Relaxing on the couch next to her, I pulled her into my arms. She seemed smaller now, more fragile than before.
“Maybe we should relax, do some things inside. It looks like the weather is going to be awful anyway.” It was well after ten and the rain was pouring down steady. “We have a couple of pints of ice cream and a stream of things we haven’t yet watched on Netflix. I think we can keep ourselves busy.” Leaning down, I placed my lips in the nest of her hair. “You know whatever you need to talk about… I’m here. I hate that this is happening to you my Bella.”
She rolled her face into my bare chest and kissed gently. Fuck. This was all I wanted, her soft sweet body tangled in mine day in and day out.
“Pancakes? We could make a peach topping. I don’t have any citrus butter here.”
She perked, but I felt as though it were a favor to me. “You… Matteo De Luca… you have left without your citrus butter? This makes no sense. My world feels as though it’s tilted off-axis.” She smiled playfully, though her eyes stayed tired.
I kissed her forehead smiling, “You stay here. I’ll bring everything to you.”
“No, let me help. I’ll slice the peaches. I need to move.” Standing from the couch, she gripped her small hand over my shoulder.
“Bella… sit! You’re exhausted. Let me take care of you.”
She raised her eyebrows, stubbornly ignoring my words. “I’m going to slice peaches. See ya…”
I stood, watching as she made her way to the kitchen to pull out a knife. I loved that stubborn, smart ass mouth of hers, but I wished she would rest.
“Okay… you better slice the peaches right though. Fine julienne, please.” I smiled, lifting my arms over her shoulder to mock the movements with my hands over hers on the knife.
Playfully, she through her elbow back, digging the sharp corner into my chest. “I think you have pancakes to make, sir!”
Laughing, I made my way to the pantry to pull out the mix, turning back when I heard a scream. She was standing over the counter holding her hand, blood ran down the sides of her fingers—the knife, now thrown against the board. Grabbing a kitchen towel from the drawer, I ran towards her, wrapping her bloodied hand as we made our way towards the sink.
“Are you okay?”
“I… I was just cutting and…” Tears fell down the sides of her cheek, “I’m so tired.” She looked up towards me, her eyes red with exhaustion. The cut must have hurt, but she seemed unaffected by the pain—more embarrassed than anything.
Bending down, I found the first aid kit beneath the sink, dried her hand, and bandaged the cut. “Now… go sit down and stay there! We have more peaches; I’ll get everything ready and bring it to you.” She leaned her head against my chest and wrapped her arms around my waist. I kissed the top of her head and took in the scent of the orchid shampoo she’d used. “Go… I’ll be in shortly.”
Happy that she’d listened, I whipped the pancakes, caramelized the peaches, and slathered them on top of the warm cakes. The sauce dripped off the edges of the stack.
She devoured them, moaning with each bite, arching her head back in delight. “The sauce is sweet, but the peaches add a slight tang… ugh… they are so good!” She continued to sigh as she ate.
Sounds of pleasure emanating from her lips calmed me. I loved seeing her in a state of bliss—like nothing mattered except the joy she was feeling right then. And Hannah Adams had the most satisfying look of pleasure I’d ever seen.
We finished the pancakes then settled into the couch, mindlessly watching hours of Netflix. After a marathon of some survival show and a movie about a bank heist, we both fell asleep. I woke before her and noticed she laid unmoving against my chest. She seemed calm like this, though it were only moments before she was awake again, pounding in a light sweat.
“I’m here Bella, let’s go to the bedroom.”
In her exhaustion, she agreed, though it didn’t change much. The jolting and erratic movements continued to startle her awake, her body unable to relax, unable to come down from all that had happened.
“I’m calling a doctor. You need something. You can’t keep going on like this.”
She refused, suddenly awake with intention. “No. I don’t want to make a big deal about all this. What if Kings Ranch finds out we’re here?”
“No one will find out. You can go to some local doctor. No one knows who you are.”
