Her eyes were cold. But she didn’t pull away. It killed me that she would never pull away from me even if she wanted to but like a selfish prick I took advantage of that sad fact and held her close to me.
“You’re allowed to be mad at me,” I whispered, “Go ahead, pull away. Call me a fucking bastard. Smack me in the face.”
She stared at the ceiling, hugging herself while I held her.
“If I told you to spread your legs for me right now you?
??d do it, wouldn’t you?” I growled in her ear, “You’d do it despite the fact that I just cut you deep with my words. You’d do it and you’d get wet for me, wouldn’t you?”
Her lower lip started to tremble.
“Baby, you have every right to be pissed at me. You have every right to call me out on my shit. I need someone to do that, you know? Call me out when I’m being a prick. Tell me to fucking cool it. I need that.”
She choked on a sob but held it in, best as she could.
“You are supposed to be everything I need, Angel, and I need that. I need you to be real with me. I need you to dig deep and find the girl you used to be and show her to me. I am crazy about all of what I’ve had from you so far. You’re in here,” I thumped on my chest with a fist, “I want the rest of you, too.”
“Can you please leave me alone for a while, Dare?”
That was a start. It wasn’t yelling and screaming and pounding her fists on my chest out of anger, frustration, and pain, but it was a start.
“Sure.” I let go of her and kissed her forehead, “Again, I’m sorry. I really mean that.”
She shook her head at me, pain in her eyes. I left the room but without looking back I said, “I will do my best to keep giving you what you need. I need you to give me what I need, too, baby. This relationship needs to go both ways.”
I stepped outside but didn’t light the cigarette. I grabbed a long stick from a brush pile and a hunting knife from the nearby toolshed and started to whittle it. It was a skill my Icelandic grandfather taught me. It’d been a while but years ago it’d always been something that relaxed me. Maybe taking it up again would help me quit smoking. She was right. I’d been smoking a pack and a half a day the last few days and I was wheezing.
I sat for a while outside and whittled and then when I went back in and found her reading a magazine up in the bedroom. She didn’t look at me but I felt her go tense when I stopped at the foot of the bed, about to talk to her.
My phone rang. It was Zack.
“You ready for this?”
“Yeah man.” I sat and braced.
“Gan Chen is in the hospital. Multiple gunshot wounds. Not sure if he’ll survive. His body guards are dead. You out there in the woods with just two guards, I don’t think it’s a good idea. Your father’s house might be better. You should probably try to get there. You’re too vulnerable.”
“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck!” I winced. I looked at her. She looked alarmed.
“I think you need all the info I have, man.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Lay it on me.” I left the room, heading down the stairs and out the back deck.
“Alright. Your girl’s mother’s name is Felicia Mooney, father’s name David Macleod. Sister, Holly Mooney. You want your girl’s name or you still waiting for her to tell you. If you come in contact with Frost there’s a chance he’ll use her name, anyway.”
“Fuck.” I didn’t know what to do but made a snap decision, “Lay it on me.”
“Alright, her name’s Angie Macleod. She was born in South Carolina but at 13 she moved to Juneau to live with her mother after her father died suddenly in a work accident. Mother had Holly by another guy. Angie’s father had custody of her from age 4 but the mother got custody after he died. ”
“Angie Macleod?” I whispered, in complete shock.
“Yeah.”
“Angie?” I repeated.