Finding Willow

CHAPTER 5

Once upon a time, long, long ago, I loved to paint. Not puppies or kittens. No flowers or people. Just paint. I would throw paint onto a canvas and actually use it as a way to express my pent up emotions. It was good for me as a little girl; I could get it out and I wouldn’t have to actually talk about what was eating at me. I’ve never been good at talking.

I laid in bed most of the night, thinking about what happened. The blowjob, River, Chrome, fucking him, the way I felt afterward. Everything that happened in the one day since I left New York City. The first day that was supposed to be the rest of my life, but quickly turned into a rerun of everything I had been doing for years. Maybe it was something I needed to get out of my system? I can hope.

I pick up some clothes from the top of the dresser: A fitted, long sleeve black and white striped top and a pair of jeans. Nothing fancy. For once, I don’t feel the need to stand out like a sore thumb.

I run a brush through my hair, scrub my teeth down, rinse with Listerine, and make my way for the door. I am a woman on a mission.

My phone rings and I stop in my tracks. Seven’s name appears on the screen and I immediately answer it. I’ve been waiting for this call, because her fancy as fuck private investigator is trying to track down any record of Willow. I’m anxious and my stomach twists and turns while I wait to see what she has come up with.

“Hello?”

“You know, when you fucking leave the city, you really should tell Katy where you are going so she isn’t blowing up my damn phone all day.” Shit. I completely forgot to call my manager before I skipped town. It’s common sense, something I unfortunately lack most of the time. Story of my damn life.

“My bad. I will get a hold of her today. I was in a hurry to leave. What’s up?”

Seven hesitates on the other end, before letting out a deep breath. I can’t see her face, but I already know this is going to be bad. She isn’t good at hiding shit from me, and I can pick up on her tone all the way across the state through this shitty cell connection.

“Davis is going to call you. He found something.”

My heart stops. I want to find Willow desperately, but I doubt I want to know exactly what he found. It’s an internal battle I face on a daily basis. Do I want to be crushed if I can never find her? Will I end up more damaged than I already am? Will it be healing? Fuck, I hate thinking about it all. The line is still silent, and I know Seven is waiting for me to say something. She doesn’t want to break the awkward silence between us.

“Okay, can you have him give me a call now?”

She pauses, and I wait. I’m still standing by the door of this shitty, dated motel room; I somehow make my way across the room to sit on the edge of the unmade bed.

“Yes, let me give him a call. And remember, Star?” I just wait for whatever reassurance she is going to try and give me. “Everything is going to turn out just as it is meant to be. Okay?” I nod, as if she can see me. I want to cry; I can feel the tears welling in my eyes already.

“Uh huh” is all I can get out before the line goes dead.

Moments later, my phone rings again. An unknown number pops up on the screen. It is the moment I have been waiting for since I came clean and told Seven all about the little girl I gave up so many years ago.

“Yes?” I answer the phone with my typical cocky tone, trying to hide the impending breakdown.

“Davis here. Miss James said you are available now. Do you have a pen and piece of paper?”

I scramble around the room looking for something. My laptop still sits open on the table from the evening before, and I run in that direction, tripping over my discarded shoes.

“Yes, I’m ready.” My fingers rest on the keyboard as I prop the phone up to my ear with my shoulder. My hands hover above the keys and shake with nerves. I inhale a deep breath and hold it, waiting for him to give me whatever he found.

“Willow James was adopted legally by Raine and Jeffery Driscoll. The adoption was legalized on February 14th, 2003. They changed her name but the record of that was sealed. Her last name, of course, would remain Driscoll. Willow’s last known address was in Brooklyn.” He pauses for a moment, and I continue typing out all the information. This is a great start, and I am optimistic that I can find her.

“Raine and Jeffery Driscoll are deceased.”

With those words, my heart stops. He gave me all of the good news first, and now I brace for the shitty news. I take another deep breath and listen.

“Their minor children were turned over into the custody of a Wesley Driscoll of Jefferson Heights. I’m unsure how he is related to Raine and Jeffery. I will email you his last known address, and I will continue looking for any information I can come up with on my end. Okay?”

The line is quiet. He is waiting for me to answer, but I’m not even sure what to say. Yes, the adoptive parents are dead, but she is alive. At least, I hope.

This is good. This is a really good start.

