I’d be free too.
“You should see this town, man. I’m positive this is where they snatched up the cast for the movie The Hills Have Eyes,” Dean said into the phone.
“Haven’t seen it,” I clipped out. I never watched the telly. It bored me.
“In any case, of all places, this is where Luke brings us. My brother has lost his fucking mind.”
Dean was still vague about who they were and what they did, but I had always rolled with the conversations and the little bits of information he fed me. He needed to vent, and I needed the distraction. “Sorry, man. How are we looking on time?” Dean needed to be here for Tommy’s escape, and I was going stir crazy being in the same town as Mia and Masters, itching to change my mind and take her back against her will. Seeing her only made me miss the chaos and challenge. My puppet. The warm side of my bed.
A heavy sigh came through the other end of the phone. “Depends on Luke.” Family came first. Dean’s one and only rule. If he weren’t doing me favors to make this mission a whole lot smoother, I’d do it myself. I needed Dean, and the lifespan of my monster were in the hands of his brother. Cheers. “Give me six months. I know it seems long, but trust me, man. Six months, and I’ll be on the red-eye coming your way. Keep yourself busy ‘til then.”
Suppressing a groan, I nodded as if he could see. “Six months. I’m counting on you, mate. If you’re not here in six months, you’ll be freeing two chaps from prison.”
“Six months. I’ll call you after the holidays to check in. Stay out of trouble.”
The phone disconnected, and it dropped over my lap as I turned into the flat I was renting under the fictitious name and identification Dean mailed me. Ben O. Verbich.
The bloke had a sense of humor, and I finally had a timeline to plan around.
But tonight, I wasn’t going to let Masters be the only one to smash. For over a year, Mia fucked with my head to the point I haven’t buried myself inside a fanny since laying eyes on her. The night, and every night after this, called for straight rum and a local slag, the only two things able to warm me through this long, cold winter and turn Mia into a stranger.
In six months, Mia Rose Jett would be nothing more than a memory.
In six months, Dean would be here, and we could finally free Tommy.
In six months, the monster would be gone.
OCTOBER’S cold front blew angrily while Cora’s little hand clutched mine as she stood over her mom’s grave in a bright yellow dress with sunflowers printed sporadically, cowgirl boots covering her feet. The weather was only getting colder as we entered the month, but the sunflower dress was important to Cora as she fought back shivers. Friends and family of Mrs. Morrigan had left a while ago, but Cora wasn’t ready to say goodbye.
I glanced up to see Ollie holding both of Grammy’s hands as they spoke, but the distance between us ate their words.
Soon, Cora would have to leave to live in Ireland with her grandmother, and though it was incredibly hard for me to say goodbye to the first friend I’d grown close with since I came back, I had to be strong and remind her of all the new adventures she’d experience. A new country, new friends, new flowers to dance with, and new puddles to jump in. “This is just where her body lays, Cora. But no matter where you are, her spirit is with you. It’s never goodbye.”
“You’re just saying that because my mum is dead. You’re saying that to make me feel better,” she whispered. “I’m not stupid. I know what it’s like. My dad’s dead too.”
Though she came up to my chest, I still crouched down and smoothed my black lace dress under my thighs to not physically talk down to her. “You have two guardian angels, Cora. They are watching you now, and it’s your job to make sure you give them the best and most beautiful life for them to see until you’re all together again.”
“Do you have a guardian angel?”
Smiling, I nodded. “And I hear Ireland has castles, and rolling hills, and fields of rare pale purple flowers …”
“Does it rain in Ireland?”
“It does.”
“Do they have boys who tell stories like Oliver?”
I laughed at her choice of words. “They have boys who tell stories everywhere. There is not a shortage. I can promise that.”
Cora looked up to the sky and closed her eyes, her black hair twisted around her lightly freckled face as she wordlessly communicated to her mom and dad. Perhaps she was saying goodbye, or maybe she was praying. A gust of wind twirled, picking up loose petals from the bundle of flowers cradled in her arms, and they ended up in her hair. “Thank you,” she whispered with a smile of innocence and strength.
We helped Grammy pack up the car with Cora’s things and stood outside our cottage behind the gate. Cora blew hot air against the window from inside the car, and her little finger pressed against it, drawing a heart and a flower. Ollie’s arm hung over my shoulder, and he pulled me close to his side as we waved the two off. The rattling exhaust pipe sputtered a cloud of smoke before the old town car took off down the road with Cora’s nose pressed against the glass, waving back.
“Let’s go to Gibraltar,” I stated, both our eyes on the back of the town car. “Ten-ten-twenty-twenty.” It was almost a year ago when we’d made the promise. But at that time, it wasn’t just a promise. It was so much more. A future. Plans. You and I. Evermore.
Ollie’s head snapped to face me, and his arm fell off my shoulder. Green eyes bounced between mine. His lips parted. “Holy hell, you’re bloody serious.”
“I’m totally serious. Let’s go. Right now, Ollie. Who else has to die to remind us to start living? Blind, no plans, let’s just pack our shit and go to Gibraltar and get married. Ten-ten-twenty-twenty, Ollie. I’m so ready.” Ready to marry him. Ready to be Mia Masters. Ready to finally feel the ocean against my feet, itching for those icy cold waves of freedom since I’d told him back at Dolor in our first year.
Dimples deepened as a smile spread under his sparkling green eyes. It was the same smile I’d seen across the room during breakfast back at Dolor, at the end of hallways as classes changed, and in his dorm as he watched me dance in the middle of the night. Through all the death and darkness we’d been through, it was his smile shining light over our shattered life. It crumbled walls, clutched hope, and pulled us from the depths of despair—a single smile, and as if it was not enough, he kissed me.
We talked through our plans for the trip as we shoved clothes in a large suitcase, deciding on driving to the Port of Portsmouth and taking the ferry to Spain. We would figure out the rest upon arrival, both of us on a natural high and unable to think clearly.
“Don’t forget the passports,” I called out, changing out of the black lace dress and into something more comfortable for travel. Ollie came through our bedroom door with our documents in hand and laid them over the suitcase. He’d already changed into his grey joggers and a black hoodie, his brown hair styled into his backward wave. His eyes glued to my hips as I shimmied into a pair of ripped high-waisted jeans. “Stop, I can hear your thoughts from here, and we don’t have time. The ferry leaves in two hours.”