by J. M. Paul
“Where’s the fun in that?” Milo raised his arms and then let them fall onto his lap with a slap.
“Silence—that’s the fun.” I sent a smile in his direction, meant to tease him.
He had this insistent tic of filling any dead air with his constant chatter. He was worse than a girl sometimes.
It was about an hour until Milo got bored and announced, “Well, chingados, we’re going to go explore”—he looked around us and motioned with his arm—“the nothingness. You can sit here, bored off your asses.”
He grabbed Carly’s hand and pulled her from her chair, and they walked up the road in the direction we had been traveling. Maybe they would find civilization and send someone our way.
As Bax and I watched them slowly shrink into the distance, I wiped my brow and hoped someone would stop soon. It was hot, and even though I had applied sunscreen that morning, I could tell my skin was getting baked. I wasn’t one to expose myself to the sun, and when I did, I would go from zero to crispy-fried in record time. There was no doubt that I would pay for this later, but there wasn’t anything I could do now.
Settling in for a long stretch of tedium, I dragged Milo’s and Carly’s chairs in front of Bax and me, so we could rest our feet on them.
I leaned my head back against the chair, adjusted my sunglasses, and took small pleasure in the breeze that hit my face even though it felt like it was straight out of an oven.
“This kind of blows.” Bax lifted his legs onto the chair in front of him.
I turned my head in his direction and studied his profile. He was such a handsome guy, so much so that I felt he could take my breath away at times. His sweat-moistened dark hair curled over his ears and forehead. It had grown longer since we started this trip, and he was probably overdue for a haircut. His sunglasses shaded his hazel eyes from the sun and me, but I knew they were gorgeous and held an immense sense of intuitiveness not found in most people.
My gaze roamed down his neck, and I watched as a bead of sweat trailed down his collarbone, onto his pec muscles, and lower, lower, lower. I swallowed deeply and moved my eyes upward, to safer territory.
Shifting my eyes, his tattoos caught my attention—the black ink swirling around and covering his arms, chest, and torso. Before I could stop myself, my hand reached out and traced a portion of the tattoo etched into his shoulder.
The black ink swirled in Gothic calligraphy: We are all searching for someone whose demons will play well with ours.
The contact of my skin against his caused Bax to turn in my direction. Even though I couldn’t see his eyes, I knew the moment they found mine. Something shifted inside me and settled low in my stomach and chest.
“What are your demons, Bax?” The question came out breathy.
I noticed Bax’s stomach muscles clench, and he shifted in his chair.
“You know most of them.”
He leaned forward and rested his hand on my cheek. His thumb brushed against the edge of my bottom lip and sent a shiver up my spine.
I closed my eyes and relished the feeling of not being frightened at the sense of touch. The more Bax caressed me and pushed my limits, the more I willingly opened up to him. It was liberating and comforting. I hadn’t felt those feelings since Jarrod pushed me, making my heart beat so fast that I thought it would thump right out of my chest.
“The question is”—he breathed against my lips—“do you think your demons can play well with mine?”
I opened my eyes and noticed Bax had shoved his sunglasses on top of his head. Lifting the hand he had placed on my cheek, he pushed my sunglasses up into my hair. Sitting mere inches apart, we squinted at each other for a long stretch of time, reading the other and the emotions swirling behind our irises. I wondered what he found in mine because his expression gave nothing away.
“You’ve unveiled almost all of the monsters in my closet,” I murmured.
Almost was the key word.
Bax knew some big secrets, but he didn’t know the darkest one of all, and I wasn’t sure he could look past it if he ever found out. It was something I would carry with me for the rest of my life. It would always be an anchor around my foot, dragging any good or happiness I had found to sink and drown.
