Darcy Branwyn

Tangled Moon:

…“Way too much trauma,” she said. It was true. What had happened between them—to them—fifteen years ago still felt like a massive ball of pain that just kept coming back to roll them over and over again. What the hell was wrong with them? Why didn’t they just get over it already?

She sat back down, then carefully moved in next to him, her face tucked against his arm, not wanting to jostle him around any.

“Too much stress. Too much being us. Just too much. Oh, great,” she continued, “now I’m going to have one of my moments and you’re not here to talk me down. What am I supposed to do about that, huh?”

She moved her head so her nose was against his arm, squished a bit, but that was okay. It cut off all but his scent. She tucked her arm up against herself and closed her eyes. She was still tired, she realized. Must have been the stress. Carefully, she reached out to pull the blanket over the both of them. She fell asleep again.

When she woke up she was facing the other way. She rearranged her arm. It was being pinned down. Then she smiled and turned to look at him. Her back was up against his chest with his arm around her.

“I was waiting for you to wake up,” he said.

Her smile widened, then everything blurred and she started crying. His arms wound around her. She tucked her head under his chin and sobbed until her lungs hurt from it, Lothar trying in vain to comfort her.

She sniffed, trying to convince her lungs to work so she could talk. It took her another minute. He waited for her. “You okay?” she managed, her voice hoarse.

His brow furrowed. “I think I should ask you that.”

She shook her head. “I asked you first.”

He shifted as if testing things out. “My leg has been better.”

She nodded. “Broken. I think you kept using it too.”

“I’m not sure, but I might have.”

“He bit you up. More scars.”

“I’d rather they were from you.”

Weird, how she could laugh and cry at the same time. “Yeah, you would.” She brushed her hair out of her face, then she nudged closer and kissed him once. “Let’s not do that again,” she whispered…

Repeat after me: I want to be a member. I want to be a member. I want to be a member…