Page 93 of Small Town Hunter

“Crash!”

We crash together like two wild tumbleweeds. Next thing I know his lips are on mine and I’m pressed against the wall, returning his searing kiss.

I break away, head spinning. Heart ready to burst. He’s staring down at me with eyes full of some unspeakable emotion. His hair’s all shaved down, throwing his strong wolfish features into sharp relief. He looks thinner, but still so handsome, still my hero.

His arms circle my waist and hold me close, his head resting on the top of mine. We stay like that for just a minute. I can hear his heart beating strongly through his shirt.

Thank you, God. Thank you!

“How did you find me?” I stammer. “Are you angry with me?”

His voice rumbles from somewhere above me, “That kiss I just laid on you would be a funny way of showing it.”

I cling to him like a burr. He smells exactly how I remember. His touch is strong and protective. The last time I saw him he was at death’s door, laid out on a jail cell floor, holding onto me. Begging for me to escape and save myself.

“Aw, Trina, don’t cry honey. Hush.”

“Crash, you’re skin and b-bones!”

“I’m a buck eighty still. Could be worse.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t come see you.”

“There wasn’t much you could do anyway but watch me sleep,” he assures me. “I should be thanking you anyway. The doctor said without your help I might have been worse. Dead.”

I pull back and cup his face, careful not to touch the healing wounds at the back of his head. “Can I see?”

“No. It’s fucked. I’m on some crazy painkillers right now.” He strokes my hair, studying my face intently. “You’re so beautiful, Trina, damn it. How can I let you go?”

Don’t let me go!

“Crash, Mamie and I are leaving tomorrow. We won’t be coming back.”

“I take it that black Cadillac in the parking lot is hers?”

“Yes, she hired our driver Charles since I can’t fly with my ID. Crash— you could come with us.”

He just looks at me, his eyes sad and serious.

He’s saying goodbye. But this can’t be goodbye.

“No,” I say, holding him tighter. “Don’t let go yet. I’m not ready.”

“Trina, if there was a way…” He takes my hand and leads me to the bed, sitting on the edge and pulling me into his lap. I wrap my arms around his neck and breathe him in. I’ll remember this moment. Every moment I ever spent with him.

Always.

“Anything is possible,” I rant. “It wasn’t possible for us to leave the cell, but we did. It wasn’t possible for you to survive that infection, but you did.”

“I have a daughter, a life–”

“A wife,” I mutter.

He pauses. “Apparently Jess is out of the picture. For good this time.”

My delusional heart soars. “Really? But — you’re a Catholic. You don’t recognize divorce.”

“Neither do you, Miss Evangelist.”

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