“Yes, and I think ours could be great playmates. They already are.” He rubbed his nose against mine. “You’ve helped fill the emptiness in me, and I want to help piece you back together, to make you whole again, Libby. What has happened to us—the situations that made us both jaded and scared—they don’t matter. What matters is, we both deserve to find happiness and peace, and I think we’ve found it in each other. Now, we both just need to let go of our inhibitions, which will be hard, and enjoy this gift we’ve been given.”
Bax leaned back in his chair and dug in the pocket of his shorts. I immediately felt an ache at the loss of his nearness, but it was replaced with an unfamiliar hunger as I watched his biceps flex, his abs constrict. The girls at school were right; he was a man buffet, and it felt as if I hadn’t eaten a single meal in my twenty-one years.
“Speaking of gifts,” Bax said, bringing me back from the land of salivation—as in, I thought I was drooling.
“What?” I lifted my eyes to see him holding something that gleamed in the blaring sun. A charm spun around in the air on what looked to be a rose-gold chain. “What’s that?”
“It’s for you. While you had your stiches removed in Estes Park, I picked it up at a shop.”
He moved it closer, so I would take it. When I didn’t, he reached out his other hand, grasped mine, pried my fingers apart, and placed the jewelry in my palm.
“You always grab at your neck when you’re afraid or unsure of something. I assume you used to wear something meaningful there, and I thought…well, I’m not sure what happened to it, but I thought you could wear this to bring yourself peace. Or, if nothing else, maybe it’ll bring you some good luck.” He shrugged, unsure of his gift.
He’s way more intuitive than I thought.
I looked down at the necklace in my hand and smiled when I saw it was a roped necklace with a penny as the charm. A small butterfly was carved out of the middle of the cent.
“I love it, Bax,” I whispered as I fingered the charm. “I…I don’t have the words to express how much this means to me.” Blinking rapidly, I tried to subdue the tears that threatened to fall. I felt like he had not only given me a piece of himself but something of my mom as well—in the form of the butterfly. “Thank you. So much.”
“You’re more than welcome.” He took the metal from my hands. Pinching the necklace, he lifted it in the air to indicate he wanted to put it on me. “May I?”
“Sure.” I leaned up and let him clasp it around my neck. It landed just below the hollow space beneath my throat, exactly where Jarrod’s ring used to lie. Raising my hand, I played with the charm, and it eased something else that had been fretful inside me.
Giving Bax a shy smile, I sat forward and brushed a soft kiss against his cheek. His eyes widened, and heat rose into my face at my brashness.
“Sorry.” Looking away, I repeatedly bounced my leg.
“You don’t have to apologize. I liked it.” Bax rubbed the skin I had just pecked and smirked at me. “Feel free to do that and more anytime the mood strikes you.”
I smacked his shoulder—the same shoulder where I had traced his tattoo earlier—and shook my head.
“Well, it’s official. There’s abso-fucking-lutely nothing up the road. We’re screwed and at the mercy of someone who wants to play nice with strangers today. Don’t they grow ’em with manners and shit out in the country, y’all? Someone’s gotta stop.” Milo’s voice sounded from behind us before he and Carly walked in front of us, their hands clasped together.
“You would think.” I popped my sunglasses back down onto my face, so I could see them without straining. They were covered in sweat from their journey. “Why don’t you guys get some water out of the cooler before you die of heat exhaustion?”
They did just that before stealing our footrests and babbling on about subjects I wasn’t particularly interested in. My hand ventured up to play with my new necklace, and whenever I caught Bax’s eye, he would knowingly smile at me.
It seemed like hours ticked by until some nice trucker stopped to ask if we needed help.
I had to hold my sarcastic remark of, Nah, we’re fine. We thought we’d just camp out on the side of the road for a few hours, roasting ourselves in this heat for the fun of it. But I was grateful someone had finally stopped, so I kept my snarky comments to myself.
He used his CB radio to contact a roadside-assistance company, and we couldn’t thank him enough.
When the tow truck pulled up an hour later, we all cheered, as if we’d thought we would be stranded forever. I had been convinced we would be.
