4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

I n a way, Pixie was glad her mom didn't live in the same place they'd grown up.

She sat at the kitchen table in her mom's rancher, the sunlight streaming through the windows. Altogether Maisie Monroe had turned her life around, which was so different from the childhood Pixie had known of showing up at a different homeless shelter or friend of her mother's house. Spending most of high school couch surfing with friends while she had no idea where her mom might be.

"Okay, green tea or chamomile rose?" Maisie lifted the steaming kettle. Her mom had gotten the help she needed, courtesy of Pixie's two aunts, who had finally stepped in after ignoring it for so long. If only they'd assisted her earlier, but she couldn't blame them for not wanting to deal with it when Maisie had been at her worst. Pixie hadn't wanted to either. She'd just been too young to have a choice .

"Chamomile rose." Those floral flavors drew her in every time. The memory of grabbing boba with Eva the other night bubbled up, sending a burst of warmth through her. The woman had been on her mind more than was healthy, but apart from lingering looks in the house, they'd both behaved.

Her mom poured the cups, the fragrant scent wafting her way. She took a seat at the scratch and dent table and placed a cup in front of Pixie.

"How are you feeling?" Pixie asked. The question always lingered in the back of her mind during her visits. If only she could see her mother through the lens of anyone meeting her now. They would witness someone well adjusted, who might have their ups and downs with their mental illness but truly had learned how to navigate life with it.

Maisie's eyes crinkled at the corners. Her pale blonde hair was pulled into a loose bun, and she wore a bright blue kaftan, which fit the vibe for the healing spa she worked at now. She was a Reiki master and practiced some other healing therapies, and the group she was involved in seemed to be wonderful for her health, both inside and out.

"Isn't that the question I should be asking you?" Maisie teased before her expression softened. "I'm okay. Been dragging a little more, and I have the feeling I'm heading into a depressive episode."

Pixie's chest squeezed tight. The manic episodes were scarier and tended to lead to more schizophrenic symptoms, but the depressive ones had been longer, harder slogs. "Can I help with anything?"

Maisie fixed her with a stern look. "You don't need to still be taking care of me. Tell me about you. Anyone special in your life?"

Pixie wrinkled her nose. She wasn't averse to dating, but she struggled. In relationships, she was always the one to leave first, which left her wondering if she'd seen the red flags or imagined them in self-preservation. "Nothing crazy for me."

The call about the resident artist position weighed heavily on her mind, but she wouldn't burden her mom with that. Right now, she was an hour away, far enough for her sanity but close enough to help in an emergency. She took a sip of the chamomile rose tea, the liquid burning pleasantly. If she got the position, she wasn't sure how her mom would handle it. Or Micah and the others at Whipped. She wanted to believe everyone would miss her, but those niggling doubts persisted. That no one would care.

Her gut churned.

"You deserve so much more than you give yourself," Maisie said. The care in her soft blue eyes, the knowing look made Pixie's throat tighten. She wished she could accept the concern offered, that it didn't stir up the hornet's nest of her past, but she'd never managed to accomplish that feat.

"Hey, I get to paint and do graphic design for a living." Pixie saluted with her cup. "I'm living the dream."

Her phone vibrated, and she glanced at the screen, desperate to escape the scrutiny from her mother. Eva had messaged.

Beer?

Pixie shot a quick text back. Are you asking if we have some, or do you want to grab one?

The return response hit like lightning. The latter, if it isn't a bother.

You pick the place. I can be there in two hours.

That would give her enough time to finish here and freshen up. Mostly because she wanted Eva's eyes on her, even if she shouldn't. But after visits with her mom, she always buzzed a little on edge, although through no fault of Maisie, who was always sweet and considerate.

Pixie had just never found a way to shake off the memories.

** *

Pixie rolled up in front of Aristotle Café, the place Eva had picked, a twenty-four-hour café with an eclectic menu. She was impressed, to say the least. Eva wasn't from here but had managed to find a unique spot Pixie hadn't tried yet.

