The Liberator

13 Field Trip

For the next two days, I stay in Aspen’s fog, trying hard not think about the girl I miss in Alabama. On a few occasions, I encourage Aspen to spend more time with Sahara, thinking maybe her baby sister will do my job for me.

It doesn’t work.

Instead, I spiral further away from the man Charlie had somehow pulled out of me and lose myself in my old lifestyle. Somewhere in the back of my head, I know I’m a liberator. That I only survive because of the dargon around my ankle. I wonder at times how much longer Big Guy will let me slip by. I’ve heard he’s a vengeful leader, so it can’t be long.

I wake up on my fourth day in Denver to someone pounding on my door. I imagine it must be Man Hands returning, and that maybe I was loud again last night. My throbbing head tells me that if I was, I wouldn’t remember it.

Pulling open the door, I find Aspen dressed all in black except for hot-pink fingerless gloves. She flashes by me, and as she does, she admires my tats—the dragon spread over my back and the tree growing up my arm and branching over my shoulder. Other than that, she gives my half-dressed torso the same attention she’d give a number-two pencil.

She studies the room and then caves into herself like maybe she’s just discovered where all forms of influenza come from. “Thought you said your dad had a condo.”

Did I say that? I can’t remember if I did. Thinking fast, I decide to play the sympathy card. I cast my eyes toward the floor and turn away. “Asshole’s been gone awhile.”

Aspen looks at the furniture around her, which I’ve put in some semblance of order again. “Parents can be pricks, huh?”

I nod, thinking the less I say, the better. Though I would like to ask how she knew where to find me.

“Get dressed.” Her mouth pulls into a smile. “We’re going on a field trip.”

“I’d rather stick my head in a meat grinder,” I respond. But in actuality, I’ll go wherever she goes.

Because she’s my assignment.

Because I fucking hate being alone.

“How’d you get here?” I ask.

“We have these magic yellow cars in Denver that take you places for cash.” Aspen starts throwing my things into an overnight bag, wrinkling her nose—and her nose ring—at some of my fashion choices, which I find highly insulting.

“That shirt you’re so disgusted by cost a hundred dollars,” I tell her.

“No wonder it looks like crap,” she says. My jaw drops, because I’m not used to this. I’m the rich one. I’m the one with nice crap everyone wants to have. But not around her, I guess. Aspen is like me if I drank a steroid-crack milkshake each morning. “Terrible clothes or not, we’re getting out of town. I need a break from this place.” She glances at me from the corner of her eye like she’s anticipating a rebuttal. “You’re the one who said you don’t have anywhere else to be.”

Ten minutes later, Aspen is driving my pimp car out of Denver like there’s an F5 tornado on our heels. And a half hour after that—so she says, I was crashed out—we pull into a town that belongs on a postcard. That is, if the postcard had yellowed thirty years. It’s like all the tightly lined shops and paved roads used to be a sight to behold, but now it’s a place people say “will come back around.”

Aspen turns onto a dirt road and slices a path between the fir trees. It’s only then do I think to ask where we’re headed. For the last few days, I’ve followed Aspen blindly. I used to be the one people followed. But like many others, I’ve been trapped by Aspen’s web, allowing myself to be drained by her needs.

“Where we headed?” I ask. “And why didn’t Lincoln come?”

“This is my family’s place.” Aspen all but spits the word family. “Lincoln said he’d stay behind with Sahara. Someone’s got to watch her while Dad’s off doing whatever.”

I glance at Aspen, watching as her knuckles tighten around the steering wheel. “Lincoln is good to you. Have you guys ever gotten dirty?”

Aspen laughs. “Lincoln? No. We’ve been friends since we were kids. Been through war together. Literally if you’re asking him.”

“He is pretty skittish,” I say. “Bet that military father of his loves Lincoln’s piercings.”

Aspen doesn’t say anything, just shakes her head.

I drop the subject and dig my cell out of my back pocket. It hasn’t vibrated since we left, so I know there won’t be anything from Charlie. Still, I’m dying to talk to her, even if our conversations have become increasingly strained. For the record, if Salem and Easton would stop talking her into doing stupid crap, we’d be fine.

My face warms when I see there are nine missed calls, and four voicemails, from her.

“What’s wrong?” Aspen asks.

“My girl has called, like, a million times.” I can’t help the grin splitting my mouth. She called. She called a lot. And my damn ringer was off. I tell myself everything is fine with our relationship, otherwise she wouldn’t have called that many times, even if it was at like two in the morning. Like always, I contemplate whether something bad happened, but realize if that were the case, someone other than her probably would’ve called. And I’m trying to trust her more.

As Aspen pulls up to a snow-laden cabin that must have been built for Zeus, I try retrieving my voicemails. The reception is crap, though, and her messages are too broken to understand. I reach into my back pocket to get the horn my father gave me and grip it in my palm. But I don’t get a good read on where Charlie is. It’s almost like I’m only feeling my own horn here in Colorado. Frustrated, I glance over at Aspen.

“Can you take me back into town?” I say. “I can’t get my voicemails.”

