When It All Goes Still

by Allison Mullinax

“You’ve returned my wallet. You’ve rescued me from my floor. And you’ve just saved me from a prison sentence for murdering that witch. Trust earned. Let me thank you.” I tilt my head, hoping that he picks up on my sincerity.

  A small grin plays on his lips. “Whatever you say.” He shrugs his shoulders, and his lips twitch.

  ****

  The night breeze circles around the hem of my dress, causing the fabric to sway across my thighs as we walk to the restaurant. After Traveler helped me up the stairs, he excused himself from my room while I finished getting ready. I was surprised to see him waiting for me when I came out, half-expecting him to have changed his mind again. Before leaving, I sent a text to Mary-Beth, “Change of plans, I’ll be back later.” He has a relaxed expression on his face; it’s attractive and puts me at ease.

  “Are you sure you’re okay walking?” He nibbles at the corner of his thumbnail, taking slow and easy steps. I nod at him in response, and he seems satisfied with it.

  “So. What’s the backstory with the bitch at the front door?” He glances sideways at me.

  “We aren’t going to brush past that, huh?” I give him a pleading expression, but I already know it won’t do me any good.

  “Spill it.”

  I peek at his face and decide I can at least give him an explanation. He saved me from giving Katie the satisfaction of knowing what she did still hurts me.

  “Long story short: Katie and I were best friends growing up. And then I moved off to college, and I realized how toxic her friendship was. She didn’t take too well to not coming first.” I pause, not entirely sure how much information I want to divulge. I barely know him, but I see that his attention is completely focused on everything I’m saying, and I find myself wanting to confide in him.

  “I was in my sophomore year at Alabama when my parents died in an accident.” Saying the words out loud still takes the breath from my lungs. “The night of their burial I found my boyfriend of four years, Max, and Katie together. They were standing outside of the funeral home, and he had her back pressed against my car. At first, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me, that all the tears I had shed were manipulating my eyesight. But no. She appeared so pleased with herself, and Max just looked like he was caught in her spider web. So there ya have it,” I say, allowing myself a glimpse in his direction. “Katie is MB’s sister. Max’s dad is the mayor. And this is a small town. It’s inevitable that I see them from time to time, but last night I just couldn’t get away fast enough. After you chased me through the woods”—I elbow him in the side, letting him know I’m joking—“I was tired and starving and I passed out in front of them, and the whole town.” I can’t help but laugh at the recounting of events. Traveler doesn’t join in my amusement though. I swear his eyes are a shade darker and his fists are balled at his sides.

  “Had I known any of that, I would have given her more of a show. And he’s a damn fool.” He stops on the sidewalk, his gaze moving across my face before shifting to my lips. He looks conflicted about something. Why can’t I read him?

  “Right. Well, you really bailed me out back there. The look on her face when she realized poor, lonely Jo had a handsome stranger in her house was priceless. Thank you for that, Traveler.”

  The leaves on the Bradford Pears begin trembling as the wind races through the trees along the downtown sidewalk. A streak of lightning illuminates the town, causing the street lamps to flicker. My head snaps up, watching as the black sky momentarily fires to life, the energy in the air around us becoming charged. I wait to hear thunder, but it never comes. I look back at him, expecting him to be as confused by the dry lightning as I am, but his hooded eyes are studying my face.

  “Yikes. I wasn’t expecting it to storm. We’d better get inside.” I turn up the walkway to Poncho’s, chills working their way up my forearms.

  “Johanna?” Traveler’s voice is like a blanket over my skin, warming and enveloping. His hand gently catches my wrist, causing me to stop and gaze back at him. My skin is tingling underneath his fingertips. His determined expression slips away like someone untying a mask. His gaze slides up my face, connecting with mine. “You look really pretty tonight.”

  I’m taken off guard by the unexpected compliment, and I catch myself blinking back at him with a smile. “Thank you.” His fingers slowly work their way down to my palm, entwining each one with mine, until our hands are laced together creating a pulsating thump in my heartbeat. I stare up at him, his eyes fixated on our fingers locked together.

