Last Breath

Thirty

Regan

NOW THAT WE ’RE BACK IN Minneapolis, I have a laundry list of things to do. I go to the doctor and get a birth control shot so Daniel and I can continue to have gloriously, deliciously intense sex. I also get checked for diseases again, because I’m paranoid. I turn up clean of everything, including pregnancy. I’m actually a little sad about that, but now’s not the time to start a family.

I also sign up for counseling because I still have panic attacks when Daniel leaves the room for any length of time, and I still have nightmares. I know I’m not totally right in the head. The psychologist understands, though, and she’s supportive. Daniel goes with me to counseling, and it’s good. It’s a step in the right direction.

I want to go back to college and jump right back into my career path, but the psychologist doesn’t think it’s a good idea, and I’m surprised when Daniel agrees. They want me to take time off and get used to normal again. Normal without so many people, that is, since people still make me anxious. It’s weird to think about, but I try to submerge myself back into “normal.” I watch a lot of horror movies with Daniel, and we paint our apartment for something to do.

I visit my parents, and it’s as tear-filled and awkward as I thought it would be.

I don’t tell them that I’ve spent two months on my back in a brothel. I think that would break them almost as much as it came close to breaking me. We come up with a lame cover story instead. I took an impromptu vacation with my roomie Daisy to Cancun, hit my head while cliff diving, and Daisy thought I’d drowned. I woke up in a hospital with amnesia and just now got better. And Daniel was in the bed next to me with a tropical disease, and we fell in love.

It’s all very Days of Our Lives, and I’m not entirely sure they buy it, but it’s a nicer story than the truth.

Nevertheless, they’re concerned for my health now. They want me to come home for good. I can’t, though. I’m not their little girl anymore. We stay with them for a few days, but it makes me restless. It’s clear that they don’t understand, nor do they understand why Daniel needs to clear a room before I go in because it makes me feel safer.

Daisy’s my new best friend and always at my side. When Daniel and Nick are busy working on the apartment building, Daisy goes shopping with me or runs errands with me or whatever needs to be done. I’m not alone for a second, and it makes me feel safer. I don’t know if Daniel’s asked her to be my shadow or if she senses that I’m scared of being abandoned, but I appreciate it either way. Her attentiveness has gone a long way to resolving the festering resentment I’ve been harboring against her.

And one day, I get a wild hair up my ass to go and visit Mike and Becca. I don’t bring Daniel; I’m half-afraid that he would shoot Mike because he can’t stand him for being, well, Mike. For being selfish and self-absorbed and hooking up with my best friend. I don’t think it’s Mike’s fault as much as it is mine, though. I went along with everything before. That’s not me anymore.

I do take Daisy with me, though, because I don’t like to go anywhere alone. We pull up to Mike’s apartment building, and it’s one I’m intimately familiar with. How many times did I drive over after a football game for a quick fuck and cuddle because Mike wanted to get laid? How was I ever okay with that?

“You sure you want to do this?” Daisy asks me for the hundredth time as we walk into the building and head for the elevator.

“I’m sure,” I tell her. “Mike deserves closure too, don’t you think?”

“I suppose,” Daisy says, and she looks troubled. She’s a good friend. I squeeze her hand to let her know it’s okay, and we head up to the fifth floor, where Mike has lived for the past few years.

And we knock on his door, even though I have a key back in the apartment. It’s taped to the bottom of my cookie jar. It was only for emergencies, after all. In case Mike needed something taken care of when he was out of town with buddies. It wasn’t so I could let myself in whenever.

Man, I really was a doormat before. I smirk to myself at the thought. Wonder what Mike’s going to think of me now.

He answers the door. I’m a little disappointed it’s not Becca, because wouldn’t that be a great conversation starter. But Mike looks utterly stunned to see me. “Oh my God. Regan.”

And he bursts into tears and reaches out to hug me close.

I have to admit, this is not the way I pictured our reunion. I pat his back awkwardly and give Daisy a helpless glance as Mike hugs me and blubbers on my shoulder. He’s so thankful to see me alive again, he says between gulping sobs. He thought I was dead.

And then he pulls back and tries to kiss me, and I recoil.

