Page 59 of The Girl and the Cobra

“And I love you, too, kiddo.”

Kiddo. The words of affection. Neither of which I’m used to, so I don’t say a word. Is this how normal families sound? It’s like they popped out of a children’s movie or something—although, I guess, a children’s movie would have no place for people with pasts like theirs. Or mine.

And just like that, the attention is off me and my relationship with Mabel. Mabel asks her father about how his night was when he went out with his coworker buddies, and he launches into a story about so-and-so who he works with and their kids and whatnot.

I listen, I do, but most of my attention remains on Mabel. She’s the only thing I care about in the world. Having her next to me, her hand resting comfortably in mine, is so surreal to me, so much so that it feels like I’m caught in a dream.

And if that’s the case, I never want to wake up.

Our food comes after a twenty-five-minute wait. Mike got a steak and some fries, while Mabel chose chicken tenders. I got some type of pasta with some creamy white sauce and grilledchicken on top. When our waitress comes with our food, she’s all smiles, and she sounds nice enough as she sets our plates before us and tells us to enjoy, but her facade is just that: a facade, and it cracks just a bit when she looks at me.

At my face. The scars on them.

She tries not to stare, but her eyes linger on me just a few seconds too long. It would bother me, if I wasn’t beside the one person in the entire world whose presence helps calm the inner turmoil inside me.

Seriously, if Mabel wasn’t here, my inner beast would be tempted to run a sharp knife along the waitress’s throat.

But that’s the old me talking, and as soon as the image of me committing a little murder pops in my head, the waitress turns around and leaves.

The food is good, and I don’t mind it when the topic of conversation once again returns to me. Mike wants to know more about me. Hobbies, what I plan to do once I’m no longer a patient of Wolf’s, stuff like that. Easy questions if you’re anybody but me.

For me, however, they’re anything but. I can’t tell him my hobbies include finding new, fun ways to kill people, so I have to make something up—and it takes me a while. I eventually settle on painting.

Why? It involves patience and a certain degree of knowledge, none of which I currently have, but it always looked like a calming hobby. I wouldn’t mind learning about color theory and all that other shit. Plus, it’s the furthest thing from assassination I can come up with.

As for what I plan on doing once I’m no longer in Wolf’s care… I don’t know. The question stumps me, mostly because I never thought about it beyond wanting to murder Wolf. I don’t know what the hell I’ll do, if the day ever comes, but one thing I do know for certain.

Anywhere Mabel goes, I’ll follow. If she wants to stay here in this small mountain town, then that’s where I’ll gladly spend the rest of my life.

I don’t tell Mike that, though. I just shrug and say I don’t know, to which he responds, “I’m sure you’ll figure it out. You might be twenty-six—” At that he coughs, like he’s reminding Mabel I’m a bit too old for her. “—but you’re still young. You have a lot of life ahead of you.”

“Yeah,” I say. “I guess I do.”

A bizarre notion to me, seeing as how I would’ve sworn my life was over when my plans in Cypress failed and backfired, blowing up in my face. To have a life ahead of me, to be able to choose what I want to do… it’s all new to me. Every single aspect of it. It’s almost overwhelming.

And I wouldn’t have any of it if it wasn’t for Mabel.

By the time Mabel and I are back in her bedroom, it’s just after eight. The sky is pitch-black outside, a sign of the approaching winter months, ready to knock. Wolf doesn’t bother us, which leaves us to cuddle under the sheets. Mabel lays on her side, curled into me, and I have a single arm around her.

“That actually went better than I thought it would,” she whispers, and I can practically hear the grin in her voice. “I thought my dad would put up more of a fight about us.” She angles her face up toward me. “It definitely helped that you were so nice.”

“What can I say? You bring it out of me.”

“Maybe you’re nicer than you think you are.”

That makes me chuckle softly. Laying there in her room, with nothing on but a lamp on the nightstand, I know exactly what I am, what I used to be. None of which I would callnice.

Mabel senses my thoughts and says, “You can do terrible things. I know. But just because you can do those things doesn’t mean you can’t also be nice. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that we’re all capable of both. It just takes the right moment to pull it out of us.”

Her words strike a chord within me, make me feel some kind of way. “How’d you get so smart?”

She hums as she rests her head on my bicep. “I guess I’ve just had a lot of time to think lately.”

I roll onto my side and angle her head back by moving my hand to her jaw. She’s pliant in my grip, ready and waiting, and I bring my mouth to hers, kissing her slowly, taking immense pleasure in the way her supple lips give in to mine. She moans quietly into the kiss, and I gobble up the sound as my body naturally moves to be on top of hers.

I am a man with nothing to prove, not to Mabel, but that doesn’t stop me from worshiping her and every inch of her body like I have the world to prove. She is my salvation, and I will forever treat her as such.

It’s something I’ve come to realize a while back, but it really hits me right then.

---