He turns around and groans. “Jesus, it’s Jackie. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me,” he mumbles.
“Chicken,” Myra says, teasing him.
“You got that fucking right,” he says, slapping her ass as he walks past her.
She giggles and watches him walk into the kitchen. Taking in a deep breath, she opens the door. “Myra!” Jackie shrieks before throwing her arms around Myra’s neck and almost choking her. “I know Dylan’s here, but I have some fantastic news. You’re never going to believe what happened to me today. This guy showed up at the bookstore and said he represented an anonymous party who wanted to buy the bookstore for a ton more than it’s worth. Like double what I could probably sell it for. I honestly hadn’t thought of selling the bookstore before because I honestly thought I’d never be able to sell it, and I really wanted to try to keep it in the family. But this offer is so amazing that I think Grandpa would be really mad at me if I didn’t accept it. I was thinking that I could take the money and maybe open up a consignment shop or some type of clothing boutique in Boise. Did you know I went to fashion school? What do you think? Should I sell it? What would you do if you were in my position?”
Myra’s head spins with how fast Jackie’s lips are moving. “Wow that sounds awesome. I think Jim would be happy with whatever decision makes you happy. He wouldn’t care if you sold it or kept it as long as you were happy with your decision.”
“I agree. And I’ll admit I’m not happy. I’ve been trying so hard to make this work, but I’m lonely here in Nyssa. I mean, I have you as a friend and everything, but I really want to move back to Boise. I really miss mom and dad. What do you think I should do?”
“Have you talked to your parents about it?”
“Yeah, I called them as soon as the guy left today. They think I should take the offer because they don’t think I’d ever be able to sell it for that much, and plus they just both want me to move back home.”
“Well, I think you have your decision. What are you going to do with the house?”
“Grandpa left the bookstore to me in his will, but he left the house to my mom. It’s paid off but mom doesn’t want to keep it so I figured we could put it on the market and see what happens. At least we don’t have to be in any rush to sell it.”
“Sounds like you have a plan.”
“But I’m going to miss you. What am I going to do without my best friend?” Jackie moans before pulling Myra into another excruciatingly tight hug.
“We can call each other and visit. Boise’s only an hour away.”
“True. I just hope I’m making the right decision.”
“I think you are. If you’re not happy here, then it’s time to try something else.”
“I agree. So did you find out who slashed your tires?”
“No, not yet...”
“I still can’t believe someone did that. It’s so scary. Well, I’ll let you get back to Dylan. I just had to share the news.”
They say their goodbyes and Jackie gives her one more painful hug before bouncing out of her house.
* * *
Dylan sets the groceries on his kitchen table and turns to Myra. “Do you wanna start dinner?” he asks. “I need to go make a couple of phone calls.”
“Sure. Take your time.”
Dylan steps outside onto his patio and dials Sabrina’s number.
“Dylan…” she answers happily.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Sabrina?” he asks in a low, angry voice.
“What do you mean?”
“You know exactly what I mean. Why the hell did you show up at Myra’s like that? You had no damn right to do that. We’re divorced. I talked to you about this when we went to Boise. It’s over.”
“You’re not getting off that easily. You told me you’d wait on me and that was the only thing that kept me going. I kept up my end of the bargain and I want you back. I still love you, Dylan, I’ve always loved you. I know you love me too. We just hit a rough patch but we can make it work again, I know we can.”
“Look, I’m sorry that I led you on like that. I’m so fucking sorry. I just wanted you to get better. And I do care for you; I always will. But things are different now. We can’t go back to what we had. Too much has happened. I’m not the same person I was back then. I’ve changed. You saw that yourself. And I’ve got Myra now.”
“Please, Dylan,” she begs. “Please. Don’t give up on us. Don’t you remember the good times we used to have? Remember that time we went to the lake and went skinny dipping under the moonlight?”
“Sabrina, I can’t do this. Don’t contact Myra again.” Dylan hangs up and rubs a hand over his neck, a tight, uncomfortable feeling in his chest. Why the hell is Sabrina doing this to him? Making him feel like shit for what he did. He has enough guilt on his plate over what happened with Mel, he doesn’t need to add Sabrina to it now.
Taking in a heavy breath, he steps back inside and can’t help but smile as he watches Myra moving comfortably around in his kitchen like she belongs there. He steps up behind her and wraps his arms around her, burying his face in her neck and breathing her in.
“Are you hungry?” she asks, rubbing her hand over his arm.
“Starving.”
“Good. It’s just about done.”
“I was thinking about visiting Natalie this weekend.”
“Oh. You should, definitely.”
“You wanna come with me?”
Myra turns in his arms and cradles his face in her hands. “I’d love to,” she whispers with a smile and her eyes shining.
Dylan’s smile matches hers as he slips his hand into her hair and presses his lips against hers.
* * *
The next day back at her house, Myra peeps into the bathroom where Dylan’s working. “Do you want something to drink?” she asks.
“I’m good. I’m done here so I thought I’d go work on your garage door so you can get your car out.”
“Like you’d actually let me get my car out even if the garage door worked?” she asks, cocking an eyebrow and putting her hands on her hips.
