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Later that week, I was watching the news at the local diner when his face appeared on the TV. Murdered. Karma was a bitch, but a fair one at that.
* * *
After I finish my story, I look to Branson. His hands are gripping the steering wheel, knuckles white. This is a normal reaction, I think. I’d never told anyone that story before. But if someone told me it, I'd be livid too.
The ride is silent for a long time. The atmosphere has shifted, turning to something dark and lethal. I feel like I have said too much. That I have ruined the image of myself for him.
“My mom committed suicide,” he says slowly. I look over to him. His face is a complete mask of no emotions. He stares at the road ahead.
“She just… jumped off our balcony. Right in front of me.” The pain melts the mask away. Showing such hatred for himself. I can’t understand why.
I grip his hand, pulling it to my lips. “I always think if maybe I’d gone to her, I could have stopped her. But I just stood there. I’ll never forget the sound she made when she…” He swallows, shaking his head.
“I thought she was terminally ill?” I ask softly, hoping not to offend him.
He huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, mentally. That story was a cover-up. We can’t have the world knowing our lives are not perfect. Everything is fabricated,” he whispers the last part.
“Pull over,” I whisper.
Turning on his signal without a question, he does.
Once he’s parked, I unbuckle, climbing over the console and placing myself in his lap. My hands run through his hair, making his eyes close. I trace his lips with my index finger. He snaps his teeth at me, and I giggle. Cupping his gorgeous face in my hands, I bring his head to my chest. His arms wrap around me as my hands go back to his hair.
“No one has ever soothed me.” He speaks into my chest.
“Me either,” I confess, sighing.There was something so safe about being wrapped up in his arms. As if the outside forces can’t reach me, hurt me. His overall presence screams to move out of his way, but to me, it was inviting. Something as addicting as your first taste of nicotine. I craved his presence, a fiend for his touch.
Pulling back, he looks up to me. His dark eyes hold an unhinged quality you usually only see in animals. “No one will ever hurt you again.” A promise.
“You say that like you’ll see me when the show is done.” I laugh, covering up the raw emotion his words bring to me.
His face sobers. My words hitting its mark. Instead of talking, he kisses me. I don’t know how long we stay on the side of the road, holding each other, but it is night before we make it back. And for the first time ever, I crave the feel of another human in bed with me.
* * *
“Shopping,” Tucker presses me for the millionth time.We’ve been back for a few days and he is going stir-crazy.
“I need this money to survive, Tucker. Not go on shopping sprees.”
He groans, pulling his blond hair through his fingers.“I’ll pay for it.”
I sigh. “No, because I’ll never pay you back. I can’t.”
I was tired of this conversation. Over it. Of course I’d love to go shopping, but this money is too important to waste.
“I don’t want your money, woman. I want a fucking shopping buddy!” he screams. I jump.
“All right, damn, Tuck. Be my sugar daddy. Why do I care anyways?”
He smiles a Cheshire grin, fist bumping me. “That’s what I’m talking about, Strawberry. Let’s go.”
He grabs my hand, sprinting to the door. “Okay, Giraffe Legs, slow down for the dwarf. I’m half your size!”
“Places to go, my money to spend. You’ve got a great ass, use it to get into gear,” he says, throwing my car door open.
Laughing, I climb in. As soon as my door shuts, we are off. Breaking every traffic law ever written.
* * *
