1001 Dark Nights: Bundle Nine

by Carrie Ann Ryan

  Chapter Three

  Hailey had lost her damn mind. That was the only explanation for why she was standing in front of her mirror in her robe with her hands wringing in front of her. It all seemed like a dream, but from the way her heart beat in her chest, she knew it was real.

  Far too real.

  One minute she’d been making coffee, trying to figure out how she’d get out of drinks or whatever with Brody, and the next she was standing in Sloane’s office saying yes to a date. With him.

  It didn’t make sense.

  The moment she’d stepped back into her café, she’d known she made a mistake flirting with Brody. While she’d wanted to stand up and take a step in a direction that didn’t include her waiting for a man who would never truly want her, she hadn’t meant to take a leap that fast. It wasn’t that Brody wasn’t attractive. And he’d been sweet to her. It was more that he wasn’t for her. And while, at the time, she’d thought Sloane would never be for her either, she knew she didn’t want Brody like that. It had been a lapse in judgment and one she would have had to fix right away.

  Only Brody had shown up all apologetic smiles, saying he wouldn’t be staying. While she should have felt hurt that he would back out so quickly, she could only feel relief. He seemed like a nice guy—with perhaps a dangerous edge—but she didn’t want him the way she should. Even for a cup of coffee with a bit of flirtation. She’d smiled back and said she understood—though she hadn’t truly understood his quick change of mind, even if she’d been relieved. When she’d asked him if there was anything wrong, he’d told her to ask Sloane about it, and she’d had to clutch the sides of the counter, hard.

  After dropping that bomb, the damn man had just walked out of her café, hands in his pockets with a smile on his face.

  It didn’t make sense. Why would Sloane have anything to do with Brody backing out of their almost-date? So, when she’d stormed over to Montgomery Ink, angry and hurt that Sloane would dare to interfere, especially when he hadn’t done anything when it came to her and him—at all—she’d been ready to tear him a new one.

  No one had been more surprised than her when he’d asked her out.

  Or rather, when he’d told her they were going out.

  She wasn’t quite sure how it had happened, only that she’d raised her chin and said yes. She shouldn’t have, she knew. The man hadn’t wanted her until someone else had taken a chance. That wasn’t how relationships were supposed to start. He wasn’t supposed to keep her at arm’s length, waiting for him to make up his mind. That wasn’t fair to her, wasn’t fair to him.

  And yet she’d been weak.

  She’d said yes.

  She closed her eyes as she gripped the edges of her robe. There was no way Hailey could back out now. He’d be there to pick her up soon, and then she’d take another chance at life.

  She’d taken that chance before—had the scars to prove it—so maybe she could do this. Maybe she could be with someone and remember that it wasn’t the wholeness of her body that made her who she was, but the strength of what was inside. Only, she’d proven she was weak by saying yes in the first place, hadn’t she? She’d given in to his actions to get them where they were too easily.

  She was so damn confused, and the fact that she was excited at the same time didn’t help. She’d wanted Sloane for years, and now they were getting their chance. Maybe she should just push aside the how and go with the now.

  Hailey opened her eyes and met her gaze in the mirror. She could live in the now—she’d been doing it since that fateful day when she’d faced her mortality with a fragile strength she hadn’t known she possessed. Oh, she and Sloane would have to discuss how it had come to be, if only for a few moments, but she could move on.

  She fingered the edge of the robe before letting the fabric fall to the floor. She stood naked in front of her mirror, relying on a strength she had long since honed in the darkness.

  Her surgeon had done a wonderful job, but there was only so much anyone could do with a bilateral mastectomy that dug deep into the tissues. It had taken six surgeries for her reconstructive surgeon to find the right balance. Each time, she’d cried in pain, threw up from the meds, and ached in places so deep she never thought she’d be able to get up and breathe again.

  Her breasts were gone.

