Page 85 of Hold Still

McKenna

WHEN I ENTEROzzy’s house, Bans rushes to me, tail wagging. My body stiffens, but I force air through my lungs and say her name, followed by “Sit.” She does, looking up at me with those soulful eyes—begging to be pet.

I reach out and pet her head, then drop a bit lower to scratch behind her ears, earning a lick on my cheek. Maybe she isn’t so scary after all.

“Come on, Bans. Let’s go find your owner.”

My heart constricts. Can I have him and still handle all my responsibilities? My mind returns to the parole board hearing, for which no decision has been rendered. If they were going to let Matt out, I’m sure I would’ve heard already. Right?

Passing the stairs leading to still-unseen bedrooms, I remember Ozzy’s prodding at my back entrance. The images I pushed away yesterday float through my brain—Matt and I having anal sex a handful of times. Because he raved about it, I gritted through the pain. Being high helped. Now clean, I wonder if even Ozzy can turn my experience around.

Shaking out those old memories, I pop my head into the music room, but Ozzy’s not here. In fact, he’s not inside the house at all. I check out the patio and no, he’s not in the pool either. I settle in the living room and cue up the graphics for the Project. I puff up. I’m about finished, and need his approval to make the final touches.

Ozzy’s baritone bounces off the walls. “Bans!” The dog races from her spot at my feet to greet her true owner at the front door. Strolling into the living room, he carries a bunch of packages, which he deposits onto the couch when he sees me. He opens his arms wide and I walk straight into him, inhaling the musky scent that’s one hundred percent him.

“Been here long, Dulcita?”

I shake my head against his chest. “About an hour.”

I tilt my head back and his finger smooths the crease between my eyebrows. “What’s this frown for?”

Not wanting to reveal anything about Matt and the parole hearing, I incline my head toward the bags. “Shopping?”

He gives me a searching look, to which I smooth my features, and he sighs. “I went to check out a tattoo parlor nearby but got sidetracked by the Harley shop. Got you a new helmet.” He releases me and holds up a badass helmet.

“A bald eagle?” I ask, referencing the picture depicted on it.

“Fearless. Independent. Like you.”

“Well, when you say it like that,” I reply, a huge grin stealing across my face.

“And you’re going to need to be.” He pulls out a magazine and flips it open, then holds it up for me to see. It’s a photo of Ozzy and me after his concert the other night—Ozzy’s shirtless and sweaty from performing and I’m smiling up at him.

I take a deep breath. “Oh.”

His finger taps on the caption. “They spelled your name right, at least.”

I read the short text that, indeed, does spell my name right and calls me his newest flame. “Our relationship was bound to come out.”

“Yeah. I’m surprised it took this long.”

How do I feel about it? It’s relatively innocuous. So long as I keep him compartmentalized in my life, this can work. I hope. “So, I’m your flame, huh?”

He touches my shoulder and makes a sizzling noise. Shaking his finger, he teases, “Hot.”

Then, he unveils another bag. This one is from Edie Z’s Chocolates. Forgetting about the magazine, I snatch the candy from his hands and wave a peanut butter confection under his nose. “I’m certainly fearless enough to steal your candy.” I pop the chocolate into my mouth, punctuating its utter perfection with a moan.

Ozzy takes the bag out of my hands. “Enough. The only time I want to hear that sound coming out of your mouth is when I’m deep inside of you.” I moan again for good measure. “Which I will be in less than a minute if you don’t stop.”

Glancing at the clock, I see it’s still early. Plus, it’s been too long since we’ve been together—at least twelve hours. Swallowing the last bit of the candy, I give him an exaggerated moan.

“That’s it.”

He grabs me by my waist and proves he’s a man of his word.

DRESSED AGAIN, WEsit on the couch and Ozzy watches the presentation I designed for his songs. I take notes while he absorbs it, in full, for the first time. When the last song finishes, I press stop.

I don’t have to wait long for his evaluation. “That was award-winning.”

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