by Leddy Harper
After grabbing our bags from the floorboard—leaving her jacket that I had picked up from the dock in the passenger seat—I got out and locked the doors. I hadn’t taken two steps before an older man walking his dog stopped in front of the house. He eyed me for a second, then began to lead his German shepherd down the dirt drive. My initial reaction was to turn away from this man, ignore him, and go inside. I didn’t, because that would only make his suspicions worse.
“Hey there,” he called out when he’d gotten about twenty feet away.
“How are you?” I figured being friendly could go a long way.
He noticed the bags in my hand, then regarded the house with interest, and my chest constricted. Yet when his eyes returned to me, they didn’t appear to be menacing, or even fearful. If anything, he seemed curious. Friendly.
“You here with Mr. Falkner?”
I shook my head…then realized what I’d just done. If I changed my answer, he’d be on the phone with the authorities in less than two minutes. So, I had to stick with my original response and hope this didn’t end with me in handcuffs…again.
When he began to flick his gaze around the yard, I could tell he was apprehensive, so I decided to con him like the low-life everyone thought I was. “No, sir. He didn’t come with me. His car”—I hitched my thumb over my shoulder to the Oldsmobile hooked to the truck—“doesn’t run, so he needed it towed.”
“Oh.” He laughed—and I was able to breathe. “Mr. Falkner only comes once a month, and he was just here like maybe two weeks ago, so I was a little confused when I saw someone here.”
This would’ve been a fantastic opportunity to learn as much as I could about this Falkner guy; except I was supposed to know who he was, it could potentially blow up in my face. So I chose to keep my questions to myself and just be thankful that I wouldn’t have to worry about anyone popping in before we left in the morning.
“That’s certainly nice of you to be checking up on the house while he’s away.” I smiled and took a step back, hoping he got the hint. Which he did. He waved, and without another word, he tugged on the leash and headed up the driveway to the road.
Maggie was nowhere to be found when I came inside. Unless she still had clothes here, I couldn’t imagine she’d changed out of the ones she’d taken an unseasonal dip in. Then again, everything about her seemed to be a surprise. She could’ve found something in one of the closets or dressers and took off on foot. If that were the case, I would never find her.
I had my car, and she hadn’t taken the tow truck, so I shouldn’t have cared if she vanished. After all, I didn’t need her for anything else…yet I couldn’t ignore the uneasiness in the pit of my stomach at the possibility of her being gone.
Needing to locate her, I headed in the direction she had disappeared before I’d gone outside. There were two doors, both closed. I assumed one led to the real garage, so I knocked on the other and immediately heard, “Go away.”
I tried the knob, twisting it and finding it unlocked. When I opened the door, I discovered her on the floor, wrapped in a towel. Water dripped from the showerhead. The sound of each drop hitting the tile echoed throughout the small space.
She pulled her head back, resting it against the wall behind her, and then turned her gaze to me. Sorrow filled every pore from her hairline to her chin. Her eyes were dejected and despondent, so unbelievably sad, and her lips sloped downward into a defeated frown. It gutted me, and it took far too long to rein in my concern. I had to tell myself that this was how she was—manipulative. Yet I wasn’t sure I believed that anymore.
I dropped her bag on the floor next to her. “Here’s your clothes. You should change.”
She nodded and pulled her belongings closer. “Where are we going?”
“I figured it’d be best if we just stay the night and leave in the morning. It’s almost dark, and I’ve been driving all day. I’m exhausted.”
Her eyes grew wide, fear deepening the color until they were closer to sapphires than the sky. “We can’t stay here. What if they come back?”
“They won’t.” And with that, I left her in the bathroom to change, setting my own bag near the door for when she finished. I needed a hot shower and prayed she hadn’t drained the water heater.
When Maggie finally exited the bathroom, she had on those same black pants as before, but this time, she didn’t have her jacket. And it gave me a good view of her figure. I’d been too distracted after her swim to take notice…now, I had a hard time looking away.
“My jacket is outside,” she grumbled, calling my thoughts away from her body.
I wasn’t stupid. If she were aware I’d grabbed it and put it in the truck, she’d cover herself. Granted, that would’ve saved me some serious sexual frustration, but I refused to let it happen until I had a chance to discuss her tattoo.
“It’s dark; you can get it tomorrow. I’ve already locked all the doors and checked all the windows.” I grabbed my duffel off the floor and closed myself off in the bathroom, not giving her the chance to respond—or argue.
I was convinced Maggie had lost the ability to have a normal conversation. Either she was a master of manipulation and an incredible actress, or the last four years of her life had been comparable to mine. It would’ve been easy to ask, yet that would mean I could potentially open myself up to have her play me again. Although, the longer I was around her, the more I began to doubt everything.
Meeting her.
Her leaving.
Finding her again.
Nothing made sense, and just like the water swirling around the drain between my feet, my thoughts spun in circles, going nowhere. There was a deep desire to understand her, figure her out—grasp some sort of explanation for everything that happened. And then there was my anger, shoving down those needs in a vain attempt to save myself the trouble later.
My mind became as murky as the water in the lake—wondering if obtaining answers would alleviate the headache or release the pressure that had sat on my chest since that cold October night in Mississippi.