The guy loaded the dead van onto the bed, and we got into the extended cab of his vehicle. Then, he drove to a car shop about an hour away. The good news was, we had broken down early enough in the day that the shop was still open, and they had time to assess the damage and order parts. If everything went well, they would be able to fix our van tomorrow. The bad news was, we were stuck in this tiny town overnight.
We found a small motel, one I was certain had bedbugs and fleas, but at least it had running water even though it was a poor excuse for a shower.
When I eased myself under the lukewarm water, I grumbled in pain. My overexposure to the sun on the side of the road earlier in the day had left its mark. My burning skin assured me that I wouldn’t lollygag my way through bathing.
After we were all cleaned and cooled off enough from the afternoon, we walked to the diner down the street since we had lost our ride for the night.
I slid into the booth, and Bax followed behind me. Carly and Milo sat across from us, softly whispering and touching each other. I angled my attention toward Bax, and he rolled his eyes at their public display of affection and opened his menu.
The waiter stopped, and we ordered our drinks and food. Then, we sat with idle chitchat while we waited. We were all exhausted from our early morning start and our unintentional baking in the sun.
While we discussed our next stop—Yellowstone National Park—it felt like something had bit my arm, and I scratched at it without thinking.
Big mistake.
“Ouch.” I grimaced and lifted the sleeve of my light-gray T-shirt to look at the angry red skin.
“Holy Lobster McFried.” Milo leaned over the table and poked my arm.
The spot turned white and then went back to almost purple.
I smacked his hand away and pressed the glass of ice water the waiter had delivered against the hot skin.
“You’re going to peel like a son of a bitch.” Milo crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in the booth.
I shrugged and moved the glass down to another part of my arm. I felt like I was on fire, but I was also shivering from the air-conditioning.
How can I be hot and cold at the same time?
“When we get back to the motel, I have some aloe lotion you can put on your burn to hopefully cool you down. Thank goodness we all didn’t get as cooked as you this afternoon.”
Stupid fare skin.
Carly leaned into Milo. He put his arm around her and kissed the top of her head.
The waiter delivered our food, and we dug in like starved animals. All four of us cleaned our plates in record time.
“You goin’ to the parade and fireworks tonight?” the waiter asked when he dropped off our bill.
“What fireworks?” Carly noisily slurped the rest of her milkshake through her straw.
“The town’s havin’ its annual fireworks show for the Fourth of July.” He pointed out the window to the small crowd gathering along the road. “We’ve a parade and shoot fireworks from the town square. It’s right down this here road.” He pointed toward the left.
“But it’s not the Fourth yet.” My eyebrows pinched together.
“Purdy close. They do it the weekend before ’cause most Wyomingites head out to the bigger city with their young’uns. It’s sure to be a good time. Wyomin’ likes fireworks. We ain’t got nothin’ else to do around these parts, excep’ shovel dung on the farm.”
Milo’s and Carly’s faces lit up as they regarded me and Bax across the table. My head rotated toward Bax, and he gave me the look.
I guess we are going to see what a parade and fireworks are like in a small town.
I headed straight to the bathroom as soon as we got back to the motel. My sunburn—or all the sweating—had left me parched, and I thought I had drunk a gallon of water at the diner.
“Hey,” Carly called.
I turned just in time to see a green bottle flying at me. Lifting my hand, I caught it just before the missile could hit my head.
I read on the label—Aloe Vera Cream for Extreme Sunburn Relief. Focusing on the angry red, almost purple skin of my arms and hands, I thought it qualified as extreme, plus some.
“That stuff has saved me from looking like a snake shedding its skin many times over. Trust me, you’ll thank me later.” She pulled her camera from her bag to clean the lens and change the battery.
“Thanks.” I closed the bathroom door behind me. Stripping down to my underwear, I immediately started lathering the heaven-in-a-bottle all over my skin. The lotion brought chills to my skin, and the instant relief made me sigh as I felt less like a roasted marshmallow.
