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“No, I really, actually do. I was a junkie. I stole money from my family to buy drugs. I treated them like shit. The night of my crash I had a fight with my dad.” I clear my throat, which is choking me. “He wanted me to go to rehab. I refused. I left the house in the middle of the night, high and drunk, on my bike.” I swallow hard. “He chased me down the driveway and had a heart attack. That was the night he died. Because ofme. My mother found him in the fucking driveway. I choked someone to death without a second thought. Once a month I go to private fight rings and let people punch the crap out of me; then I beat them to a pulp and walk out with a pile of cash I don’t even want. I ride around with masks on and stare at people at red lights. I hide in the woods and scare the shit out of hikers. I’m a fucked-up freak.”

And let’s not forget how I used to fuck the crazy fans in the alley after the fights, with my rubber horror mask on, blood from my battered face leaking out from beneath it and running down my neck and chest. How the fear in their eyes, and my blood smeared on their ripped clothes fueled all the fires of hate and dysfunction in my drugged-out mind as a nameless and faceless fetish fuck.

Her body trembles as she listens to my tirade. “You saved my life. You make beautiful jewelry. You help save lost animals. You decorate Christmas trees, and created a myth for little kids to love…”

All of that should make me feel better, but it doesn’t. Not when the reflection of my father chasing me in the mirror of my bike is branded into my brain along with hazy memories of being a deviant pig.

“So the fuck what?” My self-hatred has joined our little get-together on the blanket and has no problem rearing its ugly head.

“Maybe you did some bad things, but you’ve done a lot of good things, too.”

So many bad and ugly things. Things that would make her never want to look at me again.

“That doesn’t change the shit I did. Nothing can change that. Ever. Good doesn’t erase bad.”

“No, but you don’t have to punish yourself. You’re a good person. You saved and kept Poppy. You took care of Boomer and kept him. You taught me how to drive. You gave me a phone and soft blankets. You’re my best friend. Every day you take care of me, you let me see Poppy, you make sure I’m safe, you make me feel special.”

“Maybe that doesn’t make me a good person, Holly. Maybe that makes me a person who’s just obsessed with the first person to give me any amount of attention. Or maybe I just like to collect things as messed up as I am.”

Her face falls, and I immediately want to eat my obnoxious words, which couldn’t be more untrue. Hurting her, this one little gem in my life, is unacceptable.

My psychiatrist’s words echo through my mind.Fear of trust. Fear of intimacy. Fear of giving and accepting love. Social and familial avoidance. Extreme self-loathing. Low self-worth. Unnatural focus on physical appearance. Drug addict. Severely depressed. Repressed memories. Deviant sexual behavior. Self-harm risk. Possible danger to others.

She tries to sit up, and I put my arm around her waist and hold her down, ignoring the terrified stare she pins on me.

“No. I’m not letting you run off.” I lower my voice and loosen my grip on her waist. “I didn’t mean what I said.” She turns her head away from me, a tear sliding down her cheek, and she stares blankly off into the distance. I can see her shutting down, running to the safe space in her head where she can slam everything out. Including me.

Fuck.

“Holly… I’m sorry. It’s hard for me to talk about my father and my past. It makes me want to just hurt myself and anyone around me. It fucks my head up, but I’m trying to be better.”

Silence.

“I care about you. And not for any other reason than you’re beautiful and sweet and captivating and every day is better with you in it.” I touch the side of her head and gently turn her to face me. “You make me feel a little bit less messed up, and you make me want tobeless messed up.”

“Really?” she squeaks.

“Really. You make me smile every day. Even when you’re not here.”

If I wasn’t lying so close to her, I never would have heard her next words. “You make me feel that way, too.”

She sniffles, her eyes showing a glimmer of a sparkle, and all I want is to see her smile at me again. I brush my thumb across her cheek to wipe her tear away. The intimate touch causes atiny gasp to escape her. My barriers snap, and I lean down and cover her lips with mine, my hand moving to cradle the back of her neck, my fingers sliding through her hair, like it has in my dreams a thousand times. My tongue sweeps over her lips, and when they part in surprise, I slip inside, tasting her, coaxing her to open up to me. Her hand tightens on my shoulder, her nails digging slightly into my flesh. Taking that as a sign of passion, I roll my body closer to hers, half covering her, and grip the back of her neck, kissing her deeper.

I’m lost in our kiss, the delicious taste of her lips, her soft curves fitting perfectly against my body, shaking…

Shaking.

My eyes snap open to find hers staring back at me, wide with shock and panic, which only makes my cock throb harder in tune to my pounding heart. My fingers tighten in her hair, the locks laced through my fingers like silk ribbons. I can’t let go. I lean down, craving more of her, needing her lips on mine again, wanting to feel her racing heartbeat against my chest ’til it nearly explodes and then calms to a soft, lulling beat. I want to feel it all.

Her hand releases its grip on my arm and falls to the ground beside her with a faint thud, and her head turns to the side again, but not before I see the emotionless, disconnected canvas of her stare.

Reality shatters the moment, which wasn’t the moment I thought it was at all, and I slowly pull away from her. My ring catches on her hair, and I quickly untangle it while she lies there, completely detached.

“Sorry…” My voice growls with repressed desire. “I thought…” What did I think?

She rises slowly, pulling her knees up against her chest, and pulls the blanket up over her. Sensing her mood, Poppy crawls to her side and nudges his head under her hand.

In a matter of seconds, I fucked everything all up. I scared her. Tore her safety net from beneath her. Repulsed her.