NERO: Chapter 72

A quiet beeping pulls me into consciousness before it’s stopped.

“Sorry,” Nero whispers, pressing a kiss to my hair. “Go back to sleep.”

I slide the hand that’s resting on his chest around to his side, and I squeeze him in a partial hug. “Just another minute.”

His chest rumbles under my ear. “How swiftly you’ve stopped being a morning person.”

Eyes closed, I smile at his tease. “I was never a morning person.”

A big hand rubs circles on my back. “Then why were you working at a place like Twin’s?”

“I don’t know if it’s the time of day or what, but breakfast places seem to have less harassment from customers.” I yawn. “Or maybe it’s just the fact that they aren’t drunk. But the few times I’ve worked in bars, it wasn’t fun.”

Nero’s heavy exhale ruffles through my hair. “I’m sorry I asked.”

I try to look up at him, but he moves his palm to the side of my head, holding me in place.

“It wasn’t that bad.” I settle into his chest.

“No one will ever touch you again. Anyone tries and they die.”

I probably shouldn’t grin at that, especially since I know he means it, but I still do.

“Now go back to sleep.”

Something bumps into the back of my leg, followed by a metallic jangle as Toto shakes his head.

Nero’s chest shifts under me, and I know he’s arching his neck to look at the dog who apparently snuck his way onto the bed last night.

“Little shit.” Nero’s tone holds no real censure, then he settles back down onto his pillow.

“Do you have to get up?”

“Yeah. Just let me hold you a while longer.”

“Okay.” My lids lower, and I let the warmth and scent of Nero lull me back toward sleep. “I’m going to miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too,” is the last thing I hear before I drift off.

Something cold presses against my cheek.

I bat at it, squeezing my eyes shut against the bright light filling the room.

A tongue laps across the back of my hand.

“Gross!” I laugh, squinting up at Toto’s furry face looming over me.

His mouth is open, and it looks like he’s grinning at me.

“Morning, buddy.” He bumps his head against my hand. “You want some scratches?” I ask, as I use my fingertips to scratch that good spot behind a dog’s ears.

Toto leans his full weight into my touch and gratefulness for Nero fills my entire being.

I really do love that crazy man.

The sentiment is quickly followed by the all-consuming need to pee.

Moving slowly, I appreciate the soreness between my legs.

Toto follows me into the bathroom, sniffing his way inside the shower, while I relieve myself.

“I’ll take you out in just a minute,” I assure him, not wanting him to pee on the floor.

The dog wags his tail at my voice, as he carries on with the exploration.

Hurrying, I finish and shuffle over to the sink.

A sheet of paper catches my attention as I wash my hands.

It’s a note from Nero, of course. And the perfect lettering in pure dark ink is exactly how I’d expect his handwriting to be.

Butterflies fill my stomach and I absently reach up to my throat, my fingers connecting with a small charm.

Dragging my eyes away from the paper, I look at my reflection in the mirror.

Sleepy eyes.

Messy hair.

Wrinkled tank top.

And a shiny gold necklace.

My fingers run over the surface of the pendant, feeling the embossed ridges.

I can’t believe I slept through him putting this on me. Then again, you probably learn to be pretty sneaky when you’re in his line of business.

Leaning toward the mirror, it takes me a moment to recognize what I’m looking at. The gold charm is circular, but not a circle. One half is an anatomically correct heart, the other half is a bloomed rose. The two halves meld perfectly with each other, and I press my hand over the metal, letting my skin warm it.

He’s my heart. I’m his rose.

Toto barks and it makes me jump. “Alright, alright, I’m going.”

I move as quickly as I can to brush my teeth and get dressed in something comfortable that covers me. Nero said I can trust Robert, but that doesn’t mean I’m not leery of being alone with another man.

Nero: Landed. I’ll call you tonight.

Nero: Morning, Baby.

Payton: Good morning. I hope you slept well.

Nero: You aren’t here. So that’s impossible.

Payton: I miss you, too.

Nero: Send me a picture of your breakfast.

Payton: Good morning to you, too. (Photo of coffee and a bagel.)

Nero: Good girl.

Payton: You want a pic of Toto’s breakfast too?

