Page 11 of Dark & Deceitful

“Let’s do it.”

I snag my purse from the table by the front door on the way out and wait on the porch for Sunshine to lock up, his hand still in mine. Knowing now is as good of time as ever, I fish a crystal from my cardigan and sneak it into his front jeans pocket with a single finger.

Keys jangling from his index finger, Sunshine turns to me. “What d'ya give me today?” His gaze flicks to where his new crystal lives. The bulge is indiscernible through the denim. This isn’t my first rodeo. This is how we leave the house together. Our little song and dance. He locks up, and I slide a crystal into his pocket. His work van has an entire cup holder full of my gifts.

“Blue Howlite.”

“What’s this one for?” he asks as we walk down the porch steps together and over to my newish Bronco parked in the driveway beside his van. Sunshine opens the passenger door for me to climb in. If I’m going anywhere with him, I’m not driving. He won’t let me. I lost that battle decades ago. In his mind, women are to be taken care of. Chauffeuring them around is his brand of chivalry, at least in his mind. I don’t care either way.

“It’s for calm and patience,” I explain as I settle into my seat.

His brow furrows. “Because of Dark?”

I set my purse on the floor beside my feet. “Yes… and me.”

Cuffing his hand over the top of my open door, Sunshine tilts his head to the side as his expression softens. “Sweets, there’s never any reason I need patience ’cause of you. Yeah? You’remy home. It’s that simple. The Dark shit will sort itself out as it always does. It would be a helluva lot easier if he’d just sign the divorce papers and let you move on with your life.”

In that, we agree.

Five sets of divorce papers in eight years, all of them ripped to shreds. The one time I had the courage to file and take him to court, he pulled some sort of magical puppet strings and had it thrown out. Now, I’m still married to a man who’s with another woman, and he’s still just as stubborn in refusing to divorce me. It’s selfish. Everyone knows this. It’s been going on for so long that everyone else in our lives besides me, Sunshine, and I’m assuming Abby, because she is his woman, doesn’t care. We’re just a couple, a non-couple, with a complicated relationship.

Not knowing how to respond, because Sunshine sure has a way of throwing me for an emotional loop, I nod once, and he shuts me in the truck. Rounding the hood, he hops in, fires the engine, and backs us out as I select a rock playlist to jam to on our ten-mile drive to my work.

We’re on the road for five minutes, and Sunshine’s fingers are tapping on the steering wheel to the beat of “Hotel California”,when I finally break the silence.

“What’d you do with the stalker?”

“I made it quick.”

Good.

“Through the head?”

“Through the head,” he confirms. “It wasn’t messy.” Easing to a stop, he flicks his blinker on and looks both ways before turning left, past my favorite ice cream shop that’s only open when it’s warm outside. Their homemade chocolate custard with hot fudge sounds amazing right now. In a cup, with a waffle cone on top, looking a lot like a dunce’s cap.

Sunshine catches me staring wistfully at the hot pink building with colorful sprinkles painted on the exterior and chuckles. “It’ll open in the spring.”

I grumble under my breath. “I wish this would stop happening.”

“Which part? The stalkers or the dairy bar bein’ closed in the winter?” There’s laughter in his voice. Sometimes, he doesn’t know how to take me. That makes two of us. Sometimes, I don’t know how to take me either.

“Both,” I reply, even though I meant the stalker. If they stopped popping up, there wouldn’t be any messes to clean up. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind messes. These just feel… pointless—a waste.

“Ya know, that may never happen.”

“I know.” And I do. I get it. This is my curse. An unwanted gift from my mother. She always had men chasing her. Though, from her own admission, she often opened her legs for them to fulfill her own sexual needs first, only to send them on their way. Unfortunately, they didn’t want to go. They wanted more. I never understood why. Not then and surely not now.

“Men want what they can’t have, Kali,” Sunshine explains. “You’re nice to them. A lot of men won’t take no for an answer.” Reaching across the truck, he pats my knee in reassurance.

No matter how many times we discuss this at length, it never clicks. This isn’t the first time, nor will it be the last time, Sunshine and I have this exact conversation.

“He came into the shop every day I was working for over a month.” That’s how this almost always starts.

“And you treated him like a human being.”

That’s true. I treat everyone like a human being unless they give me a reason not to. Trust me, there are people who give me a reason not to. Plenty.

“I know,” I reply, because what else is there to say?

---