Page 8 of Her Reckoning
The soft meow of Potato in search of more food wakes us both up after a few hours. After refilling his dish, I start the coffee, pull out the pan, and make breakfast. She finally leaves bed as I plate her eggs and set them on the island for her to enjoy. I set the fresh cup of coffee with creamer in front of her before I start to cook my eggs.
“Good Morning, beautiful. The family attorney will go with you for questions today after we relocate Potato to his new home.” I update her on the plans for the day while she drinks the coffee. She contemplates the words that I said before nodding in agreement.
“When do you want to head over?” She asks, hope filling her voice as she takes a bite. I take the seat next to her and we enjoyour breakfast together in comfortable silence while Potato purrs in the corner while eating.
“Before you go give your statement so Potato has time to adjust before bedtime,” I answer while we finish breakfast. I start to wash the dishes as she packs her first bags, smiling from ear to ear. She sets the bags down and cleans out the litter box to take with us. Without missing a beat, she grabs Potato and carefully places him in the carrier to transport him safely. She kisses my cheek as we walk the items out to our cars and load everything she will need into my car.
“Ready to see your new home?” I ask, hope in my voice like never before. The idea of not having to be apart from her again warms my heart. We hold hands the entire way from the apartment to our house on the nice side of town in the center of the family’s territory and park in the garage. She steps out of the car to grab Potato out of the back seat and I grab the litter box. As soon as we walk through the mud room, I close the garage and enter the living room. I set down the carrier, place the litter box in the mudroom in view of Potato, and release him. He hesitates at first but then goes to explore the area while I give her the tour. We go from the open kitchen to the spare room that will become her own office.
TEXT MESSAGE:
From: Mrs. Tracey
Message: I can meet her there at 2:00 PM. She is not to speak to them or sign anything without my prior approval.
We unload her stuff from the car into our room and she puts away her clothes, smiling the entire time as I watch her from bed. The calm of having this space with her settles with each item she unpacks. I can see our lives blending together, from evenings spent on the couch laughing with each other to nightscovered in the blood of those who deserve to die. She is my everything, and without her, my life would be obsolete, leaving me adrift without purpose. As she goes to walk past me to her side of the bed, I clasp her wrist, push her against the wall, and cage her in with my arms.
“If we didn’t have places to be today, I would fuck you in every room of this house to celebrate us moving in together, but you have an appointment to keep and I know you would feel more comfortable if we picked up your car,” I whisper in her ear before placing a stream of kisses up her throat to her lips. She lifts onto her tiptoes to deepen the kiss, pulling a groan from me. I grab her by the throat, pushing her back as I increase the passion in the kiss, nearly losing myself in the bliss of her lips.
“Fucking hell, you are trouble of the best kind,” I say breathlessly. We make sure the mudroom door is closed and walk to the car holding hands because I cannot make myself let her go. The car ride back to her apartment building is comfortable silence and stolen kisses at stop lights. Parking my car in the open space across the lot from hers, I watch and wait for her to safely get in her car so she can go to the station. She opens the door, sits down and goes to start her car when an explosion of light flashes followed by a deafening boom.
The world stops spinning, but not the ringing in my ear. I wobble on my feet trying to get to the car when Less rounds the corner, holding me back. With the car fully engulfed in flames, I know she is gone, and just like her car, our future goes up in flames.