“Thank you, Davis. I appreciate all the hard work you are putting into this. If you come up with anything else, please let me know. If you could come up with anything on Wesley, could you please let me know?”

I may not be mother of the year, but I want to know who is responsible for taking care of Willow. Mine or not, I’m starting to channel the maternal instinct I never thought I would possess.

“No problem, Miss Bloom. Please, let me know if there is anything else you need.”

Like that, he is gone and the line is dead. My phone buzzes with an email with the addresses and information he gave me over the phone, and I smile. A genuine smile. I am happy, which is something I haven’t known very often in my life.

Who would have thought I could actually find an art supply store in this little podunk town? Well, given the number of hippie burnouts, it shouldn’t be that surprising.

After having a bagel at Maggie’s, I took a drive downtown, where all the little shops are. Bright and full of tie dye blankets, old Woodstock posters, and the smell of pot always in the air. It is hippie culture mixed with a bit of nostalgia. They are the comforts of home, even though I never thought I would be comforted by this town.

I toss every paint color of the rainbow into my basket and make my way for the brushes. I load up on every single thing I can think of using. Things I wanted when I was a little girl, but we could never afford. I make one last stop at the blank canvases and grab five different sizes and head for the register. I can barely carry everything, and I am sure if anyone was watching me it would be fucking comical. I place the canvases down before straining to lift the basket onto the counter next to them.

That’s when I notice her, before she sees me. The woman working behind the counter is Seven’s mother. Actually working, for once in her life; it is absolutely unreal. I pray she won’t notice me, but I am pretty fucking sure it is too late.

“Starburst? Is that you?” She nervously pushes her long gray and white braid over her shoulder and starts to make her way around the counter with her arms extended. I don’t want her to hug me, but I know she’s going to. It will be uncomfortable, like any affection Seven or I received from our parents over the years has been. Our mothers don’t have a maternal bone in their bodies, even if they try.

“Yes, Mama Joni. It’s me.” I just want to pay for my fucking paint and leave. I feel like a broken child all over again. I fucking hate it. I hate the way any of our parents make me feel. Every time I look at any of them, I can hear the moans coming from the bedroom they all shared. I can hear the heavy breathing, the panting, the bodies slapping against each other. It’s fucking gross.

“It’s been so long, baby girl, so long! What brings you back to Woodstock?”

I want to tell her I’m searching for the baby she and her BFFs stole from me, but I don’t want them to know I am looking. All I need is them getting in the way. She seems just as anxious as I am about my reappearance in town, though.

When I became pregnant with Willow, it was a community effort to take her away. Not only did my mother easily convince my father that I could never take care of a baby, but Joni also put the final nail in the motherhood coffin with the threats of Blue being around more. I didn’t believe her, but then again, I was young and impressionable. The thought of him puts me on edge because of his craptastic behavior toward me the moment I ended up pregnant. His years of abuse I could almost tolerate because in some sick, fucked up way I loved him. I loved the attention he showed me. The connection I craved with another human being. I said no, I realize this. Then I hurt for a long time. I should have reported it and sent him to jail. Instead, I feel for him. Just showing how much of a lost cause I always was. Needless to say, I hate them both. Deeply.

“Just taking a little break from the city. Wanted a little quiet time to myself.” Okay, so it’s only a half lie. I do want quiet time. I do want a break from the city. So I am only omitting certain facts.

“Painting, huh? You were always such an artistic little girl.” I want to ask her what the fuck she would know of me as a little girl. She and my parents were always too fucking busy doing drugs or fucking each other to know what I may have been good at. My own parents never fucking noticed, I am pretty damn sure this bitch didn’t, either.

“Yeah, helps clear my head.” Can this fucking awkward conversation just end so I can get the fuck out of here? Next time I will drive a half hour to the big box craft store just to avoid running into her. I’m sure she will run right back to my parents and tell them I am somewhere within the city limits. It is going to be a big family reunion that I don’t want to deal with. The only person from my family I had planned on spending any time with was Journey, my baby sister.

Coming to Woodstock, I had no idea my parents had migrated back to this area. They never stayed anywhere long but, according to Journey, this time they had been here quite a while.

“Have you seen Seven lately? Blue?”

That’s it. I want to punch this bitch in the cunt. I’m done. I am just fucking done. Rage pumps through my veins as I think about all the times they left me with their piece of shit son. How they knew, as a teenager, he knocked me up and walked away. What the fuck does she expect me to say? Yeah, we did brunch last week. Dumb bitch.

