Page 64 of The Masks We Break

And that’s what we do. But at least we enjoy watching the sexy anime Levi slay some Titan.

TWENTY NINE

Remy paces back and forth in front of my TV, our movie long forgotten as she finally gathered up the energy to tell me about her meeting with the professor. “It was him this entire time, Blaze. He made me mourn alone every year, left me to think I was the one that took her away from him—from us. That Imurderedher.” Her voice breaks as she clenches her fists, eyes glossy but with anger rather than sadness.

I sit on the edge of the couch, a strong desire to grasp her in my arms and take away the pain coursing through her. I know firsthand the frustration and overwhelming weight of a parent. Their heavy expectations made of hypocrisy that looms overhead waiting to crush you. But instead of reaching out, I let her work through it, watching a breakdown morph into a revelation. Into strength.

“I’m done, Blaze. I’m done caring or wanting to be a good daughter to him. He doesn’t deserve that. Or me.” She stops moving, her hard gaze landing on me as she makes her conviction known. “He doesn’t even look up long enough to see me anyway. I doubt he’ll even know I’m gone.”

“Gone?”

She nods slowly, taking a few steps toward me. “When I have all my ducks in a row, and I figure everything out, I’m severing my ties. I’ve worked so hard to find his godforsaken path, but I’m ready to get lost in the woods to find my own.”

A humorless laugh spills from her mouth, and it forces the lingering tears to tip over the edge and stream down her soft face.

I pull her into my arms, rocking her slightly as her strained laughter dies and twists into sobs. “Want to get lost with me?”

“Of course, and I’ll burn the forest to the floor if it means you find your way faster,” I whisper it into her hair. And I mean every word.

After a few breaths, and when her chest regulates to a normal pace, I lead her to my bedroom. I knock away our homework we left littered on the bed and lay her down, climbing in behind her. It only takes a few minutes of my humming and strokes on her hair before soft snores fill the space.

She is so much stronger than she realizes.

Ever since I’ve gotten to know her in high school, her plate has always been full. In retrospect, I can assume that perhaps it was a coping mechanism. Something to keep her mind busy so she didn’t succumb to all the shit creeping in the dark, waiting to drag her under. How she’s managed to stay on top of it all while maintaining her level of mental stability is a real show of her strength.

I wish she could see that and stop being so hard on herself.

Part of me wonders if she’d let me show her.

It isn’t until hours later when I allow my hand to move, and stroke the top of her hair softly that Remy stirs, her eyes fluttering open. I reach for her glasses on the table but she stops me, pulling me by the collar of my T-shirt. “Hey.”

“Hello, puppet.”

“What time is it?”

I glance at the time. “Three a.m.”

“Hmmm, plenty of time then.” She releases my shirt, threading her hand through my hair and dragging me to her face. Her kiss is deep and sensual, sending sparks of arousal down my spine.

I’m finding it interesting when she takes control. It’s cute in a way, but it has every nerve in my body begging for me to show her what real control is. I pull away slightly, smiling at her whimpers of protest. “Do you trust me?”

Her eyes widen, her ears perking up with her smile. “You know I do.”

“Good girl.”

I reach over to the other bedside table and open the drawer, looking for some things I’d picked up, hoping she likes them. First, I pull out the satin blindfold and hold it up in question.

She clamps into her bottom lip and nods, taking it from me. “What do you have planned?”

Smirking, I take out the soft wrist cuffs. “Plenty, if you let me. I want to try some things with you, learn your likes and mine together.”

Her chest rises and falls faster, her hazel eyes widening. “I’d love that.”

A warmth spreads through me, a welcome feeling as I bare my dark insides to her, thankful she doesn’t run for the hills. I unfasten the cuff, jutting my chin toward her torso. “Shirt.”

She wastes no time, yanking the oversized Scooby-Doo shirt over her head and letting it drop to the floor. She didn’t wear a bra, so her chest is exposed, her nipples hardened little peaks.

“Wrists.”

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