Blake wasn’t familiar with this feeling—the one that caused her to want to open up to this beautiful, caring man in front of her. Of all the times she’d shared her past with someone, most of them had felt forced. And all of them had been with mental health professionals who were being paid to listen to her story, analyze all the ways she was broken, and tell her what she could do to try to fix it.

But here was this guy who she’d met at some random job, and he wanted to know her story, wanted to know her. And as much as she tried, she couldn’t resist the urge to tell him, as if letting all her shit out into the world would somehow relieve her of some of its weight. “There hasn’t been much in my life that’s been permanent,” she began. “Houses, family, friends, towns…roommates,” she said with a low smile. “They’ve all disappeared almost as quickly as they’ve come.” She thought back to all the houses she’d lived in, the communities she’d passed through. They were all a blur in her mind, like a morning fog that still hadn’t been lifted hours into the day. “Nothing in my life has ever lasted long enough to mean anything,” she continued. “I lived in seven different houses and two foster homes by the time I was thirteen. At first, the change was tough on me. But eventually it became nothing for me to pack up and move with barely any warning. I got good at it. I’d pretend I was a firefighter responding to a call. It was like a game that way. I’d get dressed, pack up all my gear, and leave without much thought to if I’d ever be back.”

She sighed deeply, realizing that she’d let all of that out in almost one breath. Gavin didn’t say anything as he waited for her to continue. “I never had pictures or posters on the wall I needed to remember to take with me when I left. I guess I thought if there wasn’t any evidence I’d ever been there, it would almost be like I hadn’t.”

“I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that,” he said quietly.

“There isn’t anything for you to be sorry about. There isn’t anything for anyone to be sorry about. Shitty things happen to good people all the time. But I guess that’s the reason I don’t want a tattoo. I’m so used to things changing, I can’t imagine having something that doesn’t.”

Gavin pressed his lips together and narrowed his eyes. “But you made this space your own now and decorated it with things that you like,” Gavin said, gesturing to their surroundings where she had endless trinkets that had taken her years to accumulate. “Wouldn’t your body be the same?”

Blake was silent as she thought about Gavin’s question. She’d always been the one who had to change, the one who had to adapt to whatever hand life dealt her. That flexibility was one of the traits she liked about herself. She couldn’t wrap her brain around the present Blake making a decision for the future one. “I guess the difference is that if I don’t like some little figurine or candle or something, I can throw it out. I can change the paint color or furniture or whatever if I want to, but a tattoo’s forever. There’s no erasing it or tossing it in the trash if I get sick of it. I guess I like to keep my options open.”

Gavin nodded. “That makes a lot of sense actually,” he said. And then, “What made you choose this coral? For the wall color,” he clarified.

“It’s pretty,” she answered so easily it surprised her. “So much of my life has been filled with ugliness that I guess I wanted to be surrounded by beauty for once.” Blake couldn’t remember the last time she’d cried, but she was damn close to it right now, and the acknowledgment only made it that much more difficult to hold back the tears. She swallowed hard, feeling the lump sting her throat as it slid down.

“What made you change up the color in your room?”

“I read somewhere that blue is calming, so I decided to try it out.”

“Does it work?”

“I think so,” she said with a shrug. She wasn’t sure if it was the wall color or the fact that it was her own space, but she did feel relaxed in her room.

“Why’d you leave the one wall in your bedroom white?” he asked.

It was a good question, but it was one she wasn’t sure she was ready to answer. She thought for a moment before deciding that she’d already revealed so much to him, she didn’t think she was capable of holding anything back. “I haven’t seen my parents since I was fifteen,” she said. “And I haven’t lived with them since I was seven. They both went to jail for possession a few times when I was young enough that I don’t really remember it. But when their addictions got worse, so did their sentences. Eventually they both went away for robbery and some other, more minor charges. But because of their criminal history, it was safe to say they weren’t getting out anytime soon.”

Blake looked up from where she’d been picking at a piece of her cuticle. Gavin’s eyes were on her as he seemed to be listening to every word, unsure of what to say. “Is this too much?” she asked.

He shook his head. “No. No,” he said quietly. “I’m glad you’re telling me.”

And so was she. Blake continued, explaining how the last good memory she had was of her little house in Oak Ridge where she and her parents lived until she was seven and things started to get bad. It wasn’t the biggest house or the nicest. But it was her house—the last place that truly felt like home to her. “When I was little, I used to be scared of bad guys. They’d shown us some stranger-danger type of presentation at school, and I was terrified that someone was going to come in the house and go into my room and take me when I was sleeping. I was scared that I’d wake up and be in some new, unfamiliar place with people I didn’t know.” She almost laughed at the irony of it. Her fear had come true once she’d been bounced around to various foster homes. But it hadn’t been the bad guys who’d taken her; it’d been the good ones.

“I’d have dreams that people kidnapped me, and I’d wake up screaming and thinking I was somewhere else. My parents would run in and try to calm me down so I’d stop yelling.”

