I was never that close to my dad. I was always attached to Mama by the hip. Always looking for her guidance, her warmth, her support, and love. She’s the only one I receive it from.
I look over to my right, holding my breath as my lungs burn from icy winds. With blurred vision, I see the cabin in the distance, looking worn out and neglected, with my father’s hoarding habit filling our land one garbage pile at a time. If I keep running straight, I should hit the lake that runs through here, and on the other side should be the main road leading to downtown. It’s miles away, but I think I can brave it out just a few more hours of this. I should be able to survive the storm.
As soon as I take one step, I’m off my feet and being held in the air by a man who looks like my father, but his soul is long gone. Wide eyes, blackened irises, stone-cold pale expression with no remorse. He’s ready to end me.
At least I’ll get to be with Mama.
“Found you,” he spits with wrath, saliva falling out of chapped lips as he holds his only child like we’re strangers. There’s a flash of emotion—maybe regret—before he raises his knife into the air and takes aim for my heart. I shut my eyes, hoping it doesn’t hurt too much.
“I’ll be with Mama. I’ll be with Mama,” I chant to myself repeatedly, waiting for the pain.
Then, a gunshot rings out.
“Gavin.It’s me. Wake up,please.” Someone’s familiar angelic voice brings me out of the worst memory.
Olive skin. Honey eyes. Soft, glowing, long, curly hair. I’m out of hell and surrounded by heaven. And her name is Coraline Rosa. She’s here, she’s right here with me. I’m not in the woods, scared for my life.
I’m taking slow, long, deep breaths as my arms are wrapped around her naked body. We’re tangled in my bed sheets, warm and away from the cold air. Back in my bedroom and far away from the basement.
“You were mumbling in your sleep.” She rubs my back in circles with her palm. The more she does, the calmer I feel. God, she’s the only one who can do that. She makes a bad day feel like it never happened.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. Did I wake you?” I groan, running my hands over her breast and down the small of her back.
She nods, hesitation written all over her cute, sleepy face.
“What did you hear?” I ask honestly.
When did I start doing that? And why are the nightmares back and so vividly?
“I couldn’t decipher much.” She runs her hand through my beard, slowly. She loves doing that. Every time we kiss, she does it. “Something about your dad hurting your mom,” she says, merely a whisper. She chokes up on the last word, flinching with a flash of melancholy. I don’t say anything. Of course, my trauma spills over to the light. “Your father was The Sleepy Coldwater Serial Killer…wasn’t he?” Her forehead dips lower as she asks me a question I really don’t want to answer. I pause and give her a slow nod.
I wait for her to cower away. To look at me like everyone else in this small town. But…she doesn’t. She bats her lashes slowly, looking at me like she always does.
Like I’m worth getting to know.
Patient. Kind. And warm.
I knew it was coming. With all those basement trips she’s been doing, I was just waiting for her to say something or run away, but she’s still here, and I’m not letting her go.
“I want to see you naked. No, not your body.” Hearing her say those words to me seizes my flesh and bones, and my chest swells. She moves closer to me, placing her hand over mine, encouraging me. “Bare your soul to me,” she begs softly. “I’m not going anywhere, Gavin.”
I close my eyes and grind my jaw until it hurts. Pressing her soft lips to my cheek, she slithers off the bed. First, she slides her legs into jeans and dresses herself as she waits for me to get comfortable.
This woman. God, this patient, celestial woman. How am I ever going to let her go? The answer is, I can’t and won’t.
“My father,” I choke out. “My father murdered my mother before he tried to kill me.” My entire body starts to shake. She gathers all of her hair and pushes it to the right side of her neck, and sits next to me.
“Keep going,” she encourages, running her hand in circles on my back.
“I ran. I ran from the basement, where my bedroom used to be. Where he ended my mother’s life. I ran into the woods during a snowstorm, and he found me within minutes.” My vision blurs, but I blink the tears of pain away. I have to do this. If she can bare her soul to me, then I have to do the same for her. “But then my mother’s best friend shot him before he could give me one more scar with his knife.”
I look at her, and the sight has my heart chipping. Coraline has tears streaked down her face. Puffy lips and red cheeks, I want to kiss away.
“Merelyn,” she says.
I nod.
“You’re the first person I’ve told that story to who wasn’t the police or Merelyn. You make falling apart easy.” I cup her small, heart-shaped face with my hands and bring her in for a lethal kiss. “You make falling apart okay. Are you my safe haven, sweetheart?” I murmur against her chest.
