by Anna Argent
Mark climbed the ladder into the deer stand and pulled a pair of binoculars out of the storage box he kept up there. Through the newly leafed trees, he could just see the edge of her van’s bumper. The red logo on the side stood out among the surrounding green. As soon as her work van was gone, he’d go back to the house and smash out another wall or three.
If he pushed hard enough, maybe tonight he’d finally be too exhausted to dream.
Chapter Two
The sun was down, and Daisy’s van was still parked outside the house.
Mark knew she was stubborn—always had been—but this was taking things too far. That house was treacherous to navigate after dark, and with no lighting, he worried she’d hurt herself.
Maybe she already had. Maybe that’s why she hadn’t yet left, and he’d been sitting in the deer stand for two hours, fuming.
He hurried down the tree and raced across the shadowy landscape. Fear spurred him on, lengthening his stride. His heart was galloping hard by the time he reached the porch and leapt up the trio of steps. He avoided the gaping hole he’d been stepping around for months, and barreled through the front door.
Dark silence greeted him. No candles were lit. He could just make out the glow of embers through the grate in the wood burning stove. The smell of something savory filled the space, covering the musty scent of old plaster, mice and decay.
He tried to still his fears and convince himself they were irrational, but he knew better. Bad things happened.
“Daisy?” His voice wavered like a frightened child’s, but he didn’t care. “Where are you?”
No answer.
His eyes adjusted to the dark, and he fumbled for the flashlight he kept in one of the kitchen drawers. The beam of light surged through the gloom, seeming nearly solid as it bounced off millions of particles of dust. He called out again, louder this time, as he waved the light through the rooms, scanning for her.
She wasn’t in sight.
From upstairs he heard the hiss of water being turned on in the bathroom sink, followed by a predictable thunk of aging pipes.
Relief left him frozen in place for a second, then a fist of rage slammed into him. How dare she scare him like that? How dare she come here, invade his privacy and scare the shit out of him?
Mark rushed up the stairs, not even trying to control his anger. She had no business being here. He’d made his wishes clear, both to her and his sister. He wasn’t going to any damn wedding. Daisy was trespassing, and it was time for her to go.
He didn’t bother to knock on the bathroom door. His bathroom door. He simply barged in, his mouth open to let spew a string of venom.
As he saw her, every vile, angry word that had collected in his head simply drained out.
Candlelight filled the small room with a golden glow. Daisy stood over the sink, shirtless, with only a lacy bra to cover her breasts. The T-shirt she’d been wearing was in her hands, along with a bar of soap. Her big green eyes were wide with surprise, but that registered for only a second before his gaze went right back to her breasts.
Mark tried to pull his eyes away, but they wouldn’t budge. It had been a long time since he’d seen a half-naked woman, and the baser parts of him were starving, anxious for even a peek at a woman built like Daisy.
In the back of his mind, thoughts scrolled by in slow motion. He hadn’t realized how pretty she was before. He’d never really paid much attention. They’d been kids together, grown up together. She’d all but disappeared after college, their paths crossing only once or twice a year since then. She was his baby sister’s best friend, and he’d never before looked at her in any other way.
Until now. Now he couldn’t seem to look away.
Her skin was smooth, painted golden by the single flame. Deep shadows hugged her contours, accentuating the fluid lines of her body. Her shorts hung low on her hips, showing off the feminine curve of her stomach and the narrow span of her waist. He could see the faint shape of the muscles in her thighs and calves, and the steep arch of her feet inside those strappy sandals.
But it was her breasts that caught and held his attention. He was a dog for staring, but there was nothing he could do short of gouging out his own eyes to stop himself from soaking in the sight.
Little Daisy was stacked. Not in an overblown, plastic tits kind of way, but in a secret weapon kind of way. Mark never would have guessed what she was hiding. Her loose clothes and thick sweaters had masked her assets well. If he hadn’t been staring at her now, he never would have believed it.
Maybe that’s why she’d always refused to swim in his family’s pool whenever he or his friends were around. She knew just how hard he and his buddies would have leered at her. Almost as hard as he was leering right now.
Daisy stared back at him, frozen like a frightened bunny rabbit. Cold water sluiced over her hands and the fabric she’d been scrubbing.
He should have muttered some apology and backed out of the room, but it simply wasn’t possible. He was glued to the spot, his gaze transfixed on her as it moved in a predictable loop up and down and back again.
She lifted the dripping shirt to hide her breasts, and only then was he able to shake off the spell she’d woven. Soapy water leaked onto her shorts, darkening the denim hugging her thighs. A glistening trickle escaped the fabric and slid down over her bare knee. He followed the path it took until it slipped between her toes.
She cleared her throat, drawing his attention back to her face. “I made stew. Ended up wearing some of it.”
Was he supposed to thank her for the food or apologize for her mishap? He couldn’t seem to remember what social convention dictated. Too much of his brain was busy staggering under the revelation that little Daisy Grace was not so little anymore. At least not all of her. While he wasn’t looking, she’d become a woman—one who held his attention far too tightly for his peace of mind.
