Page 40 of Bone Dust

“Nothing?” She stuns me, her tone deadly, enunciating the word slowly like a stake through my heart. “Get your hands off my goddamn car.”

I pop my hands off the metal, obeying her command like I’ve been burned. Her chest heaves. Her complexion darkens as the angry red creeps from her neck to her cheeks and I suddenly have a better understanding of that saying that goes something like women and ‘hell hath no fury’.”

I feel like, somehow, I have to de-escalate this situation so she doesn’t leave here like a bat out of hell. Unleashing my old rockstar charm, I wink at her as I move aside to let her get into the car. “You know, you’re really cute when you’re angry.”

She shakes her head as she secures the seatbelt, then looks at me as she closes the door. “Screw you, Ian.”

I watch, confused as she flies down the driveway, and stay there until the glow of the white headlights disappears.

Like a child, I throw myself down into the worn, leather chair and a rush of air hisses as my ass hits the seat. Normal, I don’t mind the emitting faint scents of cedar and tobacco but at the moment it makes me feel sick. The room is as dark as my mood. Shadows dance on the walls as a storm of accusations, condemnations, and pompous opinions weasel their way into my head. Feelings I’d hoped were buried rise from the dead, their stagnant stench seeping into my pores. Hurtful memories tug at me, combining with a fresh sense of disgust to pull me into a dark abyss. The convicting thought chain is broken only by the jangling ring of my phone. I pull it out of my pocket, tempted to chuck it at the wall. Sky Barrows. Dash’s widow. If it were anyone else, I would have dismissed the call.

“Hey.” My tone is flat.

“What’s wrong?” She instantly picks up on my mood.

“Just stupid shit. Just me being me.”

“You want to talk? I might be able to help.”

I roll my eyes. “It’s stupid. I kissed a woman. Apparently, I shouldn’t have.”

“Oh yeah?” She chirps. “Is she cute? Is it promising?”

“Well, yes, but, hell, no.”

“Stop it.” She scolds. “Did she kiss you back?”

“I think so—thought so. How the fuck do I know? I caught her off guard. There’s another thing; it might screw up my friendship with Sam.”

“How so?”

“They’re close. Real close. Like family.”

“Oh.” She pauses.

“He loves her.”

“He loves you too.”

“I’m nobody to love.”

“I do. Sam does. You know it. This woman might too.”

“Yeah, right. I don’t know how to do the love thing. She’d be better off staying away from me.”

“Ian, you are not as expendable as you think.”

“I might have crossed a line with this one.”

“What’s her name?”

“Savannah.”

“Pretty.”

“Sky, her little girl saw me kiss her. I made a major mistake, and she was pissed. I saw what I wanted and took it—like I always do. I didn’t even think of the kid seeing us. She’s three years old and Savannah has every right to never speak to me again.” I pause to take a breath.

“Oh, Ian. Please don’t think like that. Dash wouldn't want you to. Neither do I,” she says.

---