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“What was this place?” I ask, looking around.
He glances up from his task, his eyes unfocused as he takes in our surroundings.
“A brother and his ol’ lady lived out here, I think,” I say. “But this was way back in the day, like in the sixties or something.”
I glance around too. At the one-room house, where the bed and sofa are both visible through the open door. And at a structure next to it, which I imagine was the garage. There’s even a swing set and a slide, both broken and full of rust-induced holes.
“Looks like they wanted to stay off-the-grid,” I say. “They had chickens and a well, and children, it looks like.”
“I guess.”
“I want that too. Sometimes.”
“Me too,” he says. “The world just has this tendency to get too complicated way too fast.”
“Yeah?” I ask and smile. “For you too?”
He returns the smile. “All the damn time.”
His smile tells me I still have all the chances in the world with him. And now that’s too scary to think about. Why does my mind have to be so messed up, just hopping from one fear to another all the time?
“I wonder if they were happy here,” I say, looking away from his bright eyes. “It looks like maybe they were.”
He shrugs and resumes cleaning his gun. “It’s a little off the beaten path, if you ask me.”
“I think they liked it that way,” I muse. “Away from everyone and everything, just the two of them, raising their children out here, surrounded by nature and birdsong.”
He looks up at me and grins. “Is that what you’re after? Peaceful and quiet living?”
I grin too. “Maybe. It sure sounds simpler than having to deal with people day in and day out.”
He looks around again, a more pensive, focused expression on his face now. “You have a point. We used to spend a lot of time here as kids, just messing around. And it was like being in a world of our own.”
He looks at me, the intensity in his eyes more scorching than sunlight. “And I can definitely see the appeal of never leaving now.”
I’m suddenly breathless, and hot like I’ve just run a 5K. I’m sure I blushed too.
“With me, you mean?” I say and giggle.
“Yeah, with you,” he says and laughs too. “But I guess it’s too early for plans like that.”
His lips are suddenly very close to mine again. And my entire life flashes before my eyes. The threat of all those bad memories surfacing is suddenly not greater than the threat of never getting kissed by him again.
So I lean in.
And so does he.
And the sun has nothing on the heat of our kiss. The touch of our lips sends a shock of pleasure straight through my core, rivaling anything I’ve ever felt before. Rivaling anything I ever imagined I could feel. His lips are soft and taste like summer rain even as the kiss fills me with the heat of the summer sun.
But dark clouds are already gathering on the edges of my thoughts. They’re not letting me enjoy the moment. Not letting me give myself into the pleasure. Just like I knew they wouldn’t.
Surrender means death. Knowing that is how I survived. I knew if I surrendered to being a whore, if I accepted that it was what the rest of my life would be, then I might as well be dead.
He touches my neck, softly, gently even. To bring me closer and deepen the kiss, I’m sure.
I push him away.
We come apart as though lightning struck right between us—lightning shooting from the gathering clouds of the darkness in my mind. I can still hear the deafening thunder it brought.
