Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
With her hand in Fletch’s, Michelle followed him into the bedroom. The loss of proximity to the fireplace caused a scattering of goose bumps over her skin, or maybe it was the realization of what was about to happen.
Did she want Fletch?
Did she want him in the way things were headed?
Yes, without a doubt.
Could she go into a physical relationship knowing that tomorrow they’d say goodbye?
While her heart argued with her mind, her body gave in.
Michelle was indisputably infatuated. Being in proximity to his sheer bulk dwarfed her in a way she liked.
There was something in Fletch’s kiss—a spark of wanton desire she’d only written about in her books.
It was in the way his hand possessively wound in her hair at the nape of her neck, the way he directed their movements, and the intimacy of his tongue against hers.
Coffee and spice.
Each nip and nibble of her lips sent jolts of lightning through her nervous system. Synapse after synapse exploded, mini detonations all building toward the promise of more.
Michelle raised her arms as Fletch lifted the hem of her shirt. Instinctively, she crossed her arms over her bare breasts and stomach.
“No,” he growled, reaching for her wrists. “I want to see in person what I’ve only ever imagined.”
“I’m not—”
“You are utterly stunning.” He cupped one breast and then the other. “I could get lost in your boobs.”
Michelle scoffed at his prediction. They were large—triple D to be exact.
She moaned as he lowered his face, sucking one nipple and then the other.
Each touch was a direct line of electricity to her core.
The kneading of each breast wound her tighter and tighter still.
Gathering her wits, Michelle reached for Fletch’s shirt, and mimicking his movements, lifted the hem over his head and dropped the shirt to the floor.
The sight before her was as if a Greek god had descended from Mount Olympus.
Perhaps one had. That was why Fletch didn’t exist. He was a god who escaped the heavens to save her.
She ran the pads of her fingers over his toned chest and abdomen.
If only his story was written in braille, she would read it in its entirety.
“I hope you like what you see” —his voice held a new, more gravelly tone— “as much as I like what I see.”
She did like what she saw. That didn’t stop her from tentatively taking a step back. When Fletch tilted his head in question, Michelle spoke her mind. “I like what I see. It’s that” —she hesitated— “I’m lost and strangely out of control of, well, everything.”
Fletch took a step closer. “Shelly, we don’t…
” He ran his hand over his hair. “Adrenaline, well, it’s real.
I want you to know that if we take comfort in one another, it’s not because of the high from what we’ve been through.
” His gaze stayed on hers. “Or the lows. You don’t know me.
I know you and fuck” —he exhaled— “I never thought I’d be with you like this. You really are beautiful. You decide.”
Would it be wrong to take pleasure where she could?
Michelle stepped closer. “I want memories of the man who doesn’t exist.”
As if the flames from the fireplace spread to the bedroom, the temperature rose.
Their words were as scrambled as their movements as they shed one another’s remaining clothes.
Fletch flung back the covers exposing the sheet beneath and together they fell onto the cool bed. His dark orbs focused only on Michelle.
Kneeling on the mattress, he moved closer.
As their proximity lessened, her breathing shallowed.
It was as he spread her knees and buried his face in her core that Michelle cried out.
What he was doing was ecstasy and agony all at once.
There was no way for her to describe what he did with his mouth, tongue, and fingers.
It was too much and at the same time, not enough.
As she grasped the sheet to remain earthbound, her body ignited. Faster than the blaze consuming her father’s house, the heat overtook her. Riding the waves of the best orgasm of her life, Michelle was met nose to nose with the man responsible.
His forehead met hers. “You’re gorgeous when you come, and you taste like fucking honey.”
With his weight over her, Michelle spread her legs, welcoming his long and muscular form between her thighs. Her hands went to his shoulders, feeling his warm skin and assuring herself that without a doubt, this man was, in fact, real.
“If we don’t stop now…” he began.
“No.” Her head shook. The cascade of recent events was too much. Michelle’s emotions were raw. The visceral need to be physically with Fletch overwhelmed her rational thinking. “Don’t stop. I want to remember you.”
“I don’t have a condom.”
She shook her head. “I’m on the pill.”
He lifted his brow in question.
Michelle nodded.
Fletch’s jaw tightened before his eyes closed. Moving back, he lifted her knees and lined himself up with her entrance. “I can’t believe I have you like this.”
