Page 93 of Shameless Expectations

She’d never allowed herself to get close to anyone, and that had left her exactly where she found herself now. Alone. But that wasn’t what she wanted anymore, and Athena had offered to give her exactly what they both needed.

Turning around, Monti headed back to the house, the sun at her back as she found her way to the back deck. The door was closed, but it was unlocked, thankfully, because she’d forgotten her key in her haste to escape.

Athena was inside, a wine glass in her hand and a book on her lap. Monti smiled, warmth threading its way through her as she closed—and locked—the door behind her. She really should have taken Athena up on the offer for dinner out, but she hadn’t thought she would be able to stand people staring at the two of them. And they would stare. They didn’t look like they belonged together at all.

“Hey,” Monti said, sliding into the seat next to Athena and taking Athena’s foot. She started a gentle massage out of habit, using the repetitive pattern to bring herself into this moment and stay here. “Thanks for giving me some time.”

“Didn’t realize that’s what I was doing.” Athena put her book down and snagged her wine glass. “Did you want a drink?”

Monti shook her head. Normally she would have agreed, but not tonight. She didn’t want to stand up again and potentially lose her gumption to do what she’d come in here to do. She was going to take this a step further. She was going to share what needed to be shared.

“Do you need anything?” Monti asked, cursing her habit to avoid her own personal issues. She was so good at it some days.

“No, I’m good. Thank you.” Athena settled her drink onto the ground and hummed when Monti hit a particularly tender spot.

The sound sent a shiver straight through Monti. She could so easily fall into distracting both of them by seducing Athena again. But that didn’t seem like the right choice to make. Monti switched feet. The silence was so comforting. The problem was that Monti knew she had to get uncomfortable in order to do this the right way.

Earlier that day, she’d tried to put Athena’s comfort over her own. She moved her hands up Athena’s calves, digging her thumbs into the tight muscles there. Again, she elicited another moan from Athena.

“You’re so good at that.”

Monti chuckled. “Well, I did study it for years. I wasn’t always good.”

“I’ll have to send your instructor a thank you note.” Athena groaned again, her back arching slightly.

“I’m sure she’d appreciate it.”

“Did you seduce her like you did me?”

Monti tensed. Is that what Athena thought all this was? “I never slept with her, no. And for the record, Athena, I’ve never slept with a client before either—a massage client or a therapy patient.”

“Ah.” Athena didn’t look at her though. And Monti couldn’t tell if she really understood or not.

She’d been told for years during her training and practice that starting a relationship with a client was impossible, and this was why. The power dynamics, the trust—everything was all wrapped up in a formulated relationship. There was nothing natural about this.

“Fallon used to hide us when our dad beat Mom. I didn’t remember that until today, but she used to pull me out of the crib and into the closet to hide.” Monti found every ounce of courage she had and used it to open her eyes and gaze into Athena’s.

What would she see there?

What did she need?

Athena, however, gave her a whole lot of nothing. The pleasure from the massage had gone, and her face wasn’t much more than a simple blank stare.

“I didn’t realize how much I remembered, and it’s difficult to remember it.” Monti moved her hands farther up Athena’s leg, to her thigh. It was an awkward angle to massage in, but she really didn’t want to move either. “I’m not very good at this.”

Monti was going to add more, but when Athena didn’t respond, she struggled to find the words. She’d never thought she’d be met with silence when sharing. It wasn’t something she was used to, but then again, she’d been trained in what to say. Athena hadn’t.

“I assume he was never arrested.”

“He’s dead.”

“Before that.” Athena shifted, wiggling slightly when Monti hit a particularly hard knot along the outside of her thigh.

“I don’t know.” Monti’s brow creased as she thought. “It never came up, and I don’t remember those kinds of specifics. I was young when he died.”

Athena nodded. “Our justice system doesn’t work for the victims.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Monti agreed. “But that sounds like something you can change.”

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