After several moments, gasping with lust, I pressed at his chest, removing him from me. Bringing my knees up, I stretched them wide, breathing hard and watching as Colt knelt down. He kissed my inner thigh, the innocent, pale skin, and then continued to kiss inward until his tongue met the wetness between my legs. He glided his tongue up and down my pink pussy lips, causing me to cry out in pleasure.
We moved to the bed after that, making slow, meaningful love into the late afternoon, until our sweat was dripping and our bodies were spent. We orgasmed in each other’s arms, our eyes linked together and our hearts beating as one.
Colt rolled to the side of the bed, gasping in pleasure. As we lay, now separate bodies, he eased his firm bicep around my head, holding onto me. Knocking his head back against the headboard, he chuckled.
“That was really something, wasn’t it?”
“Didn’t really want it to end,” I whispered.
“We have all night, don’t we?”
“You have the stamina to keep going?” I asked, looking up at him.
“You doubt it?”
“I doubt that either of us has energy today. I’m exhausted. I’ve been worried about you for days. I thought it would destroy me.” I reached out and wrapped my arm around his six-pack abdomen. A slow sigh escaped me.
“All I thought about in that prison cell was you,” Colt said. “I don’t want to be without you, Luna. I’ve never known anything as clear as that.”
Silence hung heavy around us. Colt sat up to grab his pack of cigarettes from his jeans, allowing me to gaze at his naked form. The tattoos flowing across his biceps and back made him look tough, rugged. A man who’d grown up on the streets shouldn’t have been so tender and giving in bed.
Lighting a cigarette, he peered at me as he sat on the edge of the bed. The intimacy between us was deep, as if we could communicate with only our eyes.
“You’re thinking something,” he said. “I can tell your head’s running all over the place.”
“So what if it is?” I asked.
I sat up, leaned against a pillow, and gazed back at him. I felt playful, energized. Outside, the sun had begun to set, giving us the feeling that we’d made love throughout an entire lost day. It was a gorgeous feeling.
“I’ve told you everything,” Colt said, reaching over and touching my foot in a tender motion. He held onto it tightly, still looking up at me with emotion. “You promise you’ve told me everything as well?”
I laughed slightly. “If you really want to know, Colt, I wasn’t sure if I could trust you when I first met you.” I scooted closer to him, placing my hand against the rough hairs on his face. “And my original plan, if you must know, was to deceive you. Take your money and run, as they say. I had no intention of going to Mexico. I just wanted to get my father out of a jam. That’s all.”
Colt laughed, bringing his hands around my slender shoulders and rubbing at my glowing skin. “And how did that turn out for you?”
A smile stretched across my face. “After we had sex the second time, at the motel, I knew I was in over my head. Everything had changed. All I could do was daydream about running out of town with you, of building a better life someplace else. I was addicted to you, Colt. If you’d asked me to move to the moon with you, I would have done it.”
“And now?” Colt asked.
“Still just as addicted,” I said. “I was brokenhearted when I thought you’d left town. Don’t ever do that to me again, you understand? I need you by my side, otherwise I go nutty—crying all night, staring longingly out the window.”
I snickered, laughing at myself now that the nightmare had passed. “Seems I needed you even more than I could understand, almost like I’d been waiting in that sad little diner for you to come into my life and change it.”
Colt put his cigarette out, then leaned forward and kissed me. I wrapped myself tightly in his arms, sealing the space between us.
“I’ve made so many mistakes in my life,” Colt whispered. “But going to that diner that night, with twenty thousand dollars in cash on hand, must be my biggest one.”
I smacked him playfully before falling back onto the comforter, bouncing slightly when I landed, my naked skin illuminated by the orange and pink sunset. Colt lay beside me, gazing into my eyes, clearly touched by my words. We were completely enamored with each other.
“I’ve been thinking,” Colt said, sliding his finger down my chest and toward my belly button.
“That’s dangerous,” I joked.
