It seems he’s managed to do things that others spent years attempting. He’s scaled my walls and somehow managed to take up residence on the inside. And as scary as it is, I don’t want him to leave.
The door opening behind me breaks the silence before Corey’s arms slip around my waist and his chin rests on my shoulder.
“Hey. I thought you’d left again.”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
Turning, he places a kiss on my neck. A shudder runs up my spine at the softness.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“Really? I got you talking earlier.”
“Honestly, it’s fine. I needed it. I needed to tell you.”
“Yeah?” I can hear his delight in that one word. He knows how much it means for me to tell him about a life that I hold so close to my chest. He understands.
“My parents had this incredible house,” I say quietly, his arms tightening around my middle. “I had this huge window seat in my bedroom that looked out over the ocean. It was so peaceful. I would sit there for hours, reading, doing homework, listening to music. It was my happy place.
“Then one day, it was all gone. They were all gone, and I was taken from the house to start a new, unwanted life.”
Corey peppers kisses along the length of my shoulder as I speak. He’s just letting me know that he’s here and listening. It means everything.
My heart clenches, but it’s not just with sadness as I think about my family. For the first time ever, there’s more there. There’s hope, joy, possibility. All because of this beautifully broken man behind me.
“It was my ninth birthday. I had friends coming around for a party that night. I’d told my mum that I’d wanted a birthday cake like my friend had a few weeks previously. She didn’t take it seriously and instead made me one herself.” My teeth grind as I remember what a selfish little bitch I was as I looked at the cake she’d so lovingly made. I wince as I say the next few words. “I told her I didn’t want it. That she had to go to the store and get me the other one. I’d told all my friends it was what I was having and I couldn’t be seen lying.
“Mom was angry. I remember seeing it in her eyes, but she never let on. She just listened to me, and after a few minutes she told me to go upstairs and sort myself out. I turned my music up loud and tried to calm down. I was a kid; to me, the wrong cake meant the party was ruined. My life was over.
“I had no idea how true that was until a few hours later.”
“Harlow,” Corey breathes, clearly assuming parts of what happened next.
“Mom called up the stairs that they were going out. It had already been arranged that they were picking up a couple of my friends for the sleepover. I was still sulking, so I refused to go. I had no idea, but they’d decided to stop by the store to get the right cake.
“Only, they never made it out of the mall, because some madman with a gun decided that that day, that hour, those few fucking minutes would be the perfect time to unleash hell on some unsuspecting, innocent people.”
Corey gasps as I shudder out a breath, trying to keep myself together.
“They only went there because I was too fucking selfish to appreciate a handmade cake Mom had spent hours icing for me. I was a spoiled little brat who only cared what her friends thought.” My words crack, and Corey turns me to face him, pulling me into his arms and holding me tight against his body.
My body trembles with the regret, guilt and grief that wash through it like a crashing wave.
I don’t feel myself moving until I find myself wrapped in Corey’s arms and back on his bed.
He holds me so tightly that it brings more tears to my eyes. It’s just a hug. It’s just his arms holding me to him. But it feels different to any I’ve had before.
Most were just full of sympathy. A few were empathetic. But without going through something similar, something so life changing, it’s hard to really understand just how agonizing it is.
His lips press against the top of my head as I cling to him as if he’ll single-handedly stop me from drowning.
Maybe he will.
Maybe that’s why I fell into his lap a few weeks ago.
His kisses move down to my face before he finds my lips.
I don’t react at first. I can’t. I’m still too lost in the images of that day—some reality, but many I’ve made up over the years as I tried to piece together what really happened in that mall. I’ve seen enough mass shootings in the news that I’ve been able to build up a pretty clear picture. I know where they were found. I know they had the cake. I know it’s all my fault.
Corey doesn’t say anything, and for that I’m grateful.
So instead of telling me that he understands, that he can’t imagine how hard it must be, he shows me.
He kisses across my jaw and down my neck. His tongue licks at the sensitive spot under my ear and a moan falls from my lips.
Awkwardly, he manages to unwrap me from the sheet, and my skin burns when his hand lands on my waist.
My entire body heats as the pain of those memories begins to subside, the feeling of Corey’s touch forcing me back to the here and now.
His lips brush across my breasts, my nipples puckering as he kisses around them. Teasing me. Taking me away from the pain.
“Oh God.” His tongue flicks my nipple once, and a bolt of lust shoots down to my core. “More,” I moan. I
