Nocturne

by Heather McKenzie

  I detached myself and smacked him lightheartedly. “You’re an ass.”

  His hands clutched mine, pulling me back in, face suddenly serious. “Honestly, Kaya, I’ve screwed up a lot in my life, and I’m not going to take a chance with you. I’m going to do things right whether it’s old fashioned or not. You’re not like other girls and I won’t treat you like one. I don’t want anyone for the rest of my life but you, and I want our first time together to be perfect. And, maybe I will put a ring on your finger first.”

  I shifted uncomfortably beneath his gaze while my heart thumped madly in my chest. “That’s ridiculous.”

  But it wasn’t. It was beautiful. It was perfect. It was Luke.

  He lowered his mouth to mine again. For a blissful moment, everything bad in my world went away… until the sound of Oliver impatiently honking the horn pulled us apart.

  With the sun disappearing behind us, we ended up in the town of Rosedale, which was somewhere between nowhere and somewhere, in the middle of nothing. At the end of a field and the beginning of a gravel road, wheat and canola surrounded a place that resembled a set from a western movie. There was no one on the streets, only two trucks in front of the tavern, and the shops next to the gas station were closed. There were no trees. No busses, tourists, or signs posted everywhere—no chaos. It was nothing like the hectic and touristy Banff or cluttered and precipitous Radium, and that suited me just fine.

  After much arguing—Oliver wanted to keep driving north and Luke wanted to head to a big city to get lost in—I insisted we stay. Mostly because spending another moment in the truck with Oliver was more than I could bear.

  The Rosedale Motel had only one room available due to a rodeo event in the neighboring town, hence the ‘crowd’ at the tavern. We were told we were lucky there was a cancelation. I wasn’t sure what the front desk clerk meant by ‘lucky’ when we opened the door to the dingy room. I’d thought the Lemon Tree Motel was a bit questionable, but this was nasty.

  “Are they all this bad?” I muttered when the three of us entered the peach-painted room with matching threadbare carpet and curtains.

  “Ah, this is actually rather luxurious,” Luke said, flopping onto the only bed while Oliver peered out the window before shutting the drapes. “You’re just used to life in a castle, princess.”

  That I was. And the thought of being back in my cage made the crappy motel room suddenly look like heaven. The only thing in it out of place was Oliver.

  “Right. Well, you can go now,” I said to my former fiancé. “Luke and I are just fine. Your services are no longer needed. Or wanted.”

  He flinched. I didn’t care if I’d offended or hurt him.

  “We need him, Kaya. He’s trained for this sort of thing,” Luke said gently. “There are too many people after you, and the two of us have better odds of—”

  “If you say keeping me safe, I’ll scream,” I warned.

  Luke cleared his throat. “We can keep the bad guys away.”

  Being in the truck with Oliver had been uncomfortable, but stuck with him in this tiny room? It was claustrophobic.

  “So, what’s the game plan?” Oliver said, folding his arms across his chest. He glanced to where Luke sat on the bed, and then at me numbly standing next to a television that appeared as if it might explode if turned on.

  “I have no idea,” Luke said. “But we are all exhausted. Let’s sleep on it and figure it out in the morning.”

  Oliver stared hard at me, and then at the bed. His teeth gritted. It was obvious what he was thinking. “If you think I am—”

  Luke stopped him before he could go any further. “Kaya gets the bed. You take the floor on one side, and I’ll take it on the other.”

  Oliver’s shoulders relaxed somewhat. “Fine,” he grumbled. “Let's order some food. I’ll see if there’s any place that delivers pizza out here.”

  “Or chicken,” Luke said.

  Oliver plunked in a chair next to the window. “Shows how much you know about her,” he said with a sneer in my direction. “Kaya doesn’t eat chicken.”

  “Yeah, she does,” Luke said.

  Oliver seized the opportunity to argue. “Born and raised a vegan. Never had meat in her life.”

  Luke moved to the edge of the bed, taking the bait. “Really? Because I’m positive what I tasted on her lips last night was honey-garlic sauce from a perfectly fried batch of chicken wings.”

