Junk Love.

thirty.

Eight Months Later.

The weeks following the hotel shooting are pretty (un-pretty?) touch and go for awhile.

Carter was sentenced another slew of court dates but, thankfully, not a second sentence with Marcella testifying on his behalf. The relationship with his parole officer was tentative but Marcella and her husband were regarded respectable people of the city. After a few legal liabilities, and a month in physical therapy for Mel, they were on the road to a new life.

Packed up in an old duster of a yolk colored Volkswagen they fled New York City. During the long journey west to Colorado the back bumper rattled clean off and the trunk wouldn't shut entirely without the aide of a neon bungee cord.

Skyscrapers were replaced by jagged mountain peaks salted white at the tops. The nights brought more twinkling stars than either of them had seen in their life. A pesky blanket of smog congesting the city sky always got in the way of any night scenery. Everythiny was foreign in the most exciting way imaginable.

As per request, Carter turned himself in to the parol office as soon as they crossed the border into Chaffee County. From there they were accompanied by Rupert's old friend. A park ranger by the name of Dean Marcos. Although supernaturally tall Carter dwarfed the squat man in comparison what Dean lacked in height he made up for in attitude. He was the only man that could keep up with Carter's sarcasm without getting offended.

Despite first living in a lonely shack of an apartment --with a dryer that only worked half of the time and a touchy electric system that caused the lights to flicker frequently -- it was home. A roof over their heads for the rest winter.

Everything changed in the middle of February when Marcos took them on a ski trip over Monarch pass. A hilarious weekend that proved Carter was much clumsier on skis than she. He was still scooting on the bunny hills and Mel had run circles around him.

On the last day, she'd woke in the middle of the night then went for a walk. Rustling around in the pine needles she'd discovered two fluff balls buried in the snow, cute spotted cats, freezing to death. Marcos nearly had a heart attack waking up to twin mountain lion cubs lounging in his hotel room. Mel had been blissfully unaware of that detail when she'd carried them back.

These are the memories Mel recalls while she thumb-tacks a picture to the wall, displaying she and Carter at the peak of the mountain on their first day. He carried her bridal style kissing her cheek. Ridiculously she'd worn shorts that day and, even in the washy colors of the photo, she swears she can see goosebumps on her legs.

"Hey babe." He kisses her sideways without aiming so his lips press between the side of her face on her ear. Laughing at the ticklish spot, Mel ducks away. "I made you coffee."

Cupping the mug in her palms she absorbs all the warmth from it she can. Moving to the mountains is still an adjustment. Especially now that they're housed in a log cabin on Monarch Pass. The cabin is an entity of its own with walls that creak then groan against the slightest wind. A melody often accompanied by guitar notes and verses from spitfire raps he'd started writing again.

"Mmm, good." Mel hums. "It's going to be a long day today. I think we have three cubs coming in."

"My girl, the wild cat."

A small part of her thinks her new profession as a caregiver for wild Mountain Lions, brought in injured or sick from the surrounding woods, is a novelty to him. Perhaps a passing phase. But she knows in her bones she's finally found her passion.

"Will you haul in some water please? I want to take a bath later."

"Mind if I join?" He waggles his brows like a cartoon character.

Lately Carter's been growing out his hair, keeping it in a spiked up mess rather than slicking it back, and the rustic look has been a hell of a turn on. It suits and serves them both better than the unforgiving city ever did.

"It's a date," she promises mocking a punch under his chin. "Don't be late, sucker."

After kissing him goodbye Mel slips on her boots then steps outside to tend to her cats. Comforted in knowing that the wood smoke billowing from the cabin chimney will always be there to guide her back home.

FIN.
☯