Page 239 of Devil’s Disciples

“Why haven’t you ever found love?” I asked.

“I’ve never looked for it. In fact, I’ve done a pretty good job of avoiding it. I figured if I ever allowed myself to fall in love, she’d just be taken from me. We don’t get to choose our family, but we can choose who we let in our lives. If I don’t let anyone in, I don’t have to worry about getting hurt.” Wearing a long face, he gestured toward the pie, half of which was now gone. “Don’t worry about finishing that. You did better than I could have. We should probably look at riding back.”

Our perfect day had been transformed into one that was filled with sorrow. Despite the clear sky, a cloud of sadness hovered over me. I wanted to fix him but feared I couldn’t. Disappointed and depressed, I accepted defeat.

“Okay,” I murmured, reaching for one last piece of pie as I stood. “I’ll eat this on the way to the motorcycle.”

He reached for the pie and pulled a piece from the tin. “I’ll have one, too.”

He rose from his seat and tossed the pie tin in the trash. For Porter, it was just another day. For me, it was a day that would always be earmarked with sadness. Shoulders slumped, I shuffled around the edge of the table and to his side.

I wanted to touch him. To hold him. To explain that although I had no idea why he had been exposed to so much loss, I believed that everything happened for a reason. At that moment, however, I couldn’t fathom any reason that would call for him to lose so much.

We turned toward the street. Porter took a bite of pie. After swallowing it, he looked at me. His face was plastered with surprise. “This is good fucking pie.”

I was too busy wallowing in my sadness to carry on a meaningful conversation. My gaze dropped to the sidewalk. “It’s okay.”

He pushed against my shoulder, forcing me to turn and face him. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m sad.” I bit off half the piece of pie in one bite. “Sad affuck.”

“Why?” he asked. “It’s been a good day.”

I swallowed the mouthful of pie. “Not for me,” I said without looking up. “I don’t like it that you’re so uncomfortable with life that you won’t let people in it.”

The index finger of his free hand came into view. He raised it to my chin, lifting it until our eyes met. Instead of continuing the conversation, which was what I expected, he leaned closer. In my sad state of being, I thought for an instant that he was going to kiss me.

And then. He did.

His tongue parted my lips. The sweet taste of syrup, pecans, and buttery pie crust tickled my taste buds. I closed my eyes. Starting at my feet, a tingling sensation ran through me, working its way up my body until I was completely encompassed by a sensation of euphoria.

I followed his every lead, kissing him in return. With a half-eaten piece of pie held loosely in my left hand, I pressed my right palm against the taut muscles of his upper back. Our chests collided. My heart faltered.

Sparks flew.

I wanted the kiss to last forever. We continued our embrace for an amount of time I couldn’t accurately describe. When our lips parted, it seemed that we’d been kissing for a lifetime. I drifted back to earth. A kiss had never transformed me into mindless ball of emotion, but that one did.

Elated, I looked at him admiringly.

My mouth opened slightly, but my mind was incapable of sending a signal to my tongue. While I tried to remember how to turn thoughts into discernable dialogue, he broke the beautiful silence.

“I just let you in. All I ask is this.” He swept my hair over my ear with a gentle finger. “Don’t hurt me.”

Gracious that he trusted me enough to allow me to cradle his damaged heart in my hands, I swallowed heavily, hoping to speak without revealing the mindless state he’d left me in.

“I won’t hurt you,” I breathed. “I promise.”

As we walked to the motorcycle, with him so close I could taste the sweetness of his pecan pie laced breath, I hoped like hell I was right.

90

Ghost

I’d walked into the kitchen hoping to find a piece of pizza in the refrigerator. While I rummaged through the leftovers, my mother sat down at the kitchen table.

“What are you looking for?” she asked.

“Pizza.”