Nero: I’ll pass. Wanted to make sure you were eating. I have no doubt that dog is getting plenty of food.

Payton: (Photo of Toto next to his dish, food bits scattered all over the floor.) You’re not wrong.

Nero: I should’ve brought you with me.

Payton: Does that mean you’re not coming home tonight?

Nero: No. I’m sorry. This has turned into a fucking mess.

Payton: Just do what you have to do and don’t worry about us. We’ll be okay here.

Nero: I love you.

Payton: Good.

Nero: Payton…

Payton: I love you, more.

Nero: Payton…

Payton: Geez, fine, I love you exactly the same.

Payton: Toto just rolled over!

Nero: On purpose?

Payton: Yes, on purpose. I said it as a joke, and he just did it! Someone must’ve taught him some tricks.

Nero: I knew he was smart.

Payton: Do you think someone’s looking for him? I don’t think I could give him up if…

Nero: No one is taking that dog from you.

Nero: If he belonged to someone before, they lost that privilege when they left him on the streets.

Nero: I’ll never let anyone take him.

Payton: I love you.

Nero: Next time you’re coming with.

Payton: Could Toto come too? Are dogs allowed in the building?

Nero: I own the building. So yes, Toto can come. Hopefully he doesn’t mind the plane ride.

Payton: We can have our first flight together. It will be mother-son bonding.

Nero: I’ll teach you how to fly.

Payton: Uh… no thank you.

Nero: Non-negotiable.

Payton: You want me to be a gunslinging pilot?

Nero: I want you alive.

Payton: How about we start with you teaching me how to drive.

Nero: Consider it done.

Toto drops his bright blue tennis ball where he stands, then circles four times and promptly drops onto the rug.

“At least one of us is tired,” I grumble, flopping back across the couch.

I shouldn’t be bored. This house is humungous, and it has everything I could possibly want, but it’s been a week since Nero left and I can only watch so many movies by myself.

And I’m just not used to this much downtime. Even with the e-book subscription he set up on my phone, and every streaming service on my laptop, and constantly answering emails about colors and patterns from the designer, I’m still bored. I can’t even remember the last time I wasn’t working full-time, or more than full-time. Even before I was eighteen, I had more than one part-time job. Looking back, it’s a miracle I managed to graduate high school.

Graduate…

Chewing my lip, I wonder if Nero would be okay with me going to college.

That’s a stupid question. Of course he’d be okay with it. He’d probably pay to have me admitted to some Ivy League school if I asked him to. But that’s not what I want. A local community college would be nice, I think. Or maybe on-line schooling if we have to worry about safety.

I chew my lip some more.

What would I study?

My mind spins, but it can’t land on an answer. It can’t even come up with a list of options. I don’t even know what my interests are.

Dogs?

I shake my head at myself, happy no one can read my thoughts.

Payton, what do you want to go to school for? Hmm, I dunno, dogs?

Rolling onto my side, I look at Toto.

I don’t want to be a veterinarian. I don’t have the stomach for that.

In all honesty, Nero will probably encourage me getting an education, but I don’t think he’d let me work.

Speaking of hearing thoughts, my Women’s Studies teacher from high school would be scratching the A’s off all my old assignments if she heard that one.

But I really don’t mind.

It’s nice to be provided for.

It’s nice to be taken care of.

It’s nice to relax. To truly relax for the first time in my life.

My fingers drum against the couch.

So, if I don’t need the money, and I won’t use a degree for a full-time job, what does that leave me with?

Toto’s paws twitch, already chasing something through dreamland.

What if… I bite my lip again.

What if I could do some sort of charity work? Whatever that means.

“Why is this so hard?” I whine out loud.

“What’s wrong?” Robert’s voice scares a scream out of me, which sends a no-longer-sleeping Toto into a barking fit.

I’m struggling to sit up. Toto’s sprinting the perimeter of the room looking for danger. And Robert is standing in the entryway to the den, looking amused.

I slap a hand over my heart. “You scared me.”

“And your little dog, too.”

I roll my eyes at what has become his favorite line.

Deciding the threat has been neutralized, Toto picks a new spot on the rug, circles, then drops.

“What has you thinking so hard?” Robert asks, as he lowers his large frame into a chair across the room from me.

