“That would be great,” I say, feeling him relax. “Thanks.”
He responds by revving the engine of the bike—and that’s when I hear my father shouting my name from the back door of the house. His hands are tied behind his back and he’s staggering, blood pouring from his nose. “Allie James! You get your ass back here right now or you’ll never be allowed back, you ungrateful bitch!”
My love for storms has never caused one to manifest inside of me, but a monsoon swells in my chest now and I look back at the pathetic old man with every ounce of rebellion brewing inside of me. Baring my teeth, I give him the middle finger and dismiss him. Forever.
“Atta girl,” Moore murmurs a second before gunning the engine, kicking up gravel on the way down the driveway. I don’t look back a single time.
* * *
We drive for half an hour. Twenty minutes on the highway, ten minutes looping our way to a higher elevation. The trees grow more and more dense, the road deserted. The screech of an owl can be heard every so often over the roaring engine of Moore’s bike, the call of a wolf in the distance. We don’t pass a single car on the way to the cabin, and that comforts me when I should be worried.
Shouldn’t I?
I can’t allow the last two years of psychological warfare to mean nothing. To melt away in the face of tonight’s act of kindness. I meant what I said. I need Moore to leave me alone. To release the hold he has on me. I’ve cut one negative force out of my life tonight. The last thing I need is a replacement. But as I grow drowsy against his strong back, his leather and citrus scent lulling me, courting the trust he doesn’t deserve, I worry leaving him by the wayside might be easier said than done.
Especially when we arrive at the moonlit cabin and he lifts me off the bike, cradling me to his chest a moment too long before settling me onto my feet. It’s hard giving up his warmth, but I push off his chest, creating distance between us. He watches me back away like I’m ripping his heart out.
“There is a shower inside,” he says, quietly. “You can finally get the, uh…” He blows a breath out at the sky. “…the blood off.”
Rain begins falling before I can answer.
It’s nothing like the precipitation that falls in my field. No, this rain has to trickle down through the trees and it’s bigger, gloppier. Must be the higher elevation. I hold my hand out and catch a few drops, bringing the moisture to my face and rinsing away the crimson that has dried to my upper lip, the corner of my eye. “There.” I use the hem of my T-shirt to dry my face. “All gone.”
“You’re not hurting anywhere else?”
“I’ll be fine.” Why is he breathing so fast? “What’s wrong, Moore?”
“What’s wrong?” He fights through a shuddering laugh, sliding all ten fingers through his hair. “Where do I start? Most pressing is…I know you’re going to want me to leave you here alone and I don’t think I can. Look, if you want to lock the doors, I’ll sleep outside on the ground, Allie, but please don’t ask me to go.”
He’s right. I was going to tell him it’s fine to head home.
There was a convenience store with a payphone a mile down the road. If there is no working phone in the cabin, I can still make calls, if necessary. I’m not sure what my next move is going to be, now that I’ve run away from home. But I know I’ll never be able to think with a clear head as long as Moore is around, looking at me like a wounded animal.
“Moore…”
“It’s just that once I leave, I know that’s it. You’re going to shut me out again. And this time, it’ll be your choice.” He paces away, still raking those agitated fingers through his pitch-black hair. Rain is starting to come down harder, splattering on the shoulders of his leather jacket, dampening the pine needle-strewn earth at our feet. “I deserve to be cut off. Jesus, I know that. But if there was something I could do to make up the last two years to you, even just a little—”
“There is,” I say, surprising myself. I didn’t plan to say anything. Didn’t know I had a single thing in mind. As soon as those two words are out of my mouth, though, I know there is something I need from Moore. And he’s the only one who can give it to me. “Get yourself out of my system.”
He stands still as a statue. “What?”
“Get yourself out of my system.” The rain makes me speak louder, feel bolder and freer. “For two years you antagonized me, insulted me, stalked me, bullied me…” He makes an anguished sound, his eyelids slamming shut. “And yet, I still—I still can’t stop thinking of your hands on my breasts that night in the field. How big and warm and rough they were. I can’t stop imagining you taking off my clothes. Every stitch. Even the ugliest things you’ve said to me, I imagine you saying them in my ear while you…while we…”