When she stepped in, the scent of beer, cedar, and leather greeted her. The dim ambiance was exactly what she wanted. The fairy light accents throughout and the rich walnut furnishings lent a cozy look to the place. The hour was a little before the evening rush, but she didn't mind coming out for a beer at three in the afternoon. Half the time, she ended up working odd hours with her graphic design clients and whatever piece she was in the middle of, so this meshed perfectly for her.

Pixie didn't have to look hard to find Eva. The auburn-haired goddess sat at a two-seater along the side, facing the door. The shadows sharpened her features, giving a razor edge to her chin and highlighting her lips with precision. Her red hair had more russet tones in this light, and she'd swept it in an effortless low chignon. With her cream blouse and black pencil skirt, she looked more Domme-ish than ever, and Pixie's core throbbed at the sight of her.

Her pink off-shoulder tunic and gray leggings were on the casual side in comparison, but Eva didn't seem to mind. The incendiary way she scanned Pixie over set her whole body on fire and didn't tamp down the lust broiling through her veins.

Pixie slipped into the seat opposite Eva, who had an almost empty pint of beer in front of her.

"What can I get for you?" Eva asked. "It's on me."

Pixie sat a little straighter. Eva seemed off-kilter tonight, like the storm brewing in her dark eyes had somehow intensified. "The hoppier, the better. Feel free to order for me."

"I'd recommend the Red Haze, then," Eva said, pointing to the chalkboard with the beers on tap listed. "I'll grab it."

Eva strode over to the bar, which gave Pixie a second to calm her heart. The fact that Eva had reached out to her in the first place had her mind spinning out fantasies, but the truth was, Micah worked at Whipped today, and she was the only other person Eva knew in the city. So it made sense. However, the ease Eva took command with her, how she swept in to take care of her—even doing something simple as getting her beer—drew her deeper in.

By the time Eva came back with a beer in each hand, Pixie's racing mind had stilled somewhat. This place with the lush red curtains and varying types of wooden chairs and barstools exuded a back alley bar in Europe sort of vibe. Even the glasses weren't all the same, mismatched in shape and size. Pixie lived for the offbeat, which made this spot seem like an odd choice for Eva, who showcased uniformity in everything from her clothing to the way she prepared her eggs.

"So, just an intense craving for beer?" Pixie asked. The light amber liquid looked delicious, and she was up for the distraction after the visit with her mother.

A heavy breath passed Eva's lips. "I made the mistake of opening my socials." She glanced at her beer and wrinkled her nose. "I'm sorry. You didn't come over here for me to dump on you."

Pixie leaned over, bracing her arms on the table. She was so voracious for details on this woman, so her offering the slightest hint felt like a win. "It's only dumping if the other person isn't receptive." She took a sip of her beer. "And I'm well-versed with the mistake of opening socials, so please continue."

Eva worried her lower lip, then drank a few large gulps, her throat bobbing. "Fuck. I don't understand how things got so complicated, honestly. One moment, I was happily in love with Jack. And then we opened up our relationship to a third, Sienna, and she amplified those feelings a thousandfold. Until she chose Jack, and they dumped me."

Well, shit. Pixie's heart lurched at the hesitance in those stunning eyes, at how Eva's shoulders bowed.

"And they posted pics at our restaurant, with my old friend group, and…yeah." Eva stared at the table as if she might laser the varnish off with her gaze alone.

A shiver rolled through Pixie. She could understand the feeling far too easily, of being replaceable, of getting cast aside. She'd been struggling with it her entire life.

Words wouldn't soothe Eva, not with the hurt of a gaping wound emanating from her. She reached across the table and rested her hand over Eva's. When Eva didn't make a move to shake it off, she tightened her grip.

"That's terrible." No condolences or platitudes leaped to her tongue because she didn't have them.

"I'm just complaining." Eva glanced up, then ducked her head. "There are a lot worse things that could happen."

Pixie ran her thumb across the soft skin of Eva's hand. "You're allowed to hurt."

Eva's throat bobbed with a hard swallow.

