by J. M. Paul
Have we been gone long enough for them to consume that much alcohol?
Bax followed my line of vision and shook his head. “Wherever they are, they aren’t sober.” The muted orange glow from the fire reflected against his small grin.
I heard a low yelp behind us, and I turned to look past the tents. Herds of elk and deer freely roamed the woods, and I thought it was possibly one of them making the noise—until I saw Bax and Milo’s tent moving in a distinct rhythmic fashion.
“Oh God,” was groaned and then quickly followed by, “Quesadilla.”
My eyes widened, and I turned to see Bax’s face pinched in a horrified expression.
When, “Oh…tacos,” was moaned, Bax and I busted into hysterics.
“Tacos?” I said brokenly through a fit of giggles. My face hurt, and I recognized I hadn’t laughed that hard in…well, in over five years.
“Cállate, pendejos. You’re bustin’ my mojo,” Milo called from the tent.
Bax and I started to chuckle louder even though we couldn’t understand half of Milo’s statement.
“Shh…Milo, concentrate. I’m right…yes,” Carly ground out.
“And, on that note, I’m retrieving my headphones.” I jogged over to my tent.
When I entered, an eerily recognizable scent smacked me in the face, causing my stomach to bottom out and twist until I thought I would vomit. My mouth filled with a sour taste, and my head spun. The apprehension was immediate, sending me to my knees.
I felt like I was choking, and I gasped for air against the smell of Joel’s cologne. It surrounded me, strangling me.
My eyes frantically searched the small confines of the tent, coming up short of any evidence that he was here or had been here.
Why does my imagination hate me?
Since I’d told Bax about what Joel had done to me, it had conjured the shameful memories to life and made me think I smelled the most appalling fragrance. Horrid flashes of the past flitted through my mind, sending me onto my hands and knees. I pressed against my rolling stomach, wheezing, as my mind replayed Joel stalking and tripping me so that I fell hard against the floor. I remembered his rough hands tearing at my clothes, a large palm smacking my face, as I’d uselessly begged for mercy, an angry mouth against mine, tasting blood, a hard ridge against my stomach that I had known would cause me agony, and then the tearing pain between my legs as Joel had held me down and stolen any innocence I had left.
Having my virtue repeatedly robbed from me by someone who was a direct reflection of the boy I had once loved was harrowing. I had struggled to overcome the familiarity of their similar looks in the beginning, but Joel had none of Jarrod’s caring, giving, or thoughtful nature. Joel had only stolen, hurt, and broken everything that was good inside me until I became a ghost lurking in the darkness of my involuntary life.
I struggled for breath and released a whimper as I shook the thoughts from my head.
He can’t do this. I won’t allow Joel to have power over me anymore. I will find the strength to move forward and be the girl my parents raised me to be. The girl Bax thinks I am.
Finding the drive I knew was buried deep, I climbed onto my feet and let out a long, shaky exhale. With the release, I let all my inhibitions and uncertainties escape. My body shook, but I used the energy to press forward.
Even though I could still smell the cologne, I knew it would fade, just as the memory and fear would eventually disappear. It was something I would have to work through, and I would make it my mission to do so—if not for me, then for my parents. I was their legacy, and they deserved better. I deserved better.
Squaring my shoulders, I grabbed my headphones and phone, and when I exited, I found Bax sitting alone at the fire.
He pointed over his shoulder at the now quiet tent, and the smirk on his face was evident. “I think the squealing pigs finally passed out.”
I was surprised when I was able to chuckle, and I collapsed into a chair next to him. “At least we won’t have to stand witness to their insistent flirting anymore.”
“I still plan on flirting with her. This was too good to not repeat it.” Milo’s rough voice carried through the campsite, and Carly’s laugh barked out in an echo.
“Oh God.” I shivered. “Go to sleep already.”
“I’ll do something…” Milo trailed off.
Then, I heard kissing noises and Carly’s hushed giggles.
