Moth to a Flame

13. CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Regan

For the second time this week, I laugh. Not with my parents, but with my horror book club. I laugh. Me. I mean, really laugh. A sound that comes from my belly and rises in my throat. My sheer, unadulterated happiness must reach my eyes too. I’m tearing up.

Nothing’s weighing me down. No years-long burden and trauma that are always there in the back of my head, derailing every chance I have at joy.

Landon did this. Landon and his intense eyes and fierce soul have turned me into a carefree person. A woman who can see the funny side of life, who can laugh as her book club argues about gore and slashers.

I do. I laugh.

Lester’s shadow is finally gone.

Landon has chased him away. Mostly. I have a sneaking suspicion that I might have a nightmare again soon. But I’m not letting it get me down.

I’m ridiculously happy.

Rosemary, Deidra, and Teresa keep their banter while stealing glances my way. They can tell I’m different too.

I am. I had Landon’s cock down my throat and his mouth on my pussy just a few hours ago. I’ve had him—a man—soap my body, wash my hair, and help me choose my outfit for the day.

We agreed on a black, long-sleeved wrap top and a matching cardigan. It’s the pants that we couldn’t agree on.

I said I’d wear my black leggings.

Landon demanded that I wear a pair of jeans because he said he wanted a challenge. It would be that much harder for him to take them off than wrangling my leggings down my legs.

He promised it would be that much hotter.

When I told him I couldn’t walk outside and take the subway without concealing Jigsaw and that I wasn’t going to just shove it in the waistband of my jeans, his eyes turned dark.

Fuck riding the subway. You’re my woman , he said in a dangerously low voice. I’ll have a driver here to pick you up.

I got turned on from how bossy he was and said yes. A black town car waited outside our building at seven p.m. sharp.

That’s how much he cares. How much he’s adamant on keeping me safe and comfortable.

How much he understands me.

He could’ve dismissed my need to carry my gun with me. Could’ve explained that he trusted the driver and I was perfectly safe.

He didn’t. No. He respected me without any questions asked.

That’s hotter than his sculpted jaw. Than his thick, gorgeous hair. Sexier than the V-shaped muscle down his stomach and the light hair trail that leads to his equally hot cock.

I never imagined that being respected could be such a turn-on.

Fuck. Now I’m hot all over again. And wet.

I want to go home. I want to call him and ask him to come back from whatever it is he’s doing and be with him. I crave it so badly that my muscles hurt and my laugh dies out.

Which is ridiculous and makes me feel awful at the same time. I’ve been waiting for our monthly book club meeting.

Not to mention, I love it here, being in Teresa’s home. She owns this cozy, two-story house in the suburbs.

Books are lying around everywhere, and I mean everywhere. On the coffee table, the floors, the antique shelves that line her walls. Even in the kitchen, there are always three books next to her coffee maker.

The only place that doesn’t hold any books is her backyard. She would’ve found a way to store them there too, if not for her beloved pets.

Billy and Stu, her boa constrictors, live back there in separate cages just so they won’t kill each other. We leave Mojo at home so he won’t howl for them throughout our entire meeting.

Teresa, the older woman with brown slick hair and golden eyes, brings them to her living room to pet them daily.

Except for when the four of us meet. Deidra, the youngest member of our book club, is scared of them.

“Regan,” she calls to me, her blonde hair shining like her blue eyes.

Tonight, she matched her sweater to that unique, cyan color, and it’s like she’s ocean and sunshine all in one person.

Which, metaphorically speaking, she is. “Did he, or didn’t he?”

Oops. Looks like I’ve been lost inside my head for too long. “Who did what?”

“You’ll have to excuse my sister.” Rosemary pinches my cheek from her place next to me on the couch. “She has a new…” Pause. Her smile is wide and genuine. It’s been that way since I ran to her apartment after Landon left to gush about how madly in love I was. “Can I tell them?”

“He’s not new.” I bat her hand away playfully. Warmth spreads across my cheeks as three sets of eyes regard me in the small living room. “He just is. A boyfriend. I have a boyfriend.”

Landon and I haven’t put a label on what we have. Then again, he called me mine. A lot of times. Pretty sure that makes me his girlfriend.

“Even Mojo likes him.” Rosemary beams. Though she didn’t trust him at first, she saw how ridiculously happy he made me, which, in turn, made her just as thrilled about him. “And he doesn’t just love anyone.”

“Oh my God. Oh my God.” Teresa practically jumps out of the antique armchair she’s curled up in. “Yes. I’ve been praying for this. Billy and Stu have been asking about you as well. All the time.”

Hearing about her snakes asking about me isn’t strange. Years ago, Teresa lost her husband in a car accident and decided there would be no one else. They didn’t have any children, so she adopted her snakes and she talks to them instead.

“Thank you.” I’m blushing harder. I don’t care.

I’m in a safe space, surrounded by people who love me, and I love them back. They’ve never nagged me about putting myself out there. When I shared my story two years ago—a year after we started our little book club—they wished me happiness.

“Well?” Deidra blows on her tea mug, her voice as excited as her expression. “Don’t keep us waiting. What’s he like? When do we get to meet him?”

“He’s not Brawn, that’s for sure.” I avoid the question about bringing him over. Meeting my book club friends is as serious as meeting the parents. There’s no telling when he’ll be up for it. “He doesn’t drug me while he…You know.”