“Don’t,” I say. I don’t want to be kissed by him, ever again.

He looks shocked that I pull away from him. “What’s wrong? Baby, are you okay?”

“What’s wrong? Mike, I know you’re with Becca.” I can see her shit on his kitchen counter from where I’m standing.

He shakes his head, and his face is a little paler. I notice that he starts to close the door to his apartment behind him, blocking our view, and I fight the urge to giggle when sweet little Daisy rolls her eyes at this move. “No, baby. That was, you know, a thing. We were comforting each other.”

“Uh-huh,” I say flatly. “How fast did you two start comforting each other? I’m curious. Was it a day or two after I was kidnapped or did you wait a whole week?”

Judging from the ugly flush that crosses his cheeks, I’m not hitting far off the mark. He’s embarrassed. “It’s not like that, Regan. I was . . . so upset when you disappeared.” He squeezes my shoulder and gets choked up again. “I kept drinking, and Becca came over to talk some sense into me. And she . . . kinda never left.”

“You make it sound like Becca hopped onto your dick.”

He shakes his head again and tries to rub my arm, but I bat his hand away. “Baby, you know I love you and only you.” He smiles at me through his tears. “Are you . . . are you okay?”

“Better than you,” I say, and I’m surprised to find that it’s the truth. He’s got snot running down his face, and he’s a mess. His shirt’s filthy, stained with breakfast. It looks like he hasn’t shaved in a week or two, and his hair is greasy. He does look like he’s gone through hell.

Which is ironic since I’m the one that went through hell, not him. But when his eyes tear up again, I find myself patting him on the shoulder. “I don’t think you meant badly by it, Mike,” I say. “I’m sure you were hurting and lonely. And it’s always been all about you.”

“What?” he says, as if he didn’t hear me right.

“Did you even look for me, Mike? Or did you hear I was missing, throw your hands up, and start fucking my old BFF?”

His eyes dart back and forth from my impassive face to Daisy’s, looking for sympathy. He won’t find any here. “Why are you blaming me?” he says in a sad voice. “I did everything I could. The police said they would handle it.”

“I’m sure they did,” I say. And maybe in his mind, Mike thinks that he did do everything. Maybe he can go to sleep at night knowing he placed a few phone calls and was appropriately sad that his girlfriend disappeared. Maybe that’s all that’s required for Mike.

But I think of Daniel. I think of him searching through the hellish streets and digging through brothels for a year and a half, looking for Naomi. I think of all we went through together. And I know if I went missing, he’d tear the world apart to try and find me.

He’d never stop.

And . . . I smile. I’m with the right man. I might have had to go through hell to get to his side, but I’m where I need to be now.

Mike returns my smile tentatively, but he’s clearly confused. “You want to come in, honey?”

“No,” I tell him. “And I’m not your honey anymore. Becca is now.” I clasp his hand. “I hope you two are very happy together.”

“But . . . no,” Mike begins. “Regan, I want you—”

I shake my head. “I’m here to give you closure, Mike.” I give his hand a little squeeze. “You and I are done. I’ve moved on, and you did, too.”

He starts to cry again, and Daisy’s expressive face has gone from scowling to horrified all over again, which I’ll laugh about later when I tell Daniel all about this. “But, Regan, I love you, not Becca.”

“Then I suggest you give her some closure, too,” I say lightly and give him an impulsive hug. I pull away before he can entangle me in his arms again. “Goodbye, Mike.”

I hear his blubbering goodbye as Daisy and I walk down the hall. He doesn’t come after me. Mike’s not the type. And before, I wasn’t the type of girl that thought she needed that kind of guy.

Guess we’ve both changed.

Daniel

REGAN TELLS ME THAT SHE has visited Mike and that he’s happy she’s moved on. I give two shits about Mike’s mental state and still think that I’d be doing the world a favor by putting him down like the diseased worthless dog he is, but I figure Regan would not be okay with that. All that really matters is that she’s happy.

We had a good time visiting her parents again. They still treat me like I’m a god—as if falling in love while she has amnesia is some great accomplishment. The one good thing about visiting her parents is that they give us a ton of food that Regan and I eat for a couple days after. Maybe I should look into a cooking class. Regan’s not the best cook, and neither am I. One of us is going to have to learn to operate the stove for something other than heating up soup.

