“No. He’s stronger than me. And, sometimes, I need him. He protects us. . . like a daddy, I guess.”
“Daddies aren’t meant to be scary.”
“Mine was,” I told her words she already knew to be true. And then I closed my eyes. The gentle rumble of her hungry stomach singing me to sleep like a lullaby.
“I’m tired. I wasn’t ready to be awake. If you want to take his money for food, I won’t tell him.”
She nodded, her head bobbing slowly frizzed her hair against the pillow. Its thickness—still parted to cover her face—hadn’t moved.
“Why do you hide your pretty face?” I asked as I yawned, sleep welcoming me back.
“Don’t you remember what happened? I’m not pretty anymore.”
“No. . . you’re not.” I smiled, my facial muscles struggling under the strain of tiredness. “You’re beautiful now. Goodnight, Jolie. Promise me you won’t run. He’ll catch you.”
“I won’t run.” Her eyes spoke a different story, but I chose to believe her mouth, praying Hell would do the same.
“Good. I’m not ready to miss you again. I love you.”
“Goodnight, Woody.”
“Can I have a kiss goodnight?” I pulled the blanket back over me, ready to warm myself after the chill of her rejection.
I didn’t think she’d give me a kiss, but I got the greatest surprise, feeling the softness of her full lips touch upon the top of my head.
Her fingers held her hair, keeping it close to her face until she turned off the nightlight and faded into the darkness.
Hell
The sun was lighting up the sky. It felt like only seconds since Vegas closed its eyes to the hustle and bustle that barely slept.
Noise filtered through the thin walls. The sound of happiness beyond the hotel room door drifted into my sleep and put me in a rotten fucking mood before I’d even opened my eyes.
I sat up in bed, wiping the tiredness from my eyes.
The buzzing of an oncoming migraine reminded me of how much I’d drunk at our unofficial wedding reception while I gambled away more money than I should have risked.
Luckily, luck was on my side.
But that was the only thing at my side.
My eyes brushed the room; Jolie was gone. Nowhere in sight. The bathroom door was wide open. A mirror on the wall, placed at a great angle, allowed me to see no one was in the room.
The watch I’d placed on my bedside table told me it was only five-thirty-five. Its second-hand waving at me as it went around and around.
My eyes moved to the door, my legs to the edge of the bed.
I placed my feet against the carpet. My toes enjoying the softness between them as they took my weight.
No wonder I could hear so much of everyone else’s fucking business. The door was open. The escapee still in sight, desperately pressing the elevator button to go down, a million times per minute.
I crept up behind her, walking silently in nothing but my boxer shorts. My unadjusted morning glory peeping over the waistband.
She stood in my t-shirt. The hem close to her ass. She wasn’t as curvy as she was ten years ago. Age hadn’t stolen that from her. Malnourishment had. I knew all about that.
I knew what starving felt like. . . fucking awful.
“Going somewhere?” I leaned down on her, my dark shadow caging her in.
