In the apartment we sit drinking coffee, we don’t talk about what happened, instead, I tell him about Sophie and that I want to help her. I can’t tell him why without explaining about my mother’s injuries. I know that if I tell him Ray is the reason she’s in the hospital he will go back out and find him, drag him to the police station or worse and I know it’s pointless. My mother will never point a finger at him. I already know that she won’t even break up with him after what he’s done. She’ll be angry at me for letting Jake beat him.Such is the twisted logic of my mother.“Isn’t that what your mother does?” he asks gently. I watch him carefully, realizing I’m still scanning his face and hands for injuries obsessively. I’ve been doing it since we walked into the apartment and I still can’t rest at seeing no evidence of any, aside some bruised knuckles. He’s indestructible, like a her

He’s dreaming and acting out in his slumber; sleep walking in a way. I’m confused, disappointed, but also relieved and yet conflicted. He’ll never know what we did, he’ll have no memory of it. I’m not sure if I want this or not. I have no clue what the hell I’m doing, or even thinking.I think about kissing him again, trying to rouse him properly, but don’t. Instead, I slide free and get out of bed, aware of how close I just was to screwing everything up with him. Despite being completely captive to how kissing him felt, as though I’ve broken some line of trust, that I abused him in his sleep, and it makes me feel disgusting and vile. No better than my mother’s perverted lovers and what they did to me. I climb out of bed and get up quickly, in a rush to put distance between us and cool my overheated senses.I wander to the sitting room, shaking. Unsure what to feel. I’m angry and so confused.Why would I kiss

Sophie spends a half hour in the room with my mother as we wait in the hall. Jake has asked me a dozen times if I’m sure about not going in and I glare at him coldly. He clamps his mouth shut and looks away. His jaw tenses in agitation, but he leaves it alone.He just doesn’t get it at all; he has no way to understand my relationship with her when his own mother is everything you could want in a parent. Kind, caring, protective, and loyal. She would move mountains for her sons and is an advocate for abused children across all states. He wouldn’t understand.My mother is the polar opposite. I spent my childhood being her carer, protector, and mother. Fighting off aggressive men she brought home. I bought my baseball bat with money from a news delivery job at eleven and I used it more than once to shield her from overly violent arguments with her current beau. Even at such an early age; my fire and rage uncontrollable. It saved me from advances so many time

The day is tiring, and my hair has endlessly stuck to my face in this humidity. Vegas is hot and dusty and I’m still grumpy and tired. We flew out here right after Sophie was taken away by the care worker and Jake’s mother, Sylvana Carrero. The beautiful, kind goddess, who looks so alarmingly like her son, but in a very feminine way. I love her in every way; anytime I meet her, she has this easy charm and stunning green eyes and the ability to put you at ease, much like he does.I fought tears when hugging Sophie goodbye; our time together so short, yet she has come to mean so much to me. Jake bought her a new cell and pre-set both of our numbers and emails into it as a parting gift, that way we can always stay in touch and she knows we will be there if she needs us. We are to be her eternal guardians in life, and I know that from this day on, I will always be in Sophie’s story. We have a bond like no other. We understand each other.“Want to try th

In the car he lays me down flat on my back and pulls off my shoes, cradling my feet in his lap with warm sensual hands kneading them softly, avoiding conversation or eye contact; I nestle my head against the door to stop the world spinning.His hands are exquisite on my ankles and feet and it feels better than good; no one’s ever taken my shoes off like this. No one has ever just run soft fingers over my feet at all, the way he’s doing now. He’s gentle and attentive, something most people would not expect of Jake Carrero. Handsy, but not in a sleazy way, not really, despite all his jokes and sexual innuendos. He just always makes me feel safe.“Why are you stealing my shoes?” I mumble playfully, trying not to squirm in case he stops. “I like those shoes.” I’m angling for humorous Jake, flirty Jake. I like arguing with him, he’s always funny; I don’t like this silent, pondering version, even though I’m sure h