Page 102 of Overcast

She gradually does.

“Do you know what he does for a living?”

She shakes her head.

“Have you known him for a long time?”

I get a noncommittal shrug, and I have no idea what the hell that means, but I move on anyways.

“Has he been...inappropriate?”

Stormi's opulent lips press together, which begins to elevate my frustration.

And here we go with my being off base again.

She owes me nothing, and all I want is more. I won't stop pushing and opening her up.

I can’t let off.

I don’t enjoy the thoughts running through my brain that, at one time, she may have liked it then changed her mind.

“Nod,” I command, shoving away my inner turmoil. “Or shake your head.”

One quick bow of her head and the nails of my fingers are digging into my palms.

I shouldn't be caring about this. I should be interested in this Bianca bitch and what role she has in all this.

But it's in my head now.

That roly-poly son of a bitch did something. And I have a funny feeling I know what that might be.

"The night I found you," I continue, trying to keep my tone as neutral as possible, but my heartbeat is about to break my eardrums. "Did you want to be on that couch?"

She shakes her head.

“And you didn’t want to be touched...the way you were, did you?”

Another swing of her head and my body tightens. The familiar sensation of frenzy clogging my veins and blurring my vision.

I harshly persecuted this fucking girl who was being molested and violated because I thought…

“Stormi,” I caution, my frame on the verge of breaking out into a fighting match with the nearest wall. “Did he...were you...has he raped you?”

Those blue eyes kill me.

They gloss over in unshed tears.

They pierce through my anatomy and to my utter fucking relief, another swivel of her head. I release the pent up exhale I was holding and remove my hands from my pockets, clutching them together to keep my calm.

“Last question.” I take a risk and take a step in her direction. “You really were just there by chance, weren’t you? You’ve never heard of Reagan, you were with Hollis by whatever means, and everything you’ve told me...is true.”

One bob and I fucking lose it.

I’m pivoting on my heels, finally giving in to my impulses to have his dick removed from his body. I feel my knuckles hit drywall, the crumbles falling to the ground as I make my way to the top of the stairs. Right before a small hand swiftly grazes along the cotton of my shirt just for it to disappear as quickly as it came.

I pivot, knowing who it was because who else could it be, and I’m slapped in the face with those damn eyes.

They plead for me to stop and listen to whatever it is that she has to say, but I'm too amped up right now.

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