  “Ready for a drink?” His voice is low and alluring. I let him lead me into the restaurant, all the while thinking the seduction of tequila in my veins is exactly what I’m ready for.

  Chapter Seven

  Traveler

  I’m caught in a riptide. There is an unseen current pulling me in deeper, no matter how hard I’m fighting to swim away. Why the hell else am I here? I can’t make myself go. If it were any other circumstance, I would have come back to clean up the mess I made, then parted ways without a second look back. The clock is winding down the minutes, and every second that I’m here with her is another second I risk getting caught. It’s just not worth it, yet there is some invisible chain connecting me to her side that I can’t sever. Every word that comes out of her mouth draws me in further. Her mouth. I can’t stop staring at her lips. For fuck’s sake, I almost kissed her. And it probably would have killed her since everything about me physically affects her in some way. With every transfer in touch, the atoms within her are being manipulated by me. I can’t keep this up.

  The tiny shack Johanna is calling a restaurant is packed wall-to-wall with hungry customers. Families, friends, and couples are smashed together at vibrantly colored tables and booths scattered haphazardly around the room. The voices of so many patrons mixed together make it impossible to hear. She leans on her tiptoes, her breath smoothing across my jawline. “We can find a seat at the bar for now.”

  The bar stretches the entire back length of Poncho’s. A tile mural of a Mexican woman sprawled lazily underneath a shade tree, listening to a man play his guitar, spans the entire wall. Johanna tugs at my hand, pulling me toward the far end of the curved bar where the last two chairs remain. Releasing my hand, she gracefully hops onto the bar stool as a short man with leathery skin approaches us, smiling. “Hey Benito! Two Margaritas. Sugar, not salt. Make it good,” she calls out, throwing him a wink before turning her attention to me.

  “All right, Traveler, let’s hear it.” I find myself shifting in my seat, nervous from her unrelenting glare. “I’m not buying the quiet, mysterious vibe you’re giving me tonight. I gave you an entire journal entry from my life. Your turn.” I can tell she isn’t joking around.

  The bartender places two frosted glasses in front of us along with a basket of salted chips and salsa. Johanna stirs the lime-green slush, dunking chunks of sugar that are lining the rim into the cup. “Bottoms up.” Her lips wrap around the straw, pulling the liquid into her mouth.

  Hell. I catch myself swallowing hard and clear my throat. I take the straw out and tip my glass to my mouth, feeling the burn of tequila against my tongue, mixing with the sweetness of sugar. The drinks are small but lethal.

  “Now that’s not bad,” I say, taking another gulp. “All right then, Johanna, what is it you want to know?” If I let her lead the questioning, then I won’t divulge more than she’s already curious about.

  She tosses a chip into her mouth, pretending to contemplate a question. She clearly has several lined up single-file in her brain, ready to march out of her mouth one by one.

  “How old are you?” She regards me curiously.

  “Twenty-seven. How about you?” This is easy.

  “Twenty-four.” She looks at me, twiddling her fingers, as if she’s just getting started. I’ve been trained on how to answer certain questions if the need ever arises. The thing is, we are also trained for that need to never exist. Blending is our main goal. I’ve purposely sought out this woman
twice now. This alone is worth a life sentence in Vlad’s prison.

  “Twenty-seven-year-old, Traveler, non-wallet thief, with secret fancy flashlights…what is it that you do when you aren’t passing through towns saving random girls from their arch nemesis?” I take a pause and finish my drink in one gulp as she does the same. She catches Benito and raises two fingers, signaling for another round. She pushes the chips toward me, swiping one for herself. “Try these.”

  “I’m an insurance agent.” I say it quickly and confidently, staring her in the eye and steadying my breathing. I make it believable. I throw a couple chips doused in salsa in my mouth, and then a couple more for good measure. My eyes never leave hers. I can already feel the alcohol swishing through my bloodstream, and I can tell it’s doing the same to her. There’s an edge to our conversation. It’s as if we are rehearsing from a script, daring the other person to forget their lines. Setting traps. “And you? You own a store.” I try to divert the conversation back to her.

  “The Great Outdoors. I’ve had her for two years now.” The words tumble from her mouth with pride. The thunk of our glasses being set on the bar momentarily grabs her attention.