  Oliver bolted out of the chair, and I leapt between him and Luke before fists started flying. I put my hands out between the two raging beasts. “Don’t fight. Please,” I begged.

  “I should have killed you long ago,” Oliver hissed at Luke.

  “And I should have let you fall off that damn cliff,” Luke replied.

  The peach room was about to turn into a bloodbath if I didn’t do something. My fingers grazed Luke’s chest with one hand. The other was pressed against Oliver’s shoulder. I stood my ground.

  “Hasn’t there been enough blood already? I swear, if either of you lay a hand on the other, I’m out of here. I’ll walk out that door and never come back. Of that I can promise you.”

  Luke instantly backed away. But Oliver stayed put, stubbornly fueled by rage.

  I glared. “Go ahead. Make a move. I would love an excuse to get away from you.”

  His arms dropped to his sides, and he backed away. I made the mistake of looking into his eyes, seeing a ton of hurt beneath the rage. I felt guilty. This was Oliver. The man who’d stayed by my side through thick and thin, saved my life again, and even now, when I was being awful to him, made no move to leave.

  “I can’t take any fighting between you two,” I said, hoping my voice sounded firm. “Those people—Dustin, Marie, Rusty, and the others—are gone because of me. My dad is an evil megalomaniac, my granddad wants me dead, and my mom would rather have someone put a bullet in my head than even so much as lay eyes on me. You’re all I’ve got.”

  You’re all I’ve got.

  As soon as it came out of my mouth, I regretted it. It brought me back to the Derrick Bar and the day Oliver said the exact same thing to me. Those words had changed everything between us. It was the moment I realized I felt something deeper than friendship for him. Judging by the look on his face, he was recalling the same thing.

  Luke retreated to the bed while Oliver’s eyes remained focused on mine, shining with something that made my chest hurt.

  I pretended not to notice.

  “I’m taking a shower.” I had to remove myself from the room. “I’ll eat whatever you guys decide to order. Even chicken.”

  Behind the safety of the locked bathroom door, I started to undress and let loose the tears that had been building up. I fumbled with the tank top, bra, and undies, remembering the blood of the dead man would be dried into the fabric. Suddenly, it became an act of desperation to get the clothes off. Naked and shaking with repulsion at the undergarments in my hands, I yanked open a crusty window and tossed them outside—I couldn’t even bear the thought of seeing them on the bathroom floor. They joined the weeds, dirt, and beer bottles strewn against the back wall of the motel. I felt wretched. If I wasn’t around, our friends would still be alive. Anne would be alive. Luke wouldn’t have to be worried about me all the time. Oliver… could be free. It wasn’t fair to anyone, this madness that was my life.

  As tears flowed, I cranked on the hot water. Steam quickly filled the tiny space, and it sounded like a jet engine hitting the cracked tiles. I scrubbed madly at every square inch of my body, but all the soap and hot water in the world wasn’t washing my self-loathing down the drain. Giving up, I wrapped a towel around my hair and dried off, now realizing I was an idiot for tossing my clothes out the window. All I had left were the jean shorts. I pulled them back on before trying to get my teeth clean with a damp cloth, cursing myself for now having to ask Luke or Oliver to go outside and get my clothes.

  The tap squealed when I turned it off, and then I heard something like a heavy thud.
A loud bang then caught my breath; the noise was coming from outside the bathroom door. Another crashing sound made the walls shake. There was struggling going on in the room. An unmistakable grunt came from Oliver—was he fighting someone? Luke, too? Who was there? Had Rayna found me? Or my father?

  Panic consumed me. I froze, still as stone on the tiled floor as the thuds increased. What could I do? Stand there helplessly and let more blood be spilled because of me? Not this time. I had to swallow my fear and break through the paralyzing effects of panic. I had to move.

  Opening the bathroom door would be a big mistake. Ambush was the only strategy that would work, so I crawled out the bathroom window, barely squeezing through the narrow opening. Jumping barefoot onto my discarded clothes, I kept a towel tight around my chest. A broken beer bottle was the best weapon I could find and I held it tight as I tiptoed over the garbage-strewn ground until I rounded the corner and was at the front of the motel. As I ran toward our room, every horrible vision imaginable flooded my mind. I couldn’t lose Luke. I would die a hundred times over for him if I had to. And it hit me—as I stared at the door praying he was alive—that even with all the awful things he’d done, I couldn’t lose Oliver, either.