I did make a mistake of complaining about the cold, which prompted her dad to produce an old jacket that made me look like I was the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man. Later that night she had us watch Ghostbusters, which was, she said, sort of a horror movie. Regan asked me to put on the jacket, and she stuck two pieces of paper on my head to mimic the creature’s hat. I did so because she was laughing so hard that there were happy tears in her eyes. I would act out mime sketches in the park if it would keep that jaw-dropping smile on her face. But she agreed I needed warmer clothes, so the next day we went to one of the banks where Naomi had deposited the money she stole from the drug dealers. Regan was stunned by the amount. I kind of expected it. Naomi had been treated well primarily because she was so valuable.

“You can be a lady of leisure,” I joke as we leave the bank. I’d just wanted enough cash to buy my own jacket, one that didn’t feel like I was walking around wearing two pillows stitched together, but the amount in this one account leaves me thinking I could buy that island compound.

“That sounds terrible,” she says. “I’d go crazy sitting around doing nothing.”

“On the bright side, it’s a good thing you know about accounting.”

“I don’t think my calculator goes up that high,” she answers with disgruntlement.

Kissing her forehead, I place an arm around her shoulder as we walk to the bus stop. “Just think, you can put a sticker on your backpack that says ‘My other bag is Hermes.’”

She punches me in the gut, but the padding of the coat completely shields me. Huh, maybe this is good for something.

I keep myself busy doing handyman work for Nick. For a guy who could watch a mark for hours without moving, he’s showing surprisingly little patience with the mundane things around the apartment building.

“You really think that being a landlord is the right occupation for you?” I call after Nick’s retreating back as he stomps out of the first floor apartment to turn the water off. We are attempting to hook up the sink, but apparently we’ve done something wrong. I’m pretty good at breaking shit, shooting guns, and running cattle—but wiring and plumbing? That’s like trying to figure out the inner workings of a female mind. It takes time and patience, neither of which Nick is displaying nor am I interested in exerting.

Regan is off at the university trying to argue that she should be allowed to take her tests and get her degree, rather than go through an entire semester’s worth of classes again. One thing about living in a world with rules, you can’t hold a gun to someone’s head and force them to do your will. Or I guess I could, but Regan wouldn’t allow that. I flip the wrench in my hand. It’s heavy and the ratchet end would do a lot of damage. I could kill a man with a well-placed blow to the temple. Definitely incapacitate someone by a strike to the knee or the elbow. I swing out my arm to test the air resistance against the heavy steel tool.

“What are you doing?”

Jerking up, I see Regan at the door left ajar by Nick. “Ah, nothing?” I prevaricate, moving from my lunge position where I was kneecapping an imaginary foe with my new weapon. Guiltily, I set the wrench behind me on the counter and stride toward her.

“Looks like you were practicing some kind of assassin moves.” Skepticism is clear in her face and voice.

Pulling Regan into my arms, I place wet kisses along the column of her throat. “You never know when I’ll need to protect you from a spider or cockroach. I can’t allow my skills to get rusty.”

Tilting her head the side, she allows me greater access to the sensitive skin on her neck. She shudders when I reach the hidden spot behind her ear. Her arms slide around me and thoughts of home repair drop out of my head to be replaced by the feel of her lush body against mine. Regan’s been eating regularly since we've left Brazil, and it looks good on her—not to mention how much I enjoy the feel of her roundness in my palms.

“God, you are so fucking hot. Let's go upstairs.” Without waiting for a response, I lift her over my shoulder and squeeze one delectable ass cheek.

“I’m losing all the blood in my head,” she complains.

“Not to worry. Soon it will be between your legs.” This is a good position because she can’t see my smug expression.

“That’s you, baby boy.”

“I thought we’d agreed you’d call me Huge Dicked Daniel.”

My reward is a few more pummels to my back, but those little punches turn to caresses once we are inside the bedroom and my head is between her legs. Her hands knead my shoulders as I concentrate on the taste and smell of her fantastic pussy.

