Devil You Know(21)
He has me there. Labeled out like that, I can understand how pathetic I must look to him.
“I guess I never saw what he was doing when it happened so slowly over the years.”
He shifts through the gears, and takes a left turn. Bringing the pick-up back up to speed, he reaches across and takes my hand in his. “Tell me what you were like before him.”
I choke back my tears. The gesture of holding my hand has me all skedaddled upstairs. I can’t think straight, let alone remember something I’d tried to forget while he’s doing that.
“I’m not sure.”
“Were you outgoing? Assertive? The life of the party, or a wallflower?” he prompts.
I stare out the side window, trying to remember. I want to say I was outgoing, but I can’t be certain. I sure as hell couldn’t have been assertive if I let a creep like Dylan win me over. “I guess I was naive.”
“I bet you were smart. And I bet you were loyal to your friends. But my guess is you were compassionate, too, and he took advantage of that.”
My mind drifts back to how Dylan and I met. I was young, and out for a weekend camping with a few of my friends. Some bands played at a festival several hours from our hometown, and we’d decided on a whim to make a getaway out of it.
It had been a dark night—no moon—and soft rain fell. Two of my friends had already gone back to our tents, and I was left with Amy, a girl I’d known since grade school. She met up with some guy and disappeared on me, leaving me to walk back to our campground in the rain, alone.
That didn’t bother me in the slightest, but the guy following a block behind had. I turned and confronted him, and he’d stolen my breath away; he was tall, muscular, and dominant. He’d told me how much he wanted to kiss me, and that he never had any luck with the girls, which is why he couldn’t strike up the guts to talk to me before then. He seemed so sure of himself, so frightening, yet so vulnerable.
I’d fallen for his sob story, and let him take my head in his hands, kissing me senseless until I asked him where he lived.
That was the first night I spent with Dylan.
“You pretty much summed it up perfectly,” I reply.
“We’re here.” He drops my hand, and turns the pick-up into a long, dirt driveway.
I stare out the windscreen at the farmhouse that slowly emerges from the dense trees. It’s classical, but well looked after. White timber, and blue window frames. Pretty.
“It’s furnished and everything, so you won’t have to worry about much.”
I glance across the car at him. “Thank you.”
Malice opens his door, and rounds the car to let me out. I take his offered hand, and look up at the house while he lets Rocco off the chain. His furry, black butt disappears around the back of the property.
“Is he okay out there?”
Malice nods. “There are fences all around the property. He won’t get out.” He walks to the right side of the house, and shuts the narrow gate Rocco bolted through. “Let’s get you settled.”
• • • • •
“WONDERFUL.” I take the cup of steaming coffee from Malice, and set it down on the outdoor table. “Thank you.”
We’ve been outside for a while watching Rocco run around, and the sun begin to descend. It’s peaceful here, and the warm tones of the turning trees make it homely. I could sit in this spot for days. I can sit in this spot for days if I want to. The freedom to decide my own schedule is foreign, and I long for Malice to give me one thing to do to occupy my hands. Anything.
“I told the cops we’d meet at the station tomorrow to go over the details. They agreed that you could do with the space for a night, but asked that you jot down anything you might forget.” Malice takes a seat opposite me, and places his beer on the table.
“I don’t think I’ll forget any of it.”
“Only passing on what they said to me.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
He leans forward, and takes the arms of my chair in his strong hands, turning me to face him. “Let’s get something clear—I don’t want to hear that word again this week, okay?”
“Fair enough. Sorry.” I clap my hand to my mouth. It falls so easily. I’ve got no idea how I’m going to make a week, let alone a day.
He smiles, and cups my chin. “I’ll let that one slide. How are the ribs?”
“Starting to ache.”
“Stay there. I’ll get your meds.”
He returns a short time later, and drops the pills into my palm before handing me a plain biscuit.
“I know I said I’d be staying, and that I’ve got time off work, but I need to head out tonight and sort a few things before the week starts.”