Robert is mid-thirties, looks like a cross between a Marine and a grizzly bear, and after the first afternoon together, when we realized he’s just as awkward with women as I am with men, all the weirdness just kinda canceled out.

He’s cool, but he takes his job very seriously, so even though I’d love to spend the day talking to him, I know he’ll only allow himself to sit for five minutes, then it’s back on patrol.

“I’m just trying to figure out what to do with my life.” I grimace as soon as I say it, hearing how lame it sounds.

Robert raises one bushy brow. “A good looking, crazy rich, overly protective man isn’t enough?”

I give him the side eye. “You can’t have him.”

Robert laughs. “Terrifying isn’t on my list of fantasy husband attributes.”

“Nero isn’t terrifying.”

“Uh-huh, whatever you say.”

“What did you want to be growing up? Was it always… military? Or whatever you call this profession?” It’s probably too personal of a question, but I’m starved for conversation.

“Mostly. Too many GI Joes probably.” He shrugs. “What about you? There had to have been something you wanted to do.”

“Sure. But I think the odds of me becoming a professional ballerina are pretty slim at this point.” My outlandish dreams stopped around the time I turned nine. After that I only dreamed of getting away from home. There were no delusions that I’d become something grand.

Reading my mood, Robert pushes up out of his chair. “Well, existential crises seem like best friend territory, so I’ll head back to work.”

My smile is shaky, and as soon as Robert leaves the room, I let it drop.

Too bad I don’t have a best friend.

Toto lets out a loud doggie snore.

“Sorry buddy, you don’t count.”

Staring at the wall, I decide that I do have a best friend. Nero.

I dig my phone out of my pocket, wanting to feel connected.

But then I hesitate.

What I really want is for him to come home. And in order to do that, he needs to finish what he’s doing there. If I’m bothering him every time I want to talk, it’s gonna take him that much longer.

But I want to talk with someone.

“Sure you can’t speak?” I ask Toto.

He doesn’t answer.

Blowing out a breath, I open the contacts list on my new phone.

As he’d promised, Nero had all my old info transferred over. Not that there was much.

My contacts are almost only coworkers and my bosses, specifically for when I’d get sick and need to call in or find a replacement for my shift.

I don’t have anything as far as social media goes. When you run away from home to avoid abusive parents, you can’t exactly create profiles to stay in touch with high school friends. Not that I had any.

It’s not like people were mean to me. I wasn’t bullied much. There just wasn’t anyone to miss me, so no one to stay in touch with.

I snuck out in the middle of the night, and I doubt there was a single person beyond my mom and Arthur that even knew I was gone. Well, except maybe my boss at the time. I feel bad about bailing on work without a word. But it wasn’t worth the risk of a phone call. And she was kind of a bitch anyways.

Focusing on the names in my phone, I see that Nero added a bunch of new ones. Rocco, who I have yet to officially meet. Robert. Giles, Robert’s backup. A number just labeled as Vet, and I assume that’s who looked at Toto.

It’s King’s name that makes me pause. That man still kinda scares me, so having his contact info at my fingertips feels a little weird. He was friendly enough when he came into that café, the morning when Nero was apparently sitting out in the car.

Trying my latte for the first time.

But having King chase me through that fancy party… It felt like my heart was going to dissolve  because it was beating so hard.

God, that was an awful night.

Until it wasn’t…

Scrolling back up to the top of the names, I wonder what I’m even doing. Looking through my phone for a friend to call is like standing in front of an open fridge hoping for pizza, when you know damn well you only have expired milk, jelly and a bottle of ranch.

My thumb pauses, then swipes back the other way.

Betsy, waitress.

Branden, line cook.

Cole, dish boy.

Darlene…

I stare at the alphabetical list.

Where’s Carlton?

I try to think what his last name is, like maybe it’s listed backwards. But no. I don’t know his last name now any more than I did when he gave me his number.

We’ve texted. He sent me that concert ticket. I have to have his number.

I type Carlton’s name into the search bar.

Nothing.

How could it––

Nero.

Obviously, it was Nero.

My phone starts to ring in my hands, and I nearly scream again, catching myself before I wake the dog again.