I shook my head as I sat back in my seat. Lifting his guitar he must have retrieved from the van, Bax strummed the strings in a calming melody. I found comfort in the harmonious vibration in the air as it settled the uneasiness I had experienced in the tent.
“Any requests? I have a feeling it’s going to be a long night.” His eyes widened.
I smiled. I believed he was right.
Shoving my phone and headphones into my pants pocket, I tucked my legs under myself. “Nope, but anything loud would be great.”
We grinned at each other, and Bax started to play for my personal one-man concert. He performed several songs I wasn’t familiar with, his voice soothing and melodic as it wove into the night air without effort.
When one song came to a close and before he started another, I asked, “Where did you learn to play?”
He lowered his head and strummed his fingers over the strings of the guitar. “I taught myself.”
“Really? Wow, Bax, that’s impressive. How long have you been playing?”
His hazel eyes collided with mine. “Since I entered into foster care. The first family I lived with had this old guitar in the corner of their basement. It was out of tune and in awful condition, but it worked well enough. When they weren’t home, I used to go online on their computer, which I wasn’t supposed to use, and I’d watch YouTube videos. I picked it up rather quickly and kept practicing.” He shrugged and played a simple melody without even looking at the strings. “When I got into fighting, I started making decent cash and bought this secondhand.” He slightly raised the guitar.
“Well, kudos to you.” My eyebrows lifted, and I nodded once.
“Eh, I needed something to kill the time.” He brushed off my compliment and his talent so easily that I knew he didn’t believe he was that good.
“Bax—” I started to say, but I was cut off by his beautiful voice singing the acoustic version of “Burning Bridges” by OneRepublic.
I always loved the song, but when sung in Bax’s voice, with his hazel eyes burning into mine and the fire crackling in the fire pit at our feet, it took on a deeper, more meaningful significance.
Carefully listening to every word, I tried to decipher what he wanted to possibly tell me. I had heard that artists communicated the most clearly through an outlet, and maybe Bax was trying to use music—with his heart, fingers, and tone—to speak what he couldn’t say otherwise. We both communicated through our photos—every photographer did—but for now, the music he created was more accessible, immediate.
Does he think we’re meant to be? What bridges does he want me to burn—his or mine? I would gladly burn both as long as he kept singing and looking at me like he is at this very moment.
I was stunned the realization hadn’t shocked me. Bax had quickly won me over, and I was promptly opening myself and my heart to him. I knew I should be frightened and try to protect myself from the possibility of getting hurt, but I had been alone for too long, and I was tired of fighting by myself.
His expressive singing made something significant settle inside my heart, and it wove its way into me until I knew it couldn’t be extracted.
I’m in trouble—the absolute best kind of trouble.
When the song concluded, I wanted to ask him what he had been trying to convey, but his fingers quickly thrummed another melody, killing the mood. Bax continued to play song after song until my eyes started to drift closed.
“Libby,” I heard my name whispered. “Why don’t you go to bed, beautiful girl?”
A warm hand caressed my cheek. My eyes flutte
red opened to see Bax leaning over me, invading my personal space, and I liked the feeling.
I closed my lids again and inhaled his comforting musky scent. The smell brought me peace when I had known little and gave me hope when I’d had almost none. It was the scent of a man who I knew could help me overcome my demons and wouldn’t expect repayment, except for me to start living again. It was the smell of a man who was understanding, caring, and giving, and if given the chance, I knew he could be loyal and loving, too. He could be everything.
And that scared me more than I wanted to admit, but it also excited me.
“Mmm…I’m sleepy.” I nuzzled back into the chair and lifted my fists to rest them under my chin. A shiver racked up my body as the chilled air worked its way through my thin layer of clothing.
I wasn’t certain how it’d happened, but the next time I woke up, I was warmly cocooned in my sleeping bag inside my tent. When my eyes blinked open, I heard Carly softly snoring beside me.
I guess she and Milo aren’t at the sleeping-in-each-others-bed-for-the-night stage.
