Page 52 of Genesis

I scoff. “Don’t say that. I’m not a fucking kid.”

“I didn’t mean it that way, Bexley. Jesus Christ, Hail Mary.” He rolls his eyes. “Come here,” he says. “Walk to me.”

It takes me a moment, but I gather myself and take small steps toward him, grimacing as I do. My bones creak, and my hips protest and pop.

“I’m never sitting again.”

He chuckles. “I’ve got to get out of this chair, too.” Danny’s chair is not the same as mine. His is iron, while mine is wood. The only way he can get out is if we cut the zip ties around his wrists, arms, and legs.

“Okay, I’m here,” I say.

“Turn around and bend. I’ll lean up as much as I can. There’s a knife on my hip.”

“What? A knife? You still wear that?”

My mind flies back to almost losing my virginity to this man, before, ya know, actually losing my virginity to this man. I remember the knife he wore on his hip. He always wore it. “Why are you just now telling me this?” I spin around, almost tumbling over.

“Careful,” he says. “Okay, back up. It’s on my belt on the left side.”

I reach for him, feeling the softness of his shirt. I pull it up and feel for the knife.

“Fuck,” he says. “I thought it might be gone. That’s why I didn’t say anything.”

I stand up straight and turn back to look at him.

He shakes his head, his brow furrowing. “This guy does know me. He knows me well enough to know I wear a knife. Fuck!” he says again.

I flinch and take a step back. Danny rubs his chin over his shoulder, looking around. I see the dried blood on his temple and down the side of his face.

“Does that hurt?” I ask, pointing at my chin.

“What?” He realizes what I’m talking about. “Oh, that. No.”

I look down at where I lifted his shirt to get the knife, seeing bruising. “What about that?”

He looks down. “It’s fine, love.”

I freeze in place at the term of endearment he just used for me. I feel as though the ground tilts, the walls shift, and my balance gets thrown to the wind.

My husband only called me Bexley or Bex, which was fine. But Danny called me love, and it always, always made me melt. I should be mad at him. I should hate him so much, but my heart just won’t let me.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he says, shaking his head. “I know you hate me. I shouldn’t have called you that.”

“I don’t hate you, Danny. I hate what you did to me, to us.”

He looks up at me, his eyes tired as lines web out from them. Danny’s no longer a boy. No, that’s for sure. He’s a man, and this lifestyle he’s chosen has aged him.

He’s still as handsome as ever, though, just a little rougher looking. More tattoos, more scars.

But the same person I’ve always loved.

I look around, not wanting to get sucked into the force that isus.“There’s got to be something in here that can cut these off.” I go about looking, leaving him alone with his thoughts, even though there’s only a bathroom and a bedroom to disappear to.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Bexley

2003

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