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My mind wanders to Mary. I wonder if her writing is going any easier today. Part of me thinks that if she just gave up on all this unrealistic romance stuff, maybe she’d do better to write the kind of thing she’s really into, a sexy, red-headed chick being double dicked down six ways from Sunday by two dudes.
Or something like that. I mean, the girl in the story could have any hair color, really.
A smirk tugs at my lips as I imagine her temper if I mentioned anything like that to her. Especially if I pitched it to her like that. She’d hate that. The thing is, though, she’s not this sweet, innocent little church mouse. She’s a fiery woman who has needs. Enough needs that only two guys can fill them. To me, that seems to explain all of this shit. The writer’s block, the insecurities, it all comes down to one thing: she isn’t being honest with herself.
Not that I’m some kind of therapist.
I chuckle at the idea of a shrink telling a client that they just need to accept that they love being double dicked down. “And that will be two hundred and fifty dollars for those insights, thanks.”
Damn, I’m really in the wrong profession.
Grinning at my thoughts, I grab a mug and pour myself a coffee before it’s finished brewing. The coffee maker is doing that spitty, stuttery thing where it makes a bunch of sick sounding noises trying to push the last few drops of water out into the pot. I don’t have any patience for that. I need some caffeine—and I need it now.
Sipping the hot brew, I tilt my head and listen closely. What was that? It sounded like a car door slamming. I know Owen is still passed out, naked in his bed. So, it’s not like he’s driving anywhere. It takes longer than it should to piece it together, but finally, the coffee must hit my brain because I realize that it’s Mary.
I rush out to the porch just in time to watch her sail off down the road in her little car. Where is she going? Is she leaving here? Is she leaving us? I watch as her tiny Honda becomes a speck on the road and then disappears.
She never said anything about going away. This must be some kind of mistake. Or is it? Cold tendrils climb up inside me and grab hold of my guts, and it has nothing to do with winter. It’s the realization hitting me, she’s abandoning us. And she never even said goodbye.
Anger starts to rise up, climbing my veins like the mercury in a thermometer. So that’s how she’s going to play us? Just fuck us, string us along and then slip out like a thief in the night? Well, technically in the day, but the point is she’s sneaking away. The point is, she’s gone, and we didn’t mean enough to her for a wave out the window as she left us in her dust.
My temper makes my blood hot and my heart cold. I can’t believe I was letting myself fall for her. I can’t believe I let myself care about her when, clearly, she never gave a fuck about us. I turn and grab the handle to the cabin door when the ground shakes and a rumble fills the air.
“What the fuck?” I turn, watching in horror as an avalanche of snow rolls free from the mountaintop and rolls down. I’ve lived here long enough to know where that snow likely landed. It’s possible that she was speeding down the road and already passed it before it fell.
But if she wasn’t speeding.
But if she wasn’t paying attention…
She might have gotten swept up in that landslide.
I can’t risk it.
Am I pissed at her? You fuckin’ betcha. Am I going to possibly let her die out there? No way.
I fling the door open. “Owen, get your ass up, we gotta move, man.”
“What’s going on?” He sits up like lightning shot through him and blinks his eyes.
“It’s Mary, she took off down the road and an avalanche just rolled down the mountain. C’mon, man, we gotta get down there and make sure she’s okay,” I bark at him.
“Mary? Avalanche?”
I understand it’s a lot to take in, especially for someone who just woke up, but I don’t have time to explain.
“Move your ass, or I’m leaving without you. You got ten seconds, Owen.” I’m commanding him like a drill sergeant.
He hops out of bed, jumping all over the room as he tries to pull his boxers and pants back on. It takes a few seconds, and he still looks groggier than a frat guy after his first rager when he comes out of the bedroom, but he’s ready, and that’s the main thing.
“Okay,” he shakes his head and steps into his boots, “let’s go.”