When I finally do enter her, she rewards me with a dreamy smile and a breathy observation. “You do have a huge cock, Daniel.”

“It’s getting bigger with every compliment,” I grunt, clutching the flesh at her hips and driving hard into her sweet warmth.

“It’s humongous. Bigger than an elephant.”

My quakes are from laughter, and I allow her to flip me over and ride me like I’m a wild mustang. Sex with Regan is glorious—fun, intense, passionate.

After a sweaty bout of bed play, Regan swirls her index finger in the whorls of my chest hair. If I had any sensation left in my body this might have been ticklish, but she has worn me out.

“You seem restless lately.”

“I think we need a bigger bed. Not enough room in here to really do everything that I’ve been fantasizing about.”

She tugs on a few hairs. “I’m serious. I’m worried about you. I don’t think general handyman is what you want to do for the rest of your life.”

I roll her over and pin her arms above her head. “If the rest of my life is spent with you, then it’s all good. That’s the only thing I have going on of any importance.”

“Then you should stick your cock inside me again.” Her voice is playful, but her eyes contain a worry I don’t really know how to dispel. “Do you want to go home?”

“I am home.” I’m not deliberately misunderstanding Regan. It’s the truth. My home is with her. “As long as you love me, I’m complete.” She looks like she wants to protest or argue some more, but I’ve got other ideas. Swinging her up in my arms, I carry her to the shower, where I show her how good home feels. It doesn’t matter that I can’t go home until Naomi is done with her thing in Russia because I wouldn’t leave Regan anyway. Not for all the ranch land in Texas.

The next day, I’m back working on the sink. Nick’s at art class, and I’m getting a lot done without him around to curse in Ukrainian and kick the pipes. The bathroom sinks are connected, and I have to add a U trap and connect the garbage disposal and I’ll be done. Regan is wrong. I’m getting the hang of the fix-it stuff, and I don’t mind it. I’m so caught up in my work that I don’t hear the door open or the footsteps that trample into the apartment. I don’t even realize I’m not alone until I crawl out from underneath the sink to see my old man standing next to Regan, looking like he’s about thirty years older than his actual age.

“Dad,” I say warily, pulling off the leather work gloves and tossing them into the sink. “You’re a long way from the ranch.” I can’t remember the last time my old man left Texas. I blink a few times to make sure I’m not hallucinating.

“It was a direct flight from Dallas,” he says shortly and looks around the room at everything but me. I take the opportunity to look quizzically at Regan, but she just smiles mysteriously. “Nice place.”

“Not mine.” I can match him word for short word if that’s what it comes to. Regan throws up her hands like she can’t believe me and turns a brilliant smile on my dad. Given that Regan is hotter than a dozen Dallas Cowboy cheerleaders, that smile works on my dad better than bacon grease on a skillet. He blinks a couple of times in stunned appreciative silence, and then she takes mercy on him by walking over to me and slaying me with the same look.

Fortunately I’m building up immunity to it, so I’m only out of it for half the time. “So, Dad, it’s good to see you. Mom with you?”

He shakes his head. “Your sister . . .” He stops and clears his throat. The mention of Naomi makes me stiff as a board. “Your sister called and said she’s working on a project and that she can’t come home yet.”

“She emailed and said she was doing good.” I tell him. Part of my deal with Vasily is regular contact; sometimes he has to interrupt her to get her to conduct her daily check-in. Naomi gets lost in her own world a lot of the time.

Dad nods. “Yes.”

And then there’s nothing else we say to each other until Regan throws up her hands and cries, “For God’s sake. You two are impossible. Naomi called me and asked why we hadn’t gone to the ranch, and I said you couldn’t go home until she got back. She then told me she didn’t know when she was coming back, so we called your parents together. Daniel, your parents want you to go back.”

A rush of emotion rolls over me, and I stagger a step, grateful that Regan is right beside me. “Is that true?”

Dad nods, looking down at the floor at first, and then raises his wet eyes to meet mine. “We miss you, son. Your momma, she needs her boy.”

It’s hard to speak because I’ve got a big old frog in my throat, but after a minute I’m able to turn to Regan. “You wanna come see my home?”

She gives me that heart slaying smile and says, “I’m with you until my last breath.”