At this rate Nero won’t have to worry about how dangerous his world is, because I’ll surely die of a heart attack within the next three months.

“Hi!” I answer, my voice too bright.

“What’s wrong?” Nero’s voice is immediately on edge, and I sigh.

“Nothing. I was just startled by the ringtone.”

“Hmm,” he hums. “What are you up to today?”

“Not much.” I try my best to not sound ungrateful. “Played with Toto, who’s currently dead to the world. Read some. Picked out fabric to replace the perfectly good drapes in our bedroom.”

“That’s good.” Nero doesn’t ask me detailed questions about the fabric and I wonder if he’s having a bad day too.

“Everything okay with you?” I ask.

“Yeah.”

Oookay. Clearly, he doesn’t want to elaborate, which is fine. We talk every night, so I have a pretty good idea that he’s cranky because he’s not home yet.

“Can we find me a hobby when you get back?” The question sorta blurts out.

“A hobby?” His voice sounds a little more engaged, the idea of a hobby attracting his attention. “What were you thinking?”

“That’s the problem!” I slouch back into the couch, letting my head tip back until I’m blinking at the ceiling. “I don’t even know what my options are.”

“It’ll be okay, Payton. We can talk it through.”

“Well, that’s the thing too, I need someone to talk to. Because when you’re not here, I don’t have any friends.”

“I’m not your friend, Payton.” Nero uses his serious voice.

“I know, I know.” I wave him off even though he can’t see me. “You’re my best friend. But what I mean is, I don’t have any other friends. And now that I’m not at work all day, I don’t have any human interaction. I mean Robert’s great. But he won’t ever just stay and talk to me. Because he’s working.” I deflate a little more. “Sorry, I’m whining.”

“When I said I wasn’t your friend,” Nero’s voice is suddenly full of what can only be described as smugness. “I meant that we’re more than friends.”

“Oh. Well.” My cheeks start to heat and I’m glad he can’t see me. “You’re still my best friend.”

Nero lets out that rumble that vibrates in his chest when he’s feeling pleased. And it annoys me, because he didn’t tell me I’m his best friend back.

“Speaking of friends,” I snip. “I noticed you deleted Carlton’s number from my phone.”

There’s a beat of silence, and it suddenly feels as if Nero is here, in the room with me. His roiling, male energy so thick I can almost feel it. “You’re not seeing that prick again.”

“He’s pretty much my only friend!” I argue, not even sure why. I didn’t mind Carlton, but it’s not like I would actually have pursued a friendship with him.

“He’s not your friend. And you won’t ever see him again.”

“Why!”

“Because he wants to fuck you!” Nero snaps.

I scoff. The idea, nonsense.

“That’s one.” Nero’s voice is a growl.

“One what?!”

“One inch, Baby. Keep talking about other men and by the end of this conversation, you’ll owe me every last inch of my dick buried deep inside your ass.”

My pussy tingles at his unreasonable words, making it hard to speak. “I-He doesn’t want to––”

“That’s two. Keep it up and I’ll have to fly home right now.”

“Well… I…” My breath catches.

Before meeting Nero, I’d never had a single thought about doing that. But after what he did at the concert…

My chest feels hot.

Remembering the feeling of just the tip of his cock, going there, has me breathing faster.

“Jesus Christ.” His words are thick. “You want that? You want me to take that ass, Baby. Do you want me to fuck your tight little hole?”

“I-I don’t know.”

“Fuck,” he curses again. “Fucking hell, Payton. I’m hard as a rock.”

I try to laugh, but I’m too turned on for that. “My panties feel wet.”

A deep groan reverberates through the phone. “Don’t touch it.”

“What? But…”

“No, you did this to us, you have to suffer with me.” He moans again and I instinctively know he’s adjusting his cock. “Tonight, if I’m not home, you’re going to go up to our bed, facetime me from your laptop, and come all over those fingers while I watch. Okay?”

“Okay.” He must not be in a position where he can jerk off right now, so I guess it’s fair for me to wait too.

“And if you need someone to talk to when I’m gone,” he continues, “I can send Aspen over.”

“Nero,” I sigh. “I don’t know her.”

“You’d get along fine.”