"I'd feel like shit in that situation." Something tugged at Pixie, maybe the darkening in Eva's eyes when she'd talked about Sienna or the way she'd lowered her head. "Was she the first woman you were with?"

Eva nodded. "I'd convinced myself I was straight before her, though it had just been years of burying my attraction to women. Mom and Dad sure as hell wouldn't approve, and Mom already had a laundry list of my defects. I didn't need to add another one."

Pixie's heart hurt. How in the hell did someone this beautiful and kind get torn down like that? "Well, fuck her because you're perfect."

Eva flipped their hands so hers was doing the holding, and when she gave Pixie's hand a firm squeeze, a torrent of butterflies released inside her. "You're one to talk, gorgeous."

Eva hadn't accepted the compliment, but the word gorgeous had Pixie floating even higher. She took another sip of her beer, the hoppy, spicy flavors dancing across her tongue. Heat rose to her cheeks, and she squirmed in her seat, all too aware of their hands pressing together.

"God, that blush," Eva said, her voice low and throaty. The liquid heat simmering in Eva's dark eyes, the firm grip of her hand, all of it sent Pixie reeling. Just being around Eva brought Pixie to a submissive state, and while she did lean that way, the ease surprised her.

The cool liquid of her drink did nothing to tamp down the inferno surging hotter inside her every second Eva's hand held hers. "Thanks for the escape, by the way," Pixie said to distract herself from the intense draw toward this woman. The last thing she needed to do was lean across the table and kiss her.

Eva lifted a brow. "Escape from…?"

A light sweat broke out on Pixie's skin. Shit. "The crushing threat of boredom. I'm stuck on my current art piece, and it's not like my phone is blowing up."

"I find that hard to believe." Even though Eva dropped the subject, a curious scrutiny lingered in her gaze as if she knew the exact game Pixie played. Probably because Eva seemed to do it herself. "You've got a veritable horde of admirers, guaranteed. "

"Admirers aren't the same as friends." Pixie scratched her nape, a bit of sheepishness crawling through her. "Not that I don't have friends—"

"Having friends doesn't protect you from feeling lonely." Eva lifted her beer in salute. "Ask me how I know."

Pixie's chest squeezed tight. The understanding in Eva's gaze and her words coursed through her with a hot chocolate warmth. Anytime the isolation swept over her, she wrestled with the guilt. On some note, she accepted she had a ton of friends she could call or rely on if anything were to happen. Truth be told, Meg, Fin, Micah, any of them would listen to her if she needed to talk. But getting those words out?

Impossible, most days.

Yet they'd bubbled to the surface with Eva.

Maybe because Eva seemed to be struggling with the same sort of poison. The loneliness that kept her in a cage, apart from everyone, even when she was in a crowd. She'd fought to be seen for most of her life, vanishing into the whirlwind of trying to keep her and her mother alive, so of course she wouldn't just happen upon visibility now. She craved those moments when she experienced it under the hand of a dominant, when someone else was in charge for once.

"If you need a loneliness buddy, I have some space in my calendar," Pixie said. Spending more time with Eva would be hellish because of her crush, but the woman's attention sparked her awake in a way little else had lately. "Although I understand you came down here to see your brother."

Eva let out a sigh. "He's got a life here, though, and he's just entered a relationship that makes him happy. I haven't mentioned any of my bullshit. He's dealt with enough over the years."

"He'd still want to know what was going on with you." As if she was so great at taking the same advice.

Eva arched her brow, indirectly calling her out.

"In time, but in the meantime, the offer to hang is out there." A part of her was thrilled Eva had reached out to her. The warmth of Eva's hand still holding hers seeped through her body.

She didn't want her to stop.

"Well, if I were looking for someone to check out the Conservatory of Flowers with?" Eva asked, her dark eyes sparkling and her lips curving in a sanguine grin that stole Pixie's breath.

"Tell me when. My hours are unconventional."

"All right, then," Eva said, her seductive tone holding her captive. "It's a date."

Pixie's insides burst into flutters.

If only.