Page 5

Chapter Four

Like Skipping Stones

M ara stood in the kitchen, her hips swaying to a song that wasn’t playing out loud for the world to hear. She filled an actual wineglass only halfway. The microwave to her right counted down and she licked her lips, her tastebuds ready to celebrate the taste of the hot, buttery popcorn. Donning her body was simply a SOFRAW T-shirt. Tonight was the kind of night that did not require a bra— Thank fucking God for that!

A T-shirt. A black thong. Some cheap wine. Some salty popcorn.

The only thing left was what kind of movie or show to watch.

For whatever reason, Mara caught herself thinking about ghosts. As dumb as the shows could be at times, she was actually in the mood for one of those ghost shows where people take equipment into houses or buildings and try to communicate with the dead.

The microwave beeped. She sipped her wine. Then she carefully opened the extremely hot, steamy bag and poured the freshly popped popcorn into a large red bowl. Mara tossed the mostly empty bag to the counter and turned to exit the kitchen.

Popcorn bowl in one hand, wineglass with the other. Her destination… Darrow’s couch. Which ironic enough had been Darrow’s bed from the moment she showed up. Which she did not ask for. Sleeping in an outlaw’s bed had a familiar feel and smell to it, but Darrow’s bed was far different than that of…

Her teeth chattered for a second and she refused to have her night get ruined.

No thanks. Wine. Popcorn. Crappy shows about ghosts. Thank you!

After completing just three steps toward the couch, there was a hard thud against the door. So hard, Mara stopped dead in her tracks. She felt her heart leap up into the back of her mouth for a moment. The thudding sounded again and again. After the fourth and fifth time, she began to shake.

A couple pieces of popcorn jumped from the bowl to the floor. The wine in her glass rippled like a lake after someone skipped a stone. Before Mara could react, the next thud broke the door open.

Fitz didn’t step into the apartment like some menacing bad guy from a movie. Fitz kicked down the door and ran into the apartment and right toward Mara. She screamed and threw the wineglass at her insane rat of a husband. That did nothing.

It made no sense for Mara to throw the popcorn bowl next, but she did it anyway. Fitz kept coming for her. Mara turned to run but Fitz grabbed her by the hair.

“You think you can get away from me?” Fitz growled. He pulled her close and wrapped an arm around her throat. “I never loved you. You were just some cunt to fuck. I only inked you up to make sure I had something waiting for me at the end of the day.”

Mara felt her throat collapsing as Fitz applied more pressure…

“And you run right here? To Darrow? You think I haven’t seen you two looking at each other? You wanted him all along, didn’t you? You fucking whore. Good luck with him now. I cut his fucking head off. Want to go see?”

When Mara felt Fitz start to drag her toward the door, she began to freak out. Screaming and thrashing. She finally stomped down on Fitz’s right foot and then kicked back at his right knee. Her last move of desperation was to swing her heel up, between Fitz’s legs, crushing against his balls.

That did the trick. Fitz released his hold on Mara and she got away. Where was she going to go…? Mara could only think of one thing to do here.

Find a knife. Defend herself.

She made it back into the kitchen when Fitz grabbed for her again. This time he grabbed her shirt. The huge, oversized SOFRAW shirt that belonged to Darrow.

“Fucking wearing his clothes!” Fitz roared. “Slut!”

Fitz pulled at the shirt and kicked her legs out. Mara hit the floor, face down. Fitz lifted the shirt up.

“Wearing a fucking thong for him,” Fitz said. “Using your perfect ass, huh? I bet he loves your tits too…”

Fitz rolled Mara to her back and wrestled the T-shirt up her body, exposing her left breast. At some point—Mara wasn’t sure when—Fitz had produced a gun. She stared at the gun and realized…

“Consider yourself lucky for this,” Fitz said. “Imagine what Cyrus would do if he got his hands on you…”

Mara shut her eyes and waited for the gun to go off.

She wasn’t sure if she’d even hear it…

… an echoing sound…

Mara’s eyes popped open and she sat up in Darrow’s bed, her hands clutched to the sheets tight, her head slamming hard inside her chest.

It was a dream. That’s all. A stupid dream. A nightmare. It’s not real…

“It’s not real,” Mara spoke out loud.

She gasped for a breath. To her right there was a glass with a small puddle at the bottom. The crimson stain, evidence of the wine. Her head ached a little, thanks to the combination of wine and Xanax. Her normal meal, a few times a day now.

“Fuck,” Mara whispered.

For the first time in a while she craved water. Actual water.

Mara’s eyes gravitated toward the bedroom door. She knew Fitz wasn’t out there. Fitz was on the run. Wearing his ink and being with him for so long, she knew a lot about the outlaw that claimed her.

He’s on the run. He knows he’s done for. He’s not here.

Mara threw the covers off her body and realized that part of her dream was true. She wore an oversized T-shirt, given to her by Darrow. It did not have anything about SOFRAW on it. As far as wearing a thong right now…

She wore nothing. Literally nothing. Just a T-shirt.

Mara opened the bedroom door and snuck to the bathroom without making much noise. She looked at herself in the mirror. A voice in her head gave her an almost motherly talk about needing to stop mixing booze and pills. It was messing with Mara’s head. Making her fall asleep really hard and allowing intense nightmares to form and play out.

Mara cupped her hands and drank some water and then splashed water on her face. She dried her hands and face, then exited the bathroom, freezing as she looked toward the living room. Toward the couch.

I cut his fucking head off.

Even though it was just a dream, she could hear Fitz’s voice clearly in her head. Way too clearly. Biting her bottom lip, Mara carefully approached the couch. The apartment was dark but not fully dark.

Her eyes had adjusted as need be. She saw the huge figure of Darrow on the couch. There was no way he could possibly be comfortable sleeping like that. Too tall for the couch. Too big. His head on the arm of the couch, his right arm across his eyes. His right leg and foot hung way over the other side of the couch. No boots. No socks. Just his bare foot.

Mara saw how big his feet were. How long his toes were. She caught herself swallowing hard.

Oh… fuck…

Darrow’s left foot was on the floor. His sheer size too massive for a couch. He slept in jeans and a T-shirt. The T-shirt rode up his body enough to show a little skin. Hard, muscular, outlaw skin. His SOFRAW leather cut rested on the table.

He’s alive. His head has not been cut off.

See?

It was just a dream. A nightmare.

Mara turned her head and licked her bottom lip. In her mind the walk back to the bedroom felt more like twenty miles than twenty steps. She bent her knees and leaned forward. She touched the top of the couch and began to climb on top of Darrow.

The second her body touched his, he flinched. His right arm pulled away from his face and his eyes opened. Mara looked at him, her mouth incredibly dry again.

“Nightmare,” she whispered. “Horrible nightmare…”

Without speaking, Darrow grabbed at the back of Mara’s head and neck and pulled her closer to him. He was strong. Really fucking strong. Powerful and warm and…

Mara rested her head on his chest, her body mostly on top of his. She managed to tuck herself in the spot between Darrow and couch, which really didn’t exist all that much.

His massive hand held the back of her neck and then inched down to the middle of her back. Her body shivered and she felt Darrow taking deep breaths, falling back asleep.

Mara’s eyes grew heavy too. She knew right here, like this, with Darrow, there would be no more nightmares. At least not for tonight.

She told herself to make sure she thanked Darrow in the morning for this.