Page 26 of Babydoll

“Hey!” The doorbell jingles hard as the door is swung open further. A gust of cold wind slices through the room, whipping across the floor.

“What’s going on in here, Arnie?”

A pause and then a shuffle. I squeeze tighter into my hideout.

“You normally argue a bit more,” Preacher continues. “He seem nervous to you, Python?”

“It’s nothing, guys. No time to argue. You always win me over anyway. And I’m eager to get on home to the wife.”

Feet come into view then and I suck in and hold my breath. Arnie’s food-stained tennis shoes and three sets of thick-tread black boots are ten feet away.

“Okay, okay,” Arnie says, and I can now see Python’s legs and torso. “I got a lady in back. I’m nervous because the lady isn’t my wife.”

I count five long silent seconds before Python’s chuckle breaks the tension. “I believe that means the pie’s free, Arnie.” There’s the sound of a hand clapping on a back.

“Fine. Fine. Just go.”

“I want a look at the piece you got back there.” Slash’s feet shift closer and I see more of his legs. My vision is starting to get fuzzy from holding my breath and my heartbeat pounds in my head.

Python speaks. “Let’s just go. Beater needs a tune-up. Snow’s here to stay. We gotta put the ladies away.”

There’s some agreeing grumbles and the bodies shuffle out of sight, but I don’t breathe until I hear the lock click. And when I do, it’s a frantic gasp. I slump forward onto my hands, panting for air. I don’t dare move from my spot under the table though. Not until the bikes are a quiet rumble in the distance and Arnie’s finished packing up the burger and fries.

“You okay, honey?” he asks, handing me the takeout bag and waving me to follow him through the kitchen to a back exit.

“Are you, Arnie?”

“Not if they tell my wife,” he says, and we laugh harder than we should.

The snow is bad and even if I was willing, the one shelter in River’s End will be packed beyond capacity. On nights likethese it always is. So with no other choice, I trudge through calf-deep snow back to my car— where I’m sure Jeff still walks the perimeter of the factory and I’ll have to explain myself.

It’s even colder on the walk back. Eating distracts me the first few blocks, but once the food’s gone and there are no more buildings to block the wind, it whips me directly in the face and I can barely contain my shivering. And that shivering increases tenfold as I get sight of my car. It’s been beaten.

When I get close enough to see the damage, I feel burning inside. Behind my eyes and in my gut. One emotion, which isn’t the tears, I allow to take hold of me.

The windows are smashed, spidery cracks and full-out holes, and the doors? They’re so dented they’ll likely never open. I grit my teeth, the anger rising higher, and more formidably inside me. Can my life get any shittier?

The car, my only home, is ruined. Maybe not undriveable if I climbed through the trunk, but definitely uninhabitable. Even though most of the car is plastered with baseball bat dents, the trunk is relatively unscathed at least where it needs to be opened. Popping it, I lean in to release the latch to lower the backseat. For once it seems my scrawniness is a positive.

“Where the hell did you go?”

I fly upright and swear as my head hits the trunk top. I right myself, climbing back out of the trunk space, rubbing the quickly forming bruise on my head. Shooting daggers at the big man standing in front of me, I open my mouth to cuss him out, but he yanks me into his arms.

My breath catches at first because of the swift movement, but then it sticks because he’s kissing my head, my face, and then my lips. And he does it all frantically, too. It shocks me so I stay in his arms longer than I should. He’s warm, his big body blocking the cutting wind, but I shove him back anyway. When have I everput my comfort over my pride? Our eyes meet, like puzzle pieces snapping into place. But what I see in his, isn’t what I expect.

There’s no pity, no judgement either, and even though we’ve definitely got some sexual tension thing going on as of late, I don’t even see that in his expression. What I see is concern, relief, and care.

My throat works hard and the burning behind my eyes from just minutes ago is back. Jesus, I need to get control of myself.

It’s harder than I expect though. Because I haven’t seen that in the last eight or nine months. And to be honest, maybe not even much before that. And after spending half the night with Arnie and now Jeff, I realize maybe that’s my own fault. I never let anyone care. I don’t let people know me. Not the real me. They have no idea who’s under tough, sarcastic Lu or sweet, bubbly Tallulah Jane. No one sees the scared, vulnerable, mess of a woman I actually am. And the last person that actually saw that, before tonight, was Gage and I was no woman then. I was only twelve years old.

Blinking the sting behind my eyes away, I waver, my knees buckling under the weight of everything. Is there anything lonelier than that?

“It’s okay, babydoll, I got you.” Jeff pulls me tight against his solid chest, whispering soothing words into my ear. And just for this minute, I let him. But one minute turns into two and he’s suddenly scooping me up into his strong arms and carrying me away.

Maybe it’s just away from my broken car, and the bitter cold, but it feels like more. Like this man might be carrying me away from what’s become of my life. Of the isolated woman I’ve become. At least for tonight.

And as I tuck my head under his bearded chin, his voice, deep and soothing, vibrates through me.

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