Shifting in the blankets, she pulled the sheet away from her feet, letting the cool air hit them. “The sex tapes. Anyone could know who I am. And it just takes one tip. One person to open their mouth, and it’s over. I’m not risking it.”
I sprung from the bed, agitated that she wouldn’t listen to my reasoning. “Bella, if you won’t go to the doctor, at least try something over the counter.”
She stayed turned away from me, speaking into the air, “Check my bag. I got a bunch of stuff at the store when we got here. I’ve tried it all. None of it works.”
“Then I’ll call someone. I’ll get you a prescription without a doctor's visit.”
“Matteo! I’m done with this conversation. I’m not taking some strange pills, and I’m not going to the doctor. I’ll figure it out. It might take a few weeks for my body to settle back in, but once it does, things will be back to normal.” She snapped the words, settling into them as though her exhaustion was fed up with the conversation.
I didn’t blame her. Instead, I blamed myself.
Chapter Ten
Matteo
Three days in a row, I’d woken up with her gone. She was still unable to sleep despite my arms holding her tight. I walked downstairs and peeked my head around the corner. This morning, she sat perched on the high deck, drinking her warm tea, staring out at the view of the river and trees. Her face, peaceful and reserved, truly immersed in nature. Though I knew there was more going on behind the veil. Her eyes were dark with circles, her hair tied back as she snuggled her knees into her long gray sweater. For a bit, I watched, brewing a cup of coffee as I checked messages. The investigator had finally gotten back to us.
Michael: Unless I’m seeing ghosts. Erik is alive and well. Still on the ranch. Walking and moving freely, seemingly helping with chores and errands. I’ve seen it on the security footage I hacked. Let me know what else you need.
The words struck me across the face like a punch I wasn’t expecting. Erik was alive. He was like an android, come back to life over and over destined to fuck me until I finished him off. I finished pouring the coffee and made my way to the deck.
Hannah turned from her nature trance towards my wiped face. I debated how much to tell her, not wanting to cause more turmoil. I couldn’t help but feel like I had done this to her. I had ripped her from the woods and thrown her into a life of chaos. But I thought knowing Erik was alive may help.
“Just heard from the detective, Erik is alive and looks to be part of everything still.” Even as I spoke the words aloud, it felt like a lie. Why did I keep falling for this?
“This is good though, that means they can’t get you for murder.” Her eyes were wide with excitement. An excitement, I suppose I should have felt too, though the emotion was complicated and muddy.
“Yeah, it’s good.” I forced the lie from my lips, not wanting to drag her sensibilities. Though, I had reasons to believe that they had more planned if Erik was still alive and ‘working’ for them. I’d never been good at lying. Every emotion dripped from my skin without hesitation. I’d wanted to keep it in and hide every last worry I had, but I wasn’t that guy.
We sat in silence as I stared at the wood planks beneath my feet until another buzz startled me: a client. I muted the phone and turned to Hannah, still curled into a ball in the wooden chair. Moving towards her, I lifted her tired body then sat, placing her on my lap. I hated that I couldn’t give her the life she deserved. I couldn’t give her freedom and safety —essential things. Pulling my hand up from behind her, I stroked her silky blond
e hair. “More nightmares?”
“Yeah, I didn’t get more than an hour or two last night.” Her words were soft and cloudy, almost inaudible as she nestled in. It was getting worse. For a moment, she drifted off to sleep in my arms, as I let guilt swallow me up, wondering if, with me, she’d ever find real safety. Or rather be destined to follow my path of self-destruction, paved with apparent liars and cheats. She deserved more. She deserved to be back at the wildlife center, back in Tahoe, back in the life she created before I stole her away from it all.
Tears fought their way from my eyes as I imagined my life without her. A life without sporadic, addictive, explicit bucket lists. A life without warm, passionate conversations about conservation, a life without love. Suddenly though, it felt selfish to hold her, selfish to want her, selfish to need her. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back, pulling her closer to my chest, revolting against every reason I had to let her go.
