him use them as a pillow. He obeys only because he’s too angry to do otherwise.
I stroke his scowling forehead and then let my fingers caress his jaw. “Are you afraid of snakes like Indiana Jones?” I ask.
“These are stupid fucking things to talk about.”
“I have never been in a plane like Indiana Jones. Have you?”
“Shut up,” he growls, glaring at me.
“I don’t believe you hate me.”
“I never said I did.”
“But you act that way. Is that how your people love?”
“I don’t love you.”
“But I love you.”
“Because I’m full of fucking sunshine, right?”
“Yes, Anders. Your heart might be broken, but it’s still full of sunshine.”
Exhaling roughly, he can’t control himself. I stroke his face tenderly, sensing little breaks in the wall of rage he’s built this morning.
“I didn’t want your family here.”
“I know. We can leave.”
“I want you here.”
“I know, but my family can’t survive without me.”
“Then, I’m stuck with all of you.”
“I’m sorry, but you brought me here.”
Hesitating, he mutters, “I didn’t think.”
“No, but you seemed happy when we watched the movie together.”
“I was happy,” he says, seeming tired now.
“What do you do when you get upset?”
“I work out. Or smoke pot. Or get drunk. Or fuck. Not so much the last one. I get too rough. Is that what you want? For me to hurt you?”
“You know I don’t want that. You’re just ill-tempered.”
“Then leave.”
“I can’t. My family is here.”
“Then you can all leave.”
I smile at his expression since his words no longer match his sad eyes. “Why can’t you work out or smoke pot or get drunk right now?”
“Working out won’t help. I’ll just end up breaking the equipment.”
“And pot and drunk?”
“I can’t do those things when there are kids in the house.”
“Are those things dangerous?”
“No. The drunk thing won’t work anyway. I need to be alert later for my club meeting.”
“And the pot?”
“I told you that I can’t do it with kids in the house.”
“Why? Pot is marijuana, yes? My parents used that at our commune when I was little.”
“It’s not how things are done here. People will think I’m shit.”
“The people in your club?”
“It’s not right.”
“Says who?”
“I don’t know.”
“Is it your mother who says that?”
“My mother is dead.”
“But you hear her in here,” I whisper, rubbing his temples.
“Not her. It doesn’t matter.”
“I would like for you to calm down. I think pot will soothe your stormy heart. You should do that since we can’t have you breaking your equipment, and I don’t want you to hurt me with fucking.”
For a few minutes, Anders stares up at me while I stroke away the frowns from his forehead.
“Do you fear me?” he finally asks.
“Sometimes.”
“Do you want to leave me?”
“No. I care about you. That’s why I killed Rusten,” I say and think of the man’s blood on my hands. “I feel a little bad inside over ending his story. He wasn’t ever cruel to me. I never wanted to hurt him before. But he planned to kill you, and I’m not ready for your story to end.”
Anders’s big handsome face smooths out to an expression I saw so many times on the side of the road.
“You’re beautiful, Pixie.”
“So are you, Anders.”
“I feel like a monster.”
“Did someone teach you to feel that way, or did it happen naturally?”
“I don’t know,” he lies.
“My mama and papa and the Dandelions told me I was beautiful. That’s why I feel beautiful. I don’t think anyone tells you how beautiful you are.”
“You do.”
“Yes, but you only just met me. Does Bronco say you’re beautiful?”
Anders lets out a loud laugh. “No. Men don’t talk like that.”
“Then it’s good that I’m not a man.”
Finally, Anders smiles at me in the way he used to on the road. His rage wall crumbles, revealing the broken man underneath. I kiss my index and middle fingers before pressing them against his lips.
“You did a good thing for my family, Anders. I’m not your enemy. I hope you will remember that when the ugly voice in your head tells you otherwise.”
His gaze softens, and he reaches up to caress my lips. “No one’s ever loved me. Not a single person ever. I think seeing your family love so easily makes me jealous. Also, I started thinking about how you don’t belong with me.”
“Do you see how we create sunshine together? Well, I will shower like you want and wear the clothes you like and keep quiet so you won’t feel overwhelmed,” I say and then add more quietly, “But I won’t let you browbeat my heart. The mean