“Oh, your son who raped me all those years ago? No, can’t say I’ve seen him,” I lie. The reality is he was pounding away at my pussy mere days ago. She grimaces at my words. How the fuck does that feel? She proceeds to start ringing up my supplies. She understands, to an extent, that she’s upset me.

“I’m sorry, Star. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

She continues ringing without making eye contact. I throw my credit card on the counter and turn to watch the townsfolk walking up and down the street. The cool fall weather is just starting to roll in, and people are decorating their shops for Halloween. Some sit with guitars on the sidewalk playing old Dylan songs, while a little girl in the distance hula hoops. Like it or not, this is home. It is a beautiful little town, and even though it holds so many bad memories, there are some good mixed in there.

Maybe it’s the rat race of the city that has worn my soul down? Maybe it’s the years of dealing with Blue? Whatever it is that I have gone through since I left, I pray Woodstock will be able to heal it this time around.

Closing the car door and popping the trunk open, I start to pull out all the art supplies. Walking around the car, I unlock my motel room door, and prop it open so I can start carrying all my goodies in. I’m like a child on Christmas morning. Not even the run in with Seven’s mother can ruin my mood. It almost did, but knowing I am going to dive into something I love refreshes me.

The office door swings open, and River stands there, looking at me. His plain black t-shirt hangs free while he rubs his hands up and down his arms. No smile is in sight and I know why. His green eyes break my gaze, and when I smile at him, he doesn’t return the gesture.

“Hey, Star,” he says as I walk by with a couple large canvases in my hands.

“Whats up, River?” I reply once I come back out. My plan? Act casual, as if I didn’t notice him peering in my window the night before while I blew some stranger. I mean, for fuck’s sake, the entire world has seen me deep throat a couple dozen cocks. What’s the big deal this time around?

“Can we talk about last night?” He picks at a hangnail and tries to avoid eye contact. What do I do? Continue playing stupid. I’m so good at it.

“What about last night? We still on for dinner tonight?”

I want him to say yes because I need a friend. I don’t want him to think of me differently, and I wish he hadn’t seen that. But it is bothering him, and if I am going to get this whole friend thing down, I need to stop being such a fuck up. God knows I have fucked over Seven more times than I can count. I need to make amends with her, too; isn’t that part of the twelve step program or something?

“What I saw, in the window. I thought…” He trails off before running his fingers through his jet black hair. “I saw what you were doing.” He doesn’t want to say it. Is he embarrassed? I thought boys his age would be hitting on me after something like that. Trying to get their own rocks off; instead, he looks like he is genuinely hurt.

“I’m sorry you saw anything, River. I should’ve had the blinds closed. I hope this won’t affect our friendship. I really need a friend.” For the first fucking time in my life, I speak and the God’s honest truth comes out of my mouth. I can do this. I can fucking be a good friend.

“It’s just… I thought…” Oh, I can see where this is going. Oh no. I have to fix this; I don’t want to lead this poor boy on.

“River, I don’t know what you are looking for. But I can tell you, I am not the woman to give it to you. I’m not looking for a relationship. I am here for a short period of time, just to figure out my life. That’s it. Please, don’t think of me as anything more than a friend. If you like me, give me your friendship, because that is what I need right now.” I pause and pick up another bag out of my trunk before slamming it shut.

“Please, I need a good friend right now. I enjoyed our time hanging out last night. I need that to help me get through this. Will you be my friend?”

I feel bad, because I think I just broke his heart. But at the same time, I need to set the record straight. I want his friendship. I don’t want a twenty-one year old boy following me around with a puppy dog crush. He shrugs.

“I get it. It’s cool. Dinner tonight at Maggie’s again?”

I nod my head in agreement.

“Same time.” I turn to head into my room, when he stops me once again.

“Hey, Star, I gotta bring my little sister with me tonight. That cool?”

I’m not normally a kid person, but then again, I am on this journey to find my own kid. I can’t really be upset that his little sister is going to be tagging along.

“That’s fine.” And like that, I drag the last bag into my motel room and proceed to dump everything out on my bed. I’m like a little kid after a day in the toy store, gushing over all the new supplies I have been wanting for ages. This afternoon, I am going to take it all with me up into the woods and paint in the peace and quiet of nature.

