Trained (Completed)

Chapter 19: You're Better Than That

"Palmer." Her cheeks stick to his chest. Rising up to look at the man who isn't her man.

"Yeah?", calm, sleep toned voice.

Playing with her luscious hair, "Tell me more about you."

She inhales, face back on his chest. "What do you want to know?"

Palmer hears him smile. "Everything. Your childhood, teen years, how you became such a beautiful woman. Tell me baby. I want to know."

Now she's smiling, adoring the fact he wants to know. Most men don't give a fuck as long as they're getting what they want. Playing with the tiny hairs on his chest, she's sucked back into the past.

A place people say to let go of. No one wants to ever revisit, or drive down that road. But Palmer does, for Clinton. People press the gas to go faster, she always took her time. Knew she wasn't going to get anywhere faster. And since Palmer trusts this man, oddly enough, considering she can't even trust her own mother.

She'll gladly invite him into the car, to take a drive to the past. "I'm twenty five. An RN at a nursing home. When I was a little girl, I had everything. Everything I could ever want. Mother bought me a pony for my fifth birthday. I remember greatly because I fell off my first time riding."

She sits up, pulling her shirt up, showing the scar the lives on her rib. Clinton had noticed it, through their love affairs, but never asked. "When it happened, I cried out to my mother. She never showed up. The horse ran off. I was alone for who knows how long until the maid found me, lying in the field." A painful smile haunts her face as she lays her head back down. I heard her and my mother discuss. I was sent to the doctors, but I went with the maid."

Clinton craves to cradle her. A young child didn't even have her mother when she was injured. Scared, alone. The fact that Gloria has never changed pisses Clinton off. But he's helping her in the long run. And hurting Palmer.

"Moving forward.", snapped back into reality from the sound of her voice. "Sent to private school. Mother always held me above other children. I'm not sure why. Clinton, I never thought I was better. Ever. Though kids always taunted me. Telling me I thought I was better. I'm just like everyone else. Again, I wanted to talk. To say what was bothering me, but no one wanted to listen. I had absolutely no friends. Still don't. Every time I tried to talk to mother, she just pushed me to the nanny, our maid, or guard. I'd use their names but no one ever stuck around long enough. It's hard to keep track of them all."

As if at a water park, the water works start. "I had everything Clinton. But I didn't have a mother. I never had a father. I don't even know if he's alive. If I learned anything, it's that you have no one in this life. Not even your own parents. She never told me, but she taught me to be independent. I was determined to finish four years of college to become an RN. Mother didn't come to my graduation. She sent the maids, because she thought they had a better relationship with me. Plus she had business to attend."

Palmer wipes the eloping tears. "That's me Clinton. Just another girl who's been through some shit just like everyone else."

Tug of war, he tugs her hard into his warmth. "You're not just another girl. You're Palmer Valdore, and you're a beautiful woman. And I'm here for you." Smelling the after effects of sex, she still smells so sweet. "What is your middle name?"

Creamy lips smile, "I actually don't have one." Huh? "Mother said nothing fit right. Everything sounded cluttered. So she just put a B on the birth certificate."

"Just a B? You're name reminds me of Palm trees. Breeze would be beautiful, just like you."

The names toss in her head. Palmer Breeze Valdore. "I love it! It rolls off the tongue. So beachy. Good because I love the beach, and we live close to one. Palm Breeze. What's your middle name?"