Page 38 of Unraveled

And she did beg for him to tease her and fuck her all over again—again and again and again.

Gian had moved the chaise in the sitting room to the old windows that could be opened. Despite the time of year, a warm breeze came in from the windows. Cara found it was a nice place to sit, with her feet propped up in on the windowsill, and her head tucked against Gian’s chest.

“So, a therapist, huh?” he asked above her.

She shrugged. “That’s the goal. I want to have a main focus, though. Addiction. Recovery. Maybe some child-work.”

“Is that because you feel you owe something for your raising, or because it’s something you want to personally do?”

“A bit of both.”

“As long as you know,” he murmured. “When you do something because you feel you owe it, or you have to, you’ll never be as satisfied as you want to be.”

Gian’s fingers roved through her hair as they chatted.

“I know you wanted a break from … everything that happened,” Cara started to say.

“I did, yes.”

“But you can’t only talk about me, Gian. It’s not fair.”

He laughed, rocking them both on the chaise. “Fair enough. What do you want to know?”

“Well, anything.”

“Like what?”

“Your grandfather, maybe. You seemed like you were close, especially if you needed to take a break after burying him. That sounds like someone who needed to get away from their feelings.”

Gian cleared his throat. “Interesting way to put it.”

“Am I wrong?”

“No. You’re very right, actually.” He sighed, shifting beneath her a bit. “I don’t have time to grieve, in a way, because there’s much more happening, now that he’s gone. And that feels terribly shitty of me, that my focus can’t be on a man who practically raised me for a bit, because responsibility and duty wait on no one.”

Cara frowned. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Believe it or not, but this break, is not entirely a break. I’ve thought a lot more about my grandfather this weekend than I would have been able to, had I stayed in Toronto. Less bullshit—less noise in my head and from other people.”

“I get that.”

“Now, your turn,” he said.

“For what?”

“A question that isn’t entirely safe.”

Cara stiffened. “Depends on what it is.”

“Too bad—I answered yours.” His hand landed on her bare hip under the afghan blanket, holding firm as if to keep her there. “Tell me about your sister. Not the kinds of things you tell other people. How you’re feeling. Certainly, not something to placate me. I’ll know if you do, bella donna. I am not a dumb man.”

No, he certainly wasn’t.

Cara barely had to think about her response, though. “She was not like me. Lea was the complete opposite of me. And maybe, sometimes, that left me feeling a bit left out when she could so easily fit in and I couldn’t, but I always had her, regardless. It took me a bit to realize after she had died that I depended on her for a lot more than being my sister and roommate. I didn’t know how to be Cara without Lea.”

“Oh?”

“I’m still not sure that I know.”