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She flinched and tried to shrink away. I didn’t allow it; I got closer, cupping her jaw.
“I saw the signs and then, yeah, I peeked in your tackle box. Saw your box cutter. Know that you’re not cutting paper hearts and snowflakes, baby.”
She winced and then her face reddened, eyes going hard.
My voice gruff, I leaned forward, saying, “Don’t get pissed, woman. Don’t tell me I shouldn’t have looked. I saw blood on the sink back at the cabin, bandage wrappers in the trash there and here. Wasn’t hard to figure out. Opened that box for confirmation.”
Her expression morphed into embarrassment.
I kept talking. “I figure you’ve got some outlets you reach for when you get to a dangerous frame of mind. Your guitar. Your journals. You don’t have those here, so here’s some paper and pens so you have options in case all the shit from today tries to mess with you. And a phone so you can listen to music. Play games, color some flowers, get your mind off your pain at least a couple minutes at a time.”
She pulled her lips tight, eyes filling with wet. “Jesse,” she mouthed and then her lip trembled, and she shuddered out a long breath.
“I don’t hold back, G. I see you doin’ shit that’s dangerous, I’m gonna call you out. That shit’s dangerous. Obviously you did it at the cabin, too, before the bad news – even though you had your journals, your guitar, so that’s something you gotta work on. You know it already, I’m sure this ain’t news, but you’re under my care, baby, so I’m gonna care, gonna help you when I see you need help. All right? And if I don’t see it but you need it, do not be afraid to ask me for help.”
She surprised me by wrapping her arms around me and holding on tight. And then she pulled away and wiped her eyes with her sleeve cuffs. “You need to stop this.”
“Stop what?”
“Not bein’ salty.”
I laughed and wiped a tear from her cheek with my thumb. “I’m still salty.”
“You haven’t been an ogre with me for… like… days. Don’t let me get used to it.”
I snickered, then sobered. “Maybe you should get used to it.”
She physically jolted.
“Though, can’t promise I won’t get salty sometimes. Anyway…” I gestured to the markers. “Overheard a conversation in the yard in the joint. Guy that used to cut said he started drawing on his arm with a red marker instead. Pretended it was blood. I made sure there’s a red Sharpie in that box.”
The frown lines over the bridge of her nose deepened.
“Try it,” I invited. “Though, thinkin’ now I shoulda bought something easier to wash off than Sharpie. Try red lipstick or somethin’.” I shrugged. “You got one?”
She bit her lip and nodded. “Got at least seven.” She then looked away and fidgeted. She wasn’t ready to talk about this.
“Nobody knocked on the door while I was gone?” I asked.
She shook her head.
Good. I might lose it if Skip tried that shit again.
“Gotta head to church. You need me, text or phone me and I’ll come straight here. He should be there with me, but somethin’ happens, and he knocks on the door again, you call me. I’ll come immediately. You want anything before I go?” I tucked a lock that escaped her braid behind her ear with my fingertips and then looked into her eyes again.
She shook her head again and tried to look off to the side, chewing her lip.
Using my index finger under her chin, I tilted her jaw to see her eyes. She startled at the eye contact.
I held her gaze for a long minute, hoping I was communicating where I was at.
She searched my eyes and I saw a flash of something, then she looked away. Still not believing it.
So, I needed to lay it out in black and white then.
But I had to get to the chapel.
“Need me? Call me. Back soon,” I said.
I watched a swallow work down her throat.
I kissed her. I did it softly, letting my lips linger before slowly pulling back and looking into her eyes, holding her braid. She leaned in, wanting more, then I gave it to her, taking in the whimper she gave me. My thumb skated over her hard nipple and I wished with a cuss that church was starting an hour or three later.
“Mm. Fuck. Gotta go. To be continued… yeah? If you’re up for it. No pressure.”
She swayed when I broke contact and moved for the door.
“Thanks for the phone, Jesse. It’s really nice. I’m … gonna pay you back.”
“You’re not,” I corrected.
“Another incidental covered by Deke?” she asked, looking hopeful.
“No. It’s from me. And it’s my pleasure, baby.”
“Um… you can’t.”
“I already did.”
I saw her hand clench the bedding.
“Gotta go, Gigi. Back soon. We’ll finish this conversation, then. We have more to talk about.”
