She gave me three kids. Yeah, you heard that right. THREE.
One of you aint mine. Figure that out between ya. That’s a bitch fight I’d pay to see. Pity I’ll be dead by the time you mob read this.
Here's the thing no one tells ya about love. It’s a bonfire. Starts hot, bright, cracklin, makes ya think you're king of the world. Then it burns out. Leaves you with ash and smoke and a mess you gotta clean up.
One day, you look at the woman who stole your heart, and all you see is everythin else she took from ya.
That's what Edith did to me. Stole my fuckin heart the day I caught her with another man. Saw his hands on her. My woman. In the stockyard shed I walked past every goddamn day. She wasn't tryin to hide it. Then she tells me she's pregnant. Like carryin another man’s kid under my roof was meant to soften the blow.
Stupid bastard even told me to calm down.
Like hell. I made him calm down. Permanently. Made her watch. It was her fault anyways. Screwin another man when she was mine.
Love don’t last. It mutates. Turns into habit or hate or guilt. Depends on how honest you’re willin to be. I’ve felt all three. Sometimes, all before breakfast.
People talk about soulmates like it's a fairytale. It’s a load of crap.
Love is just the first stage of ownership, and ownership always ends in loss.
Still, every now and then, I dream about Edith’s laugh. Not the polite dinner table laugh she used for show. The real one. The one from her belly that could crack open a whole room. Makes me wonder if maybe once I almost got it right with her.
Then I wake up and remember she opened her legs for someone else while pretendin with me.
Love’s a four-letter lie.
Believe in it if you want.
But don’t say I didn’t warn ya when it leaves teeth marks.
Frank Branson
Chapter 29
Charlie
* * *
A noise jolted me awake.
I blinked into the darkness. Stars still dotted the sky, but deep purple-black bled across the horizon. Dawn was on the way. Mitch's bare chest kept my back warm, and his heavy arm was still across my waist. After making love last night, we'd washed in the billabong again, then dressed in our filthy clothes to sleep. He'd insisted I wear his tattered shirt, leaving him in just his jeans. Because I’d left my socks and boots back where the dingoes attacked me, Mitch gave me his socks to keep my feet warm, and pulled his boots onto his bare feet.
The saddle blanket beneath us and the fire had kept us warm enough, but the flames had died to glowing coals, and my breath misted in the cool air.
Yet I felt safe with Mitch's arm cocooning me against him. Our lovemaking had been extraordinary, tender and fierce all at once, and I'd felt it not just in my body but somewhere deeper, somewhere that scared me a little. I felt raw and exposed with him, yet somehow more myself than I'd ever been.
I'd fallen asleep with a warmth glowing inside me that had nothing to do with the fire. Mitch and I were on the cusp of something truly special, and although there were so many unknowns ahead of us, I was ready to see where this adventure took us.
Mitch rubbed my arm. "Hey, Charlie." His voice was low, urgent. "Wake up. But don't make a sound."
My heart kicked against my ribs. "I'm awake."
"Shh." His hand covered my mouth gently. "Something's out there."
I started to pull away, but he dragged me back against his chest, and I went rigid in his arms.
The glowing coals barely provided enough light to see beyond the firelight, and Mitch's body was tense against mine, every muscle coiled tightly.
That scared me more than anything.