He bit his lip, still worried he had made the wrong decision. Pressing our foreheads together, I kissed the tip of his nose. Sliding to my side, he fit perfectly into the crook of my arm, head resting on my chest. His arm rested on my belly, fingers gliding through the hair obscuring a skeleton with a sword. Without saying a word, we reached an agreement. This was enough… for now.
I kissed the top of his head and squeezed until he couldn’t get any closer. His finger moved from the skeleton to a shield held by a Valkyrie. I had lost count of the numerous warriors in armor decorating my body.
EvenIcould see the symbolism.
I hid behind the tattoos, letting them speak for me with every encounter. If I wore a tank top and walked through downtown, residents crossed the street to avoid me. I was surprised they hadn’t called the sheriff yet. It was easier to think of them as defenses against a cruel world and not weapons used to keep people at arm’s length.
“I work in a tattoo shop. Always been good at art. They welcome folks with a checkered past.” I focused on the fire; the flames consumed the newest log. I always thought of the tattoo shop as this bastion of self-expression. We all had stories that forced us into our profession, some traumatic, others filled with laughter. I mourned the camaraderie we created. Never had I felt judged by Sammy, Malcom, or Devon.
I could say the same about the fire. In the woods, the only judgment came from myself. Had that been Pops’s reason for dragging me out here? My free hand rested on my chest, fingers tapping the compass in time with my heartbeat. Slow. Fast. Fast.Thinking that Pops saw me disengaging from the world, and trying his best to offer me a sanctuary… my heart ached.
It reminded me of a comment Nick had said. Did we share a guilt that brought us back to Firefly? “What did you mean by curse?”
“Just bad luck,” he mumbled. A well-rehearsed brush off. I could have written the playbook on dodging uncomfortable conversations. I didn’t believe in curses, but he did. That made it real.
We sat in silence for a while before I glanced over to see his head tipped back, eyes closed. He snorted before his weight settled against my shoulder. Here, the woods felt less like an escape and more like a promise.
I got comfortable, ready for some shut-eye. I’d never admit it out loud, but sitting there naked in the middle of nowhere, I felt like I was exactly where I was meant to be. Maybe even withwhoI was meant to be with.
QUILTING GUILD INTELLIGENCE
Ronnie: Did you see bears?
Matt: Wait, are there really bears?
Jeff: Dude. We are so trapping a bear.
Matt: You’re messing with me.
Charlie: We are not trapping bears.
Matt: So, there ARE bears?
How the gremlins got my number, I don’t know. Had I been added to the phone tree? For now, they kept me amused. If left to their own devices, I’m sure we’d have aLord of the Flieson our hands. Poor Matt, there’s a good chance he wouldn’t make it out alive. I tucked the phone into my breast pocket, coming back to reality.
I sat in the truck for almost twenty minutes before killing the engine. If I opened the door, the experience would become part of the past tense. The confused look on Nick’s face, the squeal as his bare ass hit the chilly water, and the thought of him nestled in my arm would go from adventure to memory.
My fingers hung on the door handle. One more minute.
He had exited without a word. No ‘thank you.’ No, ‘let’s do this again.’ It’d have been rude if his fingers hadn’t lingered on my knuckles while I fought with the stick shift. The peak and valley, caressed with his thumb until it finally slid over my pinky knuckle, and we broke contact.
“We’ve got time for that.” The words were meant to bring this connection to a crawl. It didn’t feel that way when I woke to a beautiful cub using me as a pillow.
I squeezed the stick, fighting a smile. The silence couldn’t be any more awkward than waking in the morning to find it hadn’t been a dream. If that wasn’t enough to leave an impression, I’m pretty sure a raccoon had stolen my skivvies. My return to nature had been a success, and not for any reason I predicted.
“Just go inside,” I mumbled.
With a groan, I shoved the door open. Grabbing the rucksack, I made my way to the garage. Mum stood on the front porch. The look on her face wasn’t any different from the one Seamus had as we crossed his yard. Curious, but not enough to ask whatever questions they had on their mind.
Seamus spotted two men walking out of the forest. I’m sure he had assumptions about what might have occurred. It didn’t help when Nick waved with a hearty, “Tell Patrick I said hello.” After the vastness of Mother Nature, that one statement reminded me of the smallness of Firefly, and not in the liberating way the stars had.
I hope that wasn’t the same thought running through Mum’s head.
“Did you leave him for dead?”
“What?”
“I saw you leave with that boy yesterday.” I thought it was cute that she still referred to every man pre-midlife crisis as boy. “Charles, where did you hide the body?” Mum looked at me likeI was a murder suspect. To be fair, I did look like I’d just buried a body in the woods.