There was a muffled knock on the front door. I heard Carly speaking with whom I assumed was the guys, and then it was quiet again.
When the lotion was mostly dry, I redressed and looked for my brush. I had set it on the right side of the sink when we unpacked before dinner, but it was missing.
“Hey, Carly, did you use my brush?” I stepped out into an empty room. “Huh.” I searched my bag and then the bathroom again, but my brush was nowhere to be found.
Shrugging, I walked out into the main part of the tiny motel room again and grabbed my camera. When I set it on the table to check the battery and memory card, I noticed the black brush on the floor. Leaning down, I retrieved it and inspected it, like it was a science project.
That’s weird. Why is it out here?
A loud knock rapped against the door, and then a muffled, “Hurry up in there,” came from Milo.
I shrugged it off and grabbed my camera and a zip-up hoodie before exiting the motel.
“Well, there she is. You about done getting all gussied up? It’s just a small-town parade, chica. Or are you expecting to pick up the man of your dreams? I bet they have some real big horses around these parts.” Milo adjusted his camera strap and dug his hands into the front pockets of his jeans.
“Shut it.” I rolled my eyes and started walking toward Main Street.
Carly, Milo, and Bax chuckled and quickly followed behind me.
When we rounded the corner back into town, it was busier than when we had left fifteen minutes before, but compared to any normal town, it was dead. A few families were sitting on blankets on the curb, and others stood in groups, talking to each other. The women handled the children while the men were more than likely talking shop, which seemed to be farming or ranching in these parts. I came to that conclusion by the overalls, cowboy hats, boots, and flannels. The horses roped to trees along the sidewalk lining the small buildings and a few carriages parked in the small lots also helped clue me in. A couple of temporary farmers market tables were set up, selling fruits, vegetables, herbs, and the like.
“This is like transporting into another world,” Carly said.
Nodding my agreement, I looked up and down the street, and when I saw it was clear, I walked into the middle and lay down to take a couple of pictures. It was approaching sunset, so the lighting was slowly fading, and the wind set the dust dancing behind the buildings. Zooming out, I captured the light-brown swirling ballet of dirt as it framed the town and sparkled like tiny diamonds in the golden sunlight.
Before I was able to take another photo, a loud horn honked, scaring me to death. Jumping up, my heart thundering, I ran to the side and glared at the teenager behind the wheel. He thought he was cool in his oversize, junky truck full of rowdy adolescents. If I were a swearing and gesturing kind of girl, I would have flipped him the finger.
Shaking my head, I surveyed the area and found Bax watching me from the other side of the road. I shook my head again, flashed a small grin, and let my attention wander to the people along the street.
A small boy sat in his mother’s lap, a brightly colored Popsicle trapped between his lips. It was melting down his face, hands, and arms in the still-sweltering heat. He caught me smiling to myself, and he stretched his chubby grin around the Popsicle. Without thought, I lifted my camera, brought him into focus, and snapped several rounds of him smiling and then playing shyly. The fast-melting treat dripped off his elbow and onto his mother’s white skirt, turning it a deep shade of purple, and I captured it in sequence.
When I lowered my camera, I noticed the parade had started. Most of the procession consisted of horses, tractors, old beat-up trucks, probably the world’s smallest marching band that was made up of five people, goats, the county’s largest cow, and dogs decked out in red, white, and blue.
As the short parade continued, I walked up and down the street, snapping candid shots of people either in the parade or observing the parade. Small children were waving mini American flags, preadolescent girls were trying to attract the attention of high school boys, and men with deep creases in their faces were smiling and laughing. It was the epitome of what the Fourth of July was all about. Every single person was enjoying their freedom and celebrating their country with honor and happiness.
The fireworks left something to be desired, but I continued to document the town that was now alive with wonder and delight. Shadowed faces were lightened by sparkling colors as the measly show concluded.