Chapter 18 #2
Is he talking about Travis? Did he not mean to hang up a while ago? Does he still want to be with him? My heart twists and then I look toward the basement, remembering I have worse problems to worry about.
Shaking his head, he goes back to his eggs and slams a pan on the stove.
As he goes back to the fridge to grab some heavy whipping cream, I rush forward and straighten up the pan.
He returns, feeling around the stove and touching each knob before twisting the right one.
I stay here watching him until he’s finished eating and is putting all the dirty dishes in the dishwasher.
Picking up his phone, he swipes up and down on the screen.
“It’s morning. He said first thing in the morning. It shouldn’t be out of line to call him. I should just do it so I can stop talking to myself like a crazy person.” He touches the screen again and taps at it.
I tap at my pockets, my shoulders growing less tense when I don’t feel my phone on me anywhere.
It must be in the car. I have to get to it.
How, though, without him hearing me walk out the door?
He’s right, I did say first thing in the morning, and I meant it.
“I’m here, Honey,” I want to say as I reach out my hand.
“No, I’ll give him some more time. He could be walking Huey or stuck in traffic.
” He nods to himself, setting the phone on the table.
“Yeah. I’ll give him time,” he says again, slowly walking toward his room.
Stopping in front of the doorway, he looks back before stepping forward again, and I wait until he’s in the bathroom to follow him.
I shouldn’t but I can’t help but gravitate that way.
His robe falls to the floor as he stands in front of the steaming shower. He had nothing on underneath.
My cock twitches at the tightening muscles of his ass as he leans down to yank off each sock.
Sliding the curtain more to the side, he steps over the edge of the tub and disappears behind the floral plastic seconds later.
As my reflection starts to fog in the bathroom mirror, I turn around and quickly head back to the kitchen.
I grab a bucket and mop. Seconds turn to minutes as I race to clean up every blood stain I find.
I use some wipes next to clean the doorknob and railings.
When I hear the shower still going, I hurry down the steps to the basement, cleaning my mess down there too and around the body.
The moment my eyes are met with a plastic tarp folded neatly on a shelf, I grab it and wrap the body, rolling him until I can no longer make out the color of his clothing.
What am I going to do with the body? Bury it far away from here, that’s for sure.
Do I even have anything to do that with?
Fuck. I straighten my stance and look around, one less worry slipping away as I spot a shovel in the corner of the basement.
That could work. Now, to get the body in my trunk and then I what .
. . find some wooded area to dump the body?
Yeah, I’m definitely feeling like an amateur here.
I need sleeping me to come chime in with some ideas, because clearly he’s more of an expert.
I’m wishing I watched more crime shows now.
Some Dexter or Bones or something. I lift the body and carry it up the steps, out the back way of the basement.
I’m led out into the back yard, and I try to be as quiet as possible when I shut everything behind me.
Once the body is finally in my trunk, I throw the shovel in and waste no time hopping in the front.
I drive for two hours, stopping in some random field filled with lots of heavy equipment.
Tractors, bulldozers, and fertilization machines.
Once I’m sure no one is anywhere around, I park somewhere in the center and start digging a hole.
The sun is coming out, and I’m wiping my face a lot more than I thought I would in twenty-degree weather.
It’s the nerves too, I’m sure. I’m sweating bullets over here.
I stab the dirt with the shovel, over and over, tossing more out.
I keep going until the hole looks about five feet.
It’s not as deep as I’d like it to be, but I’ve already been out here way too long, and someone could show up at any moment.
I go to the trunk and carry the body to the hole.
I killed someone. Why hasn’t this fully sunk in yet?
I’m here covering some stranger’s corpse with dirt and it still hasn’t hit me like it should.
All I’m thinking about is moving faster so I can hurry up and get back to Henry.
I need to be there like I said I would. I need him to know I’m there.
I toss heavy scoops of dirt away and freeze when I hear a large truck drive by.
I continue when it passes, and then I move some heavy metal pieces on top when I’m done.
All I can do is hope no one would ever think to search for a dead body here, and if they do, I don’t need it coming back to me.
I especially don’t want it ever coming back to Henry.
Looking around again, I dust off my clothes and get back in the car.
On the drive home, I think about the dead man’s face some more, trying to think of where I know him from. Why him? Why anyone?
Once I’m inside, showering and scrubbing the blood off my skin, the guilt finally hits me.
I’m a monster. I’m a fucking danger to be around, and yet I’m getting ready so I can go be with the one person who makes me forget that part of myself.
But what happens when he sees it like everyone else who gets too close to me? What happens when I unleash it on him?
And what if the only company I’m ever meant to have is me and the side of me I hate? I can’t let it win. I won’t. Seeing Henry and being everything he needs while I’m able to is the only way I can fight it.