Page 200 of Dirty Discipline, Vol. 1

She would. She did.

I try to think about where they’d go, what her kind of places are. North? South? No larger cities. Not a chance.

I jog back up to their apartment again to look for any kind of clue, lead in my stomach, my insides a knot of conflicting emotions of longing, despair, and anger.

I’ll spank that girl so hard when I have her to myself again.

If.

There’s absolutely nothing to go on. I must face the fact that I fucked up. They probably have hours on me, and they could’ve headed anywhere. It’s them, after all.

“Fuck!” I kick the kitchen table. Then again, and again. “Fuck!”

I know exactly three ways of solving a conflict: my fists, a fuck, or hit the road.

I don’t intend to beat my bunny to a pulp if I ever even find her again. Fucking her didn’t solve shit.

I slam the door closed, head down the stairs, turn on the engine, and then I’m off. Fuck this town. Fuck this life. I’ll drink until I forget it ever existed.

I know from hard-earned experience the hole in my chest will stay forever, and my heart looks like it’s been target practice on a fucking shooting ranch.

Chapter 8

Summer

Mom drives. I ride shotgun while watching the vast forest as we pass it. Mile after mile. It never seems to end. I’ll miss it sorely. We’ve never stayed this long at one place. I might have always had a nomad soul, but this year has made me change my mind. I could have settled down here. After all this exploring, it feels as if I have every twig, every root, every leaf ingrained into my being.

It’s not why I have to blink away tears, though. With every mile I put between Stephan and me, the pain grows. I could have stayed with him. We had something beautiful, something real. At least I thought so until the bubble burst.

A movement in the periphery of my vision catches my attention, and I turn my head. A large gray dog-like animal runs along the tree line. A wolf. My heart lurches. The memory of feeling a warm, breathing being tightly pressed against my back during the night is still vivid.

Our eyes meet, and his yellow gaze seems both kind and dangerous at the same time. Then he stops. I throw myself at the window to catch the last sight of him.

It’s as if the redwood forest and all its creatures bid me farewell.

I see Stephan before me. He’s the wolf. The wolf is him. He’s predatory, dangerous, a force of nature. I’m soft where he is hard. I’m gentle where he is rough. I give, he takes. I have a tiny loving family where he was irreparably hurt by his.

I have so much love to give where he has none.

And still we were a beautiful match. Our comfortable silence. His genuine interest when I told him about the forest and all its life. His eagerness to teach me about the world, about countries and literature, music, and food. The serenity of simply being in his presence.

I choke down the grief and turn to Mom, covering her hand with mine.

She gives me a glance. “Are you all right, honey?”

Her kind voice breaks my heart, and the dam bursts. “No,” I choke out. “I’m not.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Yes.” I want to ingrain the memories firmly into my soul. I want to tell her everything.

Almost.

“We met when I broke into his house. Well, technically it isn’t a break-in when it’s unlocked, right?”

“Right,” she says. “Those are the rules.”

I smile through the tears. She’s so silly.

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