Rosemary cracks up at my side, shaking her head. “No, he doesn’t.”

When the oh my God and oooh s and ahhhs fade away, I go back to the question from earlier. “What about Brawn, then?”

Teresa picks up her huge green mug and winks from behind it, telling me she sees what I’m doing here.

“Yes, Brawn.” Deidra places her drink down on the coffee table between the three stacks of books and claps her hands. “I don’t think it was an accident, the overdose.”

“Had to be.” In my periphery, I see Rosemary sitting a little taller. I hear her sniffling. “He cried. He came inside her and then there was no pulse and he cried. That’s love.”

“Yes, it’s love. Here, Rosemary.” Deidra passes my sister the tissue box sitting on the high book stack at her side. “He loved her so much. That’s why he did it.”

“Could’ve been a subconscious thing.” Teresa raises her mug.

“Exactly.” Our youngest friend points a finger at her. “He knew what kind of person he was. Deep down he had to have figured out that, no matter how much he loved the breathing Frida. At one point, his true self would win over. He’d grow tired of her and leave her. That was his version of love. To keep her at all costs, tragic as it might be.”

We’re talking about the book of the month. Problem is, my heart can’t help but make the comparison to Landon.

I’m not my mother. Please remember that. Always.

Landon looked vehement and sure of himself when he said those things to me. He hasn’t hurt me so far, either, not in a way I didn’t like. Every bit of the fire inside of him nurtures instead of destroys. It fuels me instead of burning me into ashes.

What if his father got the same vibe from Landon’s mom? He loved her through everything. He loved her for everything. He had to.

He understood the risks of being with an all-consuming, possessive, and jealous woman like her. And he took her anyway.

There are worse ways to go. Like lying on the grass of Central Park beneath a violent monster and knowing with absolute certainty that this is it. That I’m going to die.

My body didn’t die there, eventually. My soul did.

Then Landon stormed into my life and yanked it back into the world of the living.

Whatever our end will be, I’m here for it.

“Maybe he didn’t see it as tragic at all.” A strange feeling creeps up my spine as soon as I say those words. Like ice and fire rushing through me.

My heart stops, then starts beating wildly. Goosebumps race up my arms and the hair on the back of my neck stands on end. I look outside the window at the street. At the calm, silent, and dark street.

Time’s flown by while we’ve been in here, chatting. It has to be what, almost ten?

He could be lurking outside.

I like that idea. I like it a lot.

“What do you mean?” Rosemary asks while I check for a text from him.

“Regan?” Deidra rubs at my shoulder.

Nothing. Besides a few work-related emails, I don’t have any other notifications flashing on the screen. I guess my body just reacts to the thought of my boyfriend .

Who I’ll see later today.

The three women in the room wait for my reply.

“It’s going to sound morbid.”

“That’s what we’re here for.” Teresa’s lips twist in a wicked smirk, her free hand gesturing to her Poltergeist oversized sweater.

“Okay, so. Way I see it, his tears were happy tears. Cathartic tears.” I give each of them a meaningful look. Deidra nods. My sister and Teresa turn contemplative. “He could finally give Frida what she begged him for, which was all of him and the peace she was addicted to. Toward the end, she was desperate for him to put her under. Then there was Brawn. He could finally have his soulmate the way he wanted to have her. He made sure their love would last forever.”

A collective sigh echoes in the room.

I feel that pang of electricity shooting through me again. Clutching at my lungs.

“I’m going to get us some more popcorn.” The empty bowl on the coffee table is the perfect excuse for me to slip outside and do a quick swipe of Teresa’s backyard. I know for a fact Landon would’ve loved the snakes there. “Can I get anyone anything from the kitchen?”

“Pop a pizza in the oven?” Rosemary grins.

“Of course.” I jump at the opportunity, excited to have an excuse to stay in the kitchen in case Landon’s there. “I’ll call Dad while it heats. He said he has recommendations for us.”

“Sounds great.”

“Scotch for me. This tea is weak as fuck.” Teresa waves her mug, her eyes gleaming with unshed tears.

Guilt twists my heart. Talking about eternal love and dead soulmates must’ve reminded her of her late husband. Good thing I can fix it with alcohol. I get up, heading toward the kitchen.

“I moved it to the wall cabinet,” she calls out behind me when I step into the wall. “Sneaky Stu stole it from the counter when I let him out last week.”

“Okay.”

“Oh my God.” I hear Deidra’s terrified gasp. Poor thing.

My smile dies out when I reach the rustic kitchen.

The lights are out, which is weird.

They were on the last time we were here, getting our drinks and snacks.

Then there’s the back door. Fear paralyzes me as I’m standing next to the old wooden butcher. It wasn’t open earlier. The floral blue and white curtain didn’t flail when we left here.

It didn’t, since the door was closed.

Teresa locked it. I remember the click of the lock. I remember it so clearly.

A large hand slaps over my mouth, silencing my scream.

There’s a man behind me, his free hand snatching the empty popcorn bowl, putting it away on the butcher. Just as fast, his palm flattens on my stomach, yanking me to his front.

He runs his lips along my shoulder, sucking in my scent. Inhaling me.

“Daddy’s home.”