  I’m aware that my fingertip is grazing her knee, and there’s a peppering of chill bumps moving across her skin. We raise our glasses in a mock toast, and drink.

  “Do you have family close to the Appalachians?” Her tongue runs along her bottom lip, scooping up a stray grain of sugar.

  For a moment, I’m not able to place the origin of the question, forgetting the lie I told earlier in the day.

  “No,” I reply, and she looks at me for more of an explanation. I take a breath and realize she won’t be satisfied with a one-word answer. “I never knew my family. Foster kid.” She doesn’t say anything in response, but her expression is a novel. I can read her every thought and I find a bit of company in our shared sorrow. I shrug. “Just a couple of orphans, huh?”

  “Yes. But I have my brother and Mary-Beth. Surely there are foster siblings you grew up with that you are close to?” She looks at me with a hopeful expression. The real version of my story is truly fucking sad. I could make up a pretty tale for her and save her and myself the pity party, but after her revelations of the past four years she’s lived through, I can’t quite convince myself to lie to her.

  “It’s only me,” I say with a laugh. “I have a mentor I’m somewhat close with back home, but I’ve always been a loner. I’m okay with it.” She stares at me intently, studying the validity of my words. I get it. It’s hard to believe someone would prefer solitude. It’s not exactly a preference as much as it is a survival tool. If someone can’t get close to you, then they also can’t fuck you over. Even more of a reason to rip the Band-Aid that is Johanna Martin away from my flesh.

  “I was heading up north to the trails for hiking. A vacation.” She seems to question my answer but lets it go.

  “And our bewitching town lured you in along the way?” She raises her eyebrow, sarcasm lacing her words.

  “Maybe it was the town. Could have been the people.” I wink at her, the alcohol taking over any fight for control I thought I had. “Which I haven’t seen enough of…the town that is.”

  “Where are you staying at?”

  “I’m up at the hotel by the state park,” I reply, remembering the billboard downtown advertising a forty-eight-dollar-a-night stay with lake views.

  She swallows the last drop of her drink, and places both palms on the bar. “Well, before you leave us for good, there’s something you have to see.” Her eyes are twinkling, childlike excitement bouncing off her. She slides from the bar stool, and throws a twenty on the counter, “Thanks, Benito!” she calls, and he sends her a quick wave goodbye. She grabs my hand. I’m not prepared for it, and the contact sends electric currents running through our fingers. She yanks her hand back, staring wide-eyed at me. “Why does that keep happening?”

  All I can give in reply is a shrug. She cocks her head to the side, and I decide she’s too smart. In truth, I don’t know why it keeps happening. I’ve touched people from the past before, and there hasn’t been the slightest twinge or spark. With her it’s like fireworks.

  I follow her to the entrance, watching the strong muscles in her thighs tighten with every footstep. Her dark curls are tumbling down her back. She turns around to see that I’m behind her, and I can’t help but gawk at how stunning she is.

  Once outside, she pulls out her phone, her thumbs swiftly working out a text message. “Okay, we have to go get my Jeep and then we can go to…well, you’ll see. You’ll love it,” she says, practically skipping down the sidewalk on the way back to her house. I’m having to shuffle my feet to keep up with her. It’s hard to believe a few hours ago, she was paralyzed on the floor.

  ****

  It isn’t a long walk to her house. From the end of the gravel driveway I can see her front porch is illuminated. Her sister-in-law is swaying back and forth on the porch swing with a man I’m assuming is Johanna’s brother.

  “You live with your brother and his wife?” I ask, as the rocks crunch under our footsteps.

  “Andrew and MB had their own little place before the accident. When I told them I wasn’t going back to school, they chose to move into the house with me. I needed them here and I didn’t even know it. Even after our lives evened back out, the arrangement still made sense. So, how much do I owe you for therapy tonight?” she asks, laughing and shaking her head at herself.

  Her sister-in-law waves at us as we hit the porch steps. “Hey there, Traveler, I’m so sorry I wasn’t able to make good on my dinner invitation. I hope Johanna showed you a good time at Poncho’s.” I nod my head once and give her a smile. I wasn’t expecting a family gathering tonight.

