Page 102 of Not So Goode

Once my carwas fixed and run through a car wash to rid it of the mud, I cruised along the Canadian highway northward, until I ran out of road in Prince Rupert. I took a ferry, then, for something like seven hours. Despite the spectacular scenery, the hours were long and boring. I strolled the deck, had something to eat, slept, and read on my Kindle.

The only books I had in my Kindle were romances, and each of them left me desperately missing and wanting Crow even more.

Even as I ran as far away from him as I could get, short of moving to freaking Siberia or something.

Every time I thought of him I refused to second-guess my decision.

This was for the best.

I couldn’t tame him, and it wouldn’t be fair to try. And I wasn’t cut out for the kind of life he lived—not by a long shot. Maybe I wasn’t tough enough, or adventurous enough.

All I knew was that I couldn’t live a life on the back of his bike, or on a bunk in his tour bus. I needed a home. I needed a career. I needed stability. Some adventure now and then was fine, and I now knew I needed more spontaneity and adventure in my life.

But bar fights which resulted in people dying was way too much.

No. I’d made a tough decision, but it was the right decision.

This was best.

I would miss him. Of course I would. I would ache for him. I would probably be celibate for the rest of my life, because there was just no possible way anyone could ever top how he’d made me feel. The thought of being touched by anyone else made my skin crawl with something like revulsion.

Crow had marked me as his, and now, without him, I was lonely, aching, and morose.

But what else could I do?

I pulledup into Mom’s condo complex parking lot, parked the car, shut it off, and thunked my head against the steering wheel. I was utterly exhausted, completely spent both mentally and physically.

It had taken me almost a week to get from Denver to Ketchikan, what with all the disasters and detours and the occasional side trip to an outlet mall where I spent money I didn’t really have on purses and shoes I didn’t really need, but which filled, at least temporarily, the yearning ache inside me.

A tap on my window. “Charlie?” Mom’s voice, concerned. “Is that you?”

I swallowed. I peered out at her—it was after ten at night. “Hi, Mom.”

“You—you’re here.”

I nodded blearily, raggedly. “Yep. Here I am.”

“Are you—are you okay?”

Mom. I needed my mom. I pushed at my door, and she opened it, grabbed me by the arm and pulled me up. I collapsed gratefully into my mother’s arms.

“Momma.”

She didn’t miss a beat. Shushed, soothed, stroked my hair. “You’re here now. I’m here. Momma’s got you.”

I hated the burn of tears in my eyes, hated that I had no words to relate what I’d been through. But I was glad as hell to be with my mom again

“Liv, I, uh—I’ll go. Let you take care of your girl.” A deep, bear-like growl, with a southern drawl.

I opened my eyes and saw a simply enormous human being—Jupiter, but in thirty years. Six-six easily, built like someone had turned a grizzly bear into a human. Muscled like a bodybuilder, with a graying goatee and close-cropped hair, black T-shirt stretched around impossible muscles.

Mom shook her head. “No, Lucas, it’s all right.”

“That’s him?” I muttered.

She held me away. “Charlotte, this Lucas. He’s my—well, we’re not sure what to call it. Boyfriend seems childish and trite, but neither of us are super keen to get married any time soon. So he’s just my person.” She turned with me to Lucas, who was physically terrifying, but his eyes were kind and deep and warm. “Lucas, this my eldest daughter, Charlotte.”

I extended my hand. “Call me Charlie.”