Unable to fall immediately back to sleep since I had taken a nap earlier, I watched the dying flames of our bonfire bounce against the walls of canvas protecting me from the outside world. Once upon a time, I would have found their shadows threatening, but now, I simply found them mesmerizing.
Lost in remembrances of the day’s events, I quickly found the glowing shadows lulling me to sleep when I’d thought it would take hours.
Just before I slipped into unconsciousness, I heard feet shuffling outside my tent, and a dark shadow was cast against the walls. Bax was probably cleaning up the camp, so we could get an early start tomorrow. I knew I should help him, but I was too tired.
As the sandman pulled me into slumber, I thought I smelled a familiar, pungent aroma, but I was too far gone to bring myself back.
That’s weird. Bax doesn’t smoke…
I tightly wrapped my sleeping bag into a roll, tied it, and shoved it in a protective case. Grabbing my bag of clothes, I tossed it through the door and climbed out behind it into the darkness of very early morning.
When I turned on my flashlight and bent to retrieve my bag, I froze when my eyes landed on two discarded cigarette butts lying next to my tent. When I leaned closer, my blood ran cold as I saw they were Marlboro Gold. That make, color, and smell was branded in my mind, and I would never mistake it. How can I when it has been torched into my skin several times as a warning or punishment?
Joel.
My eyes swung around the camp, scanned the outlying sites, and flitted to the trees beyond, searching for the Devil himself. The skin on the back of my neck prickled, and I swore, I could feel his eyes on me, judging me, demeaning me, and threatening me.
We were packing up and heading into the Rocky Mountain National Park for a once-in-a-lifetime photo session of the sunrise from atop a mountain—or as close as we could get to the top. I had been excited and anxious, but now, I couldn’t find an ounce of motivation to move.
A hand landed on my shoulder, and I yelped and turned, ready to defend myself like Bax had been teaching me to do.
Instead of finding my personal hell, I found my haven standing with a shocked countenance.
“Sorry.” Bax raised his arms in the air and took a step back.
I stared at him for several seconds before I closed my eyes and forced calming air into my lungs. When I opened my lids, Bax was studying me, trying to read whatever emotion I wore on my features. I imagined he saw fear, and I was sick to death of wearing that expression.
“Are you okay?”
The million-dollar question…
I aimed my flashlight down toward the butts at the edge of my tent. “Were these cigarette butts here yesterday?”
He leaned closer to observe the evidence on the ground. “I…have no idea.” Bax stood tall, his eyebrows drawn together. “Why?”
I was overreacting; I knew I was. Many people smoked and had camped at this site. It was well-known that most campsites weren’t cleaned well, especially of mundane objects such as discarded cigarette butts. Someone who had stayed here before us probably smoked the brand; it was popular. That had to be my explanation. There was no way Joel could be here. He had no clue where I had been or where I was going, let alone where I was now. My overactive imagination was playing tricks on me yet again.
I squeezed my eyes closed and shook my head. “No reason. I just…nothing.” Turning, I grabbed my bag off the ground and slowly headed toward the van.
In less than twenty minutes, we had both tents broken down, packed, and everything loaded, and we were driving up a mountain to document what promised to be a magnificent sunrise.
But, as I took photo after photo of the sky coming alive, I still couldn’t shake the eeriness of having an object that reminded me of my past so close to where I had laid my head in rest last night.
“Are you kidding me?” Carly cried from the backseat of the van.
It was high noon and hot, and we were somewhere in the middle of Wyoming, on our way to Yellowstone National Park. We were stuck on the side of the road with a broken down van. It had coughed, sputtered, jerked, and then given up the fight, leaving us stranded on a barren two-lane road without cell service.
Freaking fantastic.
Bax repeatedly turned the ignition over, but it was dead as a doornail—whatever that saying meant.
“Maybe it overheated. It’s fucking hot, amigos!” Milo wiped his forearm over the perspiration that had already accumulated on his forehead.
We had only been idle for about ten minutes, but any cool air that had once graced the interior of the van was long gone. Before we’d broken down, the radio had said it was one of the hottest heat waves to hit this area in over fifteen years.
