Page 136 of The Sinner's Sanctuary

“It can be anything,” I tell him.

“What is it for you?”

“Cathartic,” I say.

“I’m not sure I’m at catharsis yet.”

Taking a chance, I lean forward and wrap my arms around him. He turns slightly to press our chests together and hold me close. “How did you find me?”

“Ollie said you turned off the driveway, and there were actually footprints.”

“Okay, Davy Crockett.”

I laugh. “Thank you for answering when I called you. I would have gone a whole other direction. We might have to wait for the fog to burn off to find our way back out.”

I sigh, relaxing against him. “I don’t mind waiting.”

As we part slightly to look at each other, our weights shift, and the log chooses that moment to collapse.

We shout in surprise as the place we’re sitting caves in. My legs go in two different directions, and he tucks my head to his chest as he lands on top of me.

“Fuck,” I grunt at the impact, digging my heels into the earth so I don’t split my pants, or my groin.

“This day is going fucking amazing,” he grumbles, righting us and brushing me off. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. You?”

“Yeah.” He pulls us clear of the log and then sort of gives up in general and rolls onto the forest floor, flat on his back, facing the treetops. I try to wipe off his pants legs, but there’s no point since he’s literally lying in dirt.

I scoot closer to sit near his hip with my legs bent, facing him. Wrapping my arms around my shins, I prop my chin on my knees. “Sometimes I feel like one of the things we have in common is we’re both chasing memories of someone who no longer exists.”

He sighs, and it sounds like an agreement.

“Even when Trinity was alive, I couldn’t have her. She wouldn’t let herself have me either. But she also couldn’t let me go. I’m not saying I get what you’re going through, or what it’s been like to watch your wife move on the way she has, but I know what it’s like to have what you want right in front of you and not be allowed to touch her. Or help her.”

“Marianne doesn’t want my help. Or me. But I know you get it. As well as anyone could.”

“I get you, too. Why you stay. And I don’t think it’s pathetic. Or weak. Or whatever other shitty thing you want to say about yourself for being in love with someone. She doesn’t deserve it, though.”Or you.

He wraps a hand around my calf and squeezes. “I wonder whatIdeserve.”

“Maybe that’s not the best way to frame it. If we always went for what we think we deserve we’d all wind up dating serial abusers.”

He huffs a laugh. “You’re dark.”

“It’s accurate.”

We’re quiet a while, listening to the birds sing, and the leaves rustle in the breeze. The sun moves higher in the sky, and visibility gradually improves around us. “What’s the plan for the rest of the day?” Gibson asks, still lying there like a corpse.

“Fireworks tonight. Until then… I think it’s more or less a free for all.”

“Good. I’m in a terrible mood.”

“You want me to leave you here to wallow in the mud?”

“No,” he laughs. “Don’t go. Wallow with me a little longer.”

“If we’re gonna wallow, wouldn’t you rather do that after a shower on clean sheets?”

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