“I’d agree with that, sure,” he said, flashing a smile. “But, baby, you know my past. You know I didn’t have much of a home after my grandmother died when I was 12. I’ve been on the run, bouncing from place to place. I’m not even sure what I’d be like if I had a proper place to live. To stay in and grow, you know?”
I propped my head up on my hand, gazing into his eyes. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t want to keep running. I want to stay and build something with you, a life even.”
“In Iowa?” I asked, laughing slightly. “But why here?”
“Because we both know, deep down, that you’ll never leave your father,” Colt said. “This is your community, baby. You’re as much a part of it as anybody else. If you left, it would have a great, big, unfillable void. Who would serve the country’s best burgers at a 24-hour diner if not you? Marcia can’t do it alone.”
I laughed, shaking my head and bouncing my nose against his. “Anybody can serve a shitty burger, Colt.”
“But you’re the best that they have,” he said. His voice grew firmer, more insistent. “And besides, I feel safe here. This is a place where you can raise children without thinking they’ll get shot, you know? Without thinking they’ll get into drugs or fall into a gang. Across the street from the police station, I saw a library and a park. And there are about a million other little nice nooks and crannies that seem so homey to me. I don’t want to leave Iowa City, and those are words that I never thought I’d say. Not in a million years.”
“So what are you saying?” I asked him, unable to comprehend this. “Are you saying you don’t want to continue on the road? My cowboy is no longer turning his eyes toward the West, Mexico, or wherever the winds may take him?”
“I’m saying I want to stay with you,” he said, kissing me softly. “I want to build that normal, stable existence I’ve always craved. And I want to do it with you, if you’ll have me.”
I thought back to my desire to run away with him. I had thought that running from my problems and home would solve everything in my life, that I could shrug off the issues of my father’s addiction and his health and renew myself once I left Iowa. But now, I recognized that that had only been a passing fancy. The only reason I’d wanted to run, to flee, was to be with Colt.
“Stay, please. Stay with me,” I whispered, leaning toward him and wrapping my lips around his. We kissed languidly, with incredible emotion, our tongues sliding along one another’s.
Our passion ignited, forcing our bodies together with an earnest drive. Soon, we were making love again, even more passionately than before, growing more accustomed to one another and learning the gorgeous ways we could give and receive pleasure.
When I collapsed in his arms that night, I felt absolutely at peace—no fear, no resentment, no desire to run. We would build our world together as a united force, knowing that nothing could defeat us. An overly dramatic and violent loan shark hadn’t done it, nor even a Detroit gang. We were stronger than all of that. We would allow our love to flourish, to bloom.
The next morning, I awoke early, feeling the sun across my face. A bit chilled, I reached toward the dresser drawer and grabbed a sweatshirt. I gazed back at the still-sleeping form of Colt beside me. I wanted to allow him the entire morning to sleep, if he could manage it.
Exhaustion seemed to bleed through his every pore. I wondered what it had been like back at the police station with the constant interrogation, having to tell the intimate det
ails of his best friend’s murder. I shivered, wanting to make it right.
After rising, I walked into the next room and dialed the police station.
“Iowa City Police,” the woman said, her voice brittle and unfriendly.
“Hi there. I was wondering if you had any information regarding an impounded vehicle? It would have been parked at the motel south of town. A blue Mustang.”
“Let me check on that for you,” the woman said.
Shifting my weight from foot to foot, I scanned the road outside the window. A few autumn leaves sprinkled past, a reminder that winter would soon come—that the world had and would continue turning.
“Looks like it’s at our storage facility. The owner of the motel had it towed,” the woman said. “You’re going to need to pay quite a bit to take it away, around three hundred dollars. It’s been there, what, like a week?”
“That’s fine,” I said.
“You didn’t know your car was missing for an entire week?” the woman asked, incredulous.
“Thanks so much for your help.”
