She kept at it. “I’m not saying you should go faster than you’re ready. I’m just saying your mind can shut down to that part of life and it’s important not to shut it off, twist it so you’re convinced it’s wrong or dirty. It’s important to remember it’s right, it’s natural and it can be very, very good.”

I blinked and my gaze slid away. Then I sighed and set aside the bullshit.

“Okay,” I whispered.

Bex wasn’t quite done.

“If you’ve got worries, talk to him. I think Hector’s the kind of guy who’ll listen and wait until the time is right for you. But keep him in the loop and let him know where your head is at.”

There was no way I was going to keep Hector in that loop (or any loop, for that matter).

I didn’t tell Bex that.

Instead, I said again, “Okay.”

“You need to talk to me, you know where to find me,” she finished.

I nodded then looked at her and in an effort to change the subject, I informed her, “We’re going to watch YoYo for you.”

She gave me a gentle smile that I understood with a gratitude so strong I felt like hugging her (however, I did not) meant she was finally letting me off the hook.

“I know,” she said.

Luckily the door opened, the nurse walked in and the latest trauma in a life full of traumas was thankfully over.

And I’d survived, yet again.

* * * * *

After I signed the paperwork, Bex went back to the rape crisis center and Hector took me to Art.

During the ride I didn’t speak. Hector didn’t either. I found this uncomfortable. Hector acted like this was perfectly normal. This made me want to throw my squeezy ball at him.

Of course, I did not.

Hector parallel parked in a very unusual prime spot a door down from Art.

Before he had the Bronco’s ignition shut down, my door was open, I was out, around the front of the Bronco and hoofing it on my Manolos down the sidewalk toward the gallery.

I was feet away from the door when an arm tagged me around my shoulders, I came to a rocking halt and he turned me into him.

My body went rigid and I lifted my chin to grant him with a patented Chill Factor Sub-Zero glare.

“I have to get to work,” I informed him.

“You’re welcome,” he said in return, looking down at me unaffected by Chill Factor Sub-Zero, his fantastic mouth fighting a grin.

Seriously a squeezy ball throwing moment if there ever was one, however, I was not at a distance which would allow for it and further, an action such as that would not befit The Ice Princess.

“For what?” I asked instead of throwing my squeezy ball at him.

“For the ride,” he replied.

Chill Factor Sub-Zero descended sharply to Chill Factor Dry Ice. “I suppose I shouldn’t have to remind you that I didn’t ask for a ride.”

He lost the fight and grinned casually in the face of Chill Factor Dry Ice.

“True enough,” he said calmly.

I waited for more but, apparently, that was it.

“Are we through here?” I asked, cocking my head and deciding to shift into saccharin-sweetness.

His face dipped to mine. “Not even close,” he whispered and his black eyes went warm and started dancing like he was enjoying this (enjoying this!).

Blooming heck!

I was using all my good stuff on him! And none of it was working!

All right, fine. He was going to challenge the Ice Princess then that was just fine.

Beware Hector Chavez! The next Ice Age cometh, as Ralphie would say, a la Sadie.

I zapped him with a mental ice ray and pulled out of his arm, turned, opened the door and walked into Art.

I was confronted with Ralphie entertaining a full bevy of Rock Chicks sans Shirleen and a new person I’d never met before. He was a middle-aged man, tall, built solid (but with a teensy beer belly), dark hair with some gray in it and Indy Nightingale’s blue eyes.

Everyone was drinking coffee.

“What’s going on?” I asked, walking toward the counter.

“Tex sent over coffees to celebrate your cast being removed,” Daisy told me on a grin. “Yours is probably cold though. We been here awhile.”

“I’ll nuke it,” Ralphie said, snatching a white cup off the counter.

“I’ll do it,” Ava offered, Ralphie handed her the cup with a grateful smile, she took it and headed to the back of the gallery where our little kitchenette was.

Then I saw Ralphie’s eyes come back to me and I didn’t like the look in them.

I looked around the room. Then I felt the room.

Something was not right.

My eyes went to the man I didn’t know.

“What’s going on?” I asked, again to everyone but my eyes didn’t leave the man and, I realized belatedly, his eyes had been on me since I walked in.

An unhappy, “oh no what now?” chill slid across my skin and I braced.

Hector materialized close to my side (furthering my sense of foreboding) and I heard him say, “Tom.”

I looked to Hector then back to the man. The man got closer and lifted his chin at Hector showing me they knew each other then his gaze slid back to me.

Indy came with him. She was looking at me too. Looking at me funny. Looking at me in a way that made me a little scared.

All of a sudden I had the insane urge to reach out for Hector’s hand like I would have done yesterday or the day before (or, probably, the day before) but I wouldn’t allow myself to do it now.

Those days were over.

Whatever life had to dish out to me next, I was going to handle it on my own. No more leaning on anyone else. It was time for a new New Sadie, a Take Charge Sadie.

“I’m Sadie Townsend,” I told him.

“I know who you are,” he said gently and I watched with alarm as his gaze moved to the scar on my cheek, it grew soft and then (no kidding), it grew moist.

“This is my Dad, Tom Savage,” Indy introduced and my eyes went wide.

Oh no.

Were we going to have another Blanca Type Incident?

I mentally prepared for another demonstration of why these people were so darn nice but my preparation wasn’t enough.

Nowhere near.

“You look just like your mother,” Tom Savage said and his six words hit me like six sharp blows and my body jerked with the power of them.

I swallowed, wondering if I heard him right then whispered, “I’m sorry?”

The Rock Chicks and Ralphie were closing in and I felt Hector’s heat hit me as he drew nearer. But I only had eyes for Tom Savage.