  It was too quiet. The thuds had stopped. In my experience, silence on these types of occasions usually meant one thing—death.

  Not Luke. Please, Lord, spare him. Please let him be okay. Please let him be alive. I’ll do anything…

  With a deep breath, I turned the knob; it was locked. It was loose, though, like it had been broken a few times. I backed up, wielding the beer bottle, and then kicked with every bit of force I could muster. A searing pain shot through my foot and made the puncture wound from the Death Race start screaming again. I was sure I’d broken a few bones, but the door swinging open made me forget all that. I burst in…

  The room was in shambles. A chair was upside down, and the TV was on the floor. A large dent was in the wall by the closet, and the bed was thrown off the box spring. But there was no blood. Luke was standing in one corner, breathing heavily, while Oliver was in the other with a cut lip. There was no one else in the room. With shocked faces and wide eyes, they said my name in unison.

  “What the hell is going on?” I stammered, foot starting to swell as the beer bottle shook in my hand.

  “You kicked in the door? How did you get outside?” Luke said incredulously. The guilty look on his face matched Oliver’s. “And where is your shirt?”

  I clutched the towel tighter, finding it hard to swallow. My throat was dry, body trembling. “I threw my clothes away. They were covered in blood from that dead guy. I heard struggling. I thought you and Oliver were fighting off attackers, and I wanted to help you. I could only find this beer bottle. I was scared that I was too late, and I—”

  “Oh Kaya, I’m so sorry,” Luke said, lunging for a sheet and draping it over my shoulders. He shoved the TV against the door to hold it closed before leading me to the trashed bed. Oliver just watched in detached silence. “Oliver and I were just figuring out dinner,” he said sheepishly. “We couldn’t quite come to an agreement, but I think we have now. Right, Oliver?”

  Oliver nodded. A broken lamp dangled behind him, and the pages of Rodeo Weekly lay shredded across his feet. He and Luke had been fighting each other, and it hadn’t been over dinner. It was over me.

  But what if they had been fighting off one of the many parties eager for my death? A picture of that motel room—of Dustin and Marie bleeding out onto the carpet—flashed before my eyes. It could be Luke’s hair bright red from a gunshot to the forehead, or Oliver’s eyes vacant with death…

  I had a tough time catching my breath. “I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you,” I said, staring into Luke’s eyes to try to make the room stop spinning.

  “Shh,” he said, voice soothing as he pulled me close. He kissed the top of my head. “Nothing’s going to happen to me, I promise.”

  I didn’t believe him.

  I loved him. I loved him so much my chest absolutely ached. The thought of this world without him in it caused such a constricting feeling it was hard to breathe.

  “You’d be better off without me,” I said. When he pulled away to look at me in shock, I took a sidelong glance at Oliver. “You both would be better off without me.”

  I was tucked into bed while both men quietly worked to put the room back in order. They were on their absolute best behavior, even faking the odd grin and attempting small talk for my benefit. I studied them, and they worriedly watched me. When they offered me drinks of water or bites of pizza, their eyes clearly said they were concerned about my mental state. They were scared that I truly believed they’d be better off without me.

  And I did.

  So I would disappear.

  I had nothing.

  No identification, purse, toothbrush, jacket—nothing. Just flip-flops and shorts. I didn’t have a plan either. I just knew I had to escape and run without second thought, because if I did…

  I slowly sat up and moved to the end of the bed. Moonlight shimmering through the flimsy curtains cast shadows of grey and gold through the room. Luke was on the floor, flat on his back with a hand under his head. I could barely pry my eyes away from his chest rising and falling softly, his face in the relaxed serenity of sleep. He looked so peaceful. I wanted a life for him without worry, with days and nights of happiness. Oliver, too. He was on the other side of the bed, on the floor, in the exact position. Neither was prone to snoring, so I could only assume they were sound asleep. Neither would know I was gone for at least a few hours.

