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I don’t know anything about bears.
Or…I guess I should say in that reference.
I know a little about the football team and a little more about which types can use their claws to break into which cars for munchies.
Yeah.
That little fun “did you know” still gives me nightmares.
It’s also one of the reasons I really don’t like camping.
“Let’s pump the breaks for a sec before we take another unwanted detour.” A small adjustment in my seat is executed to momentarily angle my frame more towards my best friend. “Nolan, you’re my fucking McLaren, man.” The shoulder shrug that’s delivered is innocent. Coy. “Whether you’re on the track for racin’ or the road flexin’ or sittin’ at the show for other motherfuckers to drool over, you’re perfect. Wherever you are, whatever day it is, whatever your purpose is, you’re it for me. You’re my dream car. You’re the only one I wanna go 0 to sixty with and know that no matter what we do we’ll never top out.”
To my surprise, a faint redness hits his cheeks as he bashfully scratches the side of his face. “Damn, Kid.”
“And you,” I shift just the slightest to face Bunny, “are the perfect passenger for me. For us. You know exactly what every sound means and can feel the gears needing to change without watching me fucking shift. You’re the only person I’ve ever met that I trust – that I would ever fucking trust – to handle my dream car or map out the road trip we’re gonna take, baby.” Another sheepish shrug leaves me. “It doesn’t matter that we haven’t known you face to face that long. What matters is we’ve found you. That you can read his manual with your eyes fucking closed and steer while I’m fucking blindfolded. You…are…a part of this.” My finger gestures between me and Nolan. “You’re part of the dream too.”
It's her turn to let a crimson shade coat her complexion.
“There.” Grabbing my nearly empty beer bottle precedes me leaning back in my chair. “Y’all’s turn.”
For longer than I like no one says anything.
Eventually, post two bites of his steak, Nolan wipes his face and states, “Jolene was the last woman I had any sort of claim to.” He lets his eyes drift to Bunny’s. “Contrary to what everyone believed, I didn’t give a shit that she was a stripper. Or even that she liked to fuck other dudes.” He casually tosses his hands up in the air. “I fucked around on women. Women have fucked around on me. People fuck around. It’s small-town bullshit. It happens.” His fingers fold together in his lap. “What I did give a fuck about was the fact she hated The Kid.”
“She hated me?!”
He doesn’t bother looking in my direction. “One day she tried to make me choose between them and was pissed when it wasn’t her ass I picked. Next day? She was caught blowing someone else and the shit was over.” Nolan quickly cuts his gaze to me. “Doesn’t matter if it’s your old man or work or women. I’m picking you. Every. Time. Kid. Whether you’re on my sack or not.”
Heat flushes my face so brutally I have to look down at my relatively untouched plate.
“And I’m picking you,” he proceeds, attention back on the woman we never saw coming, “every time because he’s right. You fit here.” Nolan defiantly stabs the table. “You fit with us.”
Her beaming is barely masked by the bite of whipped potatoes she forces herself to have.
“The detectives,” Nolan continues, now addressing us both, “want to know if I’ve seen some asshole, they showed me a photo of. And I can’t confirm or deny shit without my records directly in front of me for verification. But if I were to search them, I might find that he was the first tow I was supposed to have on Monday. What I wouldn’t find was a record of the tow because I wouldn’t tow an overly mouthy bounty hunter wannabe who was one of six dudes hunting for some rich prick’s ex-girlfriend that clearly didn’t wanna be found. And I also wouldn’t tow someone who boasted that he had a lead on her.” Our boyfriend picks up his knife and fork to resume cutting. “An asshole like that probably just got too cocky and wandered off into the woods.” His slow slicing doesn’t deter our focus. “And the woods are an extremely dangerous place, especially when you don’t know the fucking area. Cliffs have a weird way of sneakin’ up on ya.” He lifts the bite towards his lips. “Not to mention wild animals will eat anything if they’re hungry enough. We’re talkin’ bones and all.”
A mere tip of my beer bottle forward is instantly delivered.
He did the right fucking thing.
I probably would’ve done the exact same shit if it were me face to face with someone threatening her.
Nolan shoves the bite into his mouth on a clipped, “Rabbit.”
“His name is Brad McAdams.” Seeing her nervously fidget with her fork prompts both of us to reach a hand over to rest on her trembling frame. “I’m the only woman who’s ever turned him down and lived to tell about it.” The lack of mirth in her voice has me flexing my fingers that are protectively lingering on her leg. “Cops – no matter where I go – either don’t believe me or are connected to his family.” Her gaze remains centered on her plate until Nolan lets the thumb of the hand resting on hers give it a soothing stroke. “He’s been chasing me around the country for years. Every time I move, he somehow manages to find me. May take a week. May take three. One time it took a whole month, but he found me. And it doesn’t matter what time of day I leave or what state I end up in, he’s always there. I’m always left with no choice but to become a shut in. To have my groceries delivered to a neighbor or left on my doorstep during the busiest parts of the day to guarantee witnesses. Cameras have to be covering every angle of my apartment possible. I have to avoid long periods of time in any one room for fear he could be recording or watching me through a telescope. I shower in the dark. I block windows. I hoard stashes of cash and burner phones for quick escapes like the one I made that got me here.” Bunny takes one hard swallow before whispering out, “I’m afraid that the next time he finds me…I’m dead.”
“No.” Nolan coldly declares exactly what I’m thinking. “He is.”
Chapter 16
Bunny
“Your books are a hot mess,” I defeatedly sigh as I lean back in the squeaky office chair.
“Then it looks like you have that in common,” Nolan jeers in return from where he’s leaning in the tiny, back-office doorway.
“It’s like you don’t enjoy getting your dick touched, Mutt.”