For a long while, she laid peacefully sunken into my warmth and protection. Safe amidst the rise and fall of my chest. I stared out at the Alaskan wilderness, racking my mind of things I could do to keep her with me, turning the tables until they all somehow fit in the room. In the hour she spent sleeping, I thought I could help her. Then, she jumped slightly, eventually shaking, stirring, and yelling, throwing her hands into the air and against my chest.
“It’s okay, you’re okay,” I said, relaxing her hands down to her side. She was having another nightmare. Again, in my arms. I knew what I had to do.
Chapter Eleven
Hannah
The northern lights are unimaginable. I’d seen pictures, but nothing prepared me for the show that played out as we sat at the top of the hill, bundled in each other’s arms. A thick wool blanket covered our shoulders as shades of green pulled up from the horizon and danced across the sky, swirling above us in a symphony of color, each green becoming darker until pink arrived, then purple, hypnotizing us with its wave. Back and forth, up and down, across the turquoise sky and back again, each color an enchanted spell on the night, shading in and out, rippling like a quiet river in the darkness.
I turned to Matteo, his eyes vacantly distant towards the horizon. “You okay?”
He’d been acting off all day. Quiet and distant, as though something was on his mind. I yawned and checked again behind my shoulder. I’d felt like someone was following me the last few days, since one nightmare had them taking me from the stream. We couldn’t see the lights from the deck, or I’d have stayed up there in its relative safety. I looked back at Matteo. His head still focused on the lights as he ignored my question.
Bumping his shoulder playfully, I pressed, “What’s wrong? You’ve been quiet and weird all day.”
He flashed his eyes towards me for a moment, then back at the lights. “Tomorrow morning, I think you should go back to Tahoe. See how the shelter is doing.”
“What? Why would I do that? We just got here,” I answered, twisting my eyebrows into a nest. He stayed quiet for a long while, thinking over his words carefully.
“This isn’t working. You will never be safe with me. I can’t be happy knowing I’m keeping you from your life.” He spoke with passion and intensity, his accent heavy. His statement settled like a joke to my tired mind, but the look on his face spoke truth.
“You are my life. You can’t leave me. You can’t make me leave. I’m safer with you.” Tears leaked from my eyes, pouring down in waves of frustration and anger. “Why are you doing this?”
He stood, staring at his feet with one hand tucked into his pocket—looking up only to enunciate certain words as he spoke with inevitability. “I don’t want to do this. I have to. You’re not safe with me. I’ve created this life where people are blackmailing me, holding those I love hostage, stealing from me, lying to me. I can’t trust myself. I can’t trust my judgment. What would happen if we had children? Where would we go? How would I protect them? You’re better off without me.”
“All I want is you!” I screamed, wiping tears from my cheek. “All I want is you!” He stood unwavering on the hilltop, though I could see tears streaming down his face, illuminated by the changing colors in the sky. “Say something!” I screamed, frustrated that he had turned to stone.
“There is nothing else to say. I can’t drag you around like this anymore. I’ll give you some seed money.”
“Seed money? I don’t want your fucking money. It’s not about money. I want you,” I yelled, now full-on temper tantrum. I’d hoped my yelling would startle him, snap him back to the man I’d known just yesterday. The man who was eager to escape life with explicit bucket lists, the man I’d imagined a family with. Though now, that man seemed locked away and inaccessible.
“We’ll leave tomorrow at 7 AM,” he trilled, lifting the blanket from the ground. “This is what’s best.” His red eyes caught mine for a moment before he walked away. I ambled after him at a slow pace that allowed distance. This couldn’t be real; he couldn’t be serious. I could talk to him when he calmed. I could make him see the error in his thoughts.
I went to the bedroom and changed, assuming he would eventually follow, but he didn’t. Instead, I laid awake, alone for hours as he stonewalled himself in the bunk room. In the wee hours of the night, I planned my rebellion. Planned how I would stay in bed, lock myself in the room — avoid him entirely until he came to his senses. I would wait him out, he would find my obstinance endearing, and he would relent. Though the longer I sat, the angrier I became, and the more determined I became to making him watch me leave. When he saw me walk out, he’d realize how dumb it all was.
