Her soft hand reaches out and squeezes mine, and my eyes find hers.

“How did he die?” she breathes.

I swallow.

The words won’t come. I can’t say them. Not out loud.

But she squeezes my hand again. To reassure me. And suddenly I’m not alone.

“Overdose.”

My vision goes blurry and it takes me by surprise. What the fuck?

And when I blink, my cheeks feel wet, and I want to hate myself for crying in front of her, but she doesn’t even react. She just brushes her thumb across my cheek and wipes the tears away.

Clearing my throat, I quickly try to shut the emotions down.

I want her to say something because I don’t trust myself to speak, and I hate that last word spoken so much. And it’s just hanging in the air, souring my mood.

“Logan, I’m so sorry.”

Her expression changes. It’s more than just sympathy…there’s confusion in her brow.

“But I don’t understand…if he…then why would you still…?”

And I get it. From an outsider’s perspective. If my brother died of an overdose, why would I still sell it and use it? Logically, it’s incoherent. But there is no logic where grief and addiction are involved.

“I don’t have a good answer for that.” I stand up and walk away, clearing the dishes. I know that I need to tell her to leave Wickett. That I’m an addict and always will be. That she deserves so much better, but when I turn back to look at her, she’s already looking at me, and I fucking love the way she looks at me. Like she sees something no one else sees. Like she was made to look at me and that I might not be a worthless piece of shit, after all.

“It’s late,” I mumble, looking back at her.

“It’s only eight,” she whispers.

“The bargain we made still stands.” I blurt it out for some godforsaken reason. As on edge as my nerves feel right now, I have to remind myself that nothing has really changed. Sierra can’t stay with me forever. This is essentially still a fling, and I can’t change that.

But then again…we do still have some parameters in this bargain.

Like she can read my mind, Sierra stands up and saunters over, her eyes full of lust.

“I think the bed is a bad idea.” There goes my stupid mouth again.

“I don’t care where we go. I just want to be with you.” She reaches up on her toes and kisses me, unleashing that power inside of me. I latch onto her mouth with mine, pressing my tongue between her lips and against her tongue.

She lets out a warm, sweet moan against my mouth. My hands wrap around her thighs and lift her against my body. She’s so warm, so soft and light in my arms. I could get used to this.

I’m so hard already, aching to ease the pressure and dive into that sweet spot. Mine. A small voice inside howls.