Page 14 of Off-Limits

His place.

It’s just as I remembered. Immaculate. Clean. Masculine. And it still smells like him. Inhaling a shuddering breath, the hint of his cologne lingers in the air, and I force my legs to cross over into Damon’s apartment.

The floorboards creak beneath my feet as if in objection. Like they sense I’m not him. Shaking the silly thought from my mind, I move toward Arrie’s bedroom. There is no fucking way I can sleep in his room.

But when I move past his bedroom, the door’s slightly ajar, my steps falter, and I can’t stop myself from peering through the crack. I glance over my shoulder as if expecting him to jump out from behind the black leather couch with that stupid, handsome smirk on his face.

Telling me he caught me looking in his room without permission.

Caught me spying.

My pussy clenches at the thought.

Stupid traitorous whore.

Shaking my head, I kick my ass into gear and force myself to keep walking toward Arrie’s room.

It’s a struggle, but I manage.Just.

Opening her bedroom door, I’m met with a pink-and-purple clusterfuck. How Damon agreed and allowed her to make this room whatever the fuck it is, I will never understand.

Throwing my bags on the floor, I kick my shoes off and launch myself onto her single pink bed. On her nightstand is a picture of her and Uncle Damon laughing, and one of me and her sitting on his Harley with a sidecar at the front of Bondi Beach. I didn’t have many good memories growing up, but the ones I have with Arrie are so special to me.

If I didn’t have Arrie and this space, this sanctuary away from the cesspool of a house I grew up in, I don’t know where I would be now. Releasing a deep sigh, I move and link my hands under my head.

I know I have to see my parents eventually, and I’m not looking forward to it, but for now, in this moment, I allow myself to feel. The hurt, rejection, pain and abandonment are deep seated, and I wonder if I will ever allow myself to be vulnerable with anyone again.

I swore to myself all those years ago, that I wouldn’t ever put myself in a position where I wasn’t in control again, but where has that landed me? Alone. Lying on my cousin’s bed in her childhood bedroom, pondering my life choices and trauma.

Sitting up, I push my purple hair behind my ears that’s fallen from my messy bun and fix the paintbrush I keep there. My fingertips itch with the need to paint; the urge tobury myself in my art so I can shuck the responsibilities and the reason I am here again.

Barrenridge.

I’ve wanted out of here since I could remember, yet here I fucking am. My parents aren’t going to welcome me with open arms, and I sure as shit aren’t expecting much of anything from them.

There is no love lost between us. I made sure of that.

But the little girl inside of me - the people-pleaser, the quiet one who only ever wanted to be loved—bangs on the inside of my chest. I need to remind myself that girl died a long fucking time ago, and in her wake, a hard edged, outspoken and creative being was born.

Me.

My body feels hot, and my stomach roils while my heart beats frantically. I’m on the verge of a panic attack, I can feel it, but I won’t allow that weakness to swallow me.

Breathing in a deep breath, I exhale slowly, repeating the motion. With each inhale and exhale, Damon’s scent envelops me to the point of asphyxiation. How did I think I could stay here?

I need to get out of here.

But just as I stand up and my feet dig into the fluffy pink rug, my phone vibrates. Closing my eyes, I count to ten and pull it from my pocket.

Tin Man.

Are you still angry with me, Blossom?

The perfect distraction.

Closing out of the message, I run myself a bath and search the apartment for a nightcap. I’m going to need the Dutch courage if I’m to let my walls tumble down and allow the TinMan to wrangle my thoughts and make me forget. Even if it’s superficial and meaningless, for tonight it will have to do.

He said I make him feel selfish, well, it seems he does the same to me.