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The bar erupts with a few men shouting, chairs falling, and one of the girl’s friends yelling for the bartender to break it up. I can’t hear any of it clearly; there’s roaring of ocean waves in my ears, and all I can focus on is the satisfying impact of my knuckles against her face.

She manages to grab more hair, yanking at it hard enough that it almost brings tears to my eyes. I slam her head against the floor; her friends are screaming, calling me a bitch, threatening to call the cops. Someone grabs my arm, but I shake them off to keep hitting. She’s bleeding, her nose is definitely broken, and one eye is already swelling shut. The girl somehow still has fight in her.

It’s not until Preston’s hands close roughly around the tops of my arms that the red haze begins to clear.

“That’s enough!” he barks, hauling me off her with more force than I would expect from him.

The blonde is curled on the floor, blood streaming from her nose, her perfect hair now a tangled mess. Her friends are crouched around her, shooting me looks that could have melted steel and crying.

Preston drags me through the doors, his grip tight enough to leave marks as we stumble out. He doesn’t let go of me until we’re behind the building, and for a moment, I feel nervous about what he’s going to do to me.

He slams me against the brick wall, the impact a bit jarring. I almost flinch, expecting him to hit me, but instead, he crashes into me. It’s a fierce kiss—a kiss that claims. My hands shoot up around him, fingers wrapping around the short hair on the back of his head.

“I’m yours,” he growls reassuringly against my lips, his breath hot and uneven. “No one will take your place.”

His hands are rough when he grips at my hips, pulling me against him, grinding against me hard and insistent. It only lasts a moment, though; in one snappy movement, he turns me around so my face is pressed into the rough wall, lifts my dress, and pulls my panties to the side. All of my air is stuck in my throat; there’s no gentleness in the way he moves.

Thick fingers thrust into me, letting out an impatient groan as he works his own pants. I squeal at the sudden, unwarned intrusion. With urgency, he replaces his fingers, filling me with a rough push. His movements are driven by the raw tension of the night. My nails dig into his hands, now holding my hips again, pulling me back against him. My walls are already fluttering around him, adrenaline coursing through me.

It doesn’t take long for his pace to quicken even more, becoming even more desperate. His hot breath is in my ear, but I can hear people talking from the front of the building. I feel the tightness forming in the pit of my stomach; it’s almost unbearable.

His name comes out of my mouth with a strangled sound as my orgasm rips through me with waves of pleasure that leave me shaking. I hear him groan, his body moving tightly as he follows.

For a moment, we stay like that, our hearts pounding, bodies together, and our panting ragged. Preston’s grip on my hips softens.

“I’m yours,” he repeats, softer this time, between uneven gasps and kisses beneath my ear.

When he pulls out of me, stepping back, my dress falls back down into place. I look up at him, met with the same intensity, but it’s quickly broken by the distant wail of sirens. Not a beat later, Preston’s grabbing me again, pulling me back around front to the parking lot and practically throwing me in the passenger seat.

We peel out of the parking lot in a spray of gravel and dust. With Preston’s speed, it doesn’t take long for us to get several blocks away before we see the police and an ambulance arrive at the bar. Their red and blue lights cut through the night.

I wince when I finally examine my torn-up knuckles, blood seeping from cuts where her teeth had caught my skin. Another scar to add to the collection I’ve been building.

“I’m sorry,” I say breathlessly. “I’m so sorry, Preston. I don’t know what came over me.”

“No, I don’t want to hear an apology—I would’ve done the same thing. And honestly, it was hot as fuck seeing you so possessive.”

I flex my fingers, working through the pain that bites. The town disappears, like it never existed at all; as true as I want that to be, I can feel it creeping behind us. We drive in nothingness for a while; the highway continues far ahead of us, dotted with lights of distant towns. My hands gradually stop shaking, and the sick feeling in my stomach begins to ease.

“Next time, I say we buy a bottle and stay in.”

“Deal. But I have a feeling trouble will always seem to follow us.”

“Probably,” he huffs.

We’re married now, for better or worse, for sickness and in health, till death do us part. Given our affairs, any of those things could happen. But for now, we have the road and each other, along with the promise of his compact vessel. A ticket to a new life. We’re so close, and I feel more hopeful than I have in months. Maybe love really can conquer it all, even the kind that leaves bodies in its wake.

26

Ghost

The sounds of tires on the road have become my lullaby; I have to fight to stay awake, especially after the exciting day we had. Wynnie fell asleep nearly an hour ago, after slipping into her sweats; her head tilts to the side against the vibrating window, dark hair from her bun spilling around her face.

Every few minutes, I find myself checking on her, reassuring myself that she’s still there. The bruise on her hand has deepened into a purple-black that makes my stomach clench with guilt every time I see it. It takes me back to her time with Caleb and what I failed to prevent for so long.

My gut has been uneasy since we left the bar; the way everyone’s eyes seemed to linger on us, the obvious phone calls on our way out. I’m not sure if they recognized us or were simply calling because of Wynnie’s outburst.

I flick on the radio, keeping the volume low to be sure I wouldn’t wake Wynnie. God knows she needs the rest. Partly, I need to hear music to keep my mind occupied, but also, I need to find a new station to see if anything more is being said about us. The radio crackles with static, cycling through empty frequencies until it settles. A few songs play; it’s classic rock, songs that remind me of simpler times. I let the music wash over me, trying to find a semblance of peace in the melodies.