Page 63 of Property of Chaos

“Not to save you any dinner,” I sass.

He sighs, his legs dropping off the side of my bed in my periphery. “I said to make me your arm of justice.”

He did.“So?”

“Does that tell you I think you’re not worth it?”

“It tells me you have psychotic urges that my issues help you to fulfill.”

He drops before me, crouched on bent legs.

I peek at his face and find the fucker grinning.

“There’s so much fight in you, yet you continually try to quit. Why?”

“Because it hurts to keep going,” I confess. “Because sometimes I wonder how much more I can take, and sometimes I think I’ve already reached that point.”

He reaches for me slowly, as though wary he could spook me if he moved too fast. His hand cups my jaw, and a rough yet tender thumb wipes the tears from my cheek. “You don’t need to cry.”

“Yes, I do.”

He frowns. “It insinuates you’re ashamed of your wounds, Vanessa. Your scars are proof you survived. It shows they couldn’t destroy you. Be proud of that.”

“I am,” I whisper. “But I still need to shed some tears, Chaos.”

“Why?” He pulls his hand away, hanging both between his knees as he studies me.

I chuckle, swiping at my face with the back of my hand. “I’m guessing you’ve never let yourself cry, then.”

“No.” His brow furrows, lips curled in slight amusement. “What makes you say that?”

“Otherwise, you’d know it’s cathartic.”

TWENTY-FOUR

CHAOS

She holds a finger between us,head turning to face away as her chin dimples and tears pool in her eyes again. “Give me a minute.” Vanessa swallows, nostrils flaring. “Go make yourself a coffee or something. I’ll come join you shortly.”

“Not going anywhere.” I flop back to land on my ass, kicking my legs out either side of her. “You do what you need to.”

Her brilliant eyes widen. “I can’t do this if you’re there.”

“Why not?” Have I ever given her reason to think she needs to be anything other than herself with me?

“Because…” Her tears dry up, emotions quickly shifting to frustration. “It’s just… I mean…” She sighs, head slamming back against the wall. “You won’t get it.”

“I get you’re hurting,” I say, running my fingers up the bare line of her calf. “And I get you need release. But there are other ways to do it.”

Her gaze drops to where I touch her, and she sniffles, wiping at her nose. “Of course.”

“Of course, what?” I use both hands to massage her thigh.

“It’s about sex. It always is with men.” Her face falls; I’m losing her.

“It’s not aboutjustthe sex,” I clarify. “It’s about the endorphins the sex releases. It’s about remembering that you’re worthy of love and affection as you are. That no matter how shit the day is, your body knows how to make you feel good.”

“It’s a lie,” she snaps, holding my gaze with fire in her eyes. “Because when that high ends, the bullshit is still there.”

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