COTTON
December 28
Dear Shiloh,
It’s three a.m. and while I’m pushing hard to make it to Virginia as quickly as possible, I had to stop at this Alabama truck stop for coffee, a Valium, and a breather. There’s something about the emptiness of the road, the thump of the reflectors under the tire when I weave a little...it’s making me think too hard. The coffee’s getting cold in the cup holder beside me, but I found myself pulling out the llama notebook so I could put a few words down.
I’m not sure why. I still think it’s bullshit (sorry, Michael, love you), but maybe it is therapeutic in some weird way.
So, where did I leave off? Oh, yeah. General Assjack and The Great Texas Exile.
I know it’s not funny, but you know me and my propensity for unfortunately timed jokes. I can’t help it. It’s how I deal. But here’s the thing: I’m glad I’m coming home. It was fun until it wasn’t, and it certainly served its whole piss-off-the-parents purpose, but I never planned to remain enlisted. I never planned to stay in Texas. I did my four active; now I’ll do my four reserve. And then I’ll be done.
So...eff you, General Assjack. Maybe you thought this was a punishment, but it’s the farthest thing from it. I’m going to be happy, regardless of your son’s efforts.
I’m going to be happy, and I’m going to be strong, and I’m going to be in control. Not you. Not Justin.
There will be no more jumping at shadows, no more flinching when someone comes up behind me.
No more panic attacks and no more Valium.
I won’t view my ponytail as a weapon, and a run as an opportunity.
I’ll take pleasure once again in make-up and flirty dresses, in looking female and pretty.
I’ll listen to CCR again, and maybe even sing along.
I’ll kiss again, and I’ll fuck again, and I’ll revel in what that means for me.
Your ruin.
My rising.
WE WERE IN THE CAR AGAIN, ON OUR WAY FROM OURMAINE HIDEAWAY TOBOSTON.This time I sat shotgun, my eyes continually straying to Brodie’s hands on the wheel. He handled the vehicle with a confidence that was sexy, his long fingers steering loosely and skillfully.
It made me think of those fingers on my body, exploring and drawing pleasure with unerring accuracy. I wanted to smack myself for thinking of sex right now, with a dead man sitting at the bottom of the lake beside the cabin. Brodie had taken Carson’s body out on the water while I was sleeping, leaving it where it was unlikely to ever be found.
It was like a terrible movie. Rape, kidnap, an assassin, the mob. What would be next? I hesitated to explore that line of thinking. I was kind of sad to even be leaving the cabin. It had become a sanctuary of sorts, Brodie and I cocooned together and the world and all its problems somewhere far away. Since we had left, the closeness I thought we were building seemed to be dissipating, Brodie distancing himself from me in subtle ways that I nonetheless felt. I hadn’t realized how accustomed I’d grown to the heat of his eyes following me, or the low timbre of his voice as he spoke my name.
As if in opposition to my thoughts, Brodie chose that moment to reach over and thread his fingers through mine. It was the first time he’d touched me since I got up this morning. “Everything okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Hmm.” I felt his gaze on me. “Are you really fine, or is that the woman kind of fine men should worry about?”
I pressed my lips together to keep from smiling. “That is so sexist.” Pause. “And true.” I looked out the window at the scenery whipping by in a blur. “And no…I’m not okay. But I’ll get there.”
Brodie cleared his throat. “Are you…frightened…of me?”
“What? No!” I whipped my head to face him, surprise that he would think so rounding my eyes. “Is that what’s been bothering you all morning? I was terrified for you, Brodie. Not of you.”
“There was nothing to be afraid of.” This time when he spoke, his voice was gruff.
“I think I would have felt more confident if you’d been dressed. I was most afraid of that knife slashing something important.”
Tipping his head back, he laughed. The sound broke the little bubble of tension that had been building since I’d awoken this morning and he’d ushered me into the car, telling me plans had changed.
“Sooo,” I said after a while. “What’s the new plan?”
