Page 125 of The Heat of Us

Dad made a motion like he was about to reach out and touch me but faltered. He stared at a spot on the ground between us. “I really messed up. With what happened in that facility.”

I’d never heard so much emotion in his voice before and I choked back the hot pricking sensation in my eyes.

“You…you were very hurt. It wasn’t ok.”

A tear slid down my face. I knew it was his way of apologising. He didn’t have the right words but I understood.

“Thank you, Dad.”

He finally met my eyes. Despite his honesty, the gulf between us only felt wider. Filled with more unspoken words that two lifetimes could not encompass.

“I have never stopped worrying about you.”

I knew it should’ve been cathartic. But his words broke my heart all over again.

44

HAZEL

My mother was a poison.

She had a way of invading my thoughts. Sticky black murk clouding my judgement and staining every choice.

Knowing that she was behind the threat to expose me meant my profile wasn’t in jeopardy at all. My panty-selling method was secure and there was no stalker subscriber who went too far.

I should’ve started posting again.

I wanted to start posting again.

But now that I knew she was watching me…

I couldn’t fucking do it.

Even though that was giving her exactly what she wanted.

I stared at the door to my filming nest and couldn’t even bring myself to open it.

The blanketing warmth of a low blaze hugged me from behind.

“Talk to me,” Remy said comfortingly.

I closed my eyes and let his scent wash over me. I could taste the whisky, pulled from a bottle as we traded secrets. Kept them safe within the quiet of a million undying stars.

“It all feels tainted,” I finally said.

“Why does it feel tainted?”

“Knowing she can see what I’m doing.” I bit down on my back teeth hard. “And judging me.”

Remy was making little loops on the back of my hand with his fingers, the smooth, repetitive motion centring me. “When you think about making content, does it feel like a chore? Or is it more like you have ideas but there’s this roadblock?”

“Definitely the second. A scary-ass Jesus-loving Chinese mother of a roadblock,” I groaned.

“Would it help if you didn’t show your body?”

I drew back, confused. “What do you mean?”

Wasn’t that the whole purpose of my profile?

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