Page 27 of Pieces of Me

If only for a second.

And now I have that.

“There’s nothing wrong with holding on to a piece of the past,” she whispers, her mouth so close to mine I can feel her breaths warm every inch of me. With my eyes closed, I lower my hands from her waist to her bare thighs, gripping tightly so I can adjust us until she’s straddling my lap. She’s hot between her legs, and she pushes down on my cock, moaning as her hands find my hair.

I let out a groan while my hands splay against her back, bringing her closer. Holding her tighter. I run my nose along her jaw. Nuzzle her neck. Inhale her into my lungs. God, what I wouldn’t give—

I stop my thoughts there.

This is so fucked up.

And I wish I could pinpoint the motivation behind what we’re doing, but I can’t.

I rear back, just enough to see her face clearly. “What are you doing here, Jamie?”

Eyebrows bunched, she says, “I told you. I did the puzzle, and—”

“Bullshit,” I cut in, loosening my hold on her. “Even if that’s true, it’s not enough of a reason to drive all the way here.”

Jamie shrugs, her gaze falling. “Maybe I missed you.”

I dip my head, searching her eyes for something else. Something more. BecauseI miss youis too fucking generic and it’s not going to cut it. “I had to move on, Jamie.” The words are out before I can stop them. Regret them. I release her entirely and help her to her feet. “And I’m not sorry about it.”

15

Jamie

It’s been less than twenty-four hours since I drove across theWelcome toBlessingsign, and everything I have experienced since I got here has been the absolute opposite.

I should leave.

I should just hop on a plane and go back to Esme’s, and… what?Squatat her house? Is that what it would be considered since, technically, I only own half of it? Fuck if I know.

Since the RV was still in travel mode when I drove it into a ditch, there wasn’t much to clean up. Besides the obvious damage to the exterior, plus the possibly irreparable axle, the destruction wasn’t too bad. I’m lucky, really, and I remind myself of that constantly in the hours I’ve sat in here trying to formulate a plan for the next few days. Not so much a plan, I guess, I just… I need to get in the right headspace if I’m going to be dealing with Holden on a daily basis.

Holden… the man whose actions say one thing while his words say another.Cool guy.

For hours, I’ve sat at the table with my laptop in front of me, trying to work, but I can’t clear my mind long enough to get anything substantial done. And Ineedto work. The events of the past couple of weeks have set me behind, and Holden is a jack hole.

Guh!

Clearly, he’s infiltrated every inch of my mind, and not in a good way. Though, I shouldn’t be surprised. It’s been like that since I saw him at the will reading. Scrap that. Even earlier when Esme’s church friends asked me to help with her funeral plans. There wasn’t a lot to do. It seems that Esme had been planning it herself for months, maybe even years.

It’s almost as if she’d been waiting for the moment.

Esme had a list of people she wanted to attend, and I was tasked with contacting those people.

Holden’s name was on the list.

And he’s been at the forefront of my mind ever since.

That’s when the nightmares—flashbacks—of the attackstarted. Each one came with a new repressed memory, and there were a lot of them. At least one every night. It’s ironic, really, because I know if I told Holden about them, he’d compare it to a puzzle.

Piece by piece until the whole image comes to life.

I force an exhale as my eyes drift shut, visions of his hand on my leg, his touch gentle as he urged me to draw.”Just draw,” he’d say. “Anything. Everything.”So I would. For him.“God, I love you like this.”

My eyes snap open, and without thinking, I immediately reach for the pen on top of my notepad. I put the tip to paper and then release it quickly as if it’s fire at my fingertips. Shallow breaths harsh against my throat, I stare at the blank page.

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