Me: No, I am not your Princess.

Axel ‘Holt’: Okay, so we are going to act like we’re still fucking kids? You texted me, IZZY, so you tell me what’s going?

Me: I am not acting like a child. I just don’t understand why you even bothered to ask me to contact you. I think we can both agree the past needs to just stay there…in the past.

Axel ‘Holt’: No, I don’t agree with that. Not at all. Where are you? I’ll come to you; we are not doing this over a fucking text.

Me: No, no. I don’t think that’s a good idea. If you’re dead set on dredging this back up, then fine, but we do this on my terms. I need to process this. I can’t just sift through all this in less than a day. You want to talk, fine…but not now.

Axel ‘Holt’: Process? What the hell is there to process? Where are you, Izzy? Not asking you again, and I am not fucking doing this text message shit like a goddamn prepubescent little shit.

 

I really should have known better. Sighing, I set my phone down. There really is no point in continuing to argue with him, I did what I wanted to do and I asked him to let me have my time. If he can’t respect that, then fuck him and closure be damned.

Ten minutes later my phones chimes. Then a minute later I hear the reminder beep, followed shortly by another chime. Damn.

 

Axel ‘Holt’: We will be talking about this Izzy. I know you, don’t you fucking forget that. I won’t let you just forget me like you did before.

Axel ‘Holt’: Understand me this, if you think you can just ignore me and ignore this, then you are up for a big wake up call. You want fucking time, fine. One week, that is all I’m willing to give. Next Saturday, I don’t care if I have to knock on every goddamn door in Georgia. I will find you and we will be having this talk. Got that?

 

Well, shit.

 

Me: One week, ‘Holt’, guess that’s going to have to be enough, isn’t it? I’ll let you know on Friday if I’m ready. Goodnight.

Axel ‘Holt’: If you call me Holt one more fucking time I’m bending you over my knees, yeah? I am not Holt to you, and you damn well fucking know it.

 

With a gasp of surprise at his audacity, I quickly turn my phone off and throw it across the room like it’s on fire. I definitely can’t deal with that.

Chapter 8

 

The next morning comes way too quickly but I wake with a new resolve that it will be a good day. I have to deal with Axel but I won’t be doing that today. Sundays are usually the day that Dee and I lounge around the house, catching up on our DVR backlog and spend some time just the two of us. Since our normal ‘Sunday Funday’ was interrupted with the new drama in my life, we rescheduled for today. Dee called into work saying she wouldn’t be in today and we started planning our ‘Monday Funday.’ This time together is important to us, especially with yesterday, so I’m happy to have this time today. We might live together but we stay pretty busy during the week, or at least she does. My work is a more ‘at your own pace’ thing, so I often find myself working at odd hours here and there.

Working from home has its benefits, well…one benefit: solitude.

I feel better by myself, being alone and not worrying about checking my surroundings every two seconds.

I feel safer.

I may have come a long way since Brandon but a lot of that has to do with my not leaving the house much. And when I do, I never leave alone. I stopped looking over my shoulders and fearing the shadows; I stopped living a life destined for death. I feel like I’m healing.

The first step to my healing was starting this new life. It took a while, but I am finally happy. Happy-ish. My business is growing and my friends are great. Both of my friends. I don’t need a million friends to feel like I have accomplished something with my life, I am perfectly content with Dee and Greg. I don’t trust easily, or at all, so this is progress and it works for me.

The first year and a half after Brandon, was spent in therapy and getting our life set up, buying the townhome, helping Dee get her new business up and running and finally starting my own. There really hasn’t been much time for me to just be me, it was a healthy, or maybe a not so healthy, distraction phase. It took me a while to decide that I was okay enough to start living again and I won’t let Axel’s change that.

So, it is time to do what Izzy West does best: distract.

 

Dee and I spend all day Monday lying around the house and watching old 80’s movies. We turn all the phones off, close the blinds and just enjoy spending the day together without the world stomping all over us. If Greg tried to call, we didn’t know, and that is just fine with me. I am not ready to deal with his intrusive questions right now.

Tuesday is spent catching up on my work and fielding calls from Greg. I fake work issues and I am able to put him off. I know this won’t work, but once again, I am not ready for him. I don’t completely lie to him; I do have plenty of work I need to get a good head start on. Word is spreading quickly and I have finally picked up some, rather large, businesses out of Atlanta. Dee is gone longer than normal on Tuesday; I know she is in the middle of some issues with her branch back in North Carolina. So, by the time she gets home, she is too tired to push much from me. Again, works perfectly for me.

Wednesday is spent running errands around town, cleaning out my closet, and organizing the pantry. I even scrub all three toilets in the house.

By the time Thursday rolls around, I am running out of excuses to beg off Greg and I am running out of things to keep me distracted. Worst yet, Saturday is looming even closer and closer. Greg seems to be busy enough trying to get the new and improved Corps Security up and running, for once the timing was working out in my benefit. He calls twice but when I send them both to voicemail he must have given up. I should be worried about him going silent on me, but I am too busy trying to keep my panic about Saturday down.

Friday is spent hand mopping the floors and dusting every surface in the whole damn townhome. Dee is working from home today and I am sure she is starting to think I have lost it. I had just sat down in front of our massive DVD collection to re-alphabetize it, again, when I heard my phone start ringing. I jump up and run off to my room to see if I can ignore Greg’s call again. When I pick up my phone and see, “Axel ‘Holt’” calling, I scream and drop it. I run back into the living room and pick my stupid mind-numbing task back up. I hear my phone ring three more times before I’m done. Deciding I need to bring out the big guns in my mission to distract, I set off to find Dee.

This is going to be easy enough, even if it is painful for me. All it will take is one mention of her finally getting that makeover she’s been after and I’ve been dreading, for her to forget everything else and focus only on shopping. It might be a dirty trick, but it is the only one I have at the moment.

I will have to spend a day with Dee, allowing her to take over and drag me all over the state shopping but it will work. Not only will I successfully not be thinking about anything besides how much money she is costing me, but I will be away from the house and Axel won’t be able to find me. I hate shopping but if this works the payoff might be worth it.

Me and Dee against the world, she might not know it, but she is about to become my hero.

 

*~*~*

 

 

 

My ears have finally stopped ringing from Dee’s insane screeching when I announced I am finally ready to shed my ‘ratty ass jeans’ and tees and let her work her magic. Just as I thought, she immediately went into crazy mode and forgot about the world around her. Sometimes I love how easy it is to basically bribe her.

