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“I might stick around a while,” I mutter.
“Oh?” Johnny says.
I hear the way his voice is pitched, not too eager. I guess he thinks I’m wary of talking about anything emotional, or anything that veers close to that territory. And he’s right.
“Any particular reason?” he goes on.
“I don’t know,” I say. “I’m still looking into it.”
“Care to be more vague?” he chuckles.
“How’s Auntie Eva?” I ask, changing the subject.
He pauses for a moment and I know he wants to press further, but then he sighs, quietly agreeing to let it pass. “Baking like a madwoman,” he says. “I’ve put on ten pounds since spring, I’m telling you. That woman will be the death of me.”
“Tell her I hope she’s doing well,” I say. “Did you need to talk about anything specific or was this just a social call?”
“You don’t do social calls,” Johnny banters. “But yeah, it was whatever your version of a social call would be. Take care of yourself, Markus. And aye? If you’ve met a girl down there, try not to scare her off, alright?”
This is just a usual part of our back and forth, but as I laugh I hear how strangled my voice sounds.
Millie, Millie, fucking Millie.
We say our goodbyes and I walk to the window, standing there, peering out at the night and my Chevy Impala.
I could climb in now and drive away.
Nobody would stop me.
There’s nothing tying me to this town.
NO.
Something roars inside of me, some deep part of me I’ve never felt before.
An instinct to make her mine, to make it so no other man gets to explore those luscious curves.
My eyes refocus and I see my reflection now instead, and just for a second I see her standing there beside me, her head resting on my chest, her belly bulging with our offspring, a gorgeous smile on her lips.
I turn away.
This is crazy.
But that doesn’t make it any less real.Chapter FourMillie“I don’t know what happened,” Jackie says the next morning, as the three of us drive into town for breakfast at the diner.
The last place I want to spend my Saturday morning is at my workplace, but Jackie has been going there every Saturday morning for almost a decade now, and I try to spend as little time alone in the house as possible.
Is that me being paranoid? Or is something bad really coming?
I guide the car steadily through the forest, Lava sitting up happily in the back seat, turning between us with his tongue hanging out as we talk, as though following the flow of the conversation.
“I was sure I didn’t leave the door or the gate open. But there was no sign of a break-in, was there? I mean, if somebody wanted to steal him, surely they’d just take him.”
“Maybe they tried to but he put up too much of a fight and he ran away?”
“Maybe,” she murmurs. “But then why not close the door so it looked less suspicious?”
Jackie wrings her hands, frowning so that her high cheekbones look even more pronounced. She looks even thinner than she normally does in the baggy sweater, the sleeves pulled up around her wrists. Her black hair tied in a ponytail, which she touches every few moments, something she does when she’s anxious.
“I don’t know,” I say, thinking about the west coast, the horror there.
She knows some of it. But not all.
But I’m not about to ventilate my life story on what’s supposed to be a pleasant Saturday morning.
“Anyway, I don’t know why you’re changing the subject from your mega crush on Markus McCabe.”
I roll my eyes, feeling heat blossom in my cheeks despite my best efforts to keep my face calm.
“Yeah, right,” I murmur.
“I think he likes you,” Jackie goes on with a giggle.
“What on earth would make you say that?” I murmur, rounding a corner and driving down the final stretch to the town, the road becoming less of a country lane, widening out as the Stone Harbor sign comes into view.
“Because he actually spoke to you,” Jackie laughs. “Word around town is that he doesn’t talk to anyone, ever. The fact that you had a conversation is proof enough.”
“Well, it wasn’t much of one,” I say.
“I can’t believe he called you ma’am,” she giggles. “He must be twice your age.”
“Who cares?” I say, with more passion than I intended. “I love the gray in his hair. I love how experienced and … Oh, you little sneak.”
Jackie giggles delighted, proving my instincts right.
She only made a comment about his age to draw out my real feelings toward him.
Blistering attraction.
“That was way too sneaky,” I say.
“At least I know how you really feel now,” she replies, a thrilled note in her voice. “So are you going to go for it?”
I sigh. “Let’s not get carried away.”
“What do you mean?” Jackie demands. “Why shouldn’t you go for it if you like him?”
