Playing With Fire

Chapter Twenty-Eight

                                                      Recap         

        “Stay here.” I press, feeling a barrier tear down as I realize that there is nothing I can do to save her life right now. No matter how hard I could try.

        Faye shakes her head and then does something that brings sensation to my numb body.

          She pushes herself off the wall and stares up at me with driven, hazel eyes. The distance between us closes and I stiffly watch as her gaze flickers to my lips. Unconsciously, she draws in her lower lip--an act in which I can now understand as her nervousness. 

            “Please.” I force out, willing myself to keep my eyes trained on hers.

            As if the distance between us weren’t already sealed, she manages to step closer, the heat of her body transferring to my own. I look down, knowing that if I take one glance at her, my hands and feet will move in their own accord.

           “No.” She blows out eventually, her eyes wide as if she's innocent, while she's far from it. Faye closes her eyes and mine shift to her hand which begins to travel along my arm.

             “You’re not leaving my side.” I demand abruptly, exhaling sharply at our proximity.  

           While looking away, I take a retreating step backwards, stabilizing her as she nearly stumbles from having most of her weight on my torso. My fingers pulse with a yearn, and I nearly kick myself for even wanting such a thing—especially when I realize I may not make it.

           

                                        Chapter Twenty Eight 

            It took every ounce of courage to stand my ground. When I saw the three men, I didn’t know what to be terrified of more. The fact that I knew a fight was coming or the fact that I was going to be involved in it. Nonetheless, whatever panic I was feeling dissipated when I saw the driven expression on Travis’s face.

              He looked like a warrior.

            Then a pang of guilt entered my system when I considered at once how often he must have come across these fights. In the middle of the day, at home—near his brother, before the waking hours in the morning…

            I was stupid.

           Completely and utterly selfish. All along, I was worried about myself, my family, my life, but I didn’t ever pause to think about Travis’s. Yet, at the same time, the thought confuses me because I’ve never felt the need to think so much about him.

             I thought all I felt towards him was anger.

              But now I don’t know how to feel.

                                              * * *  

              “Hello Travis,” One man smiles and says as we walk out the door.

             I stand on the right side of Travis, slightly behind him, but not completely. He tenses as the man speaks, as if he expected speedy knives to slice his confidence. I remain silent, only eyeing the other two men next to the one who spoke.

           “Do we have to talk,” Travis demands, “Or can we skip the foreplay and move on to better things?”

           The man shows his teeth this time, and I notice how a nasty scar starting from his scalp line to his ear wrinkles in the process. For the sake of this situation, I repress an urge to gag at the sight.