I stood beneath the spray in the shower, letting the hot water run down my body to thaw out the chill that ran bone deep. Maybe if I started from the beginning and ran through all the information I had, I’d either figure it out on my own or, at the very least, narrow down my field of questions to ask her later.
The night we met, I’d gone into the convenience store after filling my tank at the pump outside. At the time, I hadn’t made the decision to run, though I figured it would be best to have a full tank of gas in the event I chose to skip town. I’d just come from the restroom and was too stuck in my own misery to notice her coming inside. That was, until she got closer, head down and eyes trained on the floor beneath her feet. I’d stopped walking, and for whatever reason, didn’t move out of her way, even when there was no doubt she’d run into me.
After I’d caught her, keeping her from falling over, she lifted her gaze, and in that one split second—right before I’d taken notice of the blood—my whole world changed. I wasn’t aware of it at the time, but those eyes would deceive me.
Or…maybe they hadn’t.
I wasn’t sure anymore.
My dick came to life as memories of that night flooded my mind. And to stop myself from doing anything about it—refusing to find pleasure in the shit she’d brought to my doorstep—I pressed my palms against the tile wall. The water cascaded down my back, easing the tension that had taken over since jumping in the lake, and my head served as a shield for the front of my body. Not even the chill trickling down my chest and abs warded off the need to ease the growing ache.
I closed my eyes and mentally reverted to that fateful Saturday night—the one that changed my entire life.
She’d fought me at first, refusing to allow me to help. And initially, I’d let her win. There was no point in getting involved, so I’d decided to let her go. Honestly, I was on my way toward the door, ready to get in my car and face the music, but at the last seco
nd, I’d turned around. And that was when I’d caught her trying to open a locked door. She’d been so adamant about finding privacy to clean her face, and I couldn’t fight my need to intervene. I hadn’t been driven by want or lust—just an authentic, genuine desire to help someone who clearly needed protection.
I’d just left the men’s room and hadn’t noticed anyone else near the hallway, so I assumed it was empty. I’d led her there. And she’d followed. No argument, no protest, not even a hint of hesitation. Not two minutes earlier, I’d convinced myself that she had seen in me what everyone else had. Yet had that been the case, she never would’ve followed me inside. She never would’ve allowed me to lock the door. And she certainly wouldn’t have given me the chance to touch her. But she did—all of it. And when she looked at me, she wasn’t scared, didn’t doubt me. If anything, she’d appeared grateful.
I couldn’t repress the images of her face, her eyes, the way she’d clung to me as I bandaged her cut. Her moans and sighs reverberated through my memories until I had a tight grip around my dick. I just held it, squeezed it, hoping to break the need for more and choke the desire until it went away. Regardless of what I did, the longer I replayed her image behind my closed eyelids, the harder it—and I—became.
The memories played like a movie in my mind. Like when she’d gotten pissed and helped herself to the Jack I’d picked up before heading to the motel one of the nights. The scenes were never ending when I recalled her virtual striptease in the bathroom, the way her breasts filled the cups of her bra, and how her body had taunted me even then. And before I knew it, I began to rub myself in long, punishing strokes.
I could almost feel her in my arms after that shower, and the heat of her illusionary skin caused my balls to tighten. The reel continued with clips of the following night when I’d buried myself inside her, and lust covered my skin in unimaginable heat. I gripped myself tighter, pumping harder, faster. My breaths coming out harsher, shorter, as I envisioned her body beneath mine, her nails digging into my arms, her gasps and whimpers floating around me.
I couldn’t hold back any longer. With the echoes of her coming playing in my mind, I let go, and then watched my release wash down the drain. Once my heart rate slowed, I managed to think beyond that moment in time, to less than an hour later when I’d sat alone in the booth. And that’s when my anger returned.
I slammed the side of my fist against the shower wall; then I shut off the water. My breathing was out of control, though there wasn’t much I could do to stop it. The only way I’d be able to calm down was to get it all off my chest.
After drying off and pulling on a pair of jersey pants, I left the bathroom. Maggie was around the corner in the kitchen, sitting on the floor against the cabinets. Her knees were pulled up, yet she didn’t hold them to her like I’d seen her do before. At first glance, she almost appeared relaxed, possibly even comfortable. Although, the fear glistening in her eyes contradicted it.
I didn’t say anything. Instead, I fell into the recliner in the corner of the living room, just next to the door that led outside. That was when she finally spoke up, breaking the silence in the room.
“That’s my grandpa’s chair.”
“I would hope so, considering this was his house and all.”
“No. I mean that was his favorite chair. I don’t think he ever sat anywhere else.”
I gripped the full, puffy armrests and observed them. “It’s nice—definitely worn in. I’m willing to bet it was expensive when he first bought it.” When she did nothing but stare at me from across the room, I smiled. “Usually, when a recliner is used a lot, it loses support in the seat. And while this one isn’t stiff like it would be if it were new, it certainly hasn’t lost its support. I can see why it was his favorite.”
Her shoulders lifted with each inhalation while she regarded me. It was obvious her mind was elsewhere, even though her eyes were set on me. She didn’t speak, just sat and stared, breathing as if her thoughts had strangled her.