It is early Saturday morning and we have been at the mall for a few hours when my phone rings, looking at the display, I can’t help but smile when I see “Greg Calling” across the screen. I have successfully kept him away all week and now that I am away from the house and Axel’s reach, I am finally going to pick this call up.

“Hey you,” I smile into the phone.

“Baby girl, you speaking to me today?” His deep baritone rumbles through the line.

“Depends on you, what do you want to speak about?”

“Alright, I guess that’s a no. What are you doing? I drove by the house but no one was there.”

“Shopping!” My voice must be dripping with sarcasm, “Dee and I are over at Lenox Mall; I’ve decided it’s time for a new wardrobe. Going all out, you should meet us over here…carry all the bags or something productive like that. It will be just so much fun.” Yup, sarcasm is hanging thick in the air. Dee is completely oblivious to my conversation; either that or she is just so in her element she decides to ignore it.

“Carry your bags, huh? You must be out of your damn mind if you think I will be joining you on that estrogen field trip, I like my balls right where they are.” He laughs back at me, finally losing that hard tone he seems to have adopted with me. I don’t like being at the receiving end of his anger.

“Pussy,” I joke. “Big old pussy is afraid to come and walk around the mall with your best friends. I think you might have already lost those balls you’re so fond of, G.” I throw my head back and let out a loud laugh, earning a few nasty looks from the rich bitches out shopping for shit they do not need. Kind of like me, minus the rich part.

I can hear him trying not to laugh. This right here is the Greg I love so much, this banter between us.

“Come on, all joking aside, I think we will be stopping for lunch soon, or at least I hope my master will let me eat.” I look over at Dee, who has been vibrating with excitement since we started this grand makeover day, to confirm a plan for food at least somewhere in the near future. She isn’t looking anywhere near me, instead she is focusing on another store. I might as well just hand her my credit card and tell her to meet me back home. I haven’t had a single input on a single purchase since we started, and if the seven bags hanging from my arms aren’t enough, I might just run. What the hell was I thinking?

Oh, that’s right…a distraction, being away from the house and away from Axel, who has already called three times since the day began.

Clearing my throat, I speak into the phone again, even if Dee doesn’t agree, we will be eating soon. “So, what have ya? Want to meet us over here or what?”

“Sure, Iz, if that is how we are going to play today, I’ll meet you there. I’ll call you when I get there and find out how to track you down.”

“Perfect, just give me a ring and you can save me!” I look over at Dee to make sure she at least has some understanding of this new plan. She looks disappointed we have to stop but, Christ woman, I can only shop for so long without food.

“See ya then, baby girl.” He disconnects and I pocket my phone, turning with a bright smile to Dee. She has the most ridiculous pout on her face.

“Stop that right now, Dee. I have been a good little girl and followed you around like a little bitch while you racked up thousands of dollars of shit on my card. I don’t think feeding me is too much to ask, huh?” I try for stern but end up laughing in her face when she has the nerve to wobble her chin like she might cry.

“Okay, okay…but if we have to stop soon, we’re going to Neiman’s first. Shoes, Iz, I can hear them calling our names from here.”

Freaking weirdo.

 

Almost an hour later I am finally able to drag Dee away. Greg has been calling for the last fifteen minutes, asking why the hell we haven’t popped out of this ‘stupid fucking girly store’ yet. I can just picture him pacing the entrance to Neiman’s now. He would die before he stepped one badass foot in here. We walk out with six more bags. Six fucking bags. I swear I will end up selling a kidney to pay off my next credit card statement.

Greg is, as predicted, pacing in a tight line. When he finally spots us, he stops and crosses his arms over his bulky chest, throwing that scowl back in place. It wouldn’t kill him to at least look happy to be here, but even grumpy I’m glad he’s here.

“Holy shit, now that is definitely worth stopping our shopping for.” I’m a little taken back by Dee’s husky whisper, I had been so focused on uncomfortable Greg, that I hadn’t noticed the good-looking man next to him. Joe? No, that’s not right. I vaguely remember him from the club the other night. A friend of Greg’s, his boy, which means he is a friend of Axel’s too. Lovely. I really hope this isn’t some ploy from Greg to get me to open up. I don’t know how much these other men know about my past with Axel, but I won’t be opening up to him today.

Sauntering up to the men, Dee and I both take turns giving Greg warm hugs. He might annoy the shit out of me at times but he means well. Right now, though, it’s hard to remember he is coming from a good place with his caring and protectiveness.

I start thrusting bags into his arms, not even giving him a chance to reject them, looking over at Dee to see her practically drooling over the man standing next to Greg. She doesn’t even seem to notice her fingers turning blue from her heavy burdens. I look over at Greg, with a twitch of my head at Dee and a smirk, he laughs but still looks pissed that I’m making him carry my bags.

“Dee, quit.” I whisper quietly at her. She shakes her head and looks over at me with rosy cheeks and lust filled eyes. Oh kay…looks like Dee won’t be pissed about stopping this trip anymore.

Greg finally has all my bags in order, huffing his attitude, “You two remember Beck?” He jerks his head over at his friend. Beck, that’s right, John Beckett. I mumble a hello, but notice he isn’t focusing on me; he and Dee are practically past foreplay and moving into some serious hot sex with their eyes. Interesting development here. Dee has her fun, but I can’t remember the last time she took interest in a man like this. She’s focused on her career and for the last few years her focus has been me. I feel guilty about keeping her from finding love but she insists that she wouldn’t have it any other way.

I look back at Greg to see if he has noticed the sparks flying between Dee and Beck and notice his shock matching my own.

I clear my throat, hoping to stop this eye fuck before they both have some weird orgasm in the middle of the mall, “So…”

Greg laughs when they both jerk like they got caught stealing, “You two want to stop this shopping shit and head over to Heavy’s for some BBQ?” He suggests, knowing that Heavy’s is my favorite place in town. Dirty tricks, looks like he’s bringing out the big dogs today.

 

“Beck, did you know that sex is biochemically no different than eating large quantities of chocolate?” I can’t help but laugh at that one, or maybe it’s his face alone that’s hilarious. Dee and I have spent the last hour sitting here spouting off useless sex facts. It’s hilarious to watch these two big men squirm. Greg is used to this but Beck seems to be having an issue with our topic of choice, probably because he is still back at the mall having creepy eye sex with my best friend.

“It’s true, you know,” she pipes up, “I can get just enough pleasure from a bag of Kisses than I can from any man.” I look over at Dee and laugh so hard I have to hold my sides.

