Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Iris
Lying on our sides, facing each other on our cots, with nothing but moonbeams filtering in through the window for light, Dee stares at me. She’s been doing it since we got back from the hunting cabin.
“No more,” she whispers.
“No more what?”
“Talking to him.”
“Maxim?” I ask, even though I know that’s what she means.
“Yes.”
My stomach dips. “Why?”
Dee taps her head.
Right. My hair. She knows as well as I do that nobody sees me without a wig.
“It wasn’t intentional,” I explain, and while I know that to be true, I also didn’t put it back on. Not after he told me I’m beautiful without it. Gah! I’m such an idiot. Nobody should have that much effect on me.
Plenty of men have called me beautiful over the years, but I don’t see it. I never have. That’s also never touched me until now. Not like this.
Dee hums as if she believes me, as she should. It wasn’t intentional.
Though I don’t tell her that I gave him my real name.
Why did I do it? Hell, if I know. It just felt right.
Sharing a piece of myself with a man. A dead man, but a man, nonetheless.
Over the years, I’ve been Ava, Jessica, Patricia, and a dozen other names.
Iris, my given name, has never been shared with outsiders until now.
My sister falls asleep, and her soft snores keep me company as the nails of critters scurrying through our cabin and into our bedroom make me smile.
The nocturnal nuisances are afoot, and I pretend I’m not awake when they climb onto the cot to sniff me before checking in on their favorite human.
They don’t hang out long before they’re off, doing whatever opossums do at night.
Once they’re gone, I turn over and, with my back to my sister, give myself a secret moment to think of the prisoner in our hunting cabin. The naked one who called me beautiful.
My mind swirls with thoughts of him, and sleep eludes me for hours.
Restless and angry with myself, I quietly get up and do something I know Dee would hate.
I grab a flashlight from the kitchen shelf, slide on whatever shoes I find by the door, and trek through the pitch-black woods.
Twigs snap underfoot. Owls hoot in the distance.
There’s a sniff, sniff of a certain critter following me as I veer off the path and get lost, but only for a little while, before I come upon the dark cabin, sitting ominously in the middle of the woods.
Stopping at Maxim’s room, I click off my light. Not wanting to wake him, I sneak in like a stalker, but I don’t shut the door to keep the bugs out until a certain creature is inside with us.
In the inky blackness, I shuffle quietly across the floor to find my stool.
“Iris?” Maxim whispers, and I startle at his voice, heart leaping into my throat.
The toe of my shoe snags a crack in the floor, and I pitch forward.
Arms out, I attempt to catch myself midair, but thankfully my legs do their job.
After a moment of oh-shit, not-again, I’m left upright, despite the sting of embarrassment.
“Yes,” I heave as I find the stool and collapse onto it with a relieved sigh.
“Why are you here?” he whispers.
“I don’t know. I couldn’t sleep.”
“It’s dark out… Wait… What’s that…”
“The sniffing is probably Peanut,” I explain, even though I can’t see the marsupial.
“Is that the opossum?”
“Yes.”
“He followed you here?”
“I think so. Poppy’s pregnant and stays close to the doghouse.”
“You’re not making any sense.”
“Sorry. Poppy’s another opossum,” I explain as I catch my breath.
“There are more?”
“Yes. Quite a few more. So don’t freak out if you see one. They’re harmless.”
Maxim grunts low. “Right. Good to know… Uh. Speakin’ of Poppy, what happened to my assistant?”
“Oh.” I chuckle, surprised he cares. “She’s fine. Harold was very generous to her and the other ladies. They’re living their best lives now, thanks to him.”
“How?” he asks.
“I spent months dating Harold, and I pay attention.” What a silly question. I’m a professional. Sorta.
“You paid them off,” he guesses.
“No. I paid them what they were due for being used by men like him…like you.”
“I’m nothing like him,” Maxim grumbles, insulted.
“Aren’t you?”
“No. Not even close.”
“Oh, really? Then tell me.”
“I’m a cheater.”
Rolling my eyes, I snort. “That isn’t helping your defense. Harold also cheated on his wife. I thought you had an open relationship?”
Maxim chuckles darkly. “Did Harold tell you that?”
“No. You told me that. That night I drugged you. But I’ve also seen her out with other men and you with other women.” Not that I know what goes on behind closed doors, but it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to put two and two together.
“Hmm,” Maxim hums, cocky as hell. “I see. But I’m not talking about her…I had a life before… Christ. I shouldn’t be talkin’ about this.”
“But you are. So keep going,” I urge, oddly excited to hear more, even though I can’t see him. It’s like we’re the only two people in the world. Locked in a dark room, with an opossum that keeps sniffing around.
“Only if you share, too.”
“Maybeee,” I sing.
“Not maybe, Iris.”
“Okay.” Fine. What harm could it do?
“I had a wife once. A beautiful, loyal wife… and kids... and I fucked it all up.”
Wow. Okay.
“How old?” I ask.
“My kids?”
I hum, desperate to hear more.
“Two sons, both grown now… and a daughter. Fuck. I miss her. She’s almost ten. Looks just like me… What about you?”
“No husband. No kids.”
“Just a sister then?”
“Yes.”
“Parents?”
“A mom I don’t remember and a father I had a complicated relationship with.” That’s putting it mildly.
“I don’t remember my mom either.”
Not knowing how to respond, I hum.
“Why are you really here, Iris?” Maxim asks, his voice low, almost pained.
“I don’t know,” I lie.
“You should go.”
“No.”
“Iris,” he swears my name.
“Tell me more.”
“Iris.”
“Treat this like a confessional.”
“I’m not religious.”
“Neither am I.”
“Iris, go. You need to leave.”
“No.”
“Iris. Fuck. Please. I don’t wanna do this. It doesn’t matter anyhow.”
“It does to me.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Stop sayin’ that.”
“Tell me.” He needs to keep talking. He has to tell me more. More of something. I can’t just leave. I snuck out so I could be here. So, we could… I don’t know.
“Don’t do this.”
“I have to.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I just do.”
“Goddammit, woman. Leave,” he whisper-yells.
“No, and you’re chained up so you can’t make me. We can sit here in silence, but I’m not going anywhere.”
“Fine. Suit yourself.”
There’s a shuffle and a very male, obstinate huff.
I smile. I shouldn’t, given he’s pissed, but I’m not going anywhere.
I don’t know why I’m here in the middle of the night in my pajamas, but I need to be.
My gut is the driving force for most stuff in my life, and right here, right now, it’s screaming at me to stay put, to listen, and throw caution to the wind.
Determined to figure out why this nagging feeling won’t relent, I sit in the dark. A cicada symphony fills the tension-filled silence.
“Fuck,” Maxim curses under his breath.