I didn’t care.
No one cared.
Article Five was supposed to break me free from that. Sure, it served other purposes. It was traditional for a marriage to have sex involved. Lyra needed to appear like she was mine by anyone who saw her so no one would question our sudden marriage. There were only a few people still in town who would recognize her, like Helen, but none that would stop by anytime soon. The excuse that we were high school sweethearts would work, but would also start shit with Jamie that I just didn’t want to get into. He didn’t need to be privy to more of my personal life than he already was.
Lyra saw Article Five and spat on it, then rubbed it in my face that no matter what I did, she wasn’t going to come around. She was in it for the money, and I was ready to throw fifty thousand dollars at her feet just to keep her for longer. But then shedestroyed my truck, let me take her out, and tried to cover the fact she had tears steadily streaming down her face the entire ride back home. Maybe I was being hopeful as hell, but it made me think shedidcare.
It was dumb of me to think her caring again would lead to the same place I’d arrived at when I gave in. Last time she showed she cared, she fucking ran.
When we got back home, Lyra didn’t give me time to get out and get the door for her. I watched through the windshield as she bolted inside, slamming every door she walked through with a loud bang. The drawn curtains inside our home allowed me a clear view until she reached the bathroom, which had become something like her haven.
Reaching into the back seat of the truck, I grabbed the few grocery bags I’d meant to bring in earlier—in my excitement to see her, I’d forgotten all about them—and headed inside. I decided to give her some time before going right for where I knew she’d gone, knowing if I pushed her too far, she’d just bolt. I ended up pacing the living room, swinging the bag at my side, talking myself up and then down again.
She might scream at me, try to fight me, and end up runnin’.
Or, she might finally talk.
Run. Talk. Run. Talk.
Run…
Fucking hell.
Forty-five minutes was long enough to wait for another door to slam or water to start running. When neither of those happened, I entered our bedroom.
Not asleep, then.
“Ly.” I drummed my knuckles on the bathroom door. Silence. “Ly, please—”
The door ripped open, and my gaze shot to her red, puffy eyes, and blotches of pink on her cheeks and neck. “Here.” I turnedand held the bags out to her, giving her space to do the thing I hadn’t been able to since she left—feel.
She sniffled as the weight of the bags lifted from my fingers. “What’s this?”
I reached back and cupped my neck. “Um…things you might need. I don’t know.”
The bags rustled. “Hair ties?”
“It gets hot. I don’t know where you went off to, but the summer here is still just as terrible as it always has been.” I decided to leave out how I’d wished I had something to keep her hair back when she drank too much.
More rustling behind me allowed the heavy breath I’d been holding to leave unnoticed. Her voice came out soft, and a little broken as she said, “Georgia.”
“What?” My head whippedjustover my shoulder, then spun back to face the bed.
“Georgia. Right past the border. That’s where I went.” I nodded, images of searching so many streets and towns flashing through my mind. For almost a year I did that—searching and hoping—before finally deciding she’d gone so far, I’d never find her again. “You got me tampons?”
“Didn’t know what you’d need, but seein’ as I have nothing here for…thatkind of thing—”
“A woman, you mean.” This time when she spoke, it almost sounded like she was smiling.
I couldn’t help but turn. Fuck the space, I wanted to see—
That.
“And face masks?” Her smile widened as she dug deeper into the bag. I felt like it was my birthday, or Christmas—something with gifts. Her lighting up was better than any gift I’d been given lately. “You remembered I like dark chocolate?”
I remember everything, sweetheart.
“Yeah,” I admitted.
