Truth was, if it hadn’t been for Knuckles, I doubt I’d have survived prison. Not because someone would have killed me. I’d actually worked through a plan to kill myself. Knuckles reminded me of the club and how they needed me just as much as my wife had. They were hurting from her death, the death of their unborn niece, and their brother all at once. It wasn’t enough to pull me out of my depression, but he gave me something to work toward and the knowledge that I still had people who cared about me in the world.
“You’re growin’ too fast,” I muttered to the mint. My voicesounded strange in the quiet morning. I didn’t talk much these days, not even to plants. But Sarah had always talked to her garden. Said they grew better when you acknowledged them.
Working out here settled something restless inside me, something that had stirred yesterday when Cora’s lips met mine. Something I wasn’t ready to name. I wasn’t hung up on my dead wife, though I knew I’d always love her and she’d always be in my thoughts. Sarah wouldn’t want me to mourn her forever. Cora wasn’t something I’d been expecting, though.
Her taste lingered, even now. Vanilla and coffee and something uniquely her. The warmth of her body against mine had shocked my system like jumping into cold water after years in the desert. I’d nearly forgotten what it felt like to hold someone. To want someone. To have someone look at me with something other than fear or pity in their eyes.
I pinched a leaf of basil between my fingers, breathing in its sharp scent. She’d smelled me. My lips twitched at the memory. Cora had let me breathe her in, and then she’d done the same, her nose pressed against my neck for just a moment. Like she was trying to memorize me.
I set down the shears carefully, wiping soil from my hands onto the worn denim covering my thighs. Six years since I’d buried my wife, waking up alone or in a concrete box with a cellie I despised. And now this woman with eyes like a winter sky had walked into the compound and cracked something open inside me that I’d thought died with Sarah.
“Here you are again.” I glanced up to find Knight grinning down at me. “Is it a coincidence you started spending more time here around when a certain delivery driver started showing up?” His voice held no judgment, just the gentle teasing of a brother who knew when something had shifted.
I drew in a breath. “Still need supplies.”
“Uh-huh.” Knight picked up a small stone from thegarden’s edge, turning it over in his tattooed fingers. “And it’s got nothing to do with the fact that you kissed her yesterday where anyone with eyes could see.”
Heat crept up my neck. I’d forgotten how exposed we’d been, standing there by her car. Hadn’t thought about the compound’s many eyes, too consumed with the feel of her, the taste of her.
“So what if I did?” The words came out more defensive than I intended.
Knight set the stone back down precisely where he’d found it. “So nothing,” he said simply. “Glad to see you taking an interest in her. She seems like a good person.”
“She’s just a delivery driver,” I said, but the lie tasted bitter.
Knight shrugged, shoving his hands in to the back pockets of his jeans. “If you say so.” His voice softened. “But whatever she is, she’s got you looking less like a ghost these days.” He took a step back. “And that’s something none of us thought we’d see.”
I didn’t respond. Couldn’t find the words to neither confirm nor deny what he saw. Because he was right. Something had changed. I could feel it shifting under my skin, uncomfortable and foreign after feeling nothing but rage and grief for so long. I honestly couldn’t say the change was unwelcome, but trying my best not to linger on the possibility my happiness could be taken away again so easily kept me in check.
Knight lingered a moment longer. “Carrie’s making breakfast. Food’ll be ready in thirty.” He took another step back. “In case you want to join the living for a while today.”
Then he was gone, his footsteps fading as he moved back toward the main building. I returned to the garden, but I’d lost focus. The mint blurred before my eyes as memoriesof Cora intruded. The way she’d leaned into me. The small, surprised sound she’d made when our lips met. The feel of her fingers against the nape of my neck. Christ, I hadn’t thought about anything beyond the grief in so long, I hadn’t bothered to remember the wonderful memories I kept buried deep inside where they could never leave me.
I’d given Cora my name. My real name. Not Rancor. Marcus Wheeler. A name I hadn’t spoken aloud in years. A name that belonged to a man who I’d thought had died the night Sarah did. Remembering the feel of Cora’s lips against mine made me grateful that man was still inside me somewhere.
As the sun climbed higher, warming my shoulders through my T-shirt, I found myself wondering if Cora would come back today. Wondering if she’d let me taste her a second time.
* * *
Cora
Dark clouds hunched over the horizon as I drove toward the Kiss of Death compound. The afternoon light had turned strange, that eerie yellow-green that always preceded a serious storm. My windshield wipers smeared dust across the glass, and I made a mental note to replace them at some point. Wipers were like roofs. You don’t think about them until it rains. I’d checked the weather before heading out, knew a front was moving in, but I’d pushed forward anyway. After yesterday’s kiss, part of me had been looking for any excuse not to come back to the compound. The other part, the part that won out, couldn’t stay away. I wasn’t kidding anyone, including myself. I hadn’t looked forward to seeing anyone in my life as much as I anticipated seeing Marcus.
My vehicle rattled over the uneven road leading to the gates. Griffin waved me through the gate without hesitationwhen I rolled my window down and threw a hand up at him in greeting, now familiar with both me and my vehicle. The compound looked different today, the camo netting overhead swaying in the strengthening wind, casting moving shadows across the ground.
I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. Yesterday, I’d kissed Rancor -- no, Marcus -- with an impulsiveness that surprised even me. I’d spent the night replaying the moment, the feel of his beard against my skin, the unexpected gentleness of his lips, the way his large hands had held me like I might shatter. I’d given into something I couldn’t resist, and now I had to face him again, pretending my heart wasn’t hammering against my ribs.
I’d barely pulled to a stop near the kitchen building when I spotted him. He stood just outside the door, arms crossed over his chest, watching my approach with that intense focus that made my skin prickle. The dark clouds behind him made him look even more imposing than usual. My throat went dry.
I killed the engine and sat for a moment, gathering my composure. I could keep my cool. So what If I’d only ever been kissed one other time, and nothing so complicated or pleasurable as the one I’d shared with Rancor? Except for the fact that I could still taste Rancor on my lips when I licked them. Simply looking at him now, even from a distance, I could feel his body against mine, could still smell his wonderfully masculine scent.
When I stepped out of the car, the air felt heavy with the coming storm. Rancor uncrossed his arms and moved toward me, each step measured and deliberate. He wore another gray T-shirt, stretched tight across his broad shoulders, and the same worn jeans. His expression remained unreadable, but his gaze softened when he met mine.
“Cora,” he said, just my name, a greeting and anacknowledgment rolled into one.
“Hey.” I pushed a strand of hair behind my ear, aiming for casual and missing by miles. “Looks like we’re racing the weather.”
He glanced up at the darkening sky, then back at me. “Storm’s coming fast.” His voice remained quiet, measured. “Better hurry.”