It may not sound like much to anyone else. But to me, it is exactly what I fucking need.

It isn’t until I pull into the dirt parking lot off the old mining road that I notice someone following me. It isn’t just any person, either. It’s a big man, on a loud motorcycle. Had he not had the familiar cut and bandana, I wouldn’t have recognized him. Maybe listening to loud music wasn’t the best choice on the way out here, but I was rockin’ out to Janis!

I put the car into park and grip the steering wheel. This guy gets under my skin like no one else. I want to get out of the car and yell at him. But instead I sit behind the wheel and completely ignore him. Like I don’t know he is pulling his motorcycle alongside my car.

I pick up the fabric bag packed with all my art supplies on the passenger seat and swing the door open. I open the trunk and start to pull out my stand and the single canvas I brought for the afternoon. Completely ignoring him still.

“Hey,” I hear his voice coming from behind me. My heart skips a beat, or possibly just fucking stops. I have to choke down the lump in my throat.

I turn to face him, and he smiles at me. I’m taken aback, because a man like this doesn’t smile. Ever. I want to return the smile, but that would make shit way too easy, wouldn’t it?

“Following me? Don’t you think that’s a bit desperate?” I want to laugh. He got what he wanted last night; why is he here now? Why do men have to be so confusing?

“So what if I was?” The smile fades and his stone-faced expression is back.

“You got what you came for last night, so why are you following me?”

I turn back around, pick up my supplies, and start walking for the path. I get a whole five steps in the opposite direction before his voice stops me once again.

“What did I come for? I mean, since you know me so well.”

“Sex. No strings. You know, just a quick fuck.”

He was out the door as soon as we were done. How can he claim anything different? Damn it, I am over fucking thinking this. This afternoon was supposed to be quiet, relaxing, a chance to focus on me. Instead, I am taunting a large biker in the middle of nowhere. He could kill me and bury me out here and no one would ever know I was missing. Fuck. My. Life.

“You’re right, Star. I was only looking for a quick fuck.” He takes a step. I can hear his heavy boots against the dirt and gravel. “But once I left, I wanted to come back. Fuck…” He shakes his head just as I start to turn around.

He’s gorgeous. Every inch of him radiates sex on a mother fucking stick. Dark blue jeans hug all the right curves, accentuating his growing hard-on front and center. A black thermal hugs his torso, leaving no muscular curve to the imagination. His cut hangs from his shoulders and a folded red bandana is tied around his smoothly shaved head. I’ve fucking died and gone to biker heaven.

“I don’t fucking do this shit. I don’t play games. I don’t fucking date. Hell, I am barely ever fucking around, but I want you. Again.”

He takes another step in my direction, waiting to gauge my reaction. I want to throw myself at him, but that would be too desperate. And I am not fucking desperate by any damn means.

“I don’t know what to say to that.” I honestly don’t. I want him, but what exactly does he want? He’s fucking speaking in cryptic man, but then again, I don’t think he has a fucking clue as to what he is looking for, either.

I rest the art supplies against the side of my car and lay my canvas on the hood, folding my arms over my chest and facing him. My mind is flying a million miles an hour and my stomach is slowly tying into a million knots, but I still want to hear him out.

“Tell me it’s okay, Star.”

He takes a step closer to me, but I don’t know what he is asking me. What is okay? What does he want from me?

I take a few steps backward until I’m pressed up against the back door of my car. But he doesn’t stop moving toward me. His body presses against mine, and all I can do is look up into his deep brown eyes. I wait for him to make the next move while I take in all of his features. Everything about him is dark and dangerous. Yet I am slowly starting to feel more and more comfortable around him.

It’s been a day. A fucking day. I should run screaming from him. Get back in my car and leave. But I actually want to stay here with him. In the middle of fucking Michael Myers woods.

“I can’t tell you anything I don’t know, Chrome.”

I barely get the words out, and his mouth crashes against mine. There is this magnetic pull between us. I want to pull away, but I just can’t. My lips instinctively part for him, allowing him entry to my mouth, and he takes full advantage of it. Our tongues collide, caressing each other in a fluid battle.

Chrome slowly pulls away and interlocks his fingers together on the top of his head. He lets out a long sigh and turns to walk away. He stops, throwing his hands down to his side, and mumbling something under his breath. I can’t hear him, but if he was to do this in public, I am pretty sure someone would want to lock him up for being damn near crazy.

