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Jo is my family. And we’ll build ours together, even as we leave our pasts behind.
She gasps against my lips and I can hear Mama’s voice rising.
The door to the car opens, as I expected it to. Sterling isn’t supposed to be here, especially without his team. I can pretend he’s here as a friend, but if Mama starts asking questions it’s going to be an issue. He’s here because I’m convinced I can find this book they are searching for and keep the FBI from trying to search the property. They will uncover a lot more than a missing book, and it will cause significantly more issues that will fall on my brother’s shoulders. Unless they absolutely have to get a warrant, I want to try and fix some of this.
“What are you two-” Sterling begins.
He’s unprepared when I turn, grasping his wrist, and tug him towards us. Jo is still pressed between myself and the car, her natural height and heels keeping her close to my lips. If she tells me to stop, I’ll stop but so far she’s staying silent.
The confusion on Sterling’s face is almost endearing. He’s still not sure what to do with the two of us, much less together like this. If the others are watching, I no longer care. I’m solely focused on how the two of them interact.
If Jo needs him, either as a placeholder or a fixture, I’ll mold him to be another extension of us.
He looks between us, and dimly I realize making a spectacle like this is probably a bad idea. Possibly immature. But I’m sick of the parental figures in my life acting like I need to feel shame for how I choose to love my wife, even as an adult.
I’m not going to love Sterling the same way Jo could. I might use him mentally, but physically he’s just another bonus for her. Someone she might learn to care for.
When their eyes meet, I don’t feel like an outsider. An instigator maybe, and I know Jo’s going to make me grovel for doing this out of the blue. But she’s distracted right now, her eyes drooping as she studies him.
I’m still close enough to hear her mutter before she leans in. “Fuck it.”
She grips his shirt, pulling him in for a kiss. I can hear Mama losing her shit behind us as she stomps inside and slams the door.
Jo controls the kiss, which isn’t surprising since Sterling’s gone stiff and appears to be trying his hardest to not touch her. I watch them for a moment, the way her tongue dances across the seam of his lips, trying to coax her way inside. After a moment it works, and he moans as he allows her access to his mouth.
For a moment, they are lost in each other; it’s beautiful to see.
Then reality hits, and Sterling snaps backward as he looks at us with wide eyes. Jo releases his shirt and leans against me, and I finally glance away from them.
I glance towards the house and see Mama standing at the window. She holds up a Bible and I can’t help but chuckle. That’s exactly what I expected from her.
I had assumed Xeno and Jonathan would stay nearby, but it appears both of them have stepped away.
I don’t know who else saw us, but we’ve left an impression.
Sterling clears his throat, pinching the bridge of his nose as he turns from us. “No -no. This can’t be happening.”
He’s in the car before either of us can react, and Jo leans back to meet my eyes. “Bold of you.”
“No one makes me feel bad for what I have,” I tell her, reaching out to trace her lips. “Or for what we like.”
She nods, reaching up to cup my cheek. Her eyes blaze into mine, and I know what’s going to happen the moment before it hits.
Her slap is hard, short nails raking across my cheek. It stuns me a little, but not enough to make me step back from her as she glares up at me.
“That,” she says, gently pushing me back before she moves towards the passenger door, “is for springing this on me. Next time,Husband,you let me in on the game earlier.”
Chapter 7
Porscha doesn’t wait long for her next kill. She decides to share with me on May 5th, date and all, that she’s added another body to the victim list sometime last week. I guess she isn’t concerned about keeping me up to date right after she kills anymore. Pretty sure she’s reached seven now by herself, but I might’ve lost count along the way. I can see the little changes between day and night through the window at the top of the stairway because Porscha keeps forgetting to close the door. I’m not sure if that’s better or worse to be able to vaguely register the passage of time.
The part about Porscha killing that benefits me is her lack of focus. She’s scatterbrained, trying desperately to keep her kills in order as well as remembering to subdue me. Yesterday when she was rambling on and on about her plans for the next kill, she forgot to give me the injection.
Today she’s bragging. She showed up and stormed around upstairs, laughing like a maniac. Without the drug dulling my senses, I had the joy of listening to that chaos for most of the evening—until she either finally calmed down or passed out.
Unfortunately there’s no escaping her mania now.
“Do you think I should throw a party?” Porscha asks with a laugh, dancing around the room. She reeks of cigarette smoke and cheap perfume. It’s not like there’s anything else to focus on down here, so even if I’d love to ignore her, I can’t exactly pretend she’s not there.