She licked her lips in a nervous gesture, and he tracked the movement of her tongue until it disappeared behind even, white teeth. A look of expectation shaped her features, but for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what it was she wanted him to do.
“The stew is done,” she said. “You can go have some if you’re hungry.”
Was he hungry? He didn’t know. His appetite had fled along with so many other things he used to take for granted.
“I’ll be down in a minute, after I finish rinsing out the soap,” she continued.
Her words were a dismissal. He got that much to filter through his scrambled brain. He was supposed to leave now. Back up. Shut the door. Walk away. But to do any of that, he first had to drag his gaze away from her.
His surprise at seeing her half naked had been the first non-shitty feeling he’d had in a long time, and he wasn’t ready to let go of the novelty yet. Until now, he wasn’t even sure if he was capable of feeling anything but crushing grief and floundering apathy. Nothing had amused him or intrigued him, and yet now he was so completely engrossed he wasn’t sure he was capable of turning around.
“Mark?” she asked, concern clear in her voice. “Are you okay? You’re all flushed.” She lifted her hand and pressed it against his forehead.
Cool, damp fingers met his overheated skin. Slender. Delicate. They trembled slightly, or maybe that was him doing all the shaking.
She was close now, holding the dripping shirt over her breasts with one arm. He could see a sprinkling of freckles across her shoulder. The white strap of her bra was covered with tiny lace rosebuds. Her pulse beat in the hollow between her collarbones, making the links in her chain necklace shimmer.
The contact of her hand on his forehead became firmer as she felt his head for fever. He knew he wasn’t sick—at least not physically—but he couldn’t find the ability to open his mouth and tell her so. Besides, it had been a long time since anyone had touched him, and the simple human contact was as welcome as it was shocking.
Her fingers slid down to cup his fuzzy jaw, and he instantly missed the feel of he
r skin on his. He promised himself right then that he’d shave off his beard. If she ever felt like touching him again, he wasn’t going to let anything get in the way of her fingers.
But why bother? She wasn’t staying.
Still, a small part of him whispered, she might touch you.
“I should go,” he found the sense to say. His voice sounded rough, and more than a little pathetic, even to his own ears.
She frowned and gave his beard a little pat. “I won’t be long. Go ahead and eat if you’re hungry.”
He didn’t want to leave, which was a stupid thing to feel. Maybe he had been too long without companionship. Maybe it was time to get a dog, just like Janey had always wanted.
Janey. For a second he’d almost forgotten about her.
The realization made his insides ice over so fast he could practically hear them crack. He spun on his heel, knocking Daisy’s hand away in the process. The need to flee chomped at his ass, spurring him on. He flew down the stairs, nearly falling in his rush. Guilt bore down on him, tightening his lungs until he wasn’t sure there was room for his next breath.
How could he have forgotten Janey, even for a second? She’d given him everything, making his life worth living. She’d been his joy. His love. And he’d been staring at a half-naked woman, without a single thought as to how that would have made either woman feel.
Mark scrubbed his hands over his face, trying to wipe away the memory of Daisy’s tits, of her fingers on his skin. Her touch had been completely innocent, but he’d felt the stirrings of something more rise up in him.
He didn’t want that. He didn’t want to feel that way again, even if it was a nice distraction from his loss. As far as he was concerned, it was too close to cheating on the life he’d had with Janey.
He heard Daisy come out of the bathroom, her footsteps shuffling over the rough floorboards.
“Stay there,” he called. “I’ll light a lantern so you don’t fall.”
He powered on a couple of the battery-operated lamps he kept handy. The bright glow from the LEDs spread out through the space, the deep shadows making it look even more treacherous than it did by daylight.
She came down the steps, wearing her wet T-shirt. The dark gray fabric hid what lay beneath, but he knew how she looked half-naked. He’d cut himself off from the world—no TV, no phone, no Internet—and that brief glimpse of bare female flesh was the hottest thing he’d seen in a year and a half.
The sight was not one he’d soon forget.
“I’m sorry I barged in on you like that,” he said.
“Call it payback.”
“For what?”
Her cheeks turned the most delightful shade of pink. “Back in high school, I was doing homework with Ellen and my pen ran out. She said to grab one of yours. We didn’t think you were home, so I just walked into your room. You were there. Busy.”
“Doing what?”
“A cheerleader.”
“Ah. Sidney. My girlfriend senior year.”
“Yeah. I remember. She saw me and went all porn star.”
“Porn star?”
“Moaning and thrashing her head around. It was a little creepy at the time, since she was watching me and not you when she did it.”
He felt an odd tightness in one cheek, and it took a second for him to realize that he was almost grinning at the thought of innocent little Daisy barging in on that awkward teenage freak show. “Sidney liked to be watched. Among other things.”
Daisy held up her hands. “I do not want to know.”
“No, you really don’t. Chick had issues. I was just too young at the time to see past my own dick. Glad I grew out of that.”
She turned her back a little too fast for it to be casual, and headed for the kitchen. “Are you hungry?”
He looked at his watch. It was time to eat, so he said, “Sure.”
She grabbed a couple of bowls and spoons and ladled something from the pot on the wood stove. There was no furniture, so she set the food on a clear spot on the bare floor and took a seat.