“Please, Fletch. I want you.”
Her neck straightened and her back arched as they came together as one.
Moving hard and fast, Fletch seemed as though he was afraid that Michelle would disappear before they could both find bliss.
As the day turned to evening and the skies darkened, their lovemaking slowed.
They explored one another’s bodies, touching, kissing, and licking.
Their activities took them from the bed to the rug in front of the fireplace and finally back to bed.
A few times they paused for food and drink.
There were questions to be asked and answers to be sought, yet in this reprieve, they both allowed those to stay silenced.
Darkness abounded beyond the windows as they continued their one night of existence.
If this was all they would have, neither one of them wanted to stop for something as insignificant as sleep.
Nevertheless, at some point, sleep prevailed.
When Michelle woke, the sky beyond the windows was lighter, and she was alone in the bed.
Sadness and loneliness fell over her like a thick, soaking rain.
Fletch was gone.
He left her. He left her alone.
He didn’t do any of the things he’d promised, taking her home or making sure she was safe. Maybe he wasn’t real. Maybe she’d imagined everything—hallucinations brought on by stress and grief.
As the tears that had been held at bay at the loss of her father and all that she and Fletch had endured began to overflow onto her cheeks, she heard the front door open.
Wiping the tears with the back of her hand, she stood and wrapped the sheet around her breasts.
Tentatively, Michelle stepped into the living room.
Fletch’s smile wasn’t as bright as it had been last night, yet it was there, along with the shimmer in his black eyes. “The goddess awakes.”
She tugged the sheet tighter around her form, unsure if she could believe his words. “I thought you left me.”
Fletched paused as if he were fighting an internal battle. His dark stare remained on Michelle, something unknown swirling in the black hole of his orbs. She couldn’t read his expression, yet at the same time, she didn’t want to look away.
Finally, Fletch inhaled. “Not leaving you yet.” His answer was honest. “My contact has a truck for us a few miles from here. We can be there in less than fifteen minutes on the snowmobile. I just dug it out of the snow. The storm is over.”
“A truck? And then where?”
“Indianapolis, to your home. My contact has been working on alibis.” Fletch turned away.
His neck and shoulders braced with determination as he paced near the hearth and the lingering embers from last night’s fire.
“I can get you back to your house, and you can deny any knowledge of what occurred at your father’s house. ”
“My car.”
He nodded. “You left your car at Denny’s house on your way to Boston. He asked to borrow it.”
“But…”
Fletch lifted his hand. “You took a bus to Boston. My contact will have a ticket for you.” Before she could question further, he went on.
“After the event, you went straight home via airplane. The weather was too unpredictable to go back to Iron Falls. Since then, you’ve been holed up in your house writing.
All your communication was turned off. You had no idea of what was going on. ”
“And record of my flight from Boston to Indianapolis?”
“You’ll have it.”
Michelle blinked, trying to make sense of everything. “Who do you work with or for who can magically create a paper trail that doesn’t exist?”
Fletch’s firm lips pressed tightly together.
Swallowing her emotions, Michelle conceded. This was her fate—their fate. It wasn’t as if Fletch had made her promises he wasn’t keeping. Inhaling, she nodded. “I need to get dressed.”
The thought of a shower occurred to her, but she wasn’t ready to wash Fletch away—not yet. She’d carry their connection until it was fully severed.
“What about the cabin?” she asked, taking one last look around. “Should we clean it, erase that we were here?”
“It will be taken care of.”
“By your contact.” Michelle exaggerated the word.
“Yes. He’ll also return the snowmobile.”
She dressed in clothes from the closet. Fletch didn’t want her to wear the bright orange hunting coat. Instead, he found a brown Carhartt coat a few sizes too large. Her feet were covered with fur-lined boots that fit as snuggly as the yoga pants.
Outside the cabin, they were met with a bright and beautiful frozen world covered by a thick blanket of white.
Michelle squinted against the glare, taking in the surroundings that were hidden a day ago.
Soon they were back on the snowmobile, her arms wrapped around Fletch’s torso and her cheek against his warm, strong back.
The world passed by as they sailed through the trees.
The truck Fletch’s contact had secured was an old white Chevy, one of thousands on the roads. In the middle of nowhere, the vehicle sat on the shoulder, appearing abandoned. Yet after stowing the snowmobile behind snow-covered brush, Fletch knew where a spare key was hidden.
