Page 56 of Runaway
A long silence passed where I remained frozen, ready to leap out of bed, before Megan grumbled something about getting stuff from her car first and the door shut with a thud behind her. Mark growled, hooked an arm around me, and pulled me back down.
“She'll be a while,” he murmured against my neck. “They haven't seen each other in like three days so they’re going to pretend as if it’s been a year and makeout forever.”
My defenses were low this early, and before coffee, so I gave in to the warm lure of his arms and sank back to the covers. He yanked them back over us and snuggled close again. His warm breath caressed my neck in a gesture that felt like an embrace itself. With a sigh, I relished the feeling of his arms around me and heat on a frosty morning. What had I been missing all these years?
This. All of this.
Mark hummed when I absently ran the tips of my fingers across his growing stubble. It prickled gently.
“Did you know she was coming?” I asked.
He shook his head. He still hadn't even opened his eyes. The relaxed contours of his face were more wrinkled in the morning but somehow gentler. Calmer. More at ease and . . . normal.
“Do you think—”
“She'll love you,” he immediately said.
“I wasn't worried about that.”
“Good.” He rolled slightly away to yawn. “Some people are scared of Meg at first, or maybe just the reputation for being a bad-ass that precedes her, but she's really chill. Maybe protective, but chill.”
His comfort wasn't working. Until he'd said something, I hadn't felt that nervous about it. But now I wondered if I should. Before I could dive too far into that thought, he kicked the blankets off. Chilly air replaced the lovely warmth we'd been snuggling in and I fought off a scowl. If Mark saw me protesting, he'd probably burrow back in for the next hour, refuse to let me go, and then Megan wouldreallyhave a great first impression of me.
“C'mon,” he yawned, a hand held out. “I'll make the coffee. Let's get this over with.”
* * *
With that ominous thought, I trailed above Mark down the ladder and into a mostly-warm cabin.
Certainly wasn't as cold as last night, but still chilly. A blanket of fog lay on the world outside. The storm had moved on not long ago, leaving wisps of fog clinging to the canyon walls. Scudding clouds crossed a low gray sky. Wet snow bowed tree branches to the ground.
Not far away, out the window over the sink, I caught a glimpse of a woman in black yoga pants, furry boots, and a head of dark brown hair jump into Justin's waiting arms. He caught her and whirled them both around in a sparkling eddy of falling snow. Atticus bounded happily through the drifts around them, barking.
That adorable reunion calmed the tension that still clung to my ribs with tenacious fingers. Although the mountain lion was the most likely culprit for Atticus's late-night barking session, in my mind I hadn't been able to rule Joshua out entirely.
Mark yawned every thirty seconds as he puttered around, built the fire back up and fired up the coffee machine. I stumbled around coffee cups and pods and tried to pull my thoughts together.
A quick warm shower, a new set of clothes, and pulling my hair out of my face did wonders to restore my brain. When I emerged from the bathroom, Mark had some semblance of humanity restored to his face. He didn't wake up well most days. This sleepy, cozy morning seemed even harder to untangle from, and I wished wecouldhave snuggled in bed all morning.
He opened his mouth to say something, but the back door opened. A snowy Atticus bounded by, shaking snow all over the place. Justin followed, his arm wrapped around the girl that must be Megan.
She ripped a white snow hat off her head as she entered, saw me standing in the bathroom doorway, and smiled. Vestiges of Mark lived in her eyes, and JJ in her face shape. She had his sculpted cheekbones, but Mark's spark of vivacity.
“You must be the infamous Stella Marie,” she said.
Something cold came into my stomach at that, but I played it off with a smile. “Infamous?” My eyes widened. “That sounds ominous.”
She laughed but didn't release Justin. Or, more aptly, he didn't release her. They stood in the hallway together, looking equally as powerful and adorable as I'd expected. If there was any woman that matched Justin's easy confidence, Megan was that woman. I envied her natural presence in a room.
“I'm Megan,” she said. “My dad told me how much he likes you. Mom is dying because she hasn't met you yet. And may I thank you, on behalf of our entire family, for saving Mark from the world’sworstideas the past couple of years.”
A paper cup sailed out of the kitchen to land right on the back of her head. Megan glared good-naturedly at him, but Mark feigned innocence. Justin pulled her farther into the cabin, and only then did I notice that she carried a couple of sacks.
“Breakfast burritos, brother!” she called and tossed them onto the table. “I bring them as a peace offering.”
Mark wilted into a chair and grabbed the closest bag. “All is forgiven!” he declared in a grating operetta. Then he tossed a foil-wrapped something to me. “Stella, these breakfast burritos are the best. You gotta try them.”
Any awkwardness that might have come from the fact that I clearly slept in Mark's house with him never arose. Justin, Meg, Mark, and I cluttered around the small table barely big enough for two and fell into an instant discussion about breakfast foods. Megan spent most of her time staring or laughing at Justin. He kept a sturdy arm around the back of her chair and returned the doting attention.