“Why don’t you calm down, D-Dub. I know you’re menstruating, but everything’s going to be fine. Once we get inside, I’ll explain all about maxi pads, personal hygiene, and the feel of a man’s penis.” Aspen grabs our bags from the trunk and heads toward double arched oak doors. The way she skitters up the stairs, it’s like she’s nervous about something, like she’s waiting for something big to happen.

I grit my teeth and crunch through the snow behind Aspen, knowing I’ll probably only make it another half hour before I forfeit the last of my manhood and go searching for a signal. Though I’m not sure why Aspen brought me here, I’m glad. Being away from Gage and Lyra and all the parties will help me focus on finishing this assignment. And if I’m being honest, this place is pretty kickass.

A wraparound porch hugs the two-story cabin, and the exterior is built to look like it was made from logs and mud alone.

More like slave labor and cold hard cash, but whatev.

The interior is more of the same: rustic-meets-rich-folk in the form of an antler chandelier, bearskin rug, dark leather sofas, and plaid chenille throws. Walking through the place, I spy six bedrooms and enough washrooms to bathe Snow White’s seven dirty-ass dwarves.

After my exploration, I sink down onto a couch and watch as Aspen lights a fire. My mind begins ticking away, thinking it’s now or never. I’ve enjoyed losing myself in this girl, but I know where my heart lies, and after seeing how many times Charlie called, I know I want nothing more than to get home to her. I decide my best chance is to be aggressive with Aspen. Maybe bring up Sahara. Ask what kind of example she thinks her little sister deserves.

I’m all set to start my rant when there’s a knock at the door. Aspen jerks like a startled fawn then races across the room. Remembering who I am, and that a collector is still out there somewhere, I jump to my feet. “Who is it?” I ask her.

Aspen freezes right before she reaches the door, like she’s thought of something. “I don’t know.”

She turns and stares at me, her face giving nothing away. I move quickly and stand in front of her, blocking her body with mine. “Get back,” I hiss. Then I turn the handle, pull the door open—

And see Charlie Cooper smiling back at me.

Aspen slaps me on the back, “God, you should see your face! What the hell did you think was out there?”

I hear her words, but I can’t think of anything else besides Charlie. She stands perfectly still, her long, slender arms hanging loose by her sides. “Dante,” she breathes.

I don’t hesitate a moment longer. Scooping her into my arms, I pull her against me. She’s so close, but it isn’t enough. To touch her is beyond words. Even when we were apart, I carried her soul inside me. But now I have her body, too. And the sensation is enough to make me dizzy with pleasure.

I set her down and run my hands over her cheeks, her neck. I stare at her face and memorize it. We’ve only been apart for four days, but already I’d forgotten just how amazing she is. “My Charlie,” I whisper. Forgetting every strained moment between us, and all the reckless things she’s done, I lean down to press my lips to hers.

But before I can kiss her, Annabelle crashes onto the doorstep, an oversized Nike bag slamming into Charlie and me. “You didn’t think I’d miss out on the fun, did you?”

Charlie laughs and wraps her arm around my waist, looking now at Aspen. “I can’t thank you enough,” she says, but I don’t miss the way she eyes Aspen, sizing her up.

I can barely grasp the fact that Charlie is here, much less what she’s saying. Following her gaze to Aspen, I say, “You did this?”

Aspen smiles at me but keeps a wary eye on Charlie like she might regret her decision. “I asked you if you could have anything…” She shrugs like it’s nothing. “Though I don’t know how you two do long distance. Blows.”

I grin at Aspen, and before I do anything else, I seal her soul so damn hard, I almost feel drowsy. She deserves it, too. Because Aspen doesn’t like being alone, and she probably realizes that if Charlie’s here, my attention will switch from her to my girlfriend. But she did it, anyway. She flew Charlie and her best friend up here because she knew it’d make me happy.

“So what’s going on?” I say to everyone, so happy I’m delirious. “Winter break at the cabin, the four of us?”

“Well…” Charlie responds. The way she says that one word makes my muscles tighten. Eyeing the horn lying against her chest, I realize it wasn’t my own charm I felt earlier, but hers. Because she was here. Because she is here.

“Just be chill, okay, D-Town?” Annabelle glares at me like she’s ready to wrestle if I argue with whatever she’s talking about.

But I don’t know what she’s talking about.

Until I see them.

Behind Annabelle, I notice two guys strutting toward the cabin. One is wearing a blue Cubs hat, and the other is throwing me a sly smile, a smile I’m about to break off his damn face. My hands close into fists, and as Charlie tugs on my arm, I head out to meet them.

“There’s more,” Charlie pleads. “I tried calling you.”

She keeps tugging on me, but it’s like a butterfly trying to block a bull. I swore I’d try to trust Charlie, but this Salem guy has been playing with her life, influencing her to play dangerous games. And now it’s time to pay the fucking piper.

“Wait, listen to me,” Charlie says. “Listen to me. You’re not going to believe—”

But she doesn’t finish, because someone new steps directly into my view.

Charlie stops talking.

My heart stops beating.

The guy looks over my shoulder at Aspen and grins. “Damn, that girl is hot,” he says.

Blue says.