Radclyffe - Firestorm

Mallory jumped. “No, I’m having a great time. You were right. I’m glad we came out.”

Emily stretched and sighed, looking and sounding content. “I have to work tomorrow. I hate to say this, but I should probably go.”

“Okay,” Mallory said, hoping she didn’t sound too relieved. “I’m ready.” She rose quickly and lifted Emily’s coat from the back of her chair, holding it so Emily could slide into it.

“You can stay, you know.” Emily turned and placed both palms against Mallory’s chest. “I think we know each other well enough to be honest about things like this. Wherever your head is, you’re not thinking about coming home with me. It’s okay.”

“Ah God, Em.” Mallory looped her arms around Emily’s waist inside her coat and tilted her forehead against Emily’s. “I’m a jerk. You may not want to be on a pedestal, but I swear you deserve one.”

“If I was inclined to be angry with you—which I’m not—your charm would save you.” Laughing, Emily kissed Mallory lightly. “If you want me on a pedestal, I’ll be more than happy to stay there. All the same, for tonight at least, I think we should leave it at dinner and dancing.”

“Thanks,” Mallory said, her chest tightening. She should go home with Emily, make love with her, sleep peacefully. Awake content. Content was good, better than crazy with need and want and doubt. Emily might not have her heart, but Emily didn’t mind, and with Emily, she’d never risk losing her soul. She would be safe. “I know you might not believe this, but you really are exactly what I needed tonight.”

“Good. And likewise.” Emily waited while Mallory got her coat on, then took her hand. “Ready to get out of here?”

Mallory looked past Emily to the dance floor. Sarah and Ray were dancing. So were Jac and Chantal. She could stay—Emily would understand. She could make that offer to Jac—spend the night with her, burn with her until the fire burned itself out. But she’d never be safe with Jac—not even for a night. Jac got too close, made her want too much. If she cared, she’d be vulnerable, and she wouldn’t be, couldn’t be, again.

Mallory looked away, certain of her choice despite the lead weight dragging at her heart. “More than ready. Let’s go.”

*

Jac watched Mallory and Emily leave hand in hand, a hard ache filling her chest. Dumb reaction. They came together, of course they were going to leave together. They were on a date.

“Thanks for the dance,” Jac said, steering Chantal off the floor. The crowd in Tommy’s showed no sign of winding down, even though it was after one. She wasn’t tired, at least not physically, but she felt kind of like she did after an afternoon in the slamulator. Bruised and weary. Being around Mallory all night, brushing shoulders with her, trading pleasantries, pretending she didn’t want more, had tired her out in spirit. She pretty much just wanted to climb into her sleeping bag, close her eyes, and shut out the world for a couple of hours. Then she’d be ready to face Mallory, the last of boot camp, and a season of being around a woman she wanted so badly to reach, who didn’t want her anywhere around. “I’ve got an early day tomorrow, so I’m going to call it a night.”

“The offer of the Jacuzzi and a massage is still open.” Chantal wrapped her arms around Jac’s neck, stood on her tiptoes, and nipped at Jac’s lower lip. Her breath tasted of lime and gin. Her body threw off sex like a coin-operated vibrating bed, relentless and just as impersonal.

Jac knew damn well Chantal’s attraction had nothing to do with her, and everything to do with what Chantal saw as a new adventure. Jac was as adventurous as the next woman, but she didn’t like the idea of being a notch on anyone’s bedpost. And the idea of making love to a woman who wanted nothing more than a thrill, no matter who gave it to her, left her cold. She’d had a lifetime of being chased after because of her name. Her solution had been to surround herself with strangers, and now she’d had enough. If she couldn’t do more than slide against a body in the dark for a few mindless hours and wake up as empty as when she went to bed, she’d do without. “Yeah, thanks, but I’d better just get going.”

“Some other time, then.”

“Good night.” Jac escaped into the crowd before she made a remark she couldn’t take back and would surely regret. Sarah was back at the table, and Jac squatted beside her. “I was thinking I ought to get back to base. If you’re not ready to go, I should be able to catch a ride with one of the guys.”

“No,” Sarah said, “I’m about done in myself. I don’t think I’ve danced this much in years.” She collected her things and stood. “Let’s say good night to the guys and get out of here. Mallory left already, I think.”

“Yeah, she did,” Jac said abruptly. She didn’t want to talk about Mallory or Emily. “You want me to drive? I haven’t had anything to drink in over an hour.”

Sarah shook her head. “Neither have I. God, we’re really party animals.”

“Yeah,” Jac said, not sorry she’d come, but glad to be leaving the relentless hunt for an antidote to loneliness behind. “We’re dangerous all right.”

Outside, the inky sky was crystal clear and almost painfully bright after the murky light in Tommy’s. Splinters of moonlight illuminated the road as Sarah drove back to base. Theirs was the only car on the highway, and Jac could almost believe they were on another planet—remote and void of any other life. The barrenness mirrored the hollow ache in her core, a not unfamiliar sensation. The first time she’d felt that cold isolation had been when she’d been twelve and she’d overheard her father in his study dictating a press statement outlining his position against gay marriage. He’d used words like “unnatural,” “amoral,” “a sin against God,” and she’d known he was talking about her. She’d wondered then if he would say the same things when he learned about her and hoped he would change his mind, because she didn’t think she could change herself. When she’d been unwilling to hide and unable to lie, she’d learned that his feelings wouldn’t change either. Knowing her, supposedly loving her, had not made a difference. Perhaps that was when she had learned that being known and still being rejected was far worse than being discounted through ignorance and fear. Maybe that was when she’d stopped wanting to be known.

Jac tilted her head back against the seat and stared up at nothing, wishing she knew how to close the door again on longing.

“Tired?” Sarah asked gently.

“A little footsore,” Jac murmured. “Obviously, I didn’t know what I was in for at Tommy’s. I think I danced with every single person in the bar.”

Sarah laughed. “I guess I should’ve warned you that new blood in a place as small as Bear Creek requires everyone to investigate.”

“No problem.”

“You’ve really got the moves down now. I don’t know what excuse I’m going to use the next time I want to get you to go out with me.”

“All you have to do is ask, lessons not required,” Jac said. “I’m at your service.”

Sarah laughed. “Be careful what you offer, cowboy.”

Jac glanced down at her feet. “I guess I’m gonna have to get appropriate foot apparel.”

Sarah’s eyes lit up. “Oh, let me know when you want to go shopping. There’s a great new place in town.”

Jac shook her head. Shopping with a straight girl. Turning down an invitation for a night of wild sex with a hot woman. Could her life get any stranger? “Okay, I’ll let you know—if I’m still around, that is. I have to get through the last ten days.”

“You’re not really worried, are you? You’re doing great.”