  What remained was thanks to the skill of her surgeon. A large scar—slightly faded over time but there nonetheless—slashed through each new breast. Other scars from surgeries, ports, and treatments covered her upper chest, her belly, and between her breasts. It wasn’t pretty, and sometimes she knew it was downright horrific.

  When she’d first taken off the bindings and pads from the initial surgery, she’d sobbed—gut wrenching sobs that wracked her whole body…or at least the body that remained. They hadn’t been able to start the reconstructive process until her second surgery due to the depth of her cancer cells. It shouldn’t have hurt her as much as it had. She was alive. Breasts were just breasts.

  But that was all a fucking lie.

  She was a woman. Her breasts had been part of her. She’d loved her body, even as a twenty-year-old. Sure, she might have wanted slightly more curves where it mattered when she’d been that young, but it hadn’t happened. Instead of coming into her own out of her teens, she’d faced her own mortality in a way no woman should have to.

  So, yes, to the outside world she had a normal body—if normal was even a word these days. Her surgeon had been brilliant, and after all these years, Hailey knew how to wear the right clothes to ensure no one would guess what scars lay beneath.

  But she wasn’t the same woman she’d once been.

  One thing she’d done differently than most women was her nipples. She’d opted to not have them kept in any sense of the word, as some women do. It hadn’t been the right surgery for her, and she’d wanted to move on. Her nipples weren’t part of who she was—or at least that’s what she’d thought at first. She’d also decided not to do anything about tattooing fake ones on. At least not yet. She’d warred with herself over it and had even almost asked Maya to do it for her…but it wasn’t what she wanted. She’d had implants put in during one of the later surgeries, though they weren’t perfectly even. She’d missed her curves, and though at the time the new ones hadn’t felt like hers, she’d grown to see them differently.

  In the years since her diagnosis and recovery, she’d formulated a plan. She wanted a certain kind of tattoo over what were once her breasts, and in her heart, she knew whom she wanted to do it. While Maya, Austin, or Callie would take great care of her, she wanted the one person she knew carried a darkness, a scar along his soul as deep, if not deeper, than her physical ones.

  She wanted Sloane.

  She let out a shuddered breath.

  She’d never had the courage to ask him…maybe it was time. After all, if he saw her naked, he’d know about her breasts. And if she took this date—this relationship—further, he’d see it all.

  It was a step she hadn’t been willing to take before, but maybe, just maybe, Brody’s interference would help her not only heal the remaining scars on her body, her soul, but show Sloane what he could have with her—what she could have with him.

  She wasn’t the woman she once was, she reminded herself, but then again, no one truly was.

  With a roll of her shoulders, she donned her dark leggings and tunic top. It clung just right to her curves but didn’t showcase any unevenness in her chest. No matter how many surgeries she had, she’d never have perfect globes. Then again, she hadn’t when they’d been real anyway. Bras and holding her shoulders back helped with those issues. Once she was naked…well, that was another form of trust, one that she’d tried to give before but failed.

  A year or so after her last surgery, she’d slept with a man she’d been seeing. He’d known she had cancer, but hadn’t known the depth of her…newness. He hadn’t made her come during the encounter, and had stayed away from her upper chest to the point she felt like a par
iah. She couldn’t get the sensations she’d once had with nipple play since she didn’t have them anymore, but completely ignoring where they once had been by not even glancing at them when she’d had her shirt off had quickly ruined any tingling she might have felt for the man. Part of that may have been her fault as she hadn’t communicated her feelings, but damn it, he should have tried to make things better for her.

  She hadn’t slept with a man since.

  The fact that it took her longer with a vibrator to come than it had before the chemo and radiation didn’t make things any easier. But if she were patient—and honest about thinking about Sloane while getting herself off—she could come eventually. And while she missed hot sex, she missed the intimacy of being with another even more. She’d had a few boyfriends during high school and the start of college, so she hadn’t been that inexperienced. She also hadn’t had a boyfriend during the ordeal, so she’d gone from who she’d been to this new version of her without someone to see the progress.

