Page 42 of Fear of Flames
The realization hit and combined with the memory of her father on the floor as flames climbed the walls of his living room. The emptiness within her felt cavernous—a deep dark hole that she wasn’t sure how to navigate. More memories returned. Her nose scrunched at the one of the man’s dirty hands on her mouth. Phantom cold prickled her feet. Tears burned her eyes, as if there wasn’t enough room in her heart for more pain.
When the sound of the shower stopped, Michelle turned, burying her face in the soft pillow and trying to hide her breakdown.
“What the hell?” Fletch’s deep tenor seeped into her consciousness as a warm hand came comfortingly to her shoulder. “Shelly.”
She shook her head. “I’m all right.” The clean scent of the motel bodywash filled her senses.
The side of the mattress dipped. “Turn around.”
Slowly, she did as he asked and wiped the tears from her cheek. Opening her blood shot eyes, Michelle took in the half-naked man. A towel wrapped around his waist was his only attire. His dark hair was wet, releasing droplets of water on his broad shoulders. His lack of shaving over the last few days was accumulating into a nice dark beard over his cheeks and jaw.
“Really.” She tried to sound convincing.
Fletch’s lips pressed together. “It’s okay not to be all right. It’s probably the way a normal person would react to all that you’ve been through.”
Michelle shook her head. “I don’t know what to do. When I close my eyes, I see things I want to forget. I feel…alone.”
Fletch stood and turned. The towel fell to the floor showing Michelle his fine ass. While the firm cheeks and dimple at his lower spine were gawk-worthy, her focus went to his shoulders, specifically to his tattoo, one like her father’s. The view added to her distress. When he turned around, he was wearing black boxer briefs and a half smile. “You’re not alone, Shelly. I promise to be a gentleman if you want to let me rest close to you, so you know you’re not alone.”
“Fletch,” she began. “This isn’t who I am. I’m not needy or weak.”
“Okay, it’s me. Let me fall asleep knowing that no one can get to you.”
Swallowing, Michelle nodded. Although she barely knew this man, Michelle trusted him. And that was what mattered the most.
After turning off the lights, Fletch slid under the covers on the other side of the bed. He scooted in. “Are you going to meet me halfway?”
She contemplated his question. “I don’t want your pity.”
“How about just a shoulder to cry or sleep on?”
Exhaling, she scooted closer, feeling his heat and inhaling his clean scent. His arm came around her, pulling her closer. This wasn’t the mad passion of the other night. It was something different—not sexual. It was reassuring. Michelle laid her head on his hard shoulder.
No more words were said. In the warmth of his embrace, she closed her eyes. To her surprise, sleep came.
Time passed, but she didn’t know how much when Michelle woke to the sound of Fletch moving about the motel room. After blinking her eyes, she remembered where she was and why she was there. Pushing herself to sit against the headboard, she noticed the unmade bed to her side. Fletch must have slept.
When he turned to see her awake and sitting, a smile curled his lips. “I wasn’t certain what kind of magical spell I’d need to wake you.”
“Magical spell?”
“You know, in the fairy tales, the beautiful woman is awakened only by…” He scoffed.
Michelle pressed her lips together, certain she didn’t fall under that description. Shaking her head, she threw back the blankets. “I can’t believe how soundly I slept.” She stepped from the bed and stretched. “I owe it to you.”
“My goal is for you to have many more restful nights.”
“Did you get enough sleep?” she asked. “What time is it?”
“I got about six hours. That’s more than I normally get. We keep gaining an hour as we head west. I mapped out our next stop near Rapid City. We should be able to check in before sunrise.”
There were so many questions running through Michelle’s thoughts, yet it was her realization before falling asleep that kept her content. She trusted Fletch.
Less than twenty minutes later, they were sipping gas station coffee in the dusty black truck. The clock on the dash read a little after five in the evening. With a cooler in the back seat filled with deli sandwiches, water bottles, and caffeine drinks, there would be no reason to stop except to fill up the gas tank and take bathroom breaks.
Beyond the lights of Peoria, the dark sky prevailed and the cab of the truck filled with country music.
Michelle turned to Fletch. “I just realized, I don’t know your last name.”
