Stinger

get my mind around was that she put herself in those situations. But then she came home and she was just… broken. Every fucking time. She did what she did at the expense of her own soul. I'm not saying it's like that for everyone. But for her, it was. I could see it and I couldn't do fuck about it. It hurt. And I was just a kid, I didn't get it. And so later, I don't know, maybe I went into it myself as some way of gaining some kind of control over something that I had had no control over in the past. At the time, I told myself that it didn't matter, that it was just something that made me some easy money, but deep down, I think I knew that was a lie. I don't know. I've thought a lot about it, and I'm no psychologist, but it felt like something that deserved some of my head space."

I sighed, gathering more of my thoughts. "Anyway, after you, I couldn't lie to myself about it anymore. And I realized that I didn't want to go back to the way I had been. The nameless hook-ups, the one-night stands. It wasn't even a choice, it just wasn't possible." I was quiet for a minute remembering silently the very first time I realized that for sure. The night I had gone to see Grace in D.C. and thought I saw her with her boyfriend, I had gone out to a bar and a woman started hitting on me. It would have been easy enough to go home with her. But I wasn't interested. Even in a fucked up emotional state, I simply hadn't been interested–not in random sex anyway. I let the shitty feeling of that night wash away. Grace was here in my arms now.

I continued, "Anyway, then I shipped off and spent a couple years in caves in the desert…" I laughed a small laugh.

Grace smiled against my skin and rubbed her nose against me, kissing me again, showing her support without saying a word.

"And then what happened with Ara… in some ways, it brought up those feelings in me again. It's so hard to explain."

"You're doing a really good job," she whispered. "I understand."

And were there two words in the English language more beautiful, more comforting, than those two? In that moment, I knew for sure the answer was no.

"Have you talked to your mom recently?" she asked quietly.

"No, I don't even think she knows I went into the military. Not that she'd really care. My roommate Dylan lived in the apartment we had shared in L.A. until he moved to Vegas a couple months ago, and she never contacted him there looking for me…"

She breathed out. "She has no idea what she's missing out on." She paused for a minute. "Do you know what happened to her… I mean, why she might have done what she did for so long?"

I shook my head. "I don't know exactly. She mentioned an uncle once when she was strung out. I got the feeling that he had done something to her, but she didn't go into it. I don't know. Maybe there was no reason. Maybe the drugs were the reason. I don't know."

She was quiet for a minute and then kissed my chest gently again, rubbing her lips whisper-soft on my skin.

I couldn't see her face, but I could tell her wheels were turning. "What are you thinking?" I asked quietly.

She was silent for a second before she leaned up on her hands again, her eyes glittering at me in the dim room. "What I was thinking, Carson, is that you glow as well. To me, you shine too."

Warmth filled my chest and I let out a shaky breath and smiled at her, but I didn't say anything. I just pulled her closer and said a silent prayer of thanks that she was in my arms.

We cuddled and whispered until I felt her still beside me. A few minutes later, I slipped into sleep too, a restful, dreamless sleep.

CHAPTER 33

Grace

"Wake up, sleeping Buttercup," I heard whispered close to my ear.

"Grrrhmmph," I moaned and turned my head away from the annoying sound and snuggled back in to my pillow.

I heard a low, sexy chuckle and my blood started pumping just a little bit faster in response, but not enough to want to drag myself out of sleep. I was so warm, and this bed smelled so good. I turned my face into the pillow and breathed in deeply. Carson. That was crazy though. I hadn't seen Carson in years. I missed him. I missed his smell and his touch. And so I'd stay in this dream world just a little longer. He was here and I didn't want to leave.

Something shook the bed violently and I squealed and sat up, blinking at the room around me.

"Still not much of a morning person, huh, Buttercup?" Carson grinned down at me from where he was standing at the base of the bed.

"Were you jumping on the bed?" I asked groggily.

"Yup. It's like waking the dead," he said, climbing down.

I snorted and flopped back down. "What time is it?" I grumbled.

"Five a.m. Come on! I want to be on the slopes by the time the sun rises and we still have to rent gear for you."

I grumbled a little more but finally lugged myself out of bed and followed Carson into the bathroom as he started the shower for me.

I brushed my teeth and when I was done, I shooed him out so that I could pee and get in under the water.

"I'll make coffee," he called behind him. Some people really were annoyingly chipper in the morning. It was hard to like people like that.

I climbed under the hot spray and lathered up my hair. Yes, it was difficult to like morning people. Even ones who had broad shoulders and rock hard abs. Even ones who had smiles that made your heart skip a beat and sparks shoot down your spine. Even ones who had a little dimple of happiness right under his full bottom lip–God's last paintbrush flourish to the masterpiece that was Carson Stinger.

Even ones who rescued women as their self-appointed job.

I stopped mid-lather and just stood there for a minute, letting that reality take hold. He rescues women. Women who were slated to exist in back alley brothels, little girls who would end up as some sick tourist's plaything somewhere in a small, dark room. I wasn't the most educated person in the world when it came to human trafficking, but I knew enough that even thinking about it made my stomach turn violently. My God, I was still stunned when I thought about what Carson and his friends were doing.

I rinsed my hair and conditioned and smiled to myself. Okay, so I really, really liked my morning person. He was exceptional actually. A hero.

I got out of the shower and pulled a towel around my body and pulled my hair dryer out of the small bag of toiletries I had brought into the bathroom. Once my hair was dry, I walked back to the bedroom and pulled on jeans and a thick, white sweater.

As I was pulling on socks, Carson walked in with a steaming cup of coffee and grinned at me. "More awake?" he asked.

"Hmmm…" I said. I was more awake and capable of thought, but not capable of too much conversation just yet. I'd need a little more caffeine for that.

I finished my coffee at the kitchen island as Carson got our stuff together, and then he came over and put my boots on me.

I smiled down at him. "This is one of those bad things about me. I'm a grump in the morning."

He chuckled. "I already knew that." He winked. "And I came back for more anyway."

I laughed softly, and he stood up and put his arms around my waist and lifted me down from the barstool.

I put my arms around his neck and gazed into his eyes, hoping he saw all my emotions there.

"Let's go watch another sunrise together, Buttercup," he whispered, his face intense, his eyes studying mine.