Page 90 of The Outsider

She opened up the truck door, and put it firmly on the floorboards on the passenger side. “I don’t want anyone stealing my brick. Bastards be everywhere.”

He wanted to laugh. He found he couldn’t. “That is true.”

They walked together back toward the party. “You’re a liar, though,” he said.

“Am I?”

“Yes. Because a while ago you told me that if you had a brick you would smash my face with it.”

“Things change. People do too.”

“I guess so.”

“Yeah. Now I think I might just use the brick. You know to build things, rather than as a weapon. I’m tired of fighting. I really have been enjoying living.”

She looked up at him. “Dance with me,” she said, her voice a whisper.

He knew that it was an invitation to more. He knew that it was up to him to say no. But he couldn’t think of why, not now. And he didn’t especially want to.

So he took her hand, and led her to the bonfire. And spun her beneath all those showers of sparks. He held her close, and it felt different this time than when they had danced a month ago. She felt soft and warm in his arms. She felt like a woman.

Strong and vital and filled with color and life. Not a fragile creature, or an object of pity. But wholly herself.

Not mired in the difficult things she’d been through, but transcendent.

She was the kind of feel-good story that everybody wanted to hear.

But she was more than a feel-good story. She was complicated. And he liked that about her.

Maybe you’re allowed to be complicated too.

With her beneath his hands, he sure as hell wanted to be.

He wanted to forget every safeguard he’d installed in his soul. He wanted to change the rules he’d made years ago. Rearrange it all so he could justify what he wanted from her, with her.

He could remember so clearly how he’d decided to help her that day because he’d wanted to make a difference.

He hadn’t counted on her making a difference in him.

“Let’s go for a walk,” she whispered.

She took his hand, and this time she was the one that led him away. They melted into the trees, walked in the darkness. Her skin was soft, warm.

“I don’t need a lecture on all that you can’t give me,” she said. “All I need to know is if you want me or not.”

“I don’t think it’s that simple.”

“It can be. Thank you for the brick. But you know eventually I’m going to have to lay it down somewhere else. Like I said to you, I know that I’m going to have to take care of myself someday. I’m not asking you for anything permanent. But I want...”

Just then, they came out from the trees, to stand in the middle of the field. The sky was velvet black, the stars glittering up ahead.

“I want stardust, Sheriff. Just a little bit. A dusting for right now. Because when you finally have a brick, you can start wanting something more.” She turned to him. “I’ve always just wanted to survive. That’s it. I didn’t worry about what felt good, I worried about what sustained me. I was wary of men, because I knew that in the wrong situations they could have too much power over me. But that’s not you. And I knew that, from the beginning. When I clocked you as a whole big sexy problem, Daughtry King. Because I certainly didn’t want to have feelings for a cop. For a man who had so much power over my situation. But you never took advantage of it. I trust you. And I think more to the point I trust myself. Because I have seen some things. And I have known some really shitty men. And you’re not one of them. I’m not sure you know that. Not really.”

He touched her cheek. “I’ve done some pretty shitty things, Bix.”

“Me too. Remember the time I robbed an old lady?”

“You didn’t exactly rob her.”

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