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CHAPTER

TWO

DEMI

Luna and I are sitting in the lounge chairs on her and Kodiak’s back deck, I’m sipping on a margarita and she’s downing water in order to stay hydrated.

Texas heat is no joke, and it will easily zap what little energy you have, causing you to be lethargic if you aren’t paying attention to your body.

It’s even more important now than ever with her being pregnant. While I will never claim to be knowledgeable in that area, I’m sure that dehydration is something that she shouldn’t deal with and I make a mental note to make sure she gets some of the drinks with electrolytes in them as well.

We’re going through her upcoming release schedule for her planned and outlined books. One of them, the plot in particular, captures my attention and I glance over at her, raising my eyebrows.

“What?” she asks, shifting uncomfortably in her seat, avoiding my leering stare.

“What’s this, Luna? Are you seriously going to write this?”

“Absolutely,” she deadpans, keeping her fingers busy by peeling off the label of her water bottle.

“Luna, look at me, girl, and tell me why you want to write this,” I insist.

“Because it happens, Demi. Women need to be more aware and cautious of who is in their company as well as their surroundings, even when it comes to those they think they can trust,” she adamantly says in rebuttal, jabbing her pointer finger into the glass top of the table.

“It does happen,” I whisper, my past always coming back to haunt me no matter how many times I attempt to brush it under the rug. “I was so fucking ignorant and foolish.”

Guilt swamps me once again when I remember the night I’d rather forget. I should be able to trust my coworkers but sadly, I was mistaken.

“You weren’t!” she hisses, twisting around so she can see me.

“You weren’t, Demi. You worked with this team day in and day out, you never would’ve suspected that they’d drug you, rape you, and threaten you.

They earned your respect and it’s not your fault that they were wolves disguised in sheep’s clothing. ”

“I should’ve known better, Luna.” I shrug my shoulders, my eyes glued to the plotline for ‘Broken Trust’. “The title is catchy. What’s the tagline going to be for this one?”

“A woman’s road to forgiveness,” she murmurs.

I snort, thinking there’s no way in hell I’ll ever find forgiveness for them. No way, no how. Which I voice to her and she reaches out, grabs my hand, and peers through my eyes—directly into my soul.

“Luna,” I whisper, fighting off tears. “Don’t.”

“You don’t have to forgive them for what they did to you, Demi, but you do need to forgive yourself.

Put the blame where it belongs, on them.

They were the wrongdoers, not you. Give yourself some grace, and look around you, find the strength of others to help you through that process.

Hell, if it helps, get fucking angry at how they violated you.

Not just physically but also emotionally, my friend.

You trusted them, Demi, and they took a big steaming shit on it.

We love you, girlie. Always and forever.

” Her words trail off toward the end as she wipes away the stray tears from her cheeks.

“Love you too, my Luna,” I choke out behind my silent sob. “I can’t promise absolution for myself, but I will try. For you.”

“No, Demi,” she argues. “It all has to be for you. Not for me, not for Conan, and not for the brothers, but for yourself. Do this for you, Demi. You deserve a future. A happy one.”

“I am happy,” I fib, something my life has been since the day I met her—an outright lie.

I’ve faked every single smile outside of the ones I give her.

I have one heck of a poker face, a mask I’ve worn since that horrid, traumatic day when my dad walked away from me after dropping me off on the sidewalk.

So easily discarded— that should be the ongoing punchline for my life.

“You’re not,” she disagrees. “But I’ll be damned if we don’t get you there.”

“You keep using the words ‘we’ and ‘us’ , Luna,” I point out, not wanting to drag anyone down into the pits of hell with me where I have a permanent address.

I’ve resided there so long that I probably have a pile full of mail there waiting for me to pick up.

That has my lips curling up slightly, imagining showing up to have the devil himself haul out a huge bag full of envelopes and shitty magazines.

“Demi, don’t pretend to be dense,” Luna hisses. “It’s not a pretty look for you, and you know we’re a team. Now, that includes Kodiak and Conan.”

I bristle when she names the last one because that man has become a thorn in my side.

He’s always there and never gives me any peace.

If he’s not in my face, his belongings are.

It’s pissing me off to the point where I’m ready to start tossing his shit out of the window and changing the locks, adding an extra deadbolt or two to keep him out of my abode.

He just doesn’t know when to quit!

“What are you talking about? I’m a badass, gorgeous… a heartbreaker,” I tack on at the end of my list of attributes.

My self-esteem issues when it pertains to my looks aren’t in question, my psyche however, is.

I’m damaged beyond repair, and when someone is as broken as I am, there’s no coming back from it.

