Page 120 of Rugger: The Huntress

Anguish consumed me. I gnawed on my bottom lip, considering how many ways I could rectify the situation. There were gifts spilling from underneath the tree. Something had to be done about the lack of reciprocation on my end.

“Don’t you get it, love?” Psalms asked, matching my gaze. “You are the gift. One that keeps giving each and every fuckingday. There isn’t anything you can buy me, Rugger, that could compare.

“Your presence is worth more than any purchase I’ve made, wrapped, and put under that tree. I just want to contribute to your collection of things your man has gotten you. You know, give you a reason to think about me every time you put one of those bags on your shoulders. One of those coats on your back.

“One of those weapons in your hands. One of those holsters around your thigh. A pair of those shoes on your feet. I’ve entered my season of giving. I need nothing in return but your presence so I can give good dick, good head, good money, good advice, good food, good experiences, good gifts, and many good years to come. You understand?”

Silently, I nodded.

“Use your words, baby.”

“Yes.”

The word flowed from me so effortlessly.

“Good then. In the first room to the left of the stairs there are pajamas and slippers waiting for you. Have a shower and I’ll do the same. Meet me back here in twenty minutes. We have a long night ahead of us,” he explained.

I turned, ready to slip out of my dress and into something comfortable. Before I made it five feet down the hallway, I stopped and found Psalms’ eyes fixated on me.

“Yes, Gazelle?”

I bit into my bottom lip as my cheeks warmed. I intertwined my fingers in front of me.

“Rugger–”

“Are yours like mine?”

He sniggered. The young teen boy that Sonnie hadn’t gotten a chance to be was staring back at me. The tips of his ears reddened as a hand went up to his mouth.

“As a matter of fact, they are,” he confessed, “That shit corny, huh?”

I shook my head as the same goofy smile plastered on his face appeared on mine.

“No. No, it’s not,” I assured him.

When I began in the opposite direction, again, his voice halted my stride.

“Gazelle,” he called out to me.

“Yes.”

I turned to face him, again.

“Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.”

I continued toward the staircase. The heaviness of my heart made each step I took more difficult than the last. When I finally made it up, I pushed the door of the first room open and didn’t stop walking until I reached the bed. I sat, staring at the phone that had replaced my gun.

My mother’s pretty features haunted me. It had been far too long since I’d heard her voice or felt her touch. I missed her as much as nocturnal creatures did the moon during the sunlight.

I rubbed my index finger across the screen and began searching through the few contacts on my list. When her name appeared, my brief scroll came to a halt. I pressed the screen and initiated a call.

It didn’t matter to me that the differences in time meant she was sleeping or that I was waking her. I needed to hear her voice. To absorb her energy. To digest her wisdom.

The phone rang once. Then, twice. By the third ring there was silence on the other line.

“Hello,” groggily, she answered. “Rugger, is everything okay?”

---