  Going out with Sloane tonight was a hurdle of trust she’d never faced before…at least a different type of one. If and when she told him about her cancer, told him of her body, she’d be giving a part of herself to him—an intimate part—before she even let him touch her.

  She trusted Sloane more than she trusted almost anyone—just from the way he’d treated her since they met. The chemistry between them had only burned brighter as time moved on.

  They both had their reasons for keeping away until now.

  She would tell him hers because there would be no hiding it if things progressed.

  She just hoped he’d tell her his.

  “Enough of that,” she mumbled to herself. She’d spent the past twenty minutes staring in the mirror, trying to figure out how she’d gotten herself into this situation, and now she was going to be late if she didn’t get a move on.

  As fast as she could, she finished straightening her hair, the sleek threads forming a perfect bob. Her post chemo hair wasn’t as straight as it used to be so she had to iron out the wave if she wanted her hairstyle to work. Her thick bangs rocked in her opinion, and she was grateful her hair hadn’t thinned like so many others’ had. This hairstyle, actually, came from one of the wigs she’d had during her treatments. She’d loved the way it framed her face so much, she’d let her hair grow out into the style.

  She quickly did her makeup, making sure her lips were stained a deep red. If she pressed a glass to her lips or even kissed Sloane later, the stain wouldn’t come off. She loved this brand and prayed her shop continued to do well so she could afford it.

  The knock on the door came precisely on time, and she grinned. Sloane was known for his promptness. And knowing him and his military mindset, he had probably been outside for five minutes waiting for her because being right on time was actually late to him. She wasn’t usually late for things, but she sometimes came in by the skin of her teeth.

  Hailey ran her hands down her long tunic again before opening the door, her heart beating loudly in her ears.

  Damn she loved the look of this man.

  He wore an old leather jacket that fit firmly to his shoulders and made her want to peel it right off him. His legs were encased in faded denim, but the jeans weren’t too old with holes or anything—just perfectly fit to his legs in the ideal blue. The black boots he wore only accentuated the sexy bad-boy image that made her heart beat even faster.

  He’d put a knitted beanie on his bald head since it was still a bit cold outside despite the fact that it had warmed up some that day. Of course, with Denver weather, it could drop below freezing tomorrow and then be almost shorts weather the next day.

  “Wow,” she whispered, and he grinned at her.

  “You’re pretty wow yourself.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. His eyes were bright, as if he wasn’t sure how he’d ended up here either. Of course, she was probably just projecting.

  “So…you want to come in?” She bit her lip. Why was this so awkward? This was Sloane. They saw each other practically every day. He was in her shop more often than not just to talk. Or in Sloane’s case, to grunt and mumble unless something was truly important to him. They knew each other…so why did this feel different?

  Because it was different.

  He tilted his head, studying her face. “If that’s what you want. I have reservations at Illusion in a bit, but I can move that if you want to do something different.” He grinned again. “I didn’t actually ask you what you wanted to do after all.”

  She let out a breath. “We did this a little backward, didn’t we?”

  He shrugged. “So what? We’re doing this, whatever this is, our way. That’s all that matters. So, why don’t you go put a jacket on and we’ll head to Illusion. We’ll figure the rest out when we do.”

  She nodded, oddly warming at his words. She liked the use of the word our. She hadn’t been an our in far too long. As soon as she got her jacket and purse, she locked the door behind her and stood on the front porch with Sloane. He slid his large, calloused hand over hers and she licked her lips.

  He’d touched her in the past, of course; slight caresses or a small pat on the back.

  But he’d never held her hand.

  This was happening.

  “Ready?” he asked, his voice low, deep.

  Was she ready? She wasn’t sure she’d ever be ready, but here she was, with Sloane, as whole as she could be and about to take a leap.

  “Yeah,” she whispered. “Yes, I am,” she said a little more clearly.

