Page 49 of Because of the Dar

"My mother got sick when I was fifteen. It was just the two of us. She could no longer work her two jobs, and I had to find a way to help out. I was working at a diner for a while. I took on every shift I could get, but between school and taking care of her, it was never enough. We constantly got our power shut off, or Kiwi's grandmother had to bring us food."

Instinctively, I pull her into me and place a kiss on the top of her head. No wonder she and Kiwi are so close.

"When I was sixteen, I started working at The Pole. I had dropped out of school the year before."

The Pole?

The name speaks for itself. I stop dead in my tracks, and my arm drops from her shoulders as she keeps walking. All I can do is gape at her. King holds my gaze, and my brain fires off one signal after another for me to turn around. Leave. Screw feeling alive. I had too much fucked-up shit in my past. This is my fresh start. But I can't. I'm already in too deep with this girl I know barely anything about—something that will change very soon.

She reaches for my hand. When her fingers make contact, my heart skips a beat. Feeling her skin against mine, her soft palm against my calloused one, there is no way I can walk away from her. After she drags me along for several feet, my legs finally start moving on their own again.

"The Pole was an exclusive strip club. Men had to drop half their paycheck to get in, but with that, they also got certain perks."

Jesus Christ, I'm going to be sick.

"I was one of E's best dancers, which was why I was solely on stage. The other girls had to work the floor as well as dance. I never did."

Thank you, Lord.

King doesn't look at me as she talks. "Almost two years ago, one night after a double shift, I forgot my phone at the club. It was in the middle of the night, and I should've simply left it there, but I had the next night off, and I didn't want to be without it for that long. I didn't notice until I was almost home. Kiwi was expecting my text, so I had to drive all the way back to get it. I didn't want to worry him. When I got to the club, E's car was there. He had left earlier, and I knew something wasn't right."

When she stops her recap, I peer at her sideways, not having the guts to face her head-on. It's obvious she'd rather forget the memory.

"If you'd look up the wordcreepin the dictionary, you'd find Isaiah Ellis's picture. He's everything you imagine a sleazy strip club owner to be: tall, scrawny but with a keg belly, ash-brown hair with a receding hairline, neon parachute joggers, and a white wife beater."

"Did he—?" I can't bring myself to form the words.

King understands immediately and rushes out, "No."

I exhale a sigh of relief, which is quickly replaced by another wave of nausea.

"But it seems I was the only one he didn't touch."

"WHAT?" My outburst makes several birds around us take flight.

King pivots toward me and takes my other hand as well. We stand in the middle of the wooded walkway, and she studies me. "Do you want me to continue?"

No. Yes. No. Fuck!

Instead of responding, I slowly lean in and press my lips to hers. There is nothing sexual behind the kiss, not like the first time, just the slightest bit of pressure. King's soft lips part, and I let go of her hands, framing her face and deepening the connection. My heart rate accelerates, and I pull her into me until our bodies are flush against each other. Heat spreads all the way to my toes, and as King's tongue seeks entry, I break the kiss. Her lids are hooded, and I have to take a step back to not crash my mouth to hers again. I didn't mean for that to happen. This is as much for her as it is for me—a way to test me. Do I want her to continue? Do I feel…somethingfor her?

I interlace our fingers and answer her question. "Yes."

She dips her chin, and we start walking again.

"I can stop anytime." Her fear of me pushing her away for whatever is coming is audible in her plea.

"Okay."

I almost think she has changed her mind when she speaks.

"As I said, apparently I was the only one he didn't touch." She draws in a slow breath. "Walking into the club that night, I knew something was off. No one should've been there. The Pole closes at three, and it was almost four. But the music was blaring through the speakers, and even the lights were on. When I got inside, I heard a girl…"

My hand involuntarily grips hers tighter, but she doesn't indicate that I'm hurting her. She's miles away, wherever this club was located.

"I…I went to check out what was going on—the sounds coming from the main room…"

"Keep going." I get the picture.

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