He smirks. “You do have a point.”
He follows her back downstairs.
“Lock up and give me your keys so I can get back in later.”
Myra rolls her eyes as she walks over and grabs her keys off the side table. As she hands them to Dylan, he leans down and gives her a quick kiss. Myra locks up the door after him and just as she starts to go into the basement to do some laundry, she gets a call from her grandfather’s attorney telling her that her Grampie’s estate has been settled, and that he’s going to wire transfer the money to her account. After the call, she sits down at the kitchen table and stares out the window. She doesn’t want Grampie’s money; she just wants him back. She misses him terribly. She misses her whole family.
Before she even realizes it, she has tears in her eyes. Quickly wiping them away, she looks up when she hears keys rattling in the door. She walks down the hallway and sees Dylan stepping into the house.
“You okay?” he asks, his brow creasing with concern as he stares at her face. He touches her cheek gently.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“You sure?”
She nods.
“Porter’s out front. He said he wanted to check in on you.”
“Oh, good, tell him to come in.”
Dylan grabs her hand and squeezes it. “I’ll let you two talk. I need to keep working on the garage door.”
A few minutes later, Porter steps into the house and gives Myra a hug.
“How’s everything going?” Porter asks as he sits down on the couch.
“Good.”
“Have you had any more problems? Seen anyone?”
“No. It’s been pretty quiet. I haven’t seen anyone, and Jackie stopped by last night and said she’s not seen anyone either.”
“That’s good to hear. We’re kind of at a dead end right now on the tire slashing. We didn’t get
anything off the prints. I questioned Derek and Lucia and that Ray character; none of them had an alibi to back up their whereabouts. But that doesn’t mean anything until I can get some solid evidence. But I won’t give up.”
“Um, I wanted to talk to you about something…” Myra says, her eyes darting guiltily towards the door. “Can you keep this just between us?”
“Of course...”
“Well, Dylan’s ex-wife stopped by here yesterday, and she was very angry. I don’t know how to explain it, but there was just something ‘off’ about the whole conversation. She went on about how she wants Dylan back and that she’s going to ‘fight’ me for him. I thought it was very odd that she showed up at my house right after my tires were slashed. I think you should look into her, but don’t tell Dylan. I talked to him about how I felt, but he thinks I’m wrong and that she had nothing to do with it.”
“What’s her name?”
“Sabrina… hmm, I don’t know what her maiden name is but of course her married name was Lawson.” Myra’s insides hurt a little to say that. “She lives in Boise.”
“That should give me enough to go on. I’ll see what I can find out.”
“Just so you know I’ve had a patrol car come by here every so often to keep an eye on things. You know I worry about you.”
“Thanks. And don’t worry; I’ve got Dylan watching out for me. He pretty much won’t let me out of his sight,” she says with a laugh.
“Good. I like him. He seems like a good man.”
“He is.”
“Well, I’ll call you as soon as I find out something on the ex, okay? If you need me for anything, I’m just a phone call away, got it?”
“Got it,” Myra says with a smile.
* * *
Later that evening, Dylan picks up their paper plates off of the kitchen table. “I’ll do the dishes,” he announces with a sly grin.
“How chivalrous of you,” she says, smiling.
“I still don’t know how the hell you made such a damn delicious sandwich with just that machine,” Dylan says as he nods his head towards the small grill sitting on her kitchen table. “You amaze me how you still manage to cook something that good with no counter tops, or even a stove for that matter.”
“It’s the magical power of the Panini.”
Dylan chuckles. “I don’t know what the hell a Panini is; all I know is that it was damn good.”
“Thank you.” Myra smiles brightly at him. “What do you want to do tonight? Do you want to watch a movie?”
“Sure.” Dylan follows her into the living room and sits on the couch, propping his bare feet up on the coffee table.
“What kind of movies do you like?” Myra asks.
Dylan shrugs. “I don’t watch much TV or movies. I think the last time I saw a movie at the theatre was… shit, let me think…” It was some kid’s movie. Dylan can’t remember the name, but he does remember Mel’s little hand grabbing popcorn from the bucket that he held and dropping half of it in his lap before it got to his mouth. He clears his throat. “I don’t remember.”
“Have you seen The Sixth Sense?”
“Never heard of it…”
“What? You’ve never heard of The Sixth Sense? I think my caveman has been hiding out in a cave.”
Myra puts the DVD in and Dylan pulls her into his lap, his lips diving for her neck. “Your caveman? I like hearing you say that.” He kisses and nibbles on her neck until she finally shoos him away when the movie comes on. She curls up next to him on the couch, and he wraps his arm around her, pulling her tight against him.
About halfway through the movie, Dylan looks down at Myra and grins when he sees her head bobbing sleepily. He gently moves her so that her head rests on his chest, and he gently kisses her forehead.
When the credits start to roll, Dylan turns the TV off and picks Myra up in his arms and carries her up the stairs to her bedroom. He pulls the covers back and lays her in the bed before stripping off his clothes and climbing in next to her, snuggling her body close to his.
“Dylan?” Myra mumbles in a groggy voice.
“I’m right here,” he whispers next to her ear.