Lucky us.
Bax looked over his shoulder at the road and then swung his door open.
“What are you doing?” Carly asked.
“Checking the engine to see if I can find anything wrong.” Bax exited the van and lifted the hood.
While he poked and prodded, Carly whined about the heat, and Milo started to join in after a minute.
I flung my passenger door open, fell out of the van onto my feet, and pushed their door open.
“Get out,” I demanded.
Carly and Milo sat, stunned, only blinking at my tone. I thought it was the first time I had seen either of them at a loss for words. I couldn’t blame them. I never got angry or insistent, and I was both in that moment.
We were all hot, but complaining about the issue wouldn’t help the situation.
“Get out, guys. The heat’s only going to build inside the van, and there’s fresh air and what could possibly be considered a breeze out here.”
The barely moving air was more like a dragon breathing fire against my body, but at least it wasn’t stagnant, like the interior of the vehicle.
They climbed out of the backseat, complaining the entire time, and when they hit the scorching pavement, I thought they were both going to melt into a pool of whining sweat, only to be evaporated by the overbearing sun.
Maybe I like Mr. Sunshine after all.
Bax lay on the ground and checked under the van. I heard him cuss, move around, and then cuss again.
When he stood, he eyed each one of us and said, “We’re fucked.”
“What?” we all cried in unison.
“Why? What’s wrong?” I asked.
“I don’t know, but liquid is pouring onto the ground”—he pointed underneath the vehicle—“and it kind of looks like something might have caught fire around the engine, but I can’t be sure.”
My shoulders sagged, Carly hung her head, and Milo growled several words in Spanish.
“Well, isn’t that just the cherry on top of a shit pie?” Milo kicked the tire and stalked back and forth between Carly and me. When he stopped, he faced Bax. “What do we do now? None of us has cell service, and there isn’t a car in sight.”
Each
of us looked up and down the deserted road, and I wondered how no one else was traveling along this highway. The state was in the middle of a heat wave, but I didn’t think it would keep people chained to their houses. Don’t they want to get out? Do they even have central air out here in the boonies?
“We wait.” Bax slammed the hood closed, reached in the van to turn the hazard lights on, and then lifted the rear hatch to dig out some chairs.
I helped, handing one each to Carly and Milo, and then dug in the cooler for four chilled waters. Thank goodness we always kept our cooler well stocked. But, in this heat, I wasn’t sure how much longer our ice would last before we had spoiled food and warm drinks.
Setting up our chairs alongside the road, we drank our waters in silence. We were too miserable to hold idle conversation, let alone do anything else.
I wasn’t sure how much time ticked by as we waited for one of the few cars that passed to stop, but no one did. They probably didn’t want to exit their nice air-conditioned rides to assist four helpless college students.
Jerks.
The longer we sat in the heat, the more and more our clothes got discarded. The boys had taken their shirts off long ago, and Carly was sitting in her bikini top and short shorts. I was thankful I had actually worn khaki shorts that morning and a white tank top under my dark gray T-shirt. Surprising everyone—most of all, myself—I sat in my tank top, completely unfazed by the amount of skin I had exposed. It was way too hot to care.
Milo stood and rummaged through the cooler for more bottles of water. After handing them out, he dived his hand into an open bag of Doritos and then handed the bag off to Carly.
“I think we should play Truth or Dare.” Milo crunched on a mouthful of chips.
We all groaned.
“We’re not seven, Milo.” Carly handed the red bag to me, rolling her eyes.
I grabbed a handful of Doritos and passed the bag to Bax.
“Yeah, but what the hell else are we going to do out here?” Milo waved his hand around to the desolation that surrounded us.
“We’re all going to pick Truth because it’s too stinking hot to move.” Bax closed the bag and set it on his lap. He crunched on a few chips and then took a drink of water. “I think I know too many Truths about you. Why don’t we leave a few surprises for the rest of the trip?”