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“No, I’m not afraid because she’s dead, Jessica.” The words are spat out slowly and deadly and each one is laced with anger as Rick advances toward me, a predatory look in his eyes.
“Shit,” I whisper, and I know it’s all kinds of screwed up given what Rick just confessed, but desire unfurls in my belly, licking a path over my body before pooling between my thighs. “I…fuck, I’m sorry. When I saw you with your son, I just assumed—”
“You of all people should know, nothing should ever be assumed, Jessica. Assumption is a path to destruction.” My back hits the truck behind me, and I have nowhere else to go, but Rick keeps coming. When his body brushes against mine, hands landing either side of my head, he leans his head down, running his nose up my neck to my pulse point and inhaling a deep breath that unleashes a tremor of want, of need, that has goosebumps blooming all over my body. I can’t contain the throaty moan that leaves my lips on a stuttered breath.
“You torment me. I’m constantly at war with my body’s reaction to you, and I should stay away from you. You should make me stay away from you.” His lips flutter across my skin, nipping at my jaw as he makes his way to my mouth.
“Maybe I don’t want you to stay away,” I whisper against his lips, his tongue poking out to caress the seam of my mouth. I open for him, and he slips his tongue inside before finally crashing his lips to mine in a fierce kiss.
My scarf slips from my hand, gliding to the floor, as I submit. I grab the lapels of his coat and pull him closer. He obliges, grinding his hips and causing friction in just the right place, but the spell is broken by the slamming of a door making the truck shake.
He runs his eyes over me, bringing up a hand to cradle my neck and rubbing his thumb along his own fingerprints. Resting his head against mine, he says, “I’m sorry. I have to go.” And with that he dashes away, disappearing around the truck before I can catch my breath.
I stand there for several minutes unsure whether I’m more angry or more turned on. One thing I am sure of is that I’m confused and devastated in equal measure.
Rick was married. I’m not really surprised because, let’s be honest, the man is a walking advert for a lady boner. Knowing he lost his wife explains a lot about his behaviour at least.
Getting myself together, I pick up my coffee coated scarf from the floor and step out from behind the truck. I continue my walk around the stalls, stopping only to buy some fresh doughnuts. I defy anyone that can walk past that smell and not buy some.
I don’t see Rick or his friends again, and by the time I make it back to Eleanor, she’s started packing up for the day.
“Hey. Sorry I was so long,” I say, stepping round the table and placing the doughnuts down before grabbing another cake box.
“Doughnuts. Why am I not surprised.” Eleanor says with a chuckle.
When the last box is loaded into Eleanor’s car, she tells me she’ll see me back at the cabins as she has some deliveries to make. We say our goodbyes, and I head to my own car. As I get closer, I notice several pieces of paper tucked under the wipers. Snatching the folded sheets up, which are most likely someone trying to make some fast cash, I climb in, throwing them on the passenger seat before driving away.
I turn the music up in the car, not because I like the song but more to drown out the chaotic thoughts running rampant in my mind.
I turn onto a long straight road, opening the engine up as the car behind grows smaller and smaller. Coming to the end of the straight, I lift my foot off the accelerator, slowing down enough to take the bend up ahead. As I round the corner, I accelerate again, but a deer darts from the tree line, halting in the middle of the road. I slam my foot on the brakes, but there’s no resistance. Trying again, I pump the pedal several times, but nothing happens. There’s not enough time to decelerate before hitting the deer, so I do the only thing I can at this point, I swerve. Mounting the grass verge, I steer round a tree, only to crash headfirst into the ditch the other side of it.
My body lurches as the seatbelt locks into place, and I’m left dangling face first. “Fuck!” I curse feeling pain and tenderness where the belt cut into my neck and collarbone. That’s going to leave some pretty rainbow-coloured bruises.
Raising my head, I brace an arm on the steering wheel and wedge one foot into the wheel arch and the other on the dash. Once I’m ready, I use my free arm to reach for the seat belt button and push down before quickly placing it on the steering wheel to stop gravity from pulling me forward.
Everything from the back seat has been flung forward, including the sheets of paper that were under my wipers earlier. One is slapped on the windscreen, and I realise it’s a photo. Climbing onto the centre console, I reach out a shaky hand and snatch it up.
My eyes widen as I take in the features of the man in the picture. Features I’d know anywhere. Features that I miss every single day and have for the last five years.
Fourteen
Jess
I grab another one; the same picture stares back at me. Another and another, but they’re all the same. My brother, lain on the floor, top bare and covered in blood with eyes wide open and lifeless.
I scramble over the passenger seat, pulling on the door handle, ignoring the lancing pain that blooms across my chest, and shove it open. I tumble out, hitting the boggy ground on one knee as one foot gets jammed between the car and the door.
I push up from the ground on shaky arms, fingers squelching in the mud, just as my mouth floods with saliva and vomit rises in the back of my throat. I heave as my doughnuts make an unscheduled reappearance. The earlier delicious smell is now tainted with the vile smell of bile.
I push up from the ground again, trying to free my foot. After several hard tugs, it finally comes free, and I roll to the right to avoid face-planting into my vomit.
I catch my breath and then get up, searching my pockets for my phone. Not finding it, I look through the back window for my bag. I spot it in the footwell of the passenger side, just as a car door slams up on the road behind me.
“Hello. Can you hear me?” calls out a male voice. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine. I’m coming up,” I call back to him, and my voice trembles with a mixture of adrenaline and shock. I climb back in the car far enough that I can hook a finger around the handle of my bag. The pictures of my dead brother strewn inside the car are almost enough to undo me again, but I hold it in. I pull my bag out and gather up all the pieces of paper I can find, shoving them inside my bag before climbing up the side of the ditch back to the road.
When I emerge from the trees, Jake, the guest that Rocco took a disliking to, is there.