Mark hadn’t bothered to sweep the place. The dust from the demolition he’d done made it a pointless attempt at cleanliness. But now that she was sitting in all that dirt and grime, the urge to clean the place up hit him hard. It was one thing for him to eat here—he just hovered over the sink—it was another for her to do so. Maybe he needed a folding table and chairs, too.
Of course, if he did that, it would only make her more willing to stay, and he didn’t want that.
Did he?
Before he could overthink things, he joined her on the dusty floor and dug in. After they ate was soon enough for him to send her packing. He hadn’t shared a meal with anyone in a long time, and he couldn’t seem to find the will to send her away hungry.
***
Daisy tried not to watch Mark eat, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. She liked the way his mouth moved, even if it was framed by that ugly beard.
He finished off the bowl, and sat there, looking puzzled.
“Do you want some more?” she asked.
He frowned for a second, then nodded as if surprised. “Yeah, I think I do.”
“There’s plenty.” She moved to get him some, but he was faster, climbing from the floor with the kind of grace that told her he was used to being chair-less.
“It’s good,” he said from the stove. The glow from the embers shining through the grate made his body cast a long shadow across her lap.
“You sound shocked. I do know how to cook, you know. Though it was a challenge with a pantry as bare as yours.”
“Believe me, I remember your magical chocolate chip cookies. It’s just that nothing’s tasted good for a long time. I kinda forgot that food could taste like something more than salty sawdust.”
“Dear diary, Mark gave me the greatest compliment today....”
His mouth quivered with the hint of a grin. “I’m a little rusty in the social niceties department. Sorry.”
“I’ll live. Though I’ll remember to lock the bathroom door next time.”
“Don’t bother. It’s broken.”
Daisy knew she had to tread lightly here, but some things were too important for her not to say. “A lot of things here are broken. Any plans to fix them up?”
His gaze fell to his stew. “I don’t know. Seems like a waste of time. Part of me thinks I should just raze the whole thing to the ground.”
“But you love fixing up old houses.”
“Some things aren’t worth saving.”
She had the distinct impression that he was no longer talking about the house, but rather, himself. “And some things are. Some things are worth whatever time and attention it takes to get them back to where they belong.”
He lifted his eyes, and his blue stare hit her like a two-by-four to the gut. There was so much pain lurking there. So much sorrow and loss. She’d never wanted to fix anything as much as she wanted to fix Mark.
Some things aren’t worth saving.
But he was. No matter what it took. She wasn’t going to let him live like this, apart from the world, scraping by with only the barest of necessities. He deserved better than that.
“You should go,” he told her. “It’s getting late, and I can’t stand the thought of you on these back roads in the middle of the night.”
“Does that mean you’re planning to come to Ellen’s wedding, then?”
“No. I can’t go. I won’t go. If I did, I’d ruin her special day, and I love my sister too much to do that to her.”
“How could you possibly ruin things when she wants you there so badly?”
“Because the last time I was in that church was the day of Janey’s funeral. I’ll never again be able to go there and smile. Not even for Ellen.” He swallowed hard, and a sheen of tears brightened his eyes. “There’s nothing you can do or say that will change my mind. I’d take it as a personal favor if you’d just leave. Please.”
Daisy’s heart wept for him. S
he felt helpless, and yet she couldn’t give up on him. There had to be some way she could ease his pain and lift the fog of depression, if even only for a few minutes.
For now there was only one thing she could think to do, so that’s what she did. She picked up one of the lanterns and headed for her work van. As she got behind the wheel, she saw him watching her from the doorway. She could just make out his desolate expression as she turned around and left.
***
Mark watched Daisy until he could see no more sign of her tail lights through the trees.
He couldn’t stand her to be here, and yet he hated watching her leave. Her presence here had changed things, reminding him all too keenly of what it was like to not be so utterly alone.
For a minute, he’d almost felt normal again.
Part of him craved more of that feeling, but the rest of him raged at the idea that he could have ever felt anything less than complete desolation.
Janey had died alone. How did Mark deserve anything better?
The wind picked up, rustling the new leaves on the trees. The world was spinning on, not giving a shit about lives lost. Mark simply couldn’t go along with it, pretending that everything was okay. He knew that Janey would have wanted him to go on with his life, but he couldn’t stand the idea of leaving her behind. She’d never marry, never have kids. Never grow old or watch her grandkids play. If she couldn’t do those things, then how could he?
He stared out at the night, so black out here where no street lights could reach. There were no answers out there for him. He’d spent enough hours searching for them to know it was a futile effort.
So he did the only thing he could. He grabbed up his sledge hammer and went up the steps to one of the bedrooms he hadn’t yet touched. Once he was there, he started knocking down the walls.
Maybe if he tore this place down board by board, he’d forget Daisy’s visit and how nice it was to not feel quite so alone, if only for a brief moment.
Chapter Three
The sound of a heavy diesel engine woke Mark out of a dead sleep. He’d bashed walls and pried nails until nearly dawn, when he’d no longer been able to keep going, at which time he’d stripped down to his underwear and fell headfirst into an exhausted sleep on his bare air mattress.
