom, she reaches out and takes my hand. "Please, sit back down, okay? Please?"

"Why? We don't see eye to eye on this, and I don't think we ever will. It's just who we are, Sela. You don't know how to be anybody but you, and I don't know how to be anybody but me. And I can see that's not going to work."

"But you could be wrong. Sit back down. I have something I need to say." Well, there's a switch, Sela sharing without somebody practically squeezing it out of her. Can't wait to hear this, so I sit down and wait. "I fuck like a bitch in heat. But I've always done that because that's what all the guys I've ever been with wanted. And you acted like that's what you wanted, at least the times we've been together."

"Damn, girl, it had been over thirty years for me! Of course I wanted to fuck like a racehorse! I was making up for lost time." So it was partially my fault. I see that now. "And for making you think that's all I wanted, I apologize. It was total excitement after all those years."

"I get that, and I can totally understand that. Teenage boy in the back seat of Dad's Buick and all that."

"Exactly," I say with a nod.

"But, Bear," she says, then stops. "Miles," she says as she starts again, "I was just doing what I thought you wanted me to do. You wanna try to make love, sure. Let's. Nobody's ever wanted to do that with me, but the way I feel about you… I don't want to lose you over this. Of course I have needs, but you do too. I'll try it your way. I'm glad to. However you want to do that. But please, don't give up on me. Even though I'm rough and tumble, I'm still a woman. I've never been romanced in my life, and sometimes I'd like to see what that's like."

If you want to see what shock looks like, you should get a load of my face at this moment. I'm sure I look like somebody just goosed me, because I definitely feel that way. I couldn't be more surprised. "Really? You want to be romanced ?"

"Sure. That would be nice for a change. I'm certainly not opposed to it. I just find it odd because nobody's ever done that with me before."

"I've never done it with a woman before, but I'd really like to. Flowers, candy, gifts, dinners out, all that stuff. It would be nice. Closest I got was giving my high school prom date a corsage, and that's not the same thing."

She lets loose a little laugh and all of a sudden, I feel like things just might wind up being okay. "No, it's definitely not the same. So can we try this and see what happens?"

"Yeah. I'm game if you are."

"I'm game. Want to start now?"

I squint one eye. "Aren't you a little tired?"

"I'm not that tired!" she says and laughs.

It's hard to believe that she'd try to meet me halfway. SelaBaldwin, who knows how things should be and wants them that way, even if it's all in her own mind. Who wants to be in charge. Who doesn't want to give an inch if she doesn't have to and really doesn't give a fuck what anybody else wants as long as she gets her way. Holy shit. It dawns on me instantly that there's a lot of pressure on me now to do this right or we'll never do it again.

I think I can.

When I lean across the sofa and reach out for her arm, she scoots toward me, sheet and all, and crawls until she's across me, her hands on the sofa arm. Then she spins and lowers herself onto my lap. My arm's already around her back, and I let the other hand rest on her knee. Her dark hair is a mess, and her lashes are thick and dark around those smoky, deep hazel eyes. "Damn, woman, you're so fucking beautiful."

As her eyes fly open, the lashes fan out under her brow bones in surprise and she whispers, "Nobody's ever said that to me before."

"Nobody? Because you are, Sela. You're beautiful. Your skin is so soft and your eyes just sparkle."

Her wicked grin is adorable. "And you like my tits."

"Okay, I'll admit, I do like your tits. They're gorgeous too." This is not a lie. She unwraps the sheet and there they are, small and firm and upright with nice-sized, hard, rosy nipples. The hand I'd rested on her knee comes up to palm the left one, and I rake my thumb across the peak to watch it harden even more. An instant later, I lift my hand, take her chin between my thumb and forefinger, and pull her face to mine.

Of all the kisses we've had between us, this one is different. Our lips meet and I kiss her softly, just pressing mine to hers, then tip my head slightly to make them fit together better. Her arms encircle my neck and I pull her closer to me, my hands lightly grasping her shoulders, holding her there, relishing the feel of her soft skin and taking in the scent of her shampoo. Everything inside me wants to draw her in and make her mine, and I kiss her even more deeply, still reining in my tongue, letting that feeling of simplicity take over.

Kissing from her lips across her jaw and over to the soft spot beneath her ear, it makes my heart skip a few beats when she tips her head to the side to give me more access. God, she smells so fucking good. When I nibble her earlobe, she giggles softly. "Like that?"

"Tickles," she murmurs.

"Mmmm." That makes me suck it between my lips, and I can feel her shiver in my arms. "I'm so glad you're here with me," I breathe against her skin.

"I'm glad I'm here with you. This is nice."

"Yeah. It is." My lips find hers again, and this time, there's a heat between us that hadn't been there before. Instinctively, I close my arms around her and feel hers tighten around my neck. We're locked there, and when she breaks the kiss, her eyes are dewy. "I just want to hold you."

Instead of answering me, she turns her face toward my neck and drops her head onto my shoulder, her cheek resting there, arms loosening and slipping down to encircle my ribs. I just hold her even more tightly, and the elation I feel is something I can't describe. Lost in my thoughts, I'm pulled out of them when she whispers, "I do love you, Miles."

"I love you too. This is what I've dreamed about, babe. Just sitting with somebody I care about, holding them, listening to the sound of them breathing and feeling the warmth of their skin. And you're that somebody, Sela. You're bringing my dream to life." There's a bit of sadness in my heart when I ask, "But can you ever trust me?"

"I already do."

It's hard to contain my emotions, even though the words slip from my tongue so easily that I can tell I've waited my whole life to say them. "Sela, I need you like I need breath. I swear to you, from this moment forward, anything I do with you, to you, or for you, I do it out of love. I don't want anything but love between us. There can't be room for anything else."

That gets me a nod from her. "Same."

The kiss I drop on her lips is quick and sweet. "Can we go back in there and start again?"

Instead of answering, she stands, takes my hand, and drags the sheet behind her as she leads me back to the bedroom. I don't know what's about to happen, but whatever it is, I'm sure it's going to be amazing.