“You are not wrong my friend, Kisses are so much more pleasurable than any of my battery operated boyfriends. Just as satisfying but no work necessary.” I think we are on our second, no make that fourth, pitcher of beer now and my laughs are coming so frequently, I’m worried I might piss on myself at any moment.

“Iz, you’re nuts…anything is better than a fucking dildo. I’m talking real men here but throw me some chocolate and I’m golden.”

My laughter is coming even louder now, when I see the shock of what she just said register on her face.

“Sugar,” Beck interrupts my ruckus with a wink. “If chocolate is more fulfilling than sex, then someone isn’t doing their job right.” He smiles back over at me but quickly turns his eyes back on Dee. A Dee that, I noticed, that has gone silent again.

I’m sitting between Greg and Dee at the round high top we claimed when we arrived at Heavy’s. Greg keeps pushing more food in front of me; he must think he can somehow slow down my drunk by keeping me full of shit.

Whatever.

“I don’t know what her reason is, but that’s just it for me. It’s better because ‘the someone’ doesn’t exist anymore. I get my kicks where I can.” I punctuate my seriousness with a stab towards them with the fry I’m munching on. “I’ve got chocolate, and chocolate induced satisfaction. I love chocolate. Might get messy sometimes but there is no drama.”

Dee is nodding her head enthusiastically now, “It’s true, and you should see our chocolate stash. We’re good for, at least, a solid year of orgasms. Who needs a boy when you have Hershey’s!”

Greg smiles over at us, laughing right along with Beck now. “You two are fucking nuts, you know that?”

I open my mouth to respond when Dee yells, “Hey, is it true that you guys think about sex seven times a day?” She is looking directly at Beck; I might laugh if I didn’t decide there was a serious need in this knowledge. I stop long enough to ponder that one. I’ve never really given that much thought, case in point, I am not having sex, therefore why do I need to think about it. “Yeah, is it something like, because you have a giant dick bobbing around down there, you are constantly reminded to think about using it? Like you have some sex beacon?” I am completely serious right now.

Beck and Greg look at each other, then back at us, then they throw their heads back and laugh so deep and so loud they draw the attention of almost the whole place.

I don’t think they understand how serious I am right now. “This isn’t funny,” I pout.

Greg stops laughing and starts to answer with humor twinkling in his eyes but his phone interrupts him. Glancing down at the display with a small frown, he excuses himself from the table.

Okay, whatever. I look over at Beck and throw my question back at him, “So? Do you? Do you think about sex that much?”

“Sugar,” he starts, before turning his attention back over to Dee, “I have thought about sex, hard fucking dirty sex, about a hundred times since we sat down to eat.” Looking back over at me, “Does that clear it up for you?”

Oh, my.

“Ah, well…okay. I think we need more beer!” I grab the empty pitcher and take off to find the waitress for more. I glance back at the table on my way to the bar and notice that Dee is still locking eyes with Beck, a look of complete rapture on her face.

I take my time returning, giving those two dirty perverts a second to do whatever it is they seem to be doing, before I make my way back over.

“So, what’s next on the schedule for today, or I guess tonight now?” I ask, trying my hardest not to snicker at my two tablemates. If this gets any more heated, I might feel like I was an unwilling threesome participant.

Dee clears her throat and looks over at me, lust still clouding her brown eyes. “Um. I know, let’s go get some tattoos! You keep talking about how much you want one.”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Dee. I think they frown on people being a mile over the legal drinking limit.”

Dee and I continue our debate on the benefits of getting tattoos when you are far from sober, when Greg returns. The laughter and lightness that had taken over his face is gone, and his scowl is back. Looks like grumpy Greg is back.

“G, Dee wants to go get some ink, personally, I think it might not be the best idea…you know, numerous pitchers of beer and all, what do you think?” He seems shocked by my question. Maybe he was expecting me to push him on his mood or it could be the fact that I have suddenly decided branding myself with something permanent might be a good idea.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, baby girl. Not something you do when you aren’t thinking straight and damn sure not something you do when your head isn’t in the right place.” He’s looking right at me when he says that, there is no denying, he is only speaking to me. No joking to be found in his tone now, seriousness is painted heavily all over that reply. No fucking way, I knew he wouldn’t be able to leave it be for long and that comment just pisses me the hell off. My head is fine just where it is and I do not want him psychoanalyzing me.

I look over at Dee, who seems to be just as shocked at his answer as I am. Which just further pisses me off. Damn infuriating man. “Dee, where’s that place you told me about the other day? You know the one your assistant was telling you about?”

She looks at me, trying to judge if I’m serious or not and I practically bug my eyes out of their sockets to communicate that I was very fucking serious.

“Right, you mean Smudge, the new parlor over on Grove. She said the big guy that does her work, is the best, but I couldn’t tell you his name.”

“Perfect, just perfect. Finish up people, places to go.” I clap my hands together and look at Greg with all the seriousness I have in me. He will not stop me. No way in hell, he would have to lock me up now. “Head not in the right place,” fucking asshole. He’s pissed, I know he is. I down another two beers, locking eyes with Dee. She has a look about her that says she’s down for whatever but clearly confused by my agreement to visit Smudge. She brought it up, so she better be ready.

Greg leans over and says something to Beck before getting up and marching out the door again. I watch him throw the door open and storm out, I look over at Beck. “What the hell is his problem now?”

“Don’t know sugar, he just said he needed to do something and he would meet us there.”

Okay, I might have overreacted slightly, but you know what, I am sick of being treated with kid gloves, like some breakable porcelain doll that might shatter with the smallest touch. My path to find the old Izzy starts right now and I’m not going to let Greg and his shit-fit mess this up.

“You two almost ready to go? I’m going to go track down our ticket so we can get out of here. Think about what you want to get, you little bitch, remember this was your idea.” I stand up and walk off, once again, leaving them at the table but I doubt they are drenched in their lust cloud anymore. Beck is probably trying to figure out what brand of fucked up he has stumbled on and Dee is probably back to worrying. At least this time she isn’t worried about my mental stability, or at least I hope she isn’t. She is probably worried about this big-ass boulder that seems to have popped up between Greg and me.

Chapter 9

 

Dee is pretty silent when we first get in the cab after leaving Heavy’s. She is probably still playing back my refusal to ride with the boys. We left her car at Heavy’s and jumped in the first cab I saw, leaving a fuming Greg and a confused Beck standing at his truck. Greg was waiting outside of Heavy’s when we walked out. So much for him having something to take care of. I knew if we let Greg drive he would control the destination and I was seeing this through.

For the first five minutes, she sits silently, gazing out her window, soft country music plays through the speakers, not loud but enough that the silence isn’t awkward. She finally has enough and turns to me.

