by Bourne, Lena
She smiles. “You left it locked.”
“You know where the key is,” I say, maybe a little too indignantly. But I do always make sure she knows where to find the first aid stuff, should she need it for her son or herself while I’m away. Everyone who lives at Sanctuary knows how to get into the surgery, they just prefer not to, if I’m not around. That’s probably because I get annoyed when stuff is out of place there, but also because I’m almost always around.
She lays her hand on my arm, still smiling. “Don’t worry about it, Doc. To be honest, I needed to get out of the house for a little bit. And I wouldn’t dream of bothering you for something as trivial as a cold. You deserve your away-time.”
“I know it’s been a little longer than usual this time,” I say, smiling back. “But I’m glad to hear you’re holding down the fort just fine without me.”
“We’re doing good,” she says. “Well, apart from the cold.”
“Matt, is this a friend of yours?” Anne asks, and I do detect wonder that’s not entirely innocent in her voice. She’s been trying to find out more about my life here in Pleasantville, but to avoid telling her too much, I’ve told her nothing.
I nod, and Roxie looks from me to Anne, then back at me, a very knowing smirk on her face. “I see why you’ve been taking longer than usual to get back. Well, introduce us,” she says and looks back at Anne expectantly.
I make the introductions, but Roxie’s face froze in recognition before I even spoke Anne’s name.
“Nice to meet you,” Anne says.
“We’ve met before,” Roxie whispers, her face still frozen. “You saved my life.”
Anne narrows her eyes, peering at Roxie as though trying really hard to recognize her.
Roxie smiles. “Picture me with very short, blonde hair. We met on a very rainy day about eight years ago in Seattle, at the main train station.”
Anne is still trying to remember her.
“You took me for lunch and told me all about the women’s shelter New Hope,” Roxie says. “I became a social worker, because of the things you told me that day. You’re the reason I didn’t let what happened to me destroy my life.”
I doubt Anne ever knew what actually happened to Roxie, but I do. Roxie’s whole family was murdered when Satan’s Spawn MC destroyed the MC her father ran. She barely escaped after her brother Ice sacrificed himself for her, and she was left to fend for herself for almost a decade before she met Cross. That’s certainly something that can destroy your life. Whatever Anne told her that day must have been powerful. How does a woman who can do that become such a hopeless victim herself? But that’s in the past. She’s here now, with me, and my love and respect for her just rose by a couple more notches.
“I remember,” Anne says, her eyes watery. “I never saw you again though. I hoped you found your way back home.”
“I did, sort of,” Roxie says. “But not really, at least not until I came here.”
Anne’s eyes are even more watery now, as she glances at me, and Roxie is on the verge of tears too.
“Thank you for everything,” Roxie says and a tear trickles down Anne’s cheek.
“How about we finish up the shopping then get some dinner?” I say in an effort to prevent an all-out crying fest right here in the drugstore. “You girls can catch up then.”
Roxie shakes her head. “Thanks, but I should get back to Hudson. Let’s do it some other time. Or, you two can come up to Sanctuary for dinner.”
She looks expectantly from me to Anne, who says, “What’s Sanctuary?”
From the look I give her, Roxie catches on that Anne isn’t supposed to know anything about that, and doesn’t answer the question. She was the daughter of an outlaw MC president, and now she’s the wife of one. She knows all about keeping secrets.
“Not tonight,” I say. “But thanks anyway, Roxie.”
She nods. “I would love to see you again though, so whenever you get the chance…”
“We’ll make something happen,” I say curtly and give them a moment to say goodbye, before leading Anne to the cash register.
This trip into town has provided more than just a chance for Anne and Roxie to reconnect, and to show me what an admirable woman Anne was. The fact that Roxie and Anne have such a rich history should make Cross more willing to help her. Cross would do anything for Roxie, he proved that when he took on and killed off Satan’s Spawn MC to avenge her family. But it’s still a huge favor to ask of the guy, Anne’s husband being who he is. I shouldn’t ask it. Especially not before I know where her and I stand. And where she stands with her husband.
What I want is to stand beside her for the rest of my days. But does she want that?
* * *
Anne
My laundry is folded and stored in the truck, along with the bags from the drugstore. We’re sitting in a very dimly lit Chinese restaurant, and I’m pretty sure he chose it only because the windows are tinted, and we’re the only ones in here, apart from the staff.
“So what’s this Sanctuary place?” I ask, maybe a little too pointedly.
I’d like to have spent more time talking to Roxie. It took me awhile, but I did end up remembering her. She was a sad and angry young woman when I treated her to that lunch, and on the verge of selling her body to survive. We ended up speaking all afternoon, and I told her about all the other choices she has, and even showed her a couple of places where she could apply for a job. I’m glad to hear I helped her. After the failure that my life with Benji was, it felt great to hear that I did manage to do some good in the world. I was already dating him then, and he didn’t like me volunteering at the women’s shelter. Roxie was one of the last women I tried to help, because I stopped soon after.
