“Good.” I cradle Daisy’s face in both of my hands. I want to tell her all the times I’ve woken with the ghost of her name in my mouth. How none of the nights with any other woman felt as good as her in my arms. “Maybe all the terrible shit you lived through was supposed to lead you here or to Anarchy.”
She laughs, and it’s bitter, but not as bitter as it could be. “That’s the world’s worst pep talk. You should put that on a card.”
“I’m serious, Daisy,” I say her name like it’s a gift. “You survived all that. The beatings. The contracts. The lies. Nothing broke you.” She meets my gaze, and for a heartbeat, I see that lost girl from Mexico. The one I wanted to protect, but the woman looking back at me doesn’t need a hero.
I want to close the distance between us and kiss her. Taste the lips I’ve done nothing but dream about, but I sense she’s not ready for that. I can be patient. I’ve been patient. Her gaze moves over my face, stopping on my mouth. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe she wants it just as badly. I’m about to make my move when she says, “We should head back. I need to tell Hot Mama I’m leaving.”
“Right.” My voice feels tight in my throat. My disappointment ripping at my vocal cords.
Daisy and I walk back side by side. Not touching. Not talking, but it’s not awkward. Not really. The air’s thick with things neither of us says aloud. I replay our entire conversation on a loop. Overthinking every look and word. Trying to work out what I missed or where I went wrong. I want to tell her I’ve missed her every goddamn day. That I still want to burn the world down for her, but I don’t. Instead, I clear my throat and say, “If you’ve got things you need to do, we can meet back up in the morning.”
She doesn’t answer right away. I see the way she’s chewing her lip, thinking. Maybe even rethinking coming back to Anarchywith me. “That’d be good,” she says, so soft I barely catch it. “It’s really good to see you.” She goes up on her toes. Her lips caress my cheek so quickly that I almost miss the feel of them. Soft and moist. “See you in the morning.” She darts off down the street.
I swallow hard and smile. “Yeah, tomorrow.” I head back inside the bar. Hardcore is deep in conversation with the Queen behind the bar. I don’t see Big Daddy. He must still be in the back room with Hot Mama. I order another beer and pull up a chair at Wicked’s table.
“Back already? Thought for sure you’d last longer than that.” He laughs.
“Fuck off.”
“She turned you down, didn’t she?”
“No.”
“Shit, man. You’ve got it bad.”
I don’t reply. I take a swig of my beer and light up a joint.
Big Daddy and Hot Mama eventually come out of the back. Prez is griping about some bitch named Ryder being a klepto and having to pay off the tab she racked up from stealing at some department store.
We stick around the bar for a few more rounds before turning in at the motel.
I toss and turn all night. I can’t get Daisy out of my system. Regret weighs on me. I should have kissed her. Told her how much I want her.
What if she doesn’t show up? What if she takes off and I never see her again?
The soft knock at the door to my room puts all my fears on the back burner. I look out the peephole and see the top of her head and a backpack hanging off her shoulder.
I open the door, letting it fall open to me standing in my boxer briefs. Daisy’s gaze moves up and down my body. “Mornin’.”
“You smell like a skunk.” She scrunches up her nose and I sniff my pits.
“I’m gonna shower, then we’ll ride out.”
She nods and plops her backpack down on the floor.
I grab my toiletry kit and go into the bathroom. The last time I took a shower with her in the next room, it ended with her mouth on me. I don’t expect a replay of that encounter, but I wouldn’t turn her away either.
I make my shower quick, worried that she’ll change her mind and disappear on me before I finish. But when I come out of the bathroom, she’s flipping through the channels on the TV. I run my fingers through my wet hair and roll up my dirty clothes.
“You had breakfast yet?”
“I had coffee.”
The guys are all at the diner by the time we’re ready to go. Daisy doesn’t eat. She just observes me as I shovel my eggs into my mouth like she enjoys watching me.
Hardcore slides into the booth next to me and stares at us a beat.
“Take a fucking picture,” I gripe.