“Is that what you have nightmares about now?” Gavin asked. Though she’d shared so much already, he still looked hesitant to ask more.

“Sometimes,” she answered, deciding now wasn’t the time to get into the other reason for her bad dreams. “Anyway, one night, my mom told me to put my hand on the wall next to my bed. She ran my hand along it and told me to feel the crack in the plaster. She told me to memorize its shape and path so that when I got scared and thought I was somewhere else, I could just to reach up and touch it so I’d know I was home in my bed. It was just a dirty white wall with a crack in it, but it got me through a lot of nights.” She breathed deeply before continuing. “So when I got this apartment and saw there was a similar crack in the bedroom, I couldn’t bring myself to paint over it. Guess the chipped white wall looked pretty to me too,” she said, thinking it was one of the last good memories she had of her parents. “It feels stupid because that happened almost twenty years ago, but in some ways it still feels like yesterday.”

Gavin reached his hand out, placing it on hers without looking away from her. She concentrated on the way his thumb rubbed circles over the back of her hand. The motion soothed her, though she wasn’t aware she needed soothing until then. “It’s not stupid at all,” Gavin said, and somehow the words comforted her a bit. “Tons of people hang on to memories from when they were little.”

She smiled, but it was tight against her lips. “Yeah,” she said. “But I’m not one of them. Or at least I didn’t think I was.”

* * *

Gavin had been practically speechless as Blake told him about her childhood, but somehow he’d been able to ask a few questions—questions she’d trusted him enough to answer. There was no way he could sit silently and listen to everything she’d told him without wanting to know more. It amazed him that the beautiful woman sitting in front of him had been through so much at such a young age. He’d never known anyone who had dealt with as much as she had.

“What are you thinking?” Blake asked him, making him realize that he’d probably been quiet for a bit too long.

“That you’re incredible,” he said. And he meant it.

“I’m definitely not,” she replied, and he thought he saw her cheeks blush a little.

“You definitely are,” he said again. He let out a deep breath before speaking again. “My parents kicked me out of the house when I refused to follow the path they laid out for me. I wanted to be a photographer, but that wasn’t good enough for them. And all this time, I felt like I’d gotten such a raw fucking deal. But here you are, dealing with way worse shit and being strong as hell about it. I pretty much feel like a huge pussy right now.”

Blake laughed softly, moving closer to him so she could reach up and touch the back of his neck. His blond curls were soft against her hand as she scratched his scalp lightly with her nails. “You’re not a huge pussy,” she assured him. And then, “You’re like a little one. Medium-sized at most,” she said with a smile.

He loved how she had a way of breaking the tension when he needed it, like she knew exactly what to say and when to say it to make him feel at ease. But he was the one who should be doing that for her, not the other way around. “I want you to know how much it means that you told me all that,” he said. “I promise I won’t say anything to anyone. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“I don’t. I trust you,” she said, leaning in to place a soft kiss on his lips.

Like every other kiss between them, it had a way of leading to more, and in seconds they were tearing off each other’s clothing until there was nothing that came between them. Suddenly Gavin was aware of all of her—the thumping of her heart under his chest as they moved together, how perfectly he fit inside her, the smell of her hair as he breathed in her mint and citrus scent.

He worked his hands over her body wildly like he couldn’t get enough of her, and he realized it was because he couldn’t. This girl, this woman beneath him had a hold on him like no one he’d ever encountered before. He couldn’t take his eyes off her as his cock thrust inside her, silently begging her to find her release so he could too.

Every breath was a gasp, choppy and labored as he struggled to hold off. But he could sense how close she was by the flush on her neck and chest and the way her eyelids seemed to flutter open for a moment and then close tightly again. “Come on,” Gavin said. “I’m right there.” And he heard how strained his words sounded. His cock jerked with the need to come, but he slowed his hips a bit to last.

Now his drives were slower, more rhythmic, but no less pleasurable. Every push inside her felt like it could be the one to make him explode, and he gripped the base of his shaft for a few moments to stop himself before moving his fingers to Blake’s clit and massaging it.

“Blake, I can’t… God, you’re so fucking warm…and so wet. Christ,” he said, knowing if she didn’t come soon he’d have no choice but to stop moving until he could gain control of himself again. “I can’t wait much longer.”

With those words, he had Blake tumbling over the edge, her body pulsing around his as she told him to let go inside her. He didn’t even have time to process her words before his orgasm was there, his cock jerking against her slick walls until he’d emptied himself completely.

He wanted to stay here, wrapped in her warmth with the evidence of their encounter between them. But eventually he pulled out of her, allowing her to get up and head to the bathroom while he picked up his clothes to get dressed.

A few minutes later, Blake returned, wearing nothing but black lace panties and a tight T-shirt that came just above her underwear. When she sat next to him, he pulled her closer, running his hand along her arm as she snuggled into his chest. For a fleeting moment, it crossed his mind that he could stay like this forever, with Blake in his arms. But if he’d learned anything from their conversation, it was that nothing in her life was permanent. And that, unfortunately, included him.