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We dance for several songs.
Until she’s suddenly climbing up me and kissing me hungrily, like she can’t hold back any longer, and the night is too close to ending.
And I take her over and over, until the sun is shining down on us and we’re both too spent to even attempt another round.
As she gets comfortable on top of me, her eyes lazily drifting shut, I ask, “Why Lana Myers? What made you choose that name?”
She grins as her eyes struggle to remain open.
“My mother said she and my father always argued about my name before I was born. They agreed immediately on Marcus, but my name? It was one of the few arguments they ever held. She wanted Victoria because of my late grandma. My father loved the name Lana, had heard it when he was traveling as a teen with his parents. He said he felt like I was going to be a Lana, and not some
regal girl like the name Victoria suggested.”
She laughs under her breath, her gaze shifting as she drifts into her memories again.
“Mom said after I was born, she knew she was right. But Dad said he was right, because the definition of Lana suited me perfectly, even though my mother argued I was as hot-tempered as any Victoria there ever was.”
I tilt my head, wanting in on the inside joke. “What does Lana mean?”
“Depends on the country. Precious. Little Rock. Sun Ray. But Dad said it was the Hawaiian meaning above all else that suited me—afloat; calm as still waters. It took a storm to offer me a calm.”
She meets my gaze again, and I smile, thinking of how well it does suit her.
“I needed a name that meant something; I needed something to keep me from fading into a new persona. That was the only one I had,” she goes on.
I run my finger along her nose, tapping the end of it. “It fits you perfectly. But why Myers?”
A darker smile lights her lips. “My father was also a horror movie buff. Old school horror movies. He said he didn’t have the time or patience for pretty boy douchebags who had mommy issues.”
I laugh unexpectedly, and she grins.
“Mom always teased him that he just liked the scary, in-your-face psychopaths with mommy issues. Michael Myers was one of his faves.”
I laugh harder, shaking my head, and she lifts her hand, running her fingers through my hair. Our eyes meet and a calm silence washes over us.
“Can I ask a case related question?” I ask hesitantly.
“You know everything that’s happened,” Lana says warily. “I can’t tell you what’s left.”
“Do you know who the original killer was?”
That’s when there’s a knock at the door, pausing our conversation.
“Yeah?” Lana calls out, her body sprawled across mine.
“I hate to break up the reunion, but there’s an emergency meeting going on right now. Donny says we need to be at the cabins ASAP.”
“Shit,” I groan, cursing the day already.
Lana rolls off me with effortless grace and grabs a robe, tying it together before I even manage to pry myself from the bed. She leans against the wall and just watches me as I quickly dress.
“You’re good, Logan,” Lana says quietly, drawing my attention to her as she perches on the edge of a dresser. “It’s the thing I love most about you. Do whatever you feel is right. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be okay.”
I knew what her answer was going to be when I asked the question last night, but hearing the finality in her tone is like a sledgehammer to my stomach.
“This isn’t goodbye, Lana. I’ll be back tonight. We may have to actually sleep, but I will be back.”
She smiles at me, but it’s weighted once again.
