Unable to articulate my emotions, I began, “I...” I raised the arm not holding Charlie and scrubbed my hand down my face. “I’m not sure what to say.”
Her face fell, a look of utter devastation washing over her features as I fought the urge to reach over and take her hand. The way she hung her head and the tremor in her voice told me she felt utterly defeated, a sense of hopelessness radiating from her.
I took a minute to sit with my feelings as Stella sipped on her coffee. I was completely at a loss for words, unsure how to articulate to Stella the whirlwind of emotions I was experiencing following her shocking revelation. After all, I’d only met her yesterday.
Even then, something inside of me screamed that I couldn’t just let her deal with all of this alone. What would happen to her and Charlie if these men did find her?
She sipped the last bit of her coffee, sucking the remnants of the liquid up the straw, creating a loud gurgling sound. I watched her plump lips slide to the end of the straw and her tongue dart out to catch a stray drop of the drink.
What was it about this woman with her enigmatic, hard fought smile, and piercing gaze that caused such a visceral reaction in me even after hearing how she’d left her dead boyfriend on the floor of their apartment and bolted for safety?
I felt an overwhelming need to slay all her demons, lock her up in my tower, keep her safe, and fuck her simultaneously. It was unsettling.
I looked down at the little girl in my arms, wondering what it would be like to live in a constant state of oblivion to how cruel the world around you is.
I brushed a stray curl away from her forehead and watched as she shifted, pursing her pouty lips. She was so innocent in all of this.
Ma had always called me her ‘little thinker,’ but in thatmoment, the urge to act overtook my usual careful nature, a rush of adrenaline replacing my contemplative mind.
I looked up to meet Stella’s eyes and without hesitation said, “move in with me”.
Her reaction was immediate; a sharp intake of breath, a tremor in her hands. The expression of defeat on her face quickly transformed into one of utter shock as she recoiled.
“Excuse the fuck out of me?”
“Move in with me,” I repeated. “You and Charlie can come stay on the ranch with my brother Wade and I. We have the room and you need a place to stay. It’s outside of town, off the beaten path, and you’ll be safe there.” I shrugged like the suggestion of moving in with two strangers was a normal conversation for a Tuesday morning in a small town coffee shop.
“Wade and I moved into the big house on the ranch a couple of years ago. It’s basically a bachelor pad, but it has five bedrooms. We’re only using two currently, a third when Wade’s best friend Ray stays over. We can set you up in a room until you can get on your feet. The house has a security system, and my dad lives right next door in the old bunkhouse.”
The voice in my head was barely audible, a faint breath of a suggestion—‘or you can just stay forever’. The thought came unexpectedly, and I shook it off, completely baffled by where it was coming from. This girl had me thrown completely off my rocker.
I had never been this impulsive, even with Shannon. Our relationship hadn’t been the type of instantaneous, passionate whirlwind romance you often read about in novels; instead, it unfolded more gradually and steadily. Nearly eight years ofbuilding our life together, I popped the question - and, well; you know the rest.
Stella’s mouth opened and closed like a fish as she attempted to gather the words she was looking for. I was sure she was about to curse me six ways to Sunday when she looked down at Charlie. I could see the resignation etched across her face, a visible shift in her demeanor that spoke volumes.
She knew they needed safety and stability more than she needed her pride. I could see the war between what she needed and what she wanted flashing through her mind. I knew that her hesitance was deep-rooted in her fear of being controlled again.
I wasn’t trying to take away her independence or staunch her resilience. This girl was fierce. I was trying to offer her the opportunity to lean on other people for help.
“How do I know you’re not a serial killer?” she prodded.
With a quiet chuckle, I twisted, feeling the smooth fabric of my pants shift as I reached into my back pocket for my wallet. I flicked it open and handed it to her.
“Maxwell Jason Daniels, born August 15th, 1997 - address is 407 D and D Ranch Way. Social security…” she cut me off by putting her hand up.
I could see the subtle shake of her head as she cataloged my ridiculousness.
“Run a background check, Trouble. It will come back clean - minus the time I got caught running down main street in my skivvies on a dare at twenty-one. Ask anyone in this town anything you want to know about me. I promise you and Charlie will be safe.”
“Skivvies? What is this, 1950?” she laughed as she handed me back my folded wallet.
I carefully tucked it back into my pocket, taking great care not to jostle Charlie, and looked back up at her. She was chewing on one of her cuticles, and I reached forward to coax her hand gently from her mouth.
“I have the same nervous habit - my nail girl hates it.” I joked, flashing my stubby fingernails and cracked cuticles in her direction.
She let out another breathy laugh. I wanted to keep making her laugh, to see the crinkles around her eyes and hear that melodic sound. She rolled her eyes incredulously at my joke before taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly, as if blowing out all the trepidation she’d been harboring.
“Okay.” she sighed.