“Maybe, but you can’t just send someone over and tell them to be my friend.”

“Sure I can,” the cocky man says. “But what do you need her for anyways? I’m your best friend, remember?”

“I remember you not saying it back,” I grumble, seeing no point in denying my annoyance.

No secrets.

“Payton, you’re my everything. My love. My Sweet Girl. My best friend.” I melt at his words. “And when I get home, if you want to have more people around, we can make some friends.”

That makes me laugh. “How?”

“No fucking clue. Take out an ad or something.”

“Oh my god, Nero. You’re hopeless.”

“Love you too.” He says it so easily. “I’ve gotta go. But have one of the guys go get you a coffee or something.”

“Alright.” I flex my fingers around the phone, wishing it was his hand I was holding. “I love you.”

Hanging up gets harder every day.

It’s ridiculous how sorry I’m feeling for myself. My situation has literally never been better. Not even close.

Even with Nero gone, I talk to him every night. We text all day. I send him photos of Toto and he sends me texts bossing me around, making sure I’m eating, asking what I’m doing. It’s the most attention I’ve ever had. But now that I know what it’s like to share a bed with him, I don’t want to sleep alone. I don’t want simple phone calls.

I want him.

Shoving up from the couch, Toto rouses with my movement, and we both go off to find Robert.

Lucky for us, he walks across the rear patio right as we approach the door.

I swing it open, and Toto trots chasing a falling leaf, before relieving himself in the grass.

When Robert notices me lingering halfway out the door he stops. “Need something?”

A plan forms…

“Uh, yeah, actually.” I feel a little bad for what I’m about to do, but I need a field trip away from this house before I lose my mind. “Nero said it was okay if you took me to get a coffee.”

Robert looks past me, into the kitchen. “Don’t you make your own? All the time?”

“It’s not the same. There’s something better about it when someone else makes it. Kinda like when you get free food. Always tastes better than when you have to pay for it.”

Robert doesn’t move. “I’ll just send someone out to get it.”

I shake my head. “I’m going with. I gotta get out for a bit.”

“Nero said you could go?” His doubt is written all over his face.

And he should be doubtful. I know full well that Nero didn’t mean for me to go with. But I also know I’m nearing a mental breakdown if I don’t get a change of scenery.

“We can do a drive thru. I’ll get in the car in the garage and not get out until we’re home again.” It’s the most over-the-top thing I can think of, but Nero’s an over-the-top kind of guy.

“No offense, but I gotta ask him.” The way Robert says no offense tells me he doesn’t actually care if I’m offended.

While Robert texts Nero, I call Toto back in, and I pretend I’m not crossing my fingers for Robert to word the question in a way that will let me go.

Then I cross everything all over again, because when Nero finds out, he’s gonna be pissed.

It took twenty minutes to get ready to go, and I spent three of those minutes trying to convince Robert to let me bring Toto, but he refused.

Deciding to take the loss with the win, I used the time Robert needed to organize the men to run up to my room and change.

I know I’m not getting out of the vehicle. And I know all the windows are tinted. And I know it’s stupid. But standing here in the garage, wearing tennis shoes, my good pair of jeans, a bra, a plain white tank top, and a black hooded sweatshirt I found in one of Nero’s drawers, I feel ready for public.

I pull the fabric of the hoodie up to my nose. It doesn’t smell like Nero. But it does smell like his laundry detergent, which is better than nothing.

Then, I keep the fabric pressed over my mouth, because I’m suddenly hit with the memory of digging around in the closet the other day, looking for boxers to wear to bed, and instead finding the stash of underwear he’s stolen from me.

And if he gets to keep my undies, then I get to keep this sweatshirt. Except when he gets home, I’m going to make him wear it for a few days so the next time he leaves I have something that smells like him.

“Alright, Payton,” Robert calls from his place next to one of the big black SUVs. “You’re back here.” He opens the rear driver’s side door.

I follow his direction and climb up, buckling myself in after he shuts the door.

I have my phone tucked into my hoodie pocket, along with a twenty-dollar bill I still had stashed in my wallet. I doubt they’ll let me pay for my drink, but I didn’t want to just assume that someone else would pay for it.