Michelle swallowed as Fletch opened the passenger door. This was her escape back to reality. As she strapped herself inside with the seat belt, she wondered if reality was where she wanted to be.
Fletch reached into the back seat and brought forward a plain paper bag and handed it to Michelle. Inside, she found a standard burner phone and a small key.
“What’s the key to?” she asked.
“P.O. box in your neighborhood post office. In two days, you’ll have a new driver’s license and all your credit cards.”
The question of how was on the tip of her tongue, yet Michelle was confident Fletch wouldn’t answer. She set the bag near her feet on the floorboard.
As they traveled the eleven-hour trip from Massachusetts to Indianapolis, neither Michelle nor Fletch discussed any pertinent matters.
Instead, as the daylight morphed to darkness, they dined on cheap fast food and gas-station snacks.
They spoke of the scenery, literature, movies, and television—polite first-date happenings.
It was as they crossed the state line into Indiana that the proverbial fire beneath her feet was turned up, and Michelle could no longer restrain her questions. She opened the flip phone to see one programmed number. The contact simply said ‘1.’ “Is this number you?”
Fletch nodded. “You can reach me if there’s an emergency.”
“I need a new phone—a real phone.”
“When you’re home, order one online through your carrier. You should have it in less than 48 hours.”
The back of her eyes stung with the weight of what was ahead of her.
“What if Sheriff Perkins shows up?”
“You give him your alibi. You’ll have the receipts to prove it.”
“I don’t understand any of this. Why have you been watching me? Why was my dad killed?”
Fletch’s proficiency at the art of avoidance lasted until they were nearing Michelle’s city via back roads. He reached across the seat, his hand landing on her thigh. “You can do this.”
She looked over, unsure if Fletch was convincing her or himself. “My father is dead.”
“You don’t know that yet.”
The heaviness in her chest was difficult to ignore. Her eyelids fluttered as she stared out at the dark road, the truck’s headlights cutting through the crystalized air. While it was cold in Indiana, there wasn’t the quantity of snow that had fallen farther east.
Michelle swallowed. “I’m supposed to forget something like that?”
He shook his head. “Not forget, just act as if you didn’t know.”
She inhaled, her chest filling with the warm air blowing through the vents. “Okay. I can do this.”
The sound of Fletch exhaling filled the cab.
“What if…?” she began, turning from side to side.
“We haven’t been followed.”
“Sheriff Perkins could have sent someone ahead.”
Fletch’s jaw clenched as he shook his head. “I’ve had your house watched.”
“By whom?”
“Another contact. Everything is clear. Go inside.” He reached over to her thigh. “The bus ticket and airline ticket are on your kitchen counter.”
“Someone was in my house?”
“Someone who wants you to stay safe.”
Her chin fell to her chest. This was all too much. She wasn’t supposed to be a character in her stories…and yet…” She looked up. “None of this is real.”
Fletch’s eyes opened wide. “Shelly, I’m sorry, but it is real and to keep yourself alive, you need to face that.”
“No,” she said with new energy. “I can do this if I imagine it’s not real. It’s my story.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Of course, I wouldn’t have written my own father’s murder, but maybe if I…”
Fletch slowed the truck a few houses away from Michelle’s home. “What kind of security do you have?”
“The usual. Camera doorbell, a camera by my back door.”
“Inside?”
“Nothing.”
He pressed his lips together.
“If you’ve been watching me, wouldn’t you know that?”
Putting the truck in park, Fletch reached for Michelle’s hand and brought her knuckles to his lips. “You can do this. You come from incredibly brave parents.”
“My dad, yes, but…parents…what do you mean?”
He inhaled. “I mean, you can do whatever is necessary to put this behind you, Shelly. Denny never wanted you to be involved in any of this. Go, use the paper trail and continue living your life. Use the keypad on the garage to get inside. I’ll stay close for a few days, to be sure Perkins stays away. ”
“But I won’t see you.”
He shook his head. “You never have. Remember, I’m not real.”
Michelle reached for the door handle and turned back. “Thank you for saving me.”
The tension eased from his features. “Thank you for…for being you.”
With tears in her eyes, Michelle made her way up the sidewalk to her driveway. After entering the code, her garage door rose.