Page 143 of Like A Moth To A Flame

“I am an adult,” I bit, and when the words reached my ears, they sounded venomous, even to me. “So it doesn’t matter how old he is, does it?”

She sighed, and when she looked up at me she had a sort of disappointment in her eyes that only made me madder.

“Sweetheart, what would your daddy say?”

I saw red. Something in me snapped, and I lunged forward, snatching the keys off the counter and shoving them into my pocket as I turned toward the door.

“Mydadwould be happy that I was happy. My dad would be happy that I found someone who makes me feel comfortable and safe now that he’s gone and I have no one left. My dad would be comfortable with the fact that I was content, and it was someone good and kind and sweet, and kept to him-fucking-self, which is more than I can say aboutsome peoplein this town.” A wicked grin split my lips, and I turned to face her. “As for my daddy? Well, you’ll have to ask Tommy about that, won’t you?”

I pulled down the front of my turtleneck to reveal the collar gleaming around my neck, and the way the blood drained from her face told me everything I needed to know.

Let her gasp. Let her eyes widen so far that they were in danger of falling out of her face entirely.

Let her talk. Let them all talk.

I stomped out the door, slamming it back against the wall so hard that it cracked the plaster.

Fuck. I’d have to fix that, too. Worth it. It was all worth it.

I hurried into my car and slammed the door closed, throwing it into reverse just as Tammy appeared at the door, white as a ghost as she appeared in the dim light of a late fall day. She looked dumbfounded, and I liked it.

I slammed my foot down on the gas and tore out of the parking lot, leaving her coughing in the exhaust and feeling more proud of myself than I could remember feeling in a long time.

It wasn’t until I was halfway home that it hit me, and my heart dropped down into my stomach, tears prickling the corners of my eyes and sticking in my throat until it hurt with every swallow. By the time I pulled into the driveway, my vision was swimming with tears, so much so that I couldn’t see anything but swirling colors and waves of saltwater as I tossed the car into park and yanked the keys out of the engine.

How dare she judge me like that? How dare she assume and say Tommy was too old for me? Who gave her the fucking right?

I didn’t even see him standing there until he was pulling open the car door, and the moment I smelled his familiar scent, I broke. I pulled in a shaking breath, my lungs burning and my throat aching.

“Moth, what’s wrong?”

His deep baritone was my safety net as I fell apart, dissolving in a fit of tears so violently that I shook with every ragged inhale. I felt him reach across me, his fingers finding the seatbelt and clicking it off, pulling it over and putting it in place before he pulled me into his arms and pressed me against his chest. I found myself enveloped in the smell that had gone from my worst nightmare to my favorite daydream in a couple of months.

“What happened?” he asked, and I heard his tone shift from worried to angry. And I reveled in that anger, I swam in it like a comforting bath that cleansed me of all unhappiness. “Who do I need to hurt? Give me a name.”

I shook my head, my chestnut waves sticking in my tear-stained face as I blinked away the tears and pulled back, forcing myself out of his arms to look up at him instead. A shaking hand shoved into my pocket, numb fingers finding the keyring and pulling itout of my pocket. I showed it to him, clutching it in my palm as I held it in front of his eyes, and his whiskey-barrel depths looked confused and then worried when I began to laugh—a low chuckle that morphed into a manic giggle.

“I-I did it,” I told him, sniffling as I smiled. “I b-bought the old clinic. I bought it. It’s… It’s mine. It’s ours.”

I watched his handsome face shift from concern to happiness and then to worry, his eyes darkening as he looked up at me.

“Is that why you’re crying?” he asked. “A-are you happy? Is that it?”

I shook my head.

“No. No, it’s not that. Its…” I trailed off, shaking my head. “Tommy, let’s get married.”

I swallowed hard, shoving past the apprehension that stuck in my throat.

“I want everyone to know. I want to tell the world. I want to be your wife.”

I watched his face morph into something unreadable, and then happy and confused at the same time.

35

Nervous, trip over my words. You’re so pretty, it hurts…

Firefly

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