Page 47 of Trusting Skulls (Rebel Skull MC #8)
Chapter Forty-Five
Ash
L exie shields me from every flying monkey before they even appear on the screen. It’s obvious she knows this movie by heart.
I watch carefully as her emotions play over her face. She lays her head on my chest when it’s over, her gaze fixed on the rolling credits.
“Thank you,” she says quietly.
“You’re welcome. Are you tired?”
She shakes her head no.
“Do you want to watch another one?”
Again, she shakes her head in the negative, but this time she sits up and faces me. So, I do the same.
“Go ahead. You can ask me.”
She knows I have questions, but she should also know I won’t voice them.
“When did you fall in love with the Wizard of Oz ?” I ask instead.
She laughs lightly. “Not what I was talking about, but I’ll answer. It was one of Dad’s favorites. He was a big fan of old movies.”
I’m surprised by her answer.
“They weren’t always absent. There was a time when money and circumstance kept them home.”
The crickets chirp around us, filling the silence.
“My dad was a book lover,” I say. “Willow and I didn’t watch too many movies when we were kids. My father tried to keep us away from technology as much as he could.”
She smiles, always happy to listen to me talk about my dad. “I used to read all the time, but I haven’t read a book since my freshman year of high school,” Lexie admits.
Her head drops, and I see she misses it.
“My favorite book is my survival guide. Only because it was the last book my dad gave to me.” I tap my finger over her knee. “I’m going to tell you a secret, but you can’t make fun of me. What I really love is poetry.”
My words light up her face. “What’s your favorite poem?” she asks.
“Do you like poetry too?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know, but I want to learn about all of the things you love.”
I take a deep breath. The Lexie I saw that day, sitting at the gun range, talking about handwritten letters, is back. She’s more of a deep thinker than anyone gives her credit for. I’ll do anything to nurture this side of her, because I think it’s the real her.
“It’s called “The Laughing Heart” by Charles Bukowski,” I tell her.
“I’ll have to look it up,” she says dreamily, tipping her head to look up at the stars.
“You don’t have to. I’ve memorized it.”
Her gaze drops to mine as I recite it to her.
“Your life is your life
Don’t let it be clubbed into dank submission.
Be on the watch.
There are ways out.
There is a light somewhere.
It may not be much light but
It beats the darkness.
Be on the watch.
The gods will offer you chances.
Know them.
Take them.
You can’t beat death but
You can beat death in life, sometimes,
And the more often you learn to do it
The more light there will be.
Your life is your life.
Know it while you have it.
You are marvelous
The gods wait to delight
In you.”
Tears pool in her eyes. “Will you write it down for me before you leave?”
“I can, but I’ll also bring the book over tomorrow.”
She pulls up her legs and hugs them, a clear indication she’s ready to have a serious conversation with me. She’s preparing by shielding herself.
“You were one of my chances, and after meeting you, more and more light has come in,” she says quietly.
“I feel the same about you.”
She makes a little sound like she doesn’t believe me, but she doesn’t voice it out loud.
“I do want to be the light to you and others, but I’ll admit I’m having a hard time trusting myself.
” Her gaze goes to the house before she continues.
“I trusted myself with Graham. He was the first person who really noticed me, and he made me feel special.” Her cheeks redden, but she goes on.
“Having someone’s full attention felt so good until it didn’t. ”
She takes a deep breath.
“Anyway, you don’t need to hear the details, but I blamed myself for enticing him.
The first time …” She stops there and shakes her head.
“I was so ashamed of myself, but after a few more times, it became my personality. Each encounter with him, or anyone for that matter, validated who I was over and over again. I lived for the little attention they gave me, but that was all I ever got. There were never any dates or flowers.”
She releases her grip on her legs and scoots herself onto my lap.
“And then I met you. You ignored all of my inappropriate advances, yet you kept showing up.” She kisses me softly on the lips. “Day after day after day.” Her kisses become frantic.
I brace my hands on each side of her face, holding her still. “I’ll fucking spend every day of my life showing up for you, Lexie. Trust yourself. Trust me.”