He also didn’t like me working as a nurse, but I held onto that for as long as I could. I was such a fool. But he manipulated me in a way that quitting the volunteer work and my job seemed like my own idea in the end. He’d say things like, “Working at the shelter makes you so depressed, and it gives you nightmares”, or “You deserve to be happy, but your job is so stressful and makes you miserable”, and he repeated it often enough that I started to believe it. He was just trying to separate me from everything I loved, and make me completely dependent on him. I was head over heels for him, he was my prince charming, and before I realized what he was actually doing, it was too late for me.
I hope Matt’s different. What we have feels different, more real, more genuine, more natural than anything I’ve ever felt for a man. But I am a notoriously bad judge of these things. Am I wrong about him?
He’s not answering my question, and the silence is heavy. Heavier than it would be had he just not heard me. He doesn’t want me to be a part of his life here, that much is clear. And that’s a red flag. I ignored hundreds of these things with other men, and I’d prefer to just ignore this one too, get back to our bubble up at the cabin, hidden away from the world, but I finally know better now.
“There’s things about my life here I can’t tell you,” he finally says as though he just read my mind. What I was thinking must’ve been written all over my face. “Not yet, anyway.”
The way he says it makes it sound like he’s keeping some ominous secret from me.
“And Sanctuary is part of that life?” I ask, my voice very tight. Pretty soon it’ll start shaking. This red flag just keeps getting redder.
He nods.
“And you can’t tell me about it because…” I let my voice trail off so he can fill in the blank.
Why am I even getting so worked up over this? He’s allowed secrets. We haven’t been together long enough for me to demand to know them, but it feels like this is the thing keeping us apart, keeping the bubble from becoming more than just that, from becoming all it is.
“Because of your husband,” he says simply, making my chest feel like I just chugged a glass of ice water.
This could mean a lot of different things. It could mean he’s worried my husband will find me, or t
hat I’ll go back to him, or it could be because my husband is FBI, which would make Matt a criminal. That’s not the line of reasoning I want to take, but it’s here, permeating my thoughts right now, the one thing that makes the most sense.
“I’ve ended things with Benji,” I whisper as our soup arrives. “I ended them for good when I ran away from him. But maybe I should call him, and tell him that to his face, so he’ll understand it and let me go.”
Matt just looks at me and I can’t figure out the expression on his face at all. “Men like him don’t understand goodbye the way normal guys do. You know that better than I do, I’m sure, since you used to be a counselor.”
“I volunteered at a shelter, but I’m just a nurse,” I say, not sure where this desire to clarify it is actually coming from. It’s probably to avoid agreeing with him on his point. Which I do. But I’ll also do all I can to get rid of Benji, so Matt and I can make our happy bubble a permanent situation. Talking to him is the first step towards that.
“Nevertheless, you know what I’m talking about,” he says and I nod this time. I won’t convince him to see it my way, I see that clearly now. I have to do this on my own. It’s my mess to clear up anyway.
We eat in silence for awhile, during which my chest starts slowly filling with the same cold nothingness it was full of during the last three years of my marriage to Benji. The kind that allows no light or hope to enter my heart. But I’m done with all that. Done with it for good. I want the bubble Matt and me have created up at the cabin to be and stay all there is and will be. But is that what he wants? Telling me more about his life would be the first step he could take to get us there, wouldn’t it?
“I won’t go back to Benji, if that’s what you’re worried about,” I say as I reach over the table and grab his hand. “I know I was talking about that in the beginning, but I was scared and had no hope then. You changed all that for me.”
His skin is so warm that just this tiny touch of it is enough to dispel the cold rising inside me. And when he sets down his spoon and takes hold of my hand in both of his, it takes the healing effect to a whole new level.
“You’ve done good things for me too,” he says. “Fixed things I was sure couldn’t be fixed. But it’s too soon for you to know everything about me. Let’s enjoy what we have and not think about the future too much just yet.”
Another red flag. I want to believe he’s sincere, but am I just a fool for believing it? Secrets he can’t share with me yet? A life he can’t share with me?
The more I think about it, the more I think what he’s saying is just run-of-the-mill bullshit all guys pull when they don’t want to make promises they can’t keep. He is just having some fun with me. A man his age who’s never been married…that speaks for itself. I don’t want to think this, I want him to be the man for me, want to be the woman for him.
But I am thinking it.
13
Anne
“Ahh, it’s good to be home,” he says as he unlocks the cabin door and holds it open for me to enter first.
His eyes are glowing in the moonlight, shining silver like the handlebars of his bike, which I’ve come to associate with my healing, my freedom, my transformation. Calm and serene, yet full of light and fire. We haven’t spoken much on the drive back up here, but my misgivings about us started ebbing away as we neared the cabin. They were almost completely gone by the time we turned onto the dirt road that leads to this place.
I smile at him and enter the house, because in the grand scheme of things, that’s exactly what I want to hear him say. That it’s good to be home. In our home. The one we share.
He tosses the duffel bag filled with my clean clothes on the floor by the door once we’re inside, filling the narrow hallway with the delicious smell of clean laundry, which I only get to notice for a split second before he grabs my hand and pulls me into an embrace, his own delicious, musky smell driving all else except how much I want him out of my mind.