“Alright, tell me what’s this really about, Iz. This is more than a few drinks and sex jokes. What’s really going on up there?” She reaches over and taps my head.

“Nothing is going on up there, Dee. I’m sick of everyone looking at me like I am some unfixable toy. Some toy that no matter how many times you slather Elmer’s on keeps falling apart. I’m sick of being that girl, Dee. Greg just pushed my buttons when he said I wasn’t right in the head. I’m fine, just because I don’t want to talk about…Axel, that does not mean I’m not right in the head. It doesn’t.”

“Who exactly are you trying to convince, Izzy?” she says softly.

“I don’t need to convince anyone. I just need you to have my back and trust me to handle this on my own terms.” I let out a frustrated huff and turn my head to watch the city zoom past. I’m so tired from this week of dodging Greg and running from Axel, I just want it to be over. This bad dream that I am beyond ready to wake up from.

“Okay, Iz. I understand, or at least I’m trying to. I just don’t like seeing you hurting, and I don’t like seeing you and Greg fight. You know he’s got to be hurting too, He would do anything to take your pain away. You know that. Don’t think he is being pushy to be a dick, he really does care.”

I don’t reply. What’s the point? I don’t know what to think about Greg. I know he cares but now that his loyalty is torn, I can honestly say I don’t know which way he is going with his need to chat with me. He wants me happy, I know that much, but at what cost?

We pull up in front of Smudge a few minutes later; the cabby lets us out right at the front door. I quickly pay him and rush for the door. I see Greg’s truck roaring up the street when I take off for the inside of the building. He won’t cause a scene, not in a public place like this. He might look at me with his displeasure and judgment but he won’t say anything. No, I will get that later.

 

We walk into the brightly lit building, the walls are painted a deep red, the ceiling and the tile is black. They have the room set up with little cubicles against the sidewalls, each one with a wall about four feet tall. There are some rooms against the back wall, but all three have blacked out windows. Not sure I want to know what happens back there. I walk over to the huge ‘U’ shaped display case set up in the middle of the room. There is a young, heavily tattooed woman standing behind it. Her short pixie hair is sticking out in random directions and dyed electric blue. Her face is classically beautiful and would look odd against her body art and hair of choice but she has the most elaborate makeup on. Her eye shadow is as bright and as blue as her hair, thick black lines outline her almost violet eyes and her lips are painted red.

“What’s up ladies? I’m Trix. Welcome to Smudge. We’ve got a few clients ahead of you but I think we can fit you in. Which one of you plan on getting some ink tonight?” She asks with a cheerful smile.

Dee looks over at me, clearly starting to second guess opening her big mouth back at Heavy’s, but no way am I letting her off the hook. “Both of us.” I shoot over at Trix, giving her a smirk of my own. I hear the bell over the door clank; I don’t need to turn around to know who just came in the door. Even if I didn’t know it was Greg, the look Trix is shooting over my shoulder says it all. Greg might be like a brother to me, but even I can admit how hot he is. Next to Beck, I’m sure the boys are quite an eye full.

“Right, so where do we need to wait?” She can lust after them when she gets this show on the road.

She looks back at me, a slight blush spotting her white cheeks, “Sorry, okay, I just need a copy of your license and for you both to fill out these forms. Have a seat over on those couches and have a look at the photo books on the table if you need to get an idea of what you want. I’ll go see who is almost finished and can pick y’all up next.” She turns to look over at Greg and Beck one more time before walking down the rows of cubicles. I have just enough time to register her hot pink tutu as she disappears into one of the back rooms. Hmm, maybe next time I need to ask her to take me shopping, tutus look pretty freaking awesome.

I grab Dee’s arm and pull her over to the couch, thrusting the clipboard with the forms on them in her arms. “Fill them out, and then look.” I say, pointing over to the binders. I make quick work of filling out the sheets, pull my license out of my wallet and walk back over to Trix. Handing everything over for her to do her thing with, I walk back over and sit down next to Dee. She is slow enough with her papers that I know she is trying to find a way to back out, no fucking way.

“This was your idea, remember?” She looks over at me. There might be some fear in her eyes but she is mostly curious about just how far I plan on taking this.

“I know, don’t worry I’m not backing out, just promise me we can talk about this soon?” God, I love her.

“Sure, Dee. Sometime.” I reach over and pluck one of the books off the table, opening the cover and taking in a very up close and personal dick with a medal barbell attached to the head. Okay, clearly they don’t just tattoo here. I turn a few more pages and come to some female piercings, now those don’t look quiet as traumatizing as the decorated dicks. They almost make this chick’s tits look…beautiful.

I must have been looking at them for a while, can’t imagine how weird that looked, me zoning on someone else’s tits. Dee looks over and gives a soft snort. “Seriously, Iz? Nip rings?”

“Maybe,” I mumble, going over in my head the pros of a piercing over a tattoo. I’ll admit, when I had my fit over Greg’s words I didn’t completely think this through. Sure, I have wanted a tattoo for a while, but it should be something I think and plan, not something I decide in anger. A piercing though, well…I can take that out whenever I get sick of them. Permanence isn’t even an issue there, just something pretty to look at for a while.

Dee is flicking through one of the tattoo books. She is not really looking at anything, just flipping and stealing looks over at Beck. Greg is rod straight and clearly very pissed, his eyes burning holes right into me. I stand and walk back over to Trix, leaning over the display case to whisper my request in her ear. When I stand back, she has a huge grin on her face. She gives me a small nod and walks back to one of the black window rooms.

“Izzy,” Greg starts, “what the fuck are you doing?”

I turn and give him a smart smile, not even bothering to hide my simmering pissed vibes, “Why, nothing Gregory. I’m just enjoying my head being all fucked up.”

I walk back over to Dee, who is looking at me, and even with her worried eyes, is trying hard not to laugh. We are clearly a dysfunctional family.

“You pick anything yet?” I ask her.

“Yeah, nothing big, but I got it.”

“Perfect, but if this isn’t something you want, don’t feel like you have to do this just because I’m set on proving a point to the big idiot.” She has her happy smile back on her face, she might not have meant to actually show up here, but I can tell she doesn’t mind now.

“It’s all good, Iz, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be. You seriously going to get some rings hanging off your tits?” She snickers.

