Page 40 of Chasing Fireflies

“Come on, deputy. I didn’t mean to get you all riled up,” he says, putting his palms down flat on the rough gravel. I see pieces of rock fall from his palms as he tries to push his drunk ass up but fails. It takes everything in me to not kick his sorry ass, but I notice how drunk he is and I see what he is trying to do.

“Get in the fucking truck,” I say, leaving him on the ground. I spit as I round the corner and jump back into my seat. I slam the door, and once the asshole is back in, I press the gas, catching a wheel and throwing black smoke and pieces of gravel into the air.

Once I’m at his house, I get out and open his door. He’s passed out. “Shit.” I don’t want to carry his ass, but I guess I don’t have a choice. I see Maci standing on the porch, and I lean down and lift the man over my shoulder. Walking up onto the porch, Maci quickly heads over to the door and opens it for me, and I toss him onto the couch.

“You going to be okay with him?” I ask her. I turn around, and that’s when I see it. It’s barley there, but gray mixed with black lines her left eye. “Did he hit you?” She turns her face so I can’t see. I look at her cheeks as they turn red and she fidgets.

“I ran into the dang door. I wasn’t paying attention.” She waves her hand dismissively. Lucas makes a noise, and I look back at him.

“Maci, if he is hitting you, you don’t have to stay here. We can get you help.”

“No, it’s not that. I’m just clumsy sometimes. I better get him taken care of. Thanks for bringing him home, Cash. I really appreciate it.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, I’m good. Really.”

I search her face, knowing she is lying to me, but if she doesn’t verbally tell me, and I don’t see it myself, there isn’t anything I can do about it. She walks over to the door and stands beside it after she pulls it open. I take this as my cue to leave.

“Okay. Let us know if you need anything.”

“I will. Thanks again.”

I walk out of the house with a bad feeling in my chest. That asshole is hitting her.

*

Pulling up to the yard, I see Sara outside. I squint from the sun and look toward her as she stands. Her blonde hair has been seriously chopped off, but she smiles like nothing has changed. More flowers have been added to her garden, and she wipes her knees off before she walks over to me.

“What happened to your hair?” I ask as she stands on her tippy toes and kisses me.

“It was getting in my way.”

“Couldn’t pull it back?”

“Nope, I wanted a change,” she answers. I narrow my eyes. “Stop looking at me like that.” She’s hands on her hips and red on her shoulders.

“Baby.”

“Don’t baby me.” She walks back to the garden and starts cleaning up her things. I notice only half the flowers are planted. “You don’t like it?” she asks.

“You’d look good with no hair. It’s just a drastic quick change.”

“Not really.”

“Yes, really.”

She sighs and fills her hands with too much.

“Give me some of that.”

“I’ve got it,” she fires back. I watch her walk to the porch before I follow.

“Have you been feeling okay?”

“Seriously not this again.” She drops her stuff and yanks the––what I see now is a new screen door––open. My girl has been busy.

“New door?” I question with a lift of my brow.

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