Robert opens the front passenger door the same time as a man I only know as Giles, climbs into the driver’s seat. I say hello, but he just grunts a reply.

When I see another pair of security guys getting into a second SUV, I start to feel a little bad. I didn’t mean for this to become a whole two-vehicle, four-man ordeal. I just wanted some fresh air. Figuratively speaking, because I doubt they’ll let me roll my window down. Robert probably has the kid locks on.

The engines rumble to life as the garage door starts to roll up, and my time for second guessing is over, because we’re leaving.

It’s no real surprise that we drive in silence. But it doesn’t bother me. I watch the landscape go by, taking it all in.

When I first got here, it was late, dark, and I was exhausted from the birthday party disaster and subsequent physical activities in my apartment. So, I didn’t get to appreciate the neighborhood.

The trees are large, the leaves that are left are fiery shades of red and orange, and from standing in the doorway whenever Toto goes out, I know it’s cold. Right at that tipping point of freezing. But the bright blue skies and shining sun trick you into thinking it’s warm past the windows.

We wind our way out of the vast development, gliding past estate after estate, each one as stunning as the last. Feels so surreal that this is where I live now.

Eventually we end up on a street that I recognize as one that will take us into the city.

I expect Giles to turn toward Minneapolis, the skyline sparkling off to the right, but he turns the other way, following the other SUV and taking us toward the closest suburb.

Makes sense when I think about it. It’s probably the smart choice for security reasons, rather than going to the crowded downtown area.

My fingers absently trace a pattern on my thigh. This might be one of the weirdest moments of my life, riding in an armed two-car caravan just to go get coffee. But even with the weird, I’m actually feeling like myself again.

I love Nero. And I love the life we’re creating together. It’s just a lot of change. And, in my personal experience, change has always been bad. Usually awful. Definitely hard. So even though I’m happy with these new changes, it’s a lot to take in. And being out here, I feel a little bit normal. A little like my old self.

“Copy.” Giles’s voice startles me.

When I look up front, I see the vehicle ahead of us pull into the drive-thru lane, rounding the back corner of the brick building and moving out of sight. But we don’t follow. Instead, we stay stopped at the entrance to the drive-thru.

Robert turns in his seat to look at me. “Do you know what you want?”

I nod, having recognized the coffee bean and crescent moon logo on the front of the coffeeshop. “Are the other guys ordering it?”

He shakes his head. “They’ll drive past the pick-up window and wait at the far end. That way we can’t get blocked in.”

My mouth opens in a silent O as guilt swamps me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know this was gonna be such a big deal.”

At least it’s late afternoon and I don’t see any other cars trying to get in line.

“This is the job.” Robert shrugs off my apology. “And it’s good to keep the guys in practice.”

Giles grunts again, this time in agreement. But instead of feeling better, I feel a little bit worse.

“Taking some lady to coffee probably wasn’t what you had in mind when you did all your training.”

Robert chuckles. “You’re not just some lady. You’re the boss’s lady.”

“Doesn’t make it any less boring.”

“It’s not boring at all,” he argues. “It’s the nature of the job. You’re either doing nothing or you’re fighting for your life.”

I grimace. “Sounds awful.”

“We all gotta go somehow. I’d rather go down swinging than rotting away in a nursing home until all the dumb shit I’ve done to my body over the years finally catches up to me,” Robert says it matter of fact, and I know he means it.

“Amen,” Giles grumbles.

It’s the first time I’ve heard his voice, and it’s so scratchy he’s almost hard to understand. Makes me wonder if one of the dumb things he’s done to his body involves cigarettes.

I’ve seen those commercials. Maybe going down swinging wouldn’t be so bad.

Giles takes his foot off the brake, and we roll ahead.

We make the turn to drive parallel with the back of the building and I see that, indeed the vehicle ahead of us is at the far end of the little drive-thru lane, half-in half-out, waiting for us. And I can’t help but wonder if they ordered anything, or if they just drove right through.

I hope they got something. Everyone deserves a treat.

Giles rolls down his window and I lean forward. “Can I have a large roasted chestnut mocha please?” I see Robert make a face. “And a bean pup?” His face contorts even more.

“The fuck is a bean pup?”

