Page 120 of Salvatore

Liv

Catarina sur knows how to make a margajeta. I almost cant remmber the tramua u forcd upon me.

I laugh at the text that comes hours later.

Ivy

Would you like me to remind you?

…because I, unfortunately, can’t forget.

Liv

Ew. STOP IT… But FYI you did look suuper hot whil in the throws. I’m srsly jealous.

Are you comin to join me or what?!

Ivy

Maybe later. I’ve got a wardrobe to sort through.

In reality I’ve already placed the ninety thousand dollars’ worth of clothes into the walk-in closet. I just don’t want to leave the sanctuary of my room and run into Salvatore… Or, more accurately, I’m afraid I’ll see him and trip over my libido, stumbling back toward the fine craftsmanship between his thighs.

Instead I stretch out on my bed, resting my head against the pillow, and stare out my open window.

I’m tired. And it’s not the I-had-a-bad-night’s-sleep-and-have-to-catch-up-on-a-few-Zs type of lethargy.

I’m exhausted to my core. Emotionally drained.

I used to be a social butterfly. Surrounding myself with people was my jam. Now all I want to do is crawl into a hole and hibernate.

To my surprise, being around Liv feels a little overwhelming. I’d thought, while talking to Adena, that I craved company—but turns out I only crave it on my terms. Apart from Liv’s indignation about the whole Salvatore thing, she spent most of the morning scrutinizing me with pitying concern. Now the hollow ache of it lingers, along with the rest of the unpacked trauma boxes in the back of my mind that can’t continue to be ignored.

My life is going to be messed up for a very long time.

I have to place Baltimore in my rear-view. My job. My apartment. My friends.

At least when I’d won the emancipation case, I’d had my cousin to support me, and also my mother when she knew Gabriel wouldn’t find out. But both relationships have long since petered from my life.

Tears sting the back of my eyes.

Goddamnit.I hate being emotional.

I hug my pillow and snuggle my face deeper into its softness. I’m more traumatized than I’d thought.

Maybe having sex with Salvatore and making friends with an imprisoned woman is all because I’m in the middle of a mental snafu. I haven’t even been able to bring myself to call Allison. It’s been more than a month since I heard her voice yet I can’t dial her number because I know she’ll have questions that will require me to relive what I went through.

I squeeze my eyes shut, forcing those mental boxes back to the farthest reaches of my mind.

I’m not ready. Not yet.

But what Idowant is more time with Salvatore. It’s moronic, and reckless, yet I can’t ignore that Ilikebeing around him. Hemakes me feel less alone in a way I’ve never quite felt before, and I think it’s because my life and his have parallels. I understand his world because I’ve lived it. And maybe that’s why he can look at me without pity. Without turning my trauma into something fragile.

A light tapping has my eyes snapping open.

Catarina stands at my open door, the air now smelling of cooked meat and spices. “Sorry to wake you, dolcezza, but dinner is ready and everyone is seated. I thought you might want to join them while it’s still warm.”

I shove upright and swipe the hair from my face. “I fell asleep?”

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