True for You by Marquita Valentine Read Free Book Online Page A

forward in his seat. “You
can’t leave her alone indefinitely. It’s cruel, Jackson.”
    “How
about this: I’ll go say goodbye, and then you can hang out with
her. Keep her company.” Oh, shit. I did not just say that. Damn
my drunk ass.
    Cameron’s
brown eyes glitter. “I accept.” He stands and leaves a
tip on the table. “Let’s get you home.”
    “You’re
no fun when you’re being a feminist,” I say, but stand
anyway.
    “I’m
not being a feminist by demanding people be treated decently.”
    We
make our way to the entrance, grabbing our coats from the clerk along
the way. “What are you being then?”
    “A
follower of Christ.”
    Followers
of Christ go to strip clubs? I roll my eyes. “I thought
professors didn’t believe in all that mumbo jumbo.”
    He
flashes me a smile. More than a few of the ladies notice and try to
get his attention. “Assistant professors are allowed to have
radical thoughts.”

    ***

    It’s
almost two in the morning when I stumble inside my house, dripping
wet from the storm raging outside.
    There’s a
light on upstairs, and my heart speeds up a little.
    As
I arrive on the second landing, I realize it’s the one over the
kitchen sink, and not Bliss waiting up for me. Then again, why would
she be waiting up on me?
    I
breathe deeply, the house smells lived in, homey, and not the sterile
scent of a dwelling that’s periodically occupied.
    It’s…
nice.
    Thunder
rumbles and I get a front row view of lightning streaks in the sky,
the benefit of having a wall of windows facing the ocean. It’s
rough tonight, the first of two Nor’easters coming in, back to
back. I was lucky Cameron managed to get me home without wrecking my
car. At least his trip back to his apartment would be in the opposite
direction of the storm.
    Sheets
of rain pound the roof and, not for the first time, I wonder if the
rickety bridge that serves as my only access to the mainland will
make it through yet another storm.
    When
I had this house renovated, the construction crew used barges to
bring the supplies here, because that bridge couldn’t bear the
weight. The engineer who oversaw the redesign of the house had
recommended I replace the bridge, one built in the 1920s by the
original owners, but I refused. I didn’t want to get rid of it
just because it was old, just like I didn’t want to bulldoze
the house.
    Besides,
the bridge and the house had weathered countless hurricanes and
storms before, so why mess with what worked?
    Crashing
on the couch, I take another breath and the scent of Bliss fills my
lungs. I close my eyes, trying to fall asleep, but being surrounded
by her only serves to make me hard and my heart pound.
    I
still want her.
    She’s
still here, in my bedroom, and sleeping in my bed, but I can’t
go to her smelling like a womanizing drunk. So I keep my eyes closed
and wait for sleep to take me.

    ***

    I
wake up with a start and sit up, automatically checking the windows.
Sunlight filters weakly through the heavy storm clouds, but the deck
is still intact, even with a few chairs blown over.
    Bliss
appears on the deck, her hair in a ponytail, wearing a loose pair of
sweats and one of my shirts. She opens one of the French doors and
walks inside, our gazes colliding. Her glasses slip down her nose.
    With
a sigh, she pushes them back up and just looks at me, not saying a
word.
    “Good
morning,” I say, getting to my feet. I stretch, cracking my
neck and back. I’m ready for her righteous anger over me being
gone for so long.
    “Morning,”
she says softly. “Would you like something to eat?”
    Her
question is not the one I expected to hear first. Something along the
lines of “Where in the hell have you been?” would be what
I would have led with.
    “You
plan to make me breakfast like a good little wife?” I ask, and
then snap my mouth shut. Yeah, I’d not only left her alone, but
I’d left her without money or food. I rank right up there with
pond scum. It doesn’t