  Luke’s shirt was draped over a chair. It would be huge on me, but better than nothing. I carefully picked it up before noticing Oliver’s wallet on the dresser. Flipping it open, I took out whatever cash he had and stuffed it into my back pocket.

  He sat up. “Kaya?”

  His voice created a huge lump in my throat. “I’m cold. Gonna have a bath. Go back to sleep.”

  Easing back down onto his makeshift bed, he mumbled for me to make it quick. I thanked my lucky stars there was no further questioning, but knowing he was half awake made my escape options minimal. I’d thought about simply going out the front door, but I guess my only choice now was the window in the bathroom.

  Good Lord, I was doing this. I was really leaving. Through tears that had come on like a broken faucet, the room became a blur. I couldn’t allow myself time to think. I just had to move…

  But I took one last look at Luke on the floor. The light played in his mussed-up hair and illuminated the most beautiful parts of him—which was everything. He was so perfect. He deserved better than this. Better than sleeping on a motel floor with his life in danger. He deserved happiness and peace of mind. He deserved something more than the life he would have with me. The scars on his chest, jagged wounds from that cat, were a reminder of the day I saved his life. By leaving, I was doing that again.

  “I’m sorry,” I said under my breath. “I love you. This is for the best.”

  I could have sworn he mumbled, “I love you too, Kaya,” before turning over.

  I had to go. It was now or never.

  I locked myself in the bathroom, heart racing and tears pouring. Luke’s shirt, heavy with his scent, came down to my knees. I knotted it at the side, and then gave up trying to figure out how to keep the neckline from falling off my shoulders. After turning on the water, I tossed my flip-flops out the window, squeezed my body through, and dropped to the filthy, weed-infested ground onto my hands and knees. The clothes I had tossed out the window were gone, but the garbage remained. Brushing off the dirt clinging to my legs, I stood. The foot I’d kicked the door with was swollen and ached, and the flip-flops made that awful thwap sound with each painful step. But I kept moving. After rounding the building, I came to the empty street and stopped.

  Now what?

  A cat tucked under a car meowed. The air was colder than I’d thought. I wanted to turn back… This was crazy! Runn
ing away from the person my soul was tethered to made my body lash out. It was hard to breathe. My arms and legs were like jelly. I was so torn over what I was doing I was sure I looked like a puppet on a string being pulled in a million directions.

  “This is for his own good,” I said to the cat, needing to hear it out loud. “If I don’t leave, he’ll end up missing or dead. Like Angela, Anne, Dustin, Marie, Rusty, that motel clerk…”

  Soon, the sun would come up. Bands of orange and red had begun to streak the horizon. A cow mooed from not too far away. A chicken clucked, and I nodded at a man at the gas station who barely acknowledged me. In moments, I was at the end of the road and left with two choices: east to who knew where, or west the way we came. I picked east. Within minutes, I was out of town. Annoyed with the flip-flops, I took them off and carried them so I could go faster. My eyes were clouded and puffy, and when I wiped at them, tears turned the dirt on my hands to mud. I picked up the pace, ignoring the stinging throb in my foot. Move. Keep moving. Don’t look back. This is for his own good.

  The road seemed endless. As I walked, the cold asphalt became a wide band of sand that cut through fields lined with barbed-wire fences. There wasn’t a person or building in sight, but the road had to lead to somewhere. I walked faster, afraid if I didn’t, I might turn back. At a sign that hung limply from a post littered with bullet holes, I was faced with either going straight or turning, so I turned. The sound of insects humming in the fields grew louder as the sun grew brighter. I shivered as beads of nervous sweat rolled down my back and chilled my spine. My feet were assaulted by the gravel, and I wondered if I’d chosen the wrong way. I could be walking for hours toward nothing.

  When the road began to curve toward the north, I was relieved to hear a horse neighing, because where there were horses, there were people. Something in the distance was moving, so I walked faster, breaking into a run. There was a clearing ahead with a few vehicles and trailers for animals. The shiny door of a polished white truck was opening, and a man emerged with a paper cup. He took a sip from it before stopping to stare at me. Ignoring common sense about approaching strangers and the dread over what I was about to do, I stopped to catch my breath.