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CHAPTER FOUR

KODIAK

A chuckle escapes me as she jumps sky high, clutching her chest and narrowing her eyes at me.

“Dammit,” she mutters, the color draining from her face. “You just scared nine lives outta me.”

“How many more do you think you have in you?” I ask, teasing her.

“Not enough to deal with having the ever-loving shit scared out of me,” she chides. “I think I’m on my last life after that scare.”

“Well, that won’t do. We have a party to attend. Shall we?” I ask, extending my elbow for her to grab so I can escort her to the event.

“Hmm,” she hums, eyeing me pessimistically. “Now you want to be a gentleman?”

“I’m always a gentleman to the ladies, Luna,” I inform her, only giving her a half truth. I’m only chivalrous to those who are deserving, and Luna, in my estimation from what I know of her so far, has landed herself into that extrinsic category. I don’t give that leeway to many, but she’s gotten under my skin and I’m determined to discover why that is.

“For some reason, I’m having a hard time buying that load of bullshit, Marcum,” she jests, sounding more like herself.

“Why’s that, Luna?”

“Because you don’t strike me as the type of man who gives anyone clout without them earning it,” she says, calling me out.

“Wow. Way to put a man under the spotlight there, Luna Moon.”

“Luna Moon? Wasn’t that a cartoon character back in the nineties?” she asks me.

“No, babe. That was Sailor Moon,” I correct her, causing her to chuckle.

“Do I even want to know how you know that, Marcum?”

“Once upon a time, I had a little sister. She was obsessed with that show and my brother, Xavier, and I were good big brothers who’d sit down and watch it with her,” I answer.

“Had? I’m sorry for your loss,” she tells me, her tone laced with sympathy.

Thinking of Tessa always chokes me up. She was the twinkle in mine and Xavier’s eyes. She was our sunshine. She kept us grounded, and out of trouble, but once she passed, we got a little wild and were unmanageable to our parents who all but shut down and forgot they still had two sons to live for. They shipped us off to our grandparents and ran for the hills.

“It was a long time ago, Luna.”

And now, my only living blood relative is Xavier. Everyone else has passed on, leaving us on our own. My grandparents from old age issues, and my parents due to drug overdoses, which I suppose became their crux. Their way to deal. Everyone deals with grief differently, for me it was fighting and destroying my enemies, for them, it was getting lost and making their memories of Tessa fuzzy, the only way they were able to deal with her death.

Maybe it was a long time ago, but I’ve found that grief is a funny, fickle thing. Sometimes, it’s as if no time at all has gone by when the emotions hit again over something that Tessa missed out on. Then there are other days when Xavier will reference our childhood and we sit and reminisce with fondness and smiles instead of glowers and tears.

“I’m still sorry for your loss, Marcum. If you ever need a shoulder to lean on or an ear to listen, I’ve been told I’m good at both of those things,” she offers.

There’s something trustworthy and easygoing about her. She’s like a bartender, making me want to open up my old wounds and let her see the infection that still festers within me. There are times when telling a complete stranger about Tessa is uplifting and enlightening. I’ve done it over a bottle of Jack a time or two when her ghost spent the day haunting me.

“Appreciate that. Cancer sucks and especially leukemia. That disease is what took Tessa from us way too soon. It hit hard and fast, we only had a few short months with her after her diagnosis. It hurts sometimes to think about her, but at the same time, it feels good to remember all of the good times the three of us had together.”

“I understand that feeling more than most. I lost my twin sister when we were twelve. She was out swimming at the quarry with a group of her friends and drowned. We don’t know what caused it, it could’ve been a cramp or something else, but her loss ripped a hole in our family that’s never been sealed,” she conveys, wiping a stray tear from her cheek. “It’s hard losing a sibling, especially when they’re your other half. Do you believe in soul mates, Marcum?”

“You mean like insta-love shit? Can’t say that I do,” I honestly answer her.

“That’s more like a twin flame,” she laughs. “No, I mean like a person who completes you. For me, that was Lana, my twin. Once she was gone, it was as if a piece of my soul had been torn from me.”

“One day, when I’m drunk, I’m gonna have you explain that twin flame thing, but right now, I don’t think I’d have the patience to sit and listen to what that is. But the soul mate thing? I can see where you’re going with that, and yeah, I believe Tessa was that for both me and Xavier. Moreso for my brother.”

“How so?” she questions. When she squeezes my elbow, it’s the first time it’s become clear that we’re not only walking toward where the mass is gathered in front of a set of double doors, but we’ve been pouring our hearts out to one another while doing so. Not a typical behavior for me.

“All these years later, he hasn’t been able to let down his shields and let anyone else get close to him. I’m the same way, but his burden is worse than mine where it comes to our baby sister. He shies away from commitment unless it’s toward our club and a few close friends.”

“So he’s a manwhore, but you’re not?” As Luna asks me this, her eyebrows raise into her hairline. Called out. It seems my little Moon has a backbone and isn’t afraid to ask the hard questions.

“Depends on the day,” I say, trying to deflect her question. “I’m no saint, Luna. And I’m far from virginal. I live a rough and rowdy life and there are times when I need to release the stress before it explodes.”

“I get it,” she murmurs, but I know that for women like her, what I’ve admitted to is a turn off. She needs to be looking for greener pastures because my shit is dead and brown.

When I think of somebody like Luna, all I can imagine is that she's looking for a man who can give her the whole nine yards—white picket fence, two kids puttering around the house and a dog barking in the background. I know I’ll never be that man and should end things here and now before it gets complicated. But I’m a sonofabitch who feels a tug toward her and when something appeals to me on the level that she does, I snatch that shit up and use it until I’ve lost interest.

Does this make me a motherfucker? I’m sure it does, but that doesn’t mean I’ll change my ways. I won’t apologize for who I’ve become, my belligerent anger is ingrained in my DNA. Abandoned by my parents, then being raised by grandparents who weren’t interested in investing their time into two emotionally damaged boys, and friends who only used us for what we could do for them has filled me with a simmering rage. Meaning, those friends used us for our protection seeing as we hit a growth spurt before any of our classmates and were intimidating to those smaller than us.

By definition, we were bullies, ones made by our peers. I won’t say we succumbed to pressure the way most teens do, but we got a high off being bigger and badder than those around us. Hell, our reputations were such that we seldom had to do anything more than glare. Our fists were rarely used, although from time to time, we did what we had to in order to prove a point.

“Ready to throw me away yet, Luna?”

“Why? Because you have a past, Marcum? That’d make me a hypocrite, wouldn’t it?” she poses the question. “I’ve done things I’m not proud of, things I’m sure would be a reason for you to bail on me before getting to know me.”

“Like what?” I ask, wanting to dig deep into her psyche and bury myself in it until I know her better than she knows herself.

“Buy me a few drinks and I’ll tell you all about it,” she proposes, smiling at me as she hands over our entrance tickets to the ladies manning the door.

“After you,” I say, swiping my arm toward the door.

“I’ll grab us our free drinks, Marcum. Why don’t you find us a table?”

I nod my head without giving her my drink order. Curious about what she’ll bring back for me and hoping it’s a cold beer and not some fruity chick drink with an umbrella as its garnish.

I walk toward a table while she heads to the bar.