  He met her gaze and gave her a nod. “Good.” With that, he led her to his truck, a very sexy extended cab with thick tires for the winter. She knew he also had a bike he used whenever it was warm, and she’d always imagined riding behind him, her thighs wrapped around his body as they rode.

  She blushed, annoyed with herself for even blushing in the first place, and pushed those thoughts from her mind.

  Date first.

  Sex later.

  As soon as Sloane got into the cab, he raised a brow at her. “Either you’re cold from standing outside too long with me or you’re thinking dirty thoughts.”

  She snorted and waved her hand. “I forget you know me so well.”

  He licked his lips. “Does that mean you’re thinking dirty thoughts?”

  This was Sloane, she told herself once more. She could be herself.

  “So what if I was? You’re sexy, and I was thinking of your bike.”

  He smiled then, his teeth white against the tan of his skin. “When the weather gets warmer, I’ll take you for a ride.”

  Of course, her mind immediately went to the thought of riding him. And then the idea of her riding on his bike in general. Did he mean that he wanted her with him, as in with him, on that bike or was it just a friend thing?

  And why the hell was she thinking so hard.

  “Stop thinking so hard.”

  She gave him a side-eye as he drove. “Stop reading my mind.”

  “I can’t help it. It’s just what we do.”

  “True,” she mumbled. “What are we doing, Sloane?” She hadn’t meant for that last part to come out, but she apparently couldn’t hold it in.

  He let out a sigh and gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, as evidenced from the whiteness of his knuckles.

  “I’m taking you out. We’re going to eat, talk a bit, then we’ll figure it out.”

  She pressed her lips together. “And? And what then? I mean why now? Why did you wait until Brody asked me out to do anything?”

  He let out a little growl then pulled over to the side of the road. Her eyes widened as he put on his flashers and turned to her.

  “Okay, let’s get this straight. You and I? We’ve been circling each other for a while now. I know it. You know it. So let’s just say it.”

  She nodded. “Yeah, you’re right about that, but—”

  “I’m not done.”

  She snorted but waved for him to co
ntinue. She kind of liked him all growly and broody—God help her.

  “I liked the dance we had even though I hated it. I’ve wanted you, Hailey, but…well, for reasons of my own, I stayed away. I know I’m not good enough for you, but I don’t damn well seem to care right now. I love what we have, love that we talk and I watch you bake, but I want more.” He paused for a moment. “I don’t know as I deserve it, but I want it. And for the record? You could have asked me out anytime before now. You’re not one to back away. You have your secrets, but you say what you want most times.”

  She swallowed hard, her mind whirling. “I guess I could have asked you out before. And you’re right. I do have secrets, and that’s why I didn’t do anything about it.”

  He studied her face once more. “Well, we’re doing something about it now. So let’s move on from why we didn’t before and figure out what we’re going to do next. I know those secrets of ours are going to come out, but—”

  This time, she interrupted him. “But if we keep going in circles, we’ll only end up hurting each other.”

  “Exactly. So, does Illusion sound good to you still? Or do you want something different? I know you work with food every day, so you choose.”

  Illusion was a hipster place that had popped up in downtown Denver a few months ago. It wasn’t as pretentious as many of the new hipster places tended to be, and they had fantastic food. They were a hole-in-the-wall that tended to be busy—hence the reservations for dinner. But everything was organic and tasty. Since Hailey only ate organic thanks to the chemicals she’d pumped her body full of in her effort to get healthy, it worked for her.

  “Let’s go,” she said softly and took a breath.

  Sloane reached out and cupped her cheek. Without thinking, she leaned into his touch. “Okay, then, Hails. Let’s get some food.”

  He let her go, turned off the hazards, and pulled out onto the road again. All the while, Hailey sat back, her cheek still warm from his touch. She had no idea what she was doing, but damn it, she couldn’t wait to figure it out.