“I need to be inside you again.”

His words send a shockwave through my body. I want the same but I also want to punch him in the face. Is this supposed to be his sad attempt at some kind of pickup line? Jesus, fuck!

I don’t say anything. I just watch him. He paces back and forth, waiting for me to reply, which I am clearly not going to. Does he expect me to just let him become a frequent flyer? Whenever he’s in need of a piece of cunt, he comes crawling this way? I can’t be that kind of girl anymore. Yet all I want to do is let him bend me over the hood of my car.

You can take the girl out of the porn, but you can’t take the porn out of the girl.

“I can’t do this with you. I can’t do this, period.”

I wave my hand back and forth between the two of us. This is what honesty feels like. I don’t want to admit it, but whatever the fuck this is, as good as it feels, is only going to blow up in both of our faces. I didn’t come here for hook ups; I came here to find me. Maybe this is a part of my fucked up self, but I don’t need a biker without a real fucking name being my self-discovery.

He leans in closely before whispering in my ear, “Just one last time.”

I want to say no, but I can’t. Excitement courses through my body as he grabs me by the hand and leads me over to the beautiful monster of a motorcycle. I blindly follow without a care in the world. The internal battle I am having with myself stops, because frankly, I am annoyed with myself at this point. I am sure you want to punch me in the face too, right? It’s okay, I can totally accept that.

Throwing one leg over the bike, he straddles the seat and extends his arm for me. I take it, not sure what he has planned. He’s in charge. This is his goodbye. I will let him have his way. I’ve never been much for a man taking charge, but something about him just makes it seem right. He guides my leg over the bike, and I straddle the seat, facing him. It’s awkward but hot.

He raises his hand, and snakes it through my short brown locks, grasping his fingers in a tight fistful. Fuck, I love my hair being pulled. Need courses through my body as my jeans slowly become soaked from his touch. His mouth lowers to mine, kissing and biting at my plump bottom lip. His free hand unzips my hoodie and snakes right up my shirt. I feel like we are in high school all over again. His callused hand grazes my bare breast for the first time, before cupping it and thumbing my hard nipple.

Without thought, I let out a moan, and he instantly reacts. Chrome pulls me closer and his erection presses against my throbbing clit, both still covered by our jeans.

“Fuck,” he mumbles under his breath, letting go of me completely. He pulls away and reaches down to his boot. “I can’t fucking wait any longer.”

In his hand, he holds a small switchblade. My life officially flashes before my eyes. Why the fuck does he have a knife? My face molds with horror, because he raises both of his hands in surrender before he speaks.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, Star. I promise.”

His body leans forward and he kisses me again. This time it isn’t frantic or lustful. It is sweet and comforting. I slowly relax against his body as he leans me back against the tank of his motorcycle.

“Don’t move,” he whispers, before leaning back, flipping the blade open, and slicing the crotch of my jeans. I’m not sure whether to be pissed he just ruined my jeans, or hot as fuck that he just cut them open so he can fuck me on his motorcycle in broad daylight. Eventually, hot as fuck wins out in my mind. Damn it.

He closes the knife and bends down to put it back in his boot while I reach between the two of us rubbing my fingers along the bulge in his jeans before I finally free his cock from the straining jeans. Fuck, it is so beautiful, each ridge and piercing makes me want to drool right there. I run my hands up and down his length, watching his face soften into a look of genuine pleasure. I can see this hard-ass man letting his guard down and enjoying the pleasure I am giving him. His lips part slightly and he lets out a low moan that vibrates through my entire body landing right in the cunt. I ache for him to fill me.

All I can remember is last night when his hard cock slid inside my pussy. The cool steel of his pierced dick pressed against all the right spots, as his impressive erection filled me so fucking perfectly. A chill runs through my body and I want him deep inside me.

“Condom?” I pant, in between taking his mouth with force. He reaches into his pocket and hands the small foil packet over. I anxiously rip it open. I’m pretty sure this is about to be the hottest fuck of my life. Last night was good, but I’ve been around the block more than I care to think about, and this, it doesn’t touch a single goddamn time.