For a bit here and there, I dozed off but could recall almost every hour of the night, counting every minute he had not come in to apologize. Extreme exhaustion is a real thing. It makes you think crazy thoughts, makes you act like a person you don’t know. I knew this was what he was worried about. I knew he wanted me to get help, but I couldn’t risk them finding us. Then, the anxiety would only get worse. He had done the best he could. He had tucked us away in a remote area in the middle of the Alaskan wilderness. No one was around. No one knew where we were. The nightmares would get better with time, but I knew that wasn’t what he was worried about.
At first sign of movement in the morning, I stormed out of the bedroom, fumbling with my bags. My eyes, puffy with tears. “I’ll be in the car.” I glanced towards him, trying to see if my show was causing a reaction. He was wearing the same sweater as yesterday, his eyes, red and swollen, as though he’d been up all night in turmoil.
Pushing his thick brows together, he opened his mouth, then closed it immediately after as though stunted for words. Then again, his lips parted. “Change of plans. I have a driver coming to take you to the airport. I didn’t sleep well last night. I don’t trust myself on a three-hour drive through the mountains. From there, the jet will take you to Tahoe.” He barely made eye contact as he spoke, keeping his head turned down and away.
“And what about you? Where do you go?” Tears welled in my eyes as I asked, realizing afterward I’d broken character. He hadn’t changed his mind.
Continuing to avoid eye contact, he fumbled with the expresso machine. “I will figure things out.”
I dropped my bags, now invading his space in the kitchen, trying to wake him from his spell, “Matteo! Are you seriously going to do this? Really? I love you. I know you love me. I am safe with you. I don’t want to be in another car for hours with some strange guy. I want you. I thought we had plans.” Tears now streamed from my face in a shower of anarchy.
For a moment, he caught my eyes, then looked away. His chin quivering, his eyes tearing. “I can’t do this anymore. It’s not working. Leave… please.” His voice was deep, though wavering. I knew he didn’t mean it. I knew he believed he was keeping me safe by exposing of me.
I reached up and touched his shoulder, looking at his face despite his unwillingness to look at mine. “Take a few days. Then call me. I know you’ll change your mind.
”
I’d expected a monologue, a speech of some sort that explained his feelings in extreme detail one last time. Maybe even a hint he wanted me to stay. None of that happened, instead he refocused on the expresso machine as I walked out of his life.
Chapter Twelve
Hannah
At first, I was sure he’d come to find me, sure he was feeling the same way I was and was only momentarily jaded. I’d texted him daily, quite desperately, with no response. At this point, I’d have appreciated a ‘fuck off,’ so I could rule death out of the scenario of reasons he’d been ignoring me. Googling his name became a daily occurrence, though nothing new popped up. If he’d wanted to disappear from the world, he succeeded. Day after day, I stayed locked in a perpetual nightmare. The night long and gruesome as I tried to sleep, only to startle awake, feeling as though I were back in the cold, damp basement.
In these moments, I resented him. I hated him for leaving me alone to deal with the pain. I hated him for shipping me back to where I came from, like a toy he was finished playing with. I hated him for thinking I was better off alone than with him. Then, as though I’d been cured of all the hate, I’d find myself scrolling through websites in search of our videos. I didn’t have to try very hard.
I held my phone to my face as I laid with my vibrator tucked onto my clit, watching as Matteo thrust into me on the beach. His face, an erratic mess of diffusion as he struggled against the waves and sinking sand. My pussy swelled with desire, enjoying the fast vibrations and memories of our escapades, but I held myself back until the moment he was about to come. When I saw his eyes squeeze shut, when I saw him dig deeper and increase speed, when I saw the muscles in his tight body flex and ripple throughout—I knew then, I could press into the hard vibrator to let myself finish.
It started with me watching the video once, sure that seeing him would make me hate him more. Though it didn’t, seeing him, remembering the way he’d touched me, remembering the way we just accepted each other, made me miss him more. This of course divulged into me watching the videos multiple times a day, suddenly elated that someone had invaded our privacy.
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