“I might be pissed, but I’m not stupid, I need time to figure out the perfect tat and some stupid fight with Greg isn’t going to make me jump the gun. Plus, I think my tits will look fucking hot with some bling.” We are both laughing hard when a good looking guy walks up and asks which one of us is Izzy. For some reason, I expected the person doing my piercings to be a female. Didn’t I specifically drive a town over because I didn’t want to see a male gynecologist? Now, the person who will be shoving a needle through my fun bags is going to be this hunk? Shit, didn’t see that coming.

“Izzy would be me,” I say, standing up and holding out my hand. I can see Greg out of the corner of my eye, if anything, he looks like he is going to explode soon. He looks carved from stone and I know he is just gearing up to shut this down. I bring my focus back to the man in front of me.

“Tyler, nice to meet you. Ready?”

“Sure thing, Tyler.”

We set off for the black window rooms; I can hear Greg speaking harshly behind me. I don’t turn around to see who he is talking to, he isn’t stopping this.

We walk into the room and I’m shocked to see how bright it is in here. Something about the windows had me expecting some gloom and doom back here. The walls, ceiling and floor match the décor outside the door. There is a single dentist looking chair in the middle of the room and a long table against the back wall. He’s already set up the things he will need on the little tray next to the chair.

“First piercings?” Tyler asks while motioning me to jump up on the chair.

“Yup, other than my ears.”

“Ah, perfect. I love poppin’ cherries.” He smiles over at me. He really is very nice to look at. This might be more fun than I thought it would be. He has light brown hair, a little on the long side, curling under his ears and behind the back of the cap he is wearing. His eyes are light blue and bright with mischief, he must be assuming this is some kind of kink I have. His face is model perfect. If it weren’t for the huge gages through his ears, a lip ring, two eyebrow rings, and the colorful art running up both arms, I might think he was in the wrong place.

“Ha, I’m sure you do. So, what do you need me to do?”

“Strip down, sweetheart. Shirt, bra, and you can take the pants off too if that’s what works for you. Get comfortable and recline on back. I need to mark you first to make sure I get these bars in perfect. I wouldn’t want to mess up those perfect tits.”

Choosing to ignore his blatant flirting, I reach down for the hem of my tee and pull it over my head. I reach back and flick my bra off, throwing them both on the chair in the corner. Putting my back flat on the chair, I reach up and pull my thick hair into a messy knot on the top of my head; all the while, watching the lustful look take over his face.

Tyler reaches over and helps me to lean forward so he can mark my nipples. His gloved hands are cold at first, but he makes quick work with the marker. He gives me a quick squeeze before releasing the swells of my breast, I’m sure that was more for his benefit than the alignment of my holes. At this point I don’t even care, it’s been a long time since anyone other than myself has touched my tits, so even though it’s awkward, his touch isn’t exactly a turn off.

“You ready?” He asks. I can feel the soft bite of the needle against my left nipple. It isn’t an unpleasant pain, bordering the line between pain and pleasure for sure. Surely, it isn’t natural to be this turned on right now.

“Yup, do your thing.” I close my eyes tight, and wait for it. He gives me a sharp pinch before I feel him push the needle through. I let out the breath I was holding...not bad. The pain is already receding and a weird burning numbness is taking over. If this is what every body-piercing feels like, I can understand why Tyler here has so many now.

“Not bad, huh?” He asks while walking around the chair to the other side. He seems to have lost his playful flirting and turned into the perfect professional. He looks up and gives me a small wink. Okay, so maybe not all the flirting has left his system.

“No,” I laugh, “definitely not bad.”

“Alright, ready for the next?”

“Go for it.” I close my eyes tight again, and the process is repeated, but right when I feel him finishing up with the tightening of the ball at the end of my new piercing, there is a loud thump at the door and suddenly it’s jerked wide open. He jumps to stand in front of me, trying to protect my modesty. From my spot hidden behind Tyler the piercer, I can see one very long jean covered leg and a big booted foot. I don’t know those boots. The only other thing I can see past Tyler, is one giant fist flexing and pulsing by the legs side.

Then I hear the softly spoken command, the command laced with so much fury only a fool would ignore it. I squeeze my eyes shut again, praying I’m wrong about who is standing in front of Tyler.

“Move. Move the fuck out of my way. Right fucking now.”

Shit, shit shit shit!

Tyler looks over his shoulder at me, trying to figure out if I know who this is or if he needs to have him removed. Laughable really, there is no way he would be able to move this man. It might take every person in this whole building to remove this pissed off brute. He reaches off behind his back and pulls out a towel he had hanging off the back of his belt. Might not be the cleanest thing in the world right now, but at least it would hide my body. Or some of my body.

“Thanks,” I softly say to Tyler. “It’s okay; I’ll be right out to pay.”

“Okay, you sure?” He asks and at my nod, he quickly gives me a run down on after care and tells me he will leave a sheet with the instructions with Trix up front.

I look down and make sure the towel is covering me enough, then look up and meet the blazing green, very pissed depths of Axel’s eyes. This isn’t going to be fun. Not only am I sitting in front of him naked from the waist up, but seeing his face again is still a punch straight to the gut. It physically hurts to breathe. He looks so different than the boyish face I remember in my dreams, he is still Axel, but he looks harder. Age has done wonderful things to this man. He was always tall, but never this tall. When he left at eighteen he had a boy’s body, but there was nothing boy about him now. He looked to have doubled in size, his muscles were pulsing on his arms, flexing with pent up energy. Angry energy. His black tee is stretched tight, not only hugging his heavily tattooed arms but his flat stomach as well. You can even see the rippling of his abs through the material. His legs are long and thick, covered in denim. I can feel the vibes coming from him and they aren’t happy ones. I have a feeling he isn’t just unhappy about me blowing him off today. He did say every door when he threatened to track me down. How the hell did he know where to find me?

He takes a menacing step forward and closes the door behind him, shutting us in the room and standing between my clothes and me.

“What did I fucking say, Izzy? I would find you, you aren’t fucking hiding from this talk, you hear me? Now, want to fucking tell me what the hell you’re doing with your fucking shirt off back here?” No need to look at his face to judge his mood, he’s well passed pissed.

“Can you please pass me my clothes?” That’s what I go with, seems like the safest bet at this point. Maybe I can avoid him long enough to escape. “Please, Axel.”

He bends, snatching my bra and tee off the chair behind him, not even bothering to look away. Fine, it isn’t like he hasn’t seen them before; he just hasn’t ever seen them like this. Suddenly my act of rebellion isn’t looking so hot. I pick up my bra and let the towel drop, his sharp intake has me snapping my eyes up to meet his. His eyes are focused directly on my chest, and their new jewelry. I can see his chest moving rapidly, his nose is flaring, and his hands are back to flexing in and out of a tight fists.

