Page 47 of The First Cut
“You can ask.” I just can’t make any promises.
“Can we just keep being us?”
“I’m not following.” I turn to look at her briefly before I turn back to the road.
“People will spread their poison. Their sole aim will be to pull us apart because they love nothing more than to see me miserable. I can handle what they throw at me. I’m used to it. I just don’t think I can handle you becoming one of them. Maybe if I’d never met my Hannibal, I could handle it?—”
Her voice cuts off as I hit the brakes. Thankfully, the road is deserted. I lean over, grab a fistful of her hair, and pull her so her mouth is an inch from mine.
Her wordsmyHannibal flash in my head as I stare down into her wide, wary eyes. “I’m yours first. I’m only theirs because I knew I’d get you as part of the bargain. They will not turn me against you, that I can promise. Because here’s what you should know about me, Lola. I simply don’t give a fuck about what you did or didn’t do. They’ll only make the mistake of talking shit about you once in my presence. They sure as fuck won’t make it again.”
“You can’t hurt everyone who talks smack about me, Hannibal.”
“Whatever you say, doll.” I kiss her but keep it quick before I start driving again.
“Every time I thought I had things figured out, my life took a left turn. There were so many left turns, Hannibal, that it took me forever to realize that I was going around in circles. My shitty life is playing on a loop with no end in sight. And then there you are, and in the space of a week, you’ve started to unravel the tangled mess I’ve made of my life. Part of me is scared you’ll get to the center and realize I’m nothing special. Or worse, every bit as bad as people say I am.”
“And the other part?”
“The other part is scared you’ll stop trying. Every person I’ve ever cared about has quit on me. I don’t want you to be one more.”
I laugh, though a glance over at her catches the flash of hurt across her features.
“You don’t know me well if you think I’ll quit that easily. I’m a tenacious motherfucker with some fucked-up hobbies. Nothing much sparks my attention or holds my interest for long. But there's something about you that calls to me, and the longer I’m around you, the stronger the feeling gets. I’ve gotta warn you, though. That curiosity tends to twist into obsession with me. I’m either uninterested or obsessed. People say I’m crazy for a reason. By the time you realize how deep inside you I’ve buried myself, you’ll be a little bit crazy, too.”
“I can handle crazy.”
“You say that now…”
“You won’t leave me?”
“No. Not even if you beg me to.”
“Then I can handle crazy as long as you’re mine and only mine.”
She settles in with my hoodie, leaving me to contemplate her words. Do I believe she’s telling the truth?
I believe she believes she’s telling the truth, but she hasn’t seen me at my worst. There will come a time when she’ll meetthe monster that lives inside me. And when she does, she’ll run like the others who came before her. They always fucking run.
The difference is, I won’t let this one get away. I can’t. If sanity has a switch, Lola’s the one with the power to flip it. I’ve become too attached already. If this is what I feel like after a week, then fuck knows what I’ll be like in a month or a year from now.
Here’s hoping Lola's as brave as she seems to be.
Chapter Fourteen
Lola
When I wake up, we’re not moving.
I lift my head and look around, recognizing the gas station as the same one I filled up at on the way down. It’s quiet. Only one other car that I can see.
My boy takes a vicious kick at my bladder, letting me know that beggars can’t be choosers. I straighten up and wince at the crick in my neck before I unlatch my belt and open the door. I ease myself out before I spot Hannibal near the back of the truck, talking on his cell phone. He turns when I close the truck door, the loud bang echoing into the night.
“I need to use the restroom,” I mouth.
“I’ll call you back,” he tells whoever is on the phone and hangs up. “I’ll come with you.”
I won’t argue. Even if Driller wasn’t still out there somewhere, deserted gas stations in the dead of night are not female-friendly. Too many dark places to hide predators, too many places for a woman to be dragged off to without the attending hearing a sound. If we’re lucky, there’s a camera onthe door, but that’s about it. And the thing about bad guys? They always know where the fucking cameras are.