Especially when that came about at as young of an age as I was when the—ordeal, for lack of a better word, started.

“Now you’re being obtuse,” she sighs, slumping in her chair as if dealing with me is a hardship.

Which to give her credit, it is .

I’m not an easy person to love. I know that for a fact because outside of my dad and Luna, nobody ever has.

Not truly. I’ve had lovers that wanted me to believe they did, but when I pushed them away, they didn’t fight for me, not really.

A few brush-offs and they were gone with the snap of my fingers.

Easy.

As.

That.

When I tried that technique on Luna when we first met, she laughed at me.

No seriously, she laughed in my face and rolled her eyes at me.

She was like a damn leech, adhering herself to me for life .

Now, I wouldn’t know what to do without her—she’s become an extension of me, and I am an extension of her.

Where you see one of us, you’ll usually find the other.

We’re as thick as thieves, magnetically connected.

Sisters from another mister.

I’m not sure anyone would find my company worthwhile without her in it. She’s the one who draws people to her, her light shines brightly around her, making others want to be her friend. I’m her tagalong, and I’m okay with that because I trust her intuitions, they far exceed my own.

“Demi!” she shouts, snapping her fingers in front of my face. “Where did you go?”

“Down memory lane,” I answer, smiling so she doesn’t linger on that subject and dissect it. She would’ve made a fantastic therapist. “Good memories, Luna. All about you and me, and the way we levitated toward each other when we met.”

“You certainly didn’t make it easy,” she mutters.

“Nothing worth having ever is,” I counter, my tone earnest but sobering. “Have I told you how much I love you today, sis?”

“You have, but I don’t mind hearing it over and over again,” she chuckles. “Reminds me how important you are in my life, Demi.”

“Okay, enough of the heavy shit. Let’s get back to business,” I suggest, unsure how much more weight my heart can take today without descending into chaos.

Tapping my finger against the computer screen, I clear my throat, focusing on the task at hand.

“When are you putting this one up for preorder?”

“Not until I see how far I can get into it without breaking down into a sobbing mess,” she conveys. “I’m aware this one hits close to home and may get the better of me, and that’s not taking into account these hormones. I’m prepared for that, but I can’t help but worry how it’ll affect you.”

I bob my head, understanding where she’s coming from.

I’m her proofreader. I scan each line, looking for plot holes, misspelled words—because sometimes her brain runs faster than her fingers so she loses an ‘E’ or an ‘I’ at times or uses the wrong their, there, and they’re or something to that degree.

I also ensure she doesn’t miss an arc from one book to the next.

Gotta keep those storylines flowing!

Everything needs to be tied into a pretty bow for readers or they’ll protest.

Vehemently.

To make sure neither of us forget, since she’s more of a pantser than a plotter, I started doing spreadsheets with the important details, such as character names, including any kids that are born or expected, plus the overwhelming themes of that particular book.

That way, if a storyline arcs over from one book to another, I can remind her that she still has a bad guy in the dungeon, or she left her heroine in labor.

I’ve read a few of her incoming emails so I know how vicious some reviewers can be when they don’t get the answers they’re expecting.

I can dig that, don’t keep me hanging folks or my claws come out!

I’m of the same mentality as they are.

Cliffhangers suck, story arcs can make you want to pull your hair out by the roots, desperately wanting the next book in the series, a-s-motherfucking-p, but as Luna’s proofer I’ve come to the undeniable conclusion that at times, they are a necessary evil.

Still don’t like it, but I get it.

“I’m a tough nut to crack, Luna,” I remind her. “I can handle it.”

“I’m going to dig into the heart of the matter, Demi,” she warns.

“I still say I can handle it, Luna,” I swear.

“Write it with me,” she offers, begs, asks, or whatever this is.

“Have you lost your ever-loving mind, Luna?”

“No. I haven’t. Seriously, Demi, you lived through this and I could use your perspective.”

“You have. You’ve lost it… completely, Luna.”

“Think about it?” she asks, shooting me her puppy dog eyes.

“I’ll think about it,” I mumble.

“Think about what?” the bane of my existence asks, coming out of the woodwork like the roach he is. I swear if the zombie apocalypse hit and the world was annihilated by nuclear weapons to eradicate the undead, he would survive just like those icky bugs will.

“Nothing,” I snap.

“Writing a book with me,” Luna answers at the same time.

“Is nothing sacred anymore?” I inquire, pouting as I give her the stink eye.

Luna rolls her eyes and answers, “When it needs to be, Demi, but that isn’t one of those cases.”

“Whatever,” I whisper. “What-the-fuck-ever.”