Free Immortal Distraction by Elizabeth Finn

frigid. She was not easily dissuaded from her path. But she kept crumbling with him.
    He had a strength and composure she couldn’t quite wrap her head around, and she certainly couldn’t beat him at his game or hers either.
    * * * *
    When she picked up after the second ring, he was almost shocked. The wine bar had been incredible. When she cut him off before he was ready to see her go, he’d been disappointed. The feel of her warmth and wetness gripping his fingers as he stroked into her body was enough to leave him wanting to fuck her right there in the bar, and had she stuck around long enough, he wasn’t at all sure he wouldn’t have figured out some way to make that happen. But she’d pushed him away again.
    It’s not as if he blamed her. Of course she had to push him away, but she wanted him just as much as he wanted her. Of that, he was certain. He may not have needed her to tell him about her family to know about the disastrous people her parents were—there were plenty of police reports to paint a good picture. He wanted her to talk to him about it.
    “Why are you calling me? Wasn’t the wine bar enough?” She sounded exasperated with him.
    “The wine bar wasn’t nearly enough. Now tell me about your parents. It couldn’t have been easy growing up in a home like that, and I want to know about it.”
    “Why is this so important to you?” Her voice was a desperate whisper. He didn’t need her to tell him this was hard for her to talk about.
    “Because it’s an important part of you.” He was being as honest as he ever had been. He was desperate to hear her talk—really talk. He didn’t want to hear her shtick or her attitude. He wanted the real her. And after a long pause where he could nearly hear the gears in her in brain turning, she finally gave in.
    “It was humiliating and pathetic. I was never important enough for them to stop.” He stayed quiet. He didn’t want to give her any reason to stop talking. “My mother’s been an addict as long as I can remember. She didn’t start hooking until my father was busted. He’d always kept her strung out just the way she liked it, and with him gone, she became desperate. Didn’t really seem to have much effect on her though. She was high all the time anyway and didn’t much care how or what she had to do to stay that way. So, I was just alone.”
    “I’m sorry, Brit. That couldn’t have been easy. How old were you?”
    “Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. I did what I could to stay out of the system when she’d be arrested, but I was too young to take care of myself. I missed school all the time, ended up held back a year, and once the other kids caught on to what my mom did for a living, they tormented me.” Her voice was flat, controlled, but he could still hear the pain behind it. She tried so hard to hide it, but it was there. He guessed it drove the core of her being to some extent or another.
    “You were incredibly strong to endure that and still thrive.” He wasn’t codling her, patronizing her, or even trying to work her over. It wasn’t the first time he’d glimpsed the hurt and vulnerable child that lurked inside her, and he truly was impressed that she’d managed to make so much of herself with the deck so harshly and unfairly stacked against her.
    “I didn’t thrive at all. I was miserable. I struggled to keep up with schoolwork, and I nearly gave up more times than I can recall.”
    “Sometimes thriving is just our ability to stay the course, no matter how difficult it is. You survived, Brit. Doesn’t that mean anything?”
    “I suppose.” She didn’t seem the least bit convinced of it. “But it sure didn’t feel like surviving, least of all thriving. I felt like I was drowning most of the time, and worse than that, no one would notice or even care if I did. I was just lost. Half of my being where I am today is sheer luck. I was at the right place at the right time. I met the right people. I got the right