I hung up the phone and then called my friend Donna, who swung by and rode with me to the storage facility so I wouldn’t have to leave my car there. I paid the man about half of what was in my account—a steep amount, which felt like a physical stabbing—and then drove the Mustang back to my apartment, Donna taking my red Chevy.
She clucked her tongue when we arrived back, her eyes dancing up toward my apartment. “I can’t believe you just paid that guy three-hundred bucks,” she said, shrugging. “You must really love this guy.”
“I don’t think I’ve seen anyone look better in a Mustang, Donna,” I replied, crossing my arms over my chest and following her gaze. “I’m going to marry him, and he deserves to have the things in his life that make him feel whole. I think this car does the trick.”
“You’ve been seeing him for what, a week? He’s gotten you into more trouble than you’ve ever been in in your life, and you’re already saying you’re going to marry him,” Donna said, rolling her eyes. “When you get in over your head, call me. I’ll help you out.”
“Trust me,” I whispered. “I know what I’m doing. I’ve never been so sure.”
My apartment door creaked open, revealing Colt. He wore only a pair of boxers. His muscles gleamed in the autumn light. Pressing his arms against the railing, he leaned over and stared at me. A smile crept across his face when he saw what I stood beside: his Mustang, the last reminder of his time in Detroit.
“What on earth did you do?” he called down to me.
“What do you think?”
He ran down the steps, rushing toward me, still in only his boxers. In the light of the morning, it seemed that our troubles were truly over. As Donna stood off to the side slightly awkwardly, Colt pulled me into the air and spun me, allowing my legs to fling outward. I giggled madly, feeling his heart beat against my stomach as I arched my back.
When I was back on the ground, Colt turned to his Mustang, drawing a line with his finger down the side, toward the backend. Clucking his tongue, he gave me a look. “I bet you paid a fortune to get this out.”
I shrugged, not wanting to ruin the gift by making him feel bad. “The car’s ours, baby,” I said. “I fell in love with you when you drove this thing into the parking lot at the diner, and I want to see you driving it every day of our lives.”
He knocked on the top of the vehicle with his knuckles, shaking his head, incredulous. “Hop in,” he said, his voice booming.
Donna had darted away, giving me a firm wave before driving her car back to her place. With a flourish, I leaped into the passenger seat, buckled myself in, and watched as Colt revved the engine, toying with the radio and shoving a pair of sunglasses up his nose.
His exposed biceps pulsed as he turned the steering wheel and cranked us out toward the highway. Rolling down the windows, he yelled out, allowing his dark blond curls to whip behind his head.
As Iowa City flew past us, so did the solitude of our lives before we met one another. I clung to his right hand as he drove far too fast with the left. We wouldn’t slow down, not for anyone. The exhilaration of being in love was too immense. The exhilaration of knowing we would spend the rest of our lives together was everything.
I whipped my hand out the window, feeling the air race through my fingers, reminding myself that freedom was always a mental state. We didn’t have to leave to feel freedom and peace. We could find those things in each other.
Epilogue
Luna
A few weeks after Colt moved in with me, we got a call from my dad, letting us know he had been cleared to come home. His voice sounded more robust than it had before his stint in rehab, giving me cause for celebration.
It seemed like he’d been in rehab for months, rather than only three weeks.
“You sound really strong, Daddy,” I said, cradling the phone close to my ear. I missed him so much; it made my heart ache.
“I feel a bit stronger, baby,” he said. “But I’ll be honest with you, I’m not quite sure what kind of home I’m supposed to return to. Not even sure I want to drive past the house to see it. Completely destroyed, they said?”
“The bones are still there, Dad, and you own the property,” I said, my heart sinking. “Colt thinks you should rebuild after wintertime—if you’re feeling up to it.”
“Just can’t imagine not having Thanksgiving at the house, you know?” he said.