  “This is Andrew, my brother,” Johanna introduces us. He has the same dark hair and eyes as Johanna, but his hair is void of the curls his sister possesses. He stands to shake my hand, a little harder than necessary. I get it.

  “Nice to meet you, Traveler. Good to know I’m no longer tasked with hunting my sister’s wallet thief down.” There isn’t the faintest bit of humor in his words.

  “Of course.” I shake his hand once, allowing him to assert the dominance he feels he needs to.

  “Yep. Well, we are heading out. Just grabbing my keys.” Johanna pushes open the screen door, leaving me standing on the porch.

  “How many did you have?” Andrew calls to her.

  “Two!” She shouts from somewhere inside.

  “Who made them?” He continues the questioning, not easing up.

  “If you wanted to know the staff lineup for tonight, then you should have graced us with your presence.” She walks back outside with keys dangling from her hand. “Benito.” She stands still, confident, daring him to question her.

  “Ya’ll have a goodnight. We are turning in,” Mary-Beth says, standing and yanking Andrew by the arm before he has a chance to respond to Johanna.

  She kisses Mary-Beth on the cheek and turns to Andrew, sucker punching him in the arm before trotting down the steps. “Ow! Stop doing that,” he calls to her, as we turn the corner to the garage. “Be careful and watch your ribs!” I hear the screen door slam shut.

  ****

  The garage is an old barn with two vehicles along opposing walls. I can tell that Johanna’s is the dark green Jeep. The other car sits as a mangled pile of twisted metal, the tires deflated by shards of glass, and the right side crushed entirely into the left. She catches me staring and quietly confesses, “We couldn’t get rid of it.”

  I don’t stop myself from the urge I have to brush her hair back off her shoulders as we stand there looking at the wreckage. “They were together?”

  “Yes. They were on their way back from the local football game. My dad was the band director, and my mom was the Freshman biology teacher, so they were there every Friday night. They loved this community and were always pouring themselves into it. And everyone loved them back. The whole town was in mourning
when they died.” She smiles at the memory, though it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

  “I’m sorry, Johanna.” It’s probably the lamest sentence anyone could say. I’m sure she’s heard the useless apologies from everyone who knows her. Still, she looks at me with appreciation and understanding.

  “Me too.” She shrugs and gives a slight nod toward her car. “Let’s go.”

  ****

  Her Jeep top is completely open, and my eyes are fixated on the way the wind is manipulating her hair. We’ve been climbing the curves of a mountain for about ten minutes, and the peacefulness is radiating off her. “We’re almost there,” she says, looking briefly in my direction and smiling.

  There is something about her. It’s not only her story and what she’s gone through. It’s strength. A strength I’m sure she’s always had, one that hibernates inside her. Dormant on most days, but it’s there. Silently piloting her through life. She’s remarkable. I can’t believe some douchebag chose another woman over her.

  The tilt of her Jeep evens out as we crest along the plateau of the hill. She comes to a complete stop at the side of the road where the only thing worth looking at is her.

  “Woods. You’ve brought me to the side of the road, on a mountain, surrounded by woods?” I deadpan.

  “Nope. Gotta walk the rest of the way.” She rounds the back of the car, slipping off her sandals. She opens the back and pulls out a pair of hiking boots, sliding them over her ankles. “Your shoes should be okay. It isn’t too far. Good thing you’re a hiker,” she says with a sly grin, before disappearing into the trees.

  “Déjà vu,” I mutter to myself. Why am I always following this woman through the woods?

  I trail close behind her through the pine trees, the crunch of their discarded needles under her boots is the only sound in the forest tonight. I’m concerned she’s going to trip and fall, re-injuring herself, so my hand every so often touches the small of her back to help her balance.

  Ahead of her, I can make out relief from the brush and thicket. The thorns and branches are becoming more scarce the farther we trek along the invisible trail she somehow so easily knows. She reaches her hand back, and her fingertips lightly touch mine, drawing a static spark. She doesn’t jerk back in response, she expected it, as if she were testing out a theory.