“There’s a man over there,” she mumbles.
“Where?” Dylan sits up and looks around quickly.
“I like cheese.”
Dylan snorts when he realizes Myra’s talking in her sleep.
He snuggles next to her again. “I like cheese, too,” he whispers before chuckling. She’s so damn cute.
“Dylan… I love you,” she sighs.
Dylan’s breath catches in his throat. He leans up and stares down at her in the darkness. He knows she was just dreaming. She didn’t even know what the hell she was saying, but hearing those words on her lips does something to his heart. He wants to hear her whisper those words to him when she’s awake, and mean them. He wants it more than he ever thought possible.
* * *
Myra jolts awake, her heart pounding in her chest to find Dylan sitting up in bed, staring at the door.
“What’s wrong?”
“I heard something,” Dylan mumbles in a low voice, “in the hallway.”
“Heard what?”
“Footsteps or something… I think someone’s in the house. Stay here,” he says as he starts to get out of bed.
“Wait,” Myra whispers as she grabs his arm. “It was probably just the ghost.”
“What?”
“I have a ghost in my house.”
“Myra, this was no damn ghost I heard someone walking. I’m gonna go check it out. Stay here and don’t move.”
Myra flips on the lamp next to her bed and grabs her gun, handing it to him. “Here, take this.”
Dylan takes the gun from her and walks cautiously towards the door. She smiles and tries not to giggle when she watches him creep across the floor towards the door buck naked, with a gun in his hand, and a really bad case of bed head going on.
After about five minutes or so, he comes back into the bedroom frowning. “I didn’t see anything…” he says as he sets her gun back on her bedside table.
“I told you, I have a ghost.”
“Is that why you had me watch that movie earlier?” he scoffs as he climbs into bed.
“No. And I’m sorry I fell asleep. I never do. I hardly ever sleep. Guess it caught up with me.”
“You know that ghosts don’t exist, right?”
“Yes, I know that, but there are really weird things going on in this house. I see shadows out of the corner of my eye and when I turn towards it, it’s gone. I hear things being moved around, knocks on the walls and the footsteps that you heard earlier? I hear that all the time. And when Susie came to visit me? She swears she saw something in the hallway. None of this started until after my Grampie died. I honestly don’t believe in ghosts either, but I know for a fact that I’m not the only one here in this house.”
“Well, I think most of that shit can be explained away. This house is old and falling apart. The noises you’re hearing are probably just the house settling. The wood expands and contracts with changes in temperature. Plus, old piping can be really damn noisy especially water pipes.”
Myra cocks an eyebrow at him. “So, the footsteps you heard earlier were just the house settling?”
Dylan smirks. “I’ll admit I don’t know what the hell that was. I swear, it sounded like heavy boots stomping down your hallway. I was ready to put a round in somebody’s ass.”
Myra giggles. “Just admit it… it was the ghost.”
“There are no damn ghosts.”
Myra smiles and shakes her head.
“Come here, woman,” Dylan growls as he pulls Myra on top of him. “I’m wide awake now, and I want you naked.” He tugs her T-shirt off and pulls her panties down.
Myra shivers. “I’m cold,” she says as she lies on top of his warm, naked body. “Are you going to warm me up?”
“I’m gonna warm you up, all right. I’m gonna make you so hot you sweat,”
Dylan says in a husky voice before he flips her on her back and covers her body with his own.
* * *
The next morning, just as Myra starts to flip a pancake on her electric griddle, Dylan comes up behind her, placing his hands on her hips and begins kissing her neck. She giggles, playfully pushing him away. “You better stop or you’re never going to get to eat breakfast this morning.”
“Fuck it. I don’t care,” Dylan mumbles. He continues to kiss up and down her neck and nibble on her earlobe. She moans softly, closing her eyes and reaching her free hand behind her to run her fingers through his hair.
“You still want to go see Natalie today?” he whispers into her neck.
“Yes, definitely.”
“She said we could spend the night with them, if you want.”
“I’d love to.”
Dylan finally lets her go and sits down. She hands him a stack of pancakes and sits down across from him. His brows furrow. “Aren’t you eating?”
“No, my stomach is a bit queasy this morning… must have been that sandwich from last night or something. Do you have everything you need? I think I’m going to go pack.”
“I’m good,” Dylan says with a nod as he picks up the syrup bottle.
As Myra walks towards the stairs, she frowns and rubs her rumbling stomach. She can’t get sick right now. Not when Dylan wants her to meet the rest of his family.
When she gets into the bathroom, her stomach lurches, and she has to hang her head over the toilet and dry heave. She can’t believe how horribly nauseated she feels. Once she gets the dry heaves under control, she stands in front of the sink to brush her teeth. But the second the toothpaste touches her tongue, she starts gagging again. She gags and spits the toothpaste out and grabs a cup to wash the nasty flavor of the toothpaste out of her mouth.
She lays down on her bed, trying to get her stomach to calm down when her phone rings.
“Hey,” she answers in a raspy voice from all of the dry heaving she just did.
“You sound a little rough… long night with Dylan’s long dick?” Susie asks with a snicker.
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