It didn’t matter how angry I was, there was no way I would allow her to have a panic attack—if that’s what this actually was and not another way to play me for a fool. I kept talking, hoping it would pull her out of the trance to keep me from going to her.
“He must’ve liked looking outside.” I stuck my finger between the slit in the curtains and drew half of it to the side. “I closed everything up before you got out of the shower, and I happened to notice this was the cleanest window. Like…by far. All the others have a milky film over them, but this one…it’s crystal clear.”
I let the fabric go and turned to Maggie, who by now, shook like a leaf. Her attention remained in my direction, but if I had to guess, she was staring at the window, not me. I glanced between it and her a few times, wondering what the hell had triggered this response, but I wouldn’t get an answer unless I asked for one. I still wasn’t sure how much of her reaction was genuine, or how much of it was for show, so I hesitated to entertain her with questions.
Deciding to drop it—for now—I got up and retrieved the bag of snacks I’d brought in from the truck earlier. I tossed it onto the couch, and then went to her. All the while, she never took her eyes off the glass pane. Or chair…it was hard to tell what she focused on. I reached down, wrapped my fingers around her arm, and helped her to her feet. To my surprise, she came willingly.
There was no part of the couch I could seat her at that would prevent her from seeing the window, and I’d started to believe the fear that strangled her was real. The way her eyes glazed over, the color light yet dull, nearly convinced me. But what really got me were her clammy palms. Lots of things could be faked—tears, body shakes, screams, panic attacks—except I didn’t believe a person could purposefully make their hands sweat. So rather than try to turn her away from whatever held her in its grip, I sat close to her, hoping it would call her attention to me instead.
“I don’t feel comfortable leaving to get food, and the idea of calling a delivery person to the house doesn’t sit well with me. Not to mention, we have no clue how long any of that food has been in the fridge, nor who it belongs to. So I guess our dinner will have to be Cheetos and Cool Ranch Doritos.” I pulled out a half-eaten package of Ding Dongs and a bag of Twizzlers. “These can be dessert.”
Even though she’d taken the snacks, she barely touched any of it. I couldn’t complain, because while she sat next to me, she kept her sights trained on the bag of corn chips in her lap and not the chair fifteen feet away.
“What happened to you?” I couldn’t have kept the question to myself if I’d tried. I needed the truth, unable to carry on until I had at least that piece of the puzzle answered. Granted, it was a broad inquiry, leaving her plenty of room to respond in a variety of ways, but at this point, I would’ve been happy with just about anything.
Her gaze slowly lifted, traveling up my bare chest until it reached my eyes. “What do you mean?”
That wasn’t what I was looking for, and the idea of having to clarify it unnerved me. “I understand it’s been a while since the last time we…um, hung out, and I’m fully aware that there’s a chance the person I thought you were was all an act. Regardless of whether it was real or fake, you were strong. You were on the run”—that was still questionable—“yet you held your shit together for the most part. So why have you been a broken mess ever since yesterday morning?”
“You hate me, Talon. You’ve made that abundantly clear. If it weren’t for your car, I would’ve never seen you again—you can’t deny that. And if I’m being honest…I kinda wish you hadn’t come back.”
It took a moment to absorb what she said. She was right—I wouldn’t have tracked her down if it hadn’t been for the car. Still, I was confused by the last part. No, I hadn’t made things easy for her. Hell, she hadn’t made anything easy for me. I just didn’t understand how she could’ve possibly made herself out to be the victim in this.
“Why do you wish that?”
Again, her weakne
ss shone brightly in the tear that broke free and slithered down her cheek. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does. Now tell me.”
She shook her head in short, jerky motions and pulled in a stuttering breath. “I kept thinking that one day, we’d run into each other. You’d let me explain everything, and then we’d have a chance to pick up where we left off. I’ve gone into that gas station in Fleetwood so many times, just hoping you’d be there. But you never are. And when you finally did come around, you didn’t give two shits about what I had to say. Ever since you cornered me after my shift at the diner, it’s been what you want to talk about, when you want to talk about it. Where you want to go and what you want to do. And anytime I’ve objected—for very valid reasons—you couldn’t care less.”
“You see, this is where I’m confused, Maggie. If you were so interested in picking up where we left off, why did you run away?”
“I came back!” Her chips were nothing more than crumbs after she squeezed the bag, proving just how hot the fury burned inside her. “I already told you that. Yet you still haven’t explained where you were that night. Was I not enough? Did you go hook up with some chick in her room after sleeping with me? Did you walk to a bus station…or hitch a ride? I don’t know, Talon, because you refuse to tell me.”
I could no longer refrain from telling her the truth—well, most of it. “I was arrested, Maggie. Once I realized you hadn’t gone to the bathroom, I left the bar and went to the parking lot. My keys were missing, and I desperately wanted to believe you only needed them to get something out of the trunk. But a few seconds later, the cops pulled up, and they took me to jail.”
Her mouth gaped and a gasp filled the space between us. “Why? That doesn’t make any sense. I left so you wouldn’t get caught up in my shit.”