"Right there—God, Jordan, rightthere—" Her voice climbs and I chase it like a man possessed. I get a hand between us andfind the spot that makes her shatter, working her in time with every stroke. "That's my girl. Let go. I've got you. I've always got you."
Lana meets me for every stroke. Her nails drag down my back. My name breaks apart in her mouth. Everything around us disappears. The whole world goes quiet. The only thing left is her heat, her grip, and the way she clings to me like I'm the only solid thing in her world.
Her walls quiver and collapse around me. I keep moving in time with her, driving Lana into the bed of my truck and forcing her closer to the edge. I don’t let up until she comes apart beneath me. I let go with a final thrust and empty myself into her. Lana milks me to the last drop.
I hold her there until the rumble of truck tires in the distance startles us back to life. Lana’s eyes widen with the sound.
I press a finger to her lips. “Shh, stay here. They’re just passing. Then I’ll get you your clothes, take you home, and peel them off all over again.”
CHAPTER 9
LANA
Jordan spentthe night ravishing my body. He had me two times before the sun came up. Being with him was different from anything I’ve ever experienced. I’ve never felt more beautiful.
I close my eyes and I can still feel it. The second time, slower than the first, his hands pinning mine above my head while he moved in me like he had all night to prove a point.Look at me,he'd said, low against my ear—and I had, and I'd come apart with his eyes locked on mine and my own name breaking in my throat. No one has ever asked me to look at them before. No one has ever made beingseenfeel like the safest place in the whole world.
That first night he held me close as I finally closed my eyes. Then a miracle occurred, and I finally slept. Not just an hour or two between panicked rushes of adrenaline either. My body, used to its permanent fight-or-flight, collapsed into the safety and warmth of Jordan’s massive arms.
I don’t mean it to, but somehow we carry on like this for the next two weeks. Jordan becomes such a permanent fixture in my world that my life starts to melt into his. I listen to his countrymusic. He reads chapters from my romance books… But only the good ones.
The school hasn’t reopened yet, but he fills the space and then some. The quiet moments of my life become filled with laughter, but we talk about the real stuff too. I tell Jordan about losing my parents and my subsequent years in foster care. He tells me that all he’s ever wanted is a family of his own.
It’s all verysmall town happily ever after,and for the first time in my life I’m starting to see myself in the leading role. It’s strange honestly, but there’s something about Jordan that makes life feel like a fairy tale I never dared to dream about.
Today Jordan is working and I’ve just gotten out of bed. I check the clock on my nightstand to find that it’s already 9:30 am. That’s a record for me as far as sleeping in goes. It’s amazing how different I feel on a full night’s sleep.
I stumble to the kitchen ready to pour myself a cup of ambition a la Dolly Parton when my phone buzzes on the counter.
I look at it with a giant smile on my face expecting to see a text from Jordan illuminating the screen. But when I find a message from an unknown number instead, everything goes still. My stomach instantly tightens into familiar knots.
I have not gotten a text from an unknown number in eleven months. But I know exactly what this is before I even check the message.
My body knows. My hands know. My heart knows.
I pick up the phone and read the message. It doesn’t take long because there are only four words followed by an emoji.
Cute town, baby girl. (fire emoji)
In the five seconds after I read those four words, reality comes flooding back.
It was him. The arson at the school that could have killed all those kids was my fault. I brought him here. I’m not in aromantic comedy, I’m in a fucking domestic thriller. I’m not the girl who gets the happily ever after and I never have been. I let my guard down. I let myself forget what his syntax looks like. I had let myself forget the particular weight of baby girl in his mouth, the way it never meant darling and never meant sweetheart. I let myself forget the way it’s always meant I know where you are.
This is how he plays it. He never moves the second he finds me. He likes to sit in it, to watch, to let me build a life soft enough to be worth burning down. Then, the moment I stop looking over my shoulder, he reminds me he was there the whole time. The fire wasn't the message. The fire was him getting comfortable. The text is the message. Two weeks of safety dissolve in that one second, like sugar in hot water.
Given the choice, my body will not scream. It never does. My body, instead, becomes very quiet. I know how to handle it. This situation isn’t anything new.
I set my phone face down on the counter. I don’t slam it or throw it. I don’t need to look at the screen again. The four words are now downloaded in my head, where they will live rent-free for the rest of my life.
I walk to the bathroom and close the door behind me. I lock it out of habit even though there is no one in the house. Then I lift the lid of the toilet, kneel on the bathmat, and throw up the last of what’s in my stomach from last night. It’s calm and efficient the way my body has learned to do everything.
When there is nothing left, I sit back on my heels.
I flush.
I rinse my mouth at the sink.
I look at my own face in the mirror. The woman looking back at me has freckles that were lit up by the late sun coming through pines not that long ago. The woman in the mirror was carriedout of a burning building, kissed in the bed of a truck and told she is not alone anymore.
