Carolina Moon

away.
    He’d been the first man to have her. He had no hope of being the last.
    He was no more able to resist her now than he’d been over ten years before. That bright summer night she’d climbed in his window, and into his bed while he slept. He could still remember what it had been like, to wake with that sleek, hot body sliding over his