“What the fuck? You let some stranger put his hands on your fucking tits?” He doesn’t even mention the barbells, how can he miss them; they are standing out in all their silver glory against my pink nipples.

“Not your business, Axel. It hasn’t been your business in a long damn time.” My voice sounds funny. My earlier confidence is gone and I sound almost dead. The fight has left me and I know it’s futile to even try to run from him. Like it or not, this talk is about to happen, I just have to figure out what and how much to tell him. And just how I will get through it?

“Not my fucking business? We’ll see about that, Izzy. Get your fucking clothes on before someone else sees you.”

I make quick work of redressing, careful with my sensitive and sore nipples. When I am completely covered and standing in front of him, I look up and just take him in. I can’t believe he is really right in front of me, very much alive and pissed off. I can’t tell what’s working behind his eyes, the anger is dominating him right now, but it almost looks like relief.

He reaches out, I don’t even know what his goal is but I immediately shrink back, closing my eyes tight and turning my head away from his hand.

“What the fuck is this shit, Izzy?” I don’t answer him, I can’t. I’m still turned to the side waiting on impact. “Turn around, now.” He roars. He curses under his breath when I flinch even further, turning completely away from him. At this point I can’t help the tears that silently run down my cheeks. I know, deep down that Axel wouldn’t harm me, but this has been my reality for so long that the instinct to protect myself is just too strong.

“Izzy, please Princess, turn around.” He says after a long pause. I can still feel his anger but his tone is soft and reassuring. I slowly turn, bracing myself for any reaction, but am completely shocked by the pain in his eyes. “Let’s go, we’re talking and we’re talking now. Izzy, hear me this right fucking now, you do not fear me. Ever. Even as mad as you have me, I wouldn’t ever put my hands on you. Do you hear me, would never harm a single fucking hair on your head, Princess.”

I flinch but it has nothing to do with fearing him. Hearing him call me Princess again is almost as painful as seeing him before me. I never thought I would hear that word coming from those lips again. I nod once, giving him that before following him out the door.

I trail behind him, eyes to the floor, walking past the cubicles and around the display case. I look up and meet Trix’ eyes, surprisingly, she isn’t enamored by Axel, but looks at me with uncensored concern. I give her a small, very wobbly smile and ask her how much.

“Already paid, here are the instructions from Ty; I wrote the shop number on there in case you have any questions.” She looks at me and I can see her communicating something, I just can’t figure it out right now. My mind is focused on one thing and one thing only.

I thank her, then look around the front for Dee. I find her, silently crying next to Beck, who has his arm thrown tightly around her shoulders, hugging her close. I can’t even fake a smile for her, she knows me too well so it would be completely pointless. I walk out the front door and stand there, waiting for the rest of this fucked up entourage to join me on the sidewalk. Axel is out first. He takes his post behind me, boxing me in and making any thought of running impossible. Dee comes up and gives me an awkward hug. “It will be okay, Iz.” She whispers into my ear before pulling away and standing back with Beck. He gives me a sympathetic smile, but doesn’t say anything and really what could be said. Then I meet the blue eyes of Greg.

“Games, baby girl, I won’t sit back and watch you self-destruct with these fucked up games. You can be mad, and I get you will be, but you will not play these fucked up games. I’ll call you tomorrow and maybe by then you will understand why this was the only move you left me. I love you, baby girl, but that shit stops now.”

My eyes widen in shock, I hear Dee gasp behind him, and I feel Axel’s deep rumble behind my back. I can imagine that Dee is just as shocked as I am that Greg just admitted to letting Axel know where I was; I have no clue what the hell Axel’s deal is. I am crushed. How could he do this to me? The tears start streaming down again, even heavier than before. I can see Greg, and he looks visibly shaken up by my tears.

The fight, the drive to be strong, everything I had been building up, is gone in an instant. I am completely flattened with his betrayal. I let out a mighty breath before addressing Greg. “Do not even bother, Greg. Don’t. As far as I’m concerned you can lose my number. I’m dead to you, you hear me? I do not exist to you.” I look right into his eyes, with tears flowing quickly; I don’t even bother to mask the pure pain. He looks stunned, at first, and then a look that I’m sure comes close to the pain across my face, takes hold of his features. I don’t even give it a second thought. I turn and look up to Axel’s blazing eyes.

“I didn’t drive, took a cab here. So, if you want to talk, you either do it here or you meet me somewhere.” I don’t even recognize my voice, it’s flat and expressionless.

His eyes flare and he slowly brings his hand forward, grabbing my hand. I don’t flinch at his touch but the bolts shooting up my arm from this exchange has me widening my eyes at him. If his quick intake of air is any indication, he feels it too.

“Not leaving my fucking sight, understand that right now. Say goodbye to your friends, we are going to have this chat and we’re doing it right now before you decide to run. Again.” There is no room for arguing, he means it and I don’t even care. Greg’s deception is hard enough to take in, but knowing I am about to rip open old wounds better left alone, is gutting me.

I have no idea how I am going to make it through this.

Chapter 10

 

I give Dee another look; she seems to understand and gives me a small nod. I completely ignore Greg, turn and prepare to follow Axel to parts unknown. I know what is coming and I might not be ready, but something is telling me that I have no choice. Axel wants answers, he warned me and I knew he would be determined.

He might think he can bully himself back into my life, like he hasn’t just been gone for the last twelve years, but he has another thing coming if he thinks I am just going to roll over and play dead. My fight might be gone, but I am far from out.

We start walking down the sidewalk; him leading and me following silently behind him. When we reach his mammoth truck, I stop and look at it. How the hell am I supposed to get in that thing. I am eye level with the footboard thing. Isn’t the purpose of that thing to help people get into vehicles? Typical man, making these damn things impossible. Axel is standing next to me holding the door, waiting for me to climb in. I look from him to the truck a few times. He can’t be for real right now.

“Get in now, I don’t have the patience for your shit.” His voice still sounds lethal. I have no idea what would make him so mad, he has me and it technically is still Saturday…even if there are only a few hours left. So, I didn’t exactly do anything wrong. The deadline is up and I’m here, right?

“Hate to point out the obvious, Holt,” I can’t seem to help myself from sneering his name, his new name, “but how exactly do you expect me to get in now, as you have so kindly demanded?”