“I’ve been thinking about that a lot, but we can have it at our apartment, Dad. And actually, an apartment opened up on our block at the beginning of the month, and I’ve already talked to the landlord about you moving in. We can get you settled. New clothes, new furniture—everything you’ll need until you’re ready to move back into the house.”
“This Colt, he handy with tools?” my dad asked.
That was a question I didn’t know the answer to. Turning my eyes toward the window, I watched as a little boy and his mother brought together hay and sacks, creating a befuddled-looking scarecrow. It was only four days till Thanksgiving, and we hadn’t yet bothered to reserve a bird at the grocery store.
“He seems to think he can help you,” I said, shrugging slightly. “In my experience with him, Colt has surprises up his sleeve at every corner.”
It was true. The minute things had calmed down, Colt had rushed out and gotten a job at the local mechanic shop, as he had apparently learned a fair bit about cars during his life on the road and during his time in juvenile detentions throughout Detroit. “It’s a car city, baby,” he’d told me with a shrug.
The money was good, and he contributed half of the rent and the groceries. He even paid me back every single penny for reclaiming his Mustang. He still drove that thing proudly through town, the chilly autumn wind ripping across his face through the open windows. People had begun to whisper about him, this strange, handsome newcomer.
Colt came into the kitchen on the day we planned to pick up my dad, stinking of cars and oil. I wordlessly pointed toward the shower, but instead of following my directions, he lifted me high with his grubby hands and then kissed me hard, his lips sucking at mine. Falling into a puddle of lust at his feet, I allowed him to carry me into the bathroom.
He placed me, bare-footed, inside the shower, and then he turned the hot water on, which pooled around my feet. I giggled, making a face at him. “If you were anyone else on the planet, Colt, I’d smack you across your grubby face.”
Ripping his shirt from his body, he revealed his sculpted abdomen. He tossed his pants and underwear in the hamper and stepped in after me, clucking his tongue.
“Now, you should know the rules, little Luna. Look at you. You’re still wearing your clothes in the shower! We have to fix this.”
With a flourish, he ripped my dress from my body and then spent the next few minutes toying with me, kissing my neck, my ears, and my forehead with tender kisses. Beneath the wave of hot steam, we fell into one another’s arms, making love and
easing soap over our arms, our legs, and our stomachs.
Afterwards, we dressed quickly, donning our winter coats, as the night was closing in. I huddled in the passenger seat of the Mustang, cranking the heat up as high as it would go as Colt drove us toward Des Moines. We watched in silence as the sun took its final stretch across the fields and then descended, peppering the sky with stars.
“In Detroit, my grandmother would always stand out on the porch and try to point out any stars she could see. Sometimes, I think they were just airplanes,” Colt said. “But she kept the magic alive for me, at least while she was around. I’d never looked at the sky as an adult until I moved to Iowa. There’s such a grandness to nature out here. Everything is so big, spread out, open.”
“Some people would call that boring,” I said.
“Boring is a state of mind.”
As we pulled into the parking lot of the clinic, my stomach knotted with apprehension. So much had happened since my father had left for rehab. I didn’t want to see his face when he first saw the shell of the house, cleared out and with a large sign out front that said “NO TRESPASSING.” It looked nothing like a home anymore, no longer reminiscent of the place he raised me.
But life was all about facing these sorts of things. Colt had taught me that.
We’d come here a few weeks before to collect Dad’s car. They didn’t want it in the lot, and Dad didn’t like the thought of it rusting out there in the growing November chill. We’d parked it at the apartment complex, with Colt going out to start it and drive it around every few days. But we hadn’t been allowed indoors to see Dad then.
The place was sterile, white-washed, with sour-looking staff checking us in and telling us, in low voices, to stay in the waiting room. We huddled close together, assessing the other people who sat in plastic chairs, reading magazines. Everyone was zombie-like, lifeless looking. We wanted to get out of there as fast as possible.
“You don’t think they’ve replaced his brain with a robotic one, do you?” I asked Colt, half-serious.
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