“It’s a tiny cup of whipped cream. For Toto.” I whisper the last part when the voice starts to talk through the speaker.

Sitting back, I smile a little to myself listening to Giles place the order in his gruff voice. I’m a little bummed the guys didn’t get something, but not surprised.

When we stop at the pick-up window, I can smell the glorious scents of a coffee shop and it fills me with comfort.

I don’t miss having every item of clothing I own smell like a café, but I do miss the scent of being surrounded by coffee and food. As crappy as some of my jobs have been, Twin’s was a good place to work. No one treated me poorly. I was never told to smile. And I never went hungry while I worked there.

I place a hand on my stomach, feeling the softness, and for the first time when thinking about my body, I smile.

This is the body of someone who didn’t starve.

This is the body that walked me out of hell to forge a life from nothing.

This is the body that left the patio door open so we could enjoy the stormy fall air while watching our favorite movie.

This is the body that led me to Nero.

And it’s the body that attracted him to me.

This body is loved.

Overcome with gratitude, I pull my phone out of my pocket and type a quick message to Nero.

“Here.” Robert’s taken my drink from Giles and is holding it out for me.

Hitting send, I shove my phone back in my pocket and take it. The paper collar on the cup keeps it just the right temperature, so it’s not burning my hands.

“And… Toto’s drink.” Robert says it like it’s the most absurd sentence he’s ever muttered.

Taking the tiny cup filled to the top with whipped cream, I grin. “He’s gonna love it.”

“You know we have some of that whipped cream shit at home, right?”

“Not the same.”

“Yeah, yeah. Free food.” He shakes his head, facing back forward.

The first SUV pulls out, and we follow, heading back home.

I bring the mocha up to my mouth, wanting so bad to try it. But I know it’ll be too hot, and I don’t want to burn the tip of my tongue and ruin the whole experience. So, I gently blow into the small opening on the lid and watch out the window as we leave the suburb behind us.

I’m thinking about how cute Toto will be with bits of fluffy cream stuck to his chin when my phone chimes with a text.

We’re almost to our neighborhood, but I know it’s Nero replying, and I want to respond.

I try to shuffle both cups into one hand. But spilling either in this pristine and expensive vehicle seems like a bad idea. So, I lean forward to put my drink into the cupholder near my knees. And bent over, face between the front seats, is when the whole car rocks.

A blinding light explodes in front of us, the noise earsplitting.

My eyes squint against the brightness, not understanding what just happened.

Then, seemingly all at once, Giles slams on the brakes and I jerk against my seat belt.

My hands tighten around the paper cups on reflex, and they both give way.

The pain lancing across my shoulder where the seat belt snapped tight, is echoed in the burning heat covering my right hand.

And then it clicks.

I stare out the windshield, as the ball of flames contracts to show the burnt shell of the first SUV.

Robert is shouting something.

His gun is in his hands.

Giles turns the wheel and the vehicle lurches forward when he steps on the gas.

Robert yells something else.

At me.

But my ears are ringing, and I can’t hear him.

“What?” I try to ask, but my throat doesn’t work.

He starts to yell something about getting down, but a popping sound drowns out his words. And I watch in horror as the windshield turns white in front of Giles.

Robert reaches a hand back and shoves my head down.

The seat belt is stuck, so I bend as far as I can go.

I blink at the floor, watching my mocha soak into the carpet.

Another crack. This time it’s louder. And red splatters across the upholstery around me.

Some lands on my hands. It’s warm. And nausea swirls with my growing terror.

“Fuck!”

At Robert’s voice, I look up.

And wish I hadn’t.

Giles…

His head…

Tears stream from my eyes.

There’s so much blood.

“Nero,” I cry his name.

But he’s too far away to help.

Gunfire fills the car.

I force my eyes away from Giles’s unmoving form.

But Robert isn’t shooting through the hole in the windshield. He’s shooting across at the driver’s window.

The bulletproof glass finally gives way. One shot escaping the car. A second before a pair of large vehicles slam into us. Crumpling the door at my side.

Silence.

Pure silence fills my brain as darkness swallows my vision.

Flourishes of anguish pierce my awareness as my world rotates.

As the seat below me lifts.

As the entire vehicle rolls.