“I’ve told you all the important things about me,” he says as though reading my mind again. I’m starting to think he can actually do that. “You already know all you need to know. The rest can wait.”
“Until I decide if I want to stay?” I ask wryly, and I don’t particularly like the slight wince that’s his reaction. But he smiles and nods right after.
“Something like that, yeah,” he says and leans down to kiss me before I can say anything else.
And all the answers I want are already there in that kiss. This magic we share, this connection is the exact opposite of a red flag, so much so that it negates all the red flags that could ever arise.
The world disappears when we’re kissing, when we’re holding each other, or lying naked with our bodies perfectly entwined. That’s our true home. Our home isn’t some house, or the secrets we share. It’s the belonging and connection we have. The one that makes us two parts of a whole. And I can’t wait for us to be joined again.
As though he read my mind yet again, he breaks off the kiss, takes my hand and leads me up the dark stairs and into the bedroom, where the white sheets are glowing silver in the moonlight filtering through the window, and everything smells like the two of us. Together. Joined.
He takes his time undressing me, kissing my skin softly each time one of my garments falls to the floor. Then I do the same for him until we’re both naked, the silver moonlight reflecting off our skin, just two beings of light about to blend and join together.
He lays me down on the cool sheets and gets on top of me, kissing my lips gently, sharing his silver light with me as I share mine with him. His weight is pushing me into the mattress, the pressure just right to give me the sense of safety I need to relax, to give myself to him, to take what he offers.
I sigh as he slides his cock into me, and it’s the satisfied sigh of submersing my body in cool water on a warm summer day. I wrap my soft thighs around his hard, powerful hips, pull him closer to me as his cock enters me deeper and deeper, faster and faster, joining us completely and perfectly, his light flowing into me and mine into him. Soon our bodies disappear too, we’re just a liquid whirlwind of light, a force nothing can stop as he picks up the pace.
He’s right. All I need to know, I already do.
It’s all right here. In the soft way he looks so very deep into my eyes, holds me as I hold onto him, the way he kisses me, and in the way he makes love to me, making me feel pleasure that’s not of this world, but of the universe, which has brought us back together at last, so we can spend eternity in each other’s arms and eyes.
I move my hips in time with his thrusts, no end and no beginning to this timeless dance we’re dancing, our rhythm in perfect synch, because our souls are perfectly synched. Everything else is just fluff, just icing that surrounds this glorious center that is our love. This is the truth. And I know it with all my mind and all my heart as the light consumes me and burns away the last of the darkness I’ve endured for so long.
* * *
Doc
I fell asleep holding her, but I woke up later, after the moon had already set and the bed was cold despite her beside me. Too cold to stay in it.
Anne is the one. The one I stopped searching for a long time ago. I’ve known it for days. Known it the second my fears of growing tired of her like I’ve grown bored with all the other women before her, became just a dumb thing I used to think.
But that means I need to take the steps necessary so I can keep her. I need to go see Cross and ask for the club’s help in making her problems go away and protecting her. I’d do all that for her myself, but that would mean leaving with her and going far away from here, abandoning my brothers who need me as much as I need them. So going to Cross has to be the first option.
But it’s a dangerous one. So dangerous it’s the main source of my sleeplessness, and the coldness of the bed despite Anne being in it.
Devil’s Nightmare MC is well-known for making the impossible possible when it comes to eradicating problems. Bu
t I’ll be asking Cross to give shelter to an FBI agent’s wife while he’s using all his weight to find her and get her back. Is it too much to ask?
Messing with a thing like that could take us down, I can’t deny that, no matter how hard I try.
All the ways it could all go wrong are chasing sleep even further away. The MC destroyed, Roxie alone and hopeless in the world again, left to fend for herself with her child—Cross’ son—if they’d even let her keep it after they finish bulldozing their way through us. The guys in prison, some of them dead, because I know plenty of the brothers would exchange their life for their freedom, and I’m one of them. Ice back in a cage after he just barely managed to claw his way out of it? I’m sure he’d be the first to give his life to prevent that, making all our hard work freeing him meaningless.
And Anne back with her psycho ex, the light shining inside her that’s getting brighter each day, doused once again, gone forever even if she lives. She’s probably not gonna live long.
I pour myself a glass of water and drink as much as I can until I can’t breathe. It doesn’t help my racing thoughts and I wish I had something stronger, but I quit drinking alcohol ages ago. What does help is Anne’s light footsteps across the creaking floorboards, and her soft, singsong voice, as she says, “Come back to bed.”
So I just let it all go as she takes my hand and leads me back up to the bedroom, because I can do that when she’s around, when she’s the one asking. I’ve never been able to let anything go, I remember everything, but for her, I can. I can let her hold it all for me, even if she doesn’t know it.
I won’t ever burden her with all these fears I have—of losing my brothers, of losing her, of not loving her the way she deserves. But she helps me carry all of it anyway. And I will do everything I can so those burdens no longer weigh us down.