I roll the latex down his thick cock, continuing to work him with my hand. He lets out a low sultry growl before picking me up by my waist, and sliding my aching wet cunt right down his rock hard dick. My feet lock on the passenger pegs of the bike and I take control. Slowly lifting my ass up and down, I ride his dick as he lies back, enjoying himself.

“You like my pussy?” I can’t help but ask. I have a dirty mouth, and by the look on his face, he isn’t going to last long at all. It is fucking sexy, and I don’t want this to end. I can’t help but quicken my pace. Both of his hands find my bare tits once again, squeezing and playing as I continue to bounce up and down on his dick.

“Oh fuck, I love it. Don’t fucking stop.”

The sound of his voice alone is enough to make me want to come all over his cock. I slow my pace, hoping to drag out a couple more moments of pleasure, but it’s a fucking lost cause. The piercing through the head of his cock grazes against my g spot and I am fucking done. I throw my head back, slamming down onto his dick one final time, and screaming his name.

“Fuck! Chrome! Oh my fuck!”

My pussy releases the flood gates; I squirt all his jeans and the seat of his bike. He grabs onto my hips and slams into my cunt two more times before he grunts and I can feel his dick twitching as he empties inside the barrier. His arms wrap around my body, holding me tight against his chest as he falls back onto the seat of the bike. I pant, trying to catch my breath, but I think it is going to take hours to accomplish that.

“Did you fucking squirt?” He laughs after he says it and my face starts to burn with embarrassment. Some people find squirting incredibly hot; others think it is the grossest thing on Earth. I’m torn, but I don’t have much of a choice because, when I get off, it’s a motherfucking waterfall. Apparently, that is just how God built this bitch.

I turn my head away from him, resting it on his shoulder before I reply.

“Yeah, sorry about that.” I try not to let the shame ring through my voice, but it probably does anyway.

“That was the fucking hottest thing I have ever fucking seen in my life. I’ve seen that shit in porn for years, but never in person. Jesus, Star.”

I hate it when people say shit like that. It’s embarrassing to me, I know it shouldn’t be, but it always has been. I need to walk away. I have to get the fuck away from him. This is it. I can’t carry this on because he has some perversion for my vaginal waterfall. No fucking way.

“Have dinner with me tonight.”

If his dick wasn’t still inside me, I probably would have gotten up and run away. But I can’t fucking move. I try and pull away but he tightens his grip.

“I can’t. I have plans tonight.”

“You aren’t going out to dinner with River tonight.” He says it with an authoritative tone. Like he actually get some kind of a say in the matter. But then it fucking hits me. How the fuck does he know what I am planning on doing for dinner? Creeper!

I pull away, using the pegs to stand up. His dick slips out of me and I throw my leg over the seat, trying to escape. Doesn’t work though.

“How the fuck do you know what I was planning on doing?” I should be trying to fix myself, but there isn’t much to fix besides my disheveled hair. I am fucking fully dressed, even though I was just being fucked six ways to Sunday.

“You think my brother didn’t try and rub it in my face after he saw us last night?”

Did he just fucking say brother? The one friend I have tried to make in this town, and of course, I just fucked his brother. Could I have fucked up any worse? No wonder River was so upset. I am so blind, a fucking space cadet. I should have been able to connect the dots yesterday when Chrome almost ran me over leaving the hotel office. It all makes perfect fucking sense now.

“I can’t do this.”

I lift up my hand to push away from him. He tries to hold onto me, but I wiggle myself free, grabbing my art supplies and making my way back to the car. I can paint right in the center of town, where everyone can see me and no one will bother me. Especially Chrome.

“Star, wait.” It’s all I hear as the engine comes to life. I have to fucking get out of here. I just can’t do this. I feel bad, but this is all too fucking much. I crack the window slightly, while I back my car past Chrome, standing next to his bike.

“I’m sorry” is all I can say. I sit and I stare at him, but he has nothing nice to say in response. And I fear I don’t deserve nice anyway. No matter how hard I try to get my shit together, I continue to fall flat on my fucking face.

“Fuck you, bitch.” I deserve it. It shouldn’t hurt because he is nobody to me. Just another guy in my never ending chain of hookups. But it does hurt. It stings, like when I fuck up with Seven and she lashes out at me. It stings like the hurt of my childhood. It actually caused an emotional ping in my normally numb body. And I hate every minute of it. I only wish I knew why he was so deep under my skin in no time flat.