His eyes flash and fill even more with blinding rage. His face takes on an even harsher hard look, stone cold. “What, the fuck, did I tell you about calling me Holt?” He throws at me. His face is almost nose to nose with mine; his rapid breaths are hitting my own mouth in warm burst. I can taste him on my tongue and I gasp in shock. My eyes go wide at his close proximity. Even in my current mood, I can’t help but remember all the times I looked into these eyes before. All the times they didn’t hold anger but untainted love. “One more time, and I swear to God. Get in the fucking truck.” He bites out, pushing each word toward me with great force.

“You idiot, what do you think I am doing? Standing here for shits and fucking giggles? No, definitely not. I can’t get into your stupid truck. If you would take a second to actually look, you would see this. Your little Napoleon Complex is cute, really it is, but it is also keeping me from getting in the fucking truck!” I scream the last part in his face, so loud that even my ears are ringing. I instantly slam my hand over my mouth, regretting my outburst and fearing his reaction.

He shocks me when, instead of lashing out, he starts to shake with silent laughter, “Napoleon Complex, hmm? Do I really need to remind you just how untrue that statement is, Izzy? Take a look at me, my height isn’t the only thing that fucking grew since you ran off.” After he throws that unexpected remark out, I am once again stunned.

Ran off? I would have thought he was talking about this past week, if it hadn’t been for the offhand comment about him changing. What is he talking about? I didn’t run off, he did. As my confusion grows, I am even more convinced that I do not want to have this conversation with him.

Finally, having lost his last thread of control, he grabs my hips and lifts, unceremoniously dumping me into the seat. He harshly mutters for me to ‘buckle my fucking belt’, before he slams the door and disappears around the hood. My jaw is still hanging when he opens his door and slings his giant frame into the seat, turning the key and bringing this beast to a roaring start. He slams it into gear and shoots away from his spot.

Finally coming out of my stunned silence, I look over at his harsh face, “Where are you taking me, my house is the other way.” I meekly ask.

“I know where your house is, I also know that you have been there all week, even while ignoring me. I’m not taking you there, where you can have the protection of your little pit bull roommate. We’re talking and we will be doing it with no fucking interruptions and no one to help you cower behind a locked door. Here me that, right fucking now.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. Maybe we can just go to the Starbucks around the corner?” Maybe if I had little more conviction he would have taken me seriously. The last place I want to be, is in his space, alone with him.

“Forget that right now. What I have to say to you will not be said around others. Get ready, Princess because I am done playing games. I don’t care if it takes an eternity, you will fucking talk.”

I snap my mouth shut and turn to watch the city fly past him; trying frantically to think of a way out of this; a way to escape. I’m not ready, and I am even more convinced that I might not ever be.

 

*~*~*

 

 

 

(Axel)

 

 

 

My heart feels like it might burst from my chest at any second, just blow up, right out of my body. The pounding of my heart, even booming in my ears as loudly as it is, is doing nothing to disguise the soft sniffling coming from the other side of my truck. As much as I wish I could keep my heart hardened from her, the sound of her crying is tearing me up. I shouldn’t have any compassion left for her; it should have died a long time ago.

I knew from my reaction to seeing her again last Saturday, that this chat wouldn’t be easy. There are still feelings; feelings that I thought were long gone and lost forever; trapped in that box with my heart. This girl ripped my heart to fucking shreds and I never knew why. It would have been quicker if she had stuck around and shot me in the fucking chest. At least I would have died instantly, instead of bleeding out slowly for the last twelve years.

Jesus, I can’t get the image out of my head, of her slender body holding that small excuse for a towel against her chest. When she let it drop from her tight hold, I thought I would swallow my tongue. Her tits were always fucking perfect but to see them like that, with her nipples erect and sporting two hot barbells, I might have shot off in my pants. As much as I wanted to drop to my knees and suck her pert pink nipples into my mouth, I couldn’t help my first thought: that motherfucker had his hands on her. He held her tits in his hands. There was no reasoning with my brain that she wasn’t mine; I saw red.

Those are my fucking tits and she is my fucking girl. It doesn’t matter to my mind that it has been well over a decade since I was able to enjoy them; someone else touched what was mine. If I hadn’t thought she would take off and run again, I would have killed that little shit.

All week I have thought about her. She has been a constant stress that I don’t need when I am trying to get everything in my life in order. Greg and I have been busy enough with all the legal paperwork and issues that keep popping up with the new company. Plus meetings and moving into the office space, then briefings with him and the boys, and consultations with new clients. I don’t have time to be strolling down memory lane.

It wasn’t until Wednesday evening that I remembered Greg coming to talk to me about his friend. Iz, with the threat and husband that did not want to let go. Livid, that would be the first thing I felt. I remember thinking, very briefly, when I first saw her, about the connection but it instantly fled when all hell followed our collision. I need more information and I need it yesterday. I don’t know what kind of threat she is under and I don’t even really know much about her marriage. I assumed for so many years that she was happy I was crushed and pissed because I couldn’t bring myself to barge into her life if she was happy.

Even now, craving answers as fiercely as I do, my main focus is figuring out what is happening with this douche bag. The time to get my answers will come, but first we will be talking about this husband of hers.

I waited for her call yesterday; anticipating some bullshit reason why she wouldn’t be able to meet today. I hadn’t expected her to pull some vanishing act and hide all day. I should have. When lunch rolled around today and I still hadn’t heard from her, I set off for her house. When I got there to find it locked tight and no one home, I was pissed.

I called Greg to see if maybe I could gain one fucking supporter in this fight, he said, “Not getting in this, she knows how I feel and she will talk when she’s ready. I don’t agree with this, but I will support her because she’s my girl.” He was not happy when I blew up in his ear. She is not his goddamn girl. It didn’t matter how many times I asked or straight up demanded, he wasn’t telling me where they were. Imagine my shock when I get a call, not even an hour later from Greg, spitting fire and giving up her location. When I arrived and walked into a tattoo parlor of all places, my rage joined his.

Fuck, those tits looked fucking hot, though.

 

After another five minute drive and sporadic soft sniffles from Izzy and I pull up to the security gate of my house. After entering the code, I pull the truck up my driveway. I feel like I’m looking at the house from a new set of eyes, trying to see how she will view my success. I might be a thirty-one year old man, but even that doesn’t stop me from hoping she sees how far I’ve come; how I have finally taken myself from orphaned and penniless, to this. Part of the plans we had once made together, only this isn’t the one bedroom apartment we had our eyes set on. As much of a douche that it might make me, an even smaller part of me hopes she feels just an ounce of jealousy for how good my life is; how much I was able to accomplish without her in my life.

How laughable the thought. I would have gladly given every single penny to my name away, if it meant I would have had my Izzy with me all these years. But, this Izzy, no. I don’t even know this Izzy.

The house I bought was over the top, I know this, but fuck if I would ever live cramped for space again. I’m sure there are plenty of shrinks that would love to get into my head; plenty of jacked up shit in there. I know why I bought this place and I don’t need anyone to tell me I am making up for my childhood haunts.

We clear the last of the Bradford pears that line my half a mile drive and the house is coming into view. Large and imposing. The deep red bricks almost look black against the night’s sky, the light next to the red double front doors beams bright and cheerful, almost inviting. Again, laughable. The colonial style house is made to be a home, not this farce I have going. The huge front porch looks cozy with the rocking chairs positioned between the large four columns and the flowers look domestic; it is just some huge juxtapose of my life. The outside doesn’t match the inside. The house is just as vacant as I feel right now and I don’t like it at all.

Time to get this over with.

Time to figure out whatever the issue is with her husband and find out what the fuck happened to her.

 

Izzy is still just gazing out her window, but since we are sitting in my dark garage, my guess is this is her attempt at avoiding me. How the hell she plans on doing that when she is in my damn house and unable to leave without me taking her, is beyond me.

I can feel my temper rising. I’m fighting myself for control, control against my own frustrations, control over the pain that has no place in my heart anymore, and control against my raging hard on that seems to be pointing right at Izzy. I have never had this many issues with controlling the situations around me.

She must feel my eyes on her because she finally turns to me.

“What now?” It’s barely a whisper and if I hadn’t been looking at her I might have missed it.

“Get out of the truck; we talk. Simple as that. It only becomes this giant mess of immature games when you become difficult. So, work with me, because I’m sick of fucking playing games.” I think that is nice enough, until the tears start rolling down her velvety cheeks.

Goddammit.

I climb down from the cab and start making my way around the hood to her side, fully expecting to have to pull her out and throw her over my shoulder. But, surprisingly she is waiting next to the door and is clearly pissed about her long climb down.

“This way.” The welcome is just rolling off my words. I’m sure she can feel the vibes choking her. It’s hard to miss when someone would rather be anywhere than with the person they are with. Hard to tell if I would even be going through all this shit if it wasn’t for Greg and his request to help his friend. My gut tells me that I should just leave her alone, forget about her and the answers I crave. My gut is screaming at me to let it die, pass it over to Locke or Coop and pretend I never looked back into those pale green eyes again.

Fat chance of that.

I open the door to the mudroom off the garage and motion for her to enter. The house is dark so she pauses next to the door. Coming in behind her, I enter the alarm code and snap on the light to the kitchen. There are chrome appliances, dark wood cabinets, granite countertops and a whole lot of nothing else. No table, just two bar stools next to the island. It screams welcome home.

I point over to the stool and bark off one word. “Sit.”

She is looking at her feet, doesn’t even attempt to fight me, and sits. I give her a second, she knows why we are here, so hopefully she will just tell me what I need to know without making this a big deal. Ten minutes go by with me looking at her and her wringing her hands together in her lap.

“Talk,” I bark, the sound vibrates off the naked walls.

If I hadn’t been observing her for the last eternity, I might have missed the small jump she takes at my tone. It’s hard to tell if I scared her or if something else is working behind her eyes when she snaps her head up.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” More whispers. Seems like I might need hearing aids for this conversation.

“Well, let’s see. I didn’t drag you down here to give you a tour, I don’t need to catch up on the latest town gossip and I sure as fuck didn’t bring you here for the company, so that just leaves one thing. First, you explain, in detail, what is going on with your husband,” I spit the word out, the bitterness on my tongue is loud and clear, “then you can explain to me what that fucked up package meant. Details, Izzy, this isn’t a game and I tell you this, if it hadn’t been for Greg basically begging me to help you, I would not be doing this.”

It takes her a second; I can see my words working around her mind. She opens her mouth a few times, but words never come out. Right when I start to lose any thread of patience I have left; she finally speaks.

“Can’t someone else do this? Do you have to be the one?” I want to throttle her. Fucking bullshit, Greg will owe me big for this.

“End the high school bullshit. He didn’t ask me personally to take your shit for the hell of it. I’m good at what I do, Izzy. Locke and Coop, sure they could do it but I can do it better. Now, what the fuck?”

She closes her eyes for a few minutes and inhaling deeply, “Brandon, my ex…well, almost ex. We had a…challenging marriage. I left a little over two years ago and moved here. He’s been fighting the divorce.” Didn’t take much of a deduction to guess she was leaving something out, a whole lot of somethings.

“Let me ask you something, Izzy. How do you expect me to look into this, into him, without anything other than you telling me your perfect marriage didn’t work? What, did he cheat on you or something? Finally get enough of living the perfect little life? Tell me, because I just don’t get it. The little I was able to dig up this week makes it look like you had everything your little heart desired. And what I really don’t get—what I really don’t understand is why he won’t just let you go.” Even to my own ears, that comes out harsher than I intended it to.

A little light on this situation would have been nice, because when she bursts into tears and runs off into the darken halls of my house I am completely thrown. Shocked. What in the fucking hell? Grumbling like a fool, I take off to find her.

Almost thirty minutes later, I finally narrow the search. Really it shouldn’t have been this much of a challenge since I have more empty rooms than furniture. This is what I get for buying a six fucking bedroom house I do not need. I look in every room on the main floor, nothing; jogged up the stairs and look in every room, nothing. I finally catch a break when I pass the bedroom next to the stairs, soft crying. I already checked this room and she hadn’t been there. I use this room to store all my old case files, being that all the other rooms except the one I sleep in, are empty she couldn’t pick a better hiding spot.

I finally find her, wedged between two big stacks of boxes. She has completely moused her way between them and turned into herself; legs pulled tight to her chest, and arms wrapped tightly around her body. She is rocking, fucking rocking back and forth.

“Izzy, come out.” I try.

Nothing but soft cries.

“Come on now, get out of there.” And try.

Silence.

“Really Izzy, I’m too fucking big to crawl in there for you. Out.” And try.

I keep going for ten long ass, frustrating minutes with no luck.

Enough of this shit. I start picking up the boxes around her, moving one at a time away from her small ball-like body. Once I have enough cleared that I can touch her, I reach my hand out to pull her up and out. I don’t expect her to throw herself back away from my outstretched hand. She has holed herself up so well that there isn’t much room between her head and the wall. She makes contract with a sick thud.

“Fuck,” I hiss out before scooping her up and carrying her down to my room. Flicking the lights on with my elbow, I walk over to the bed and place her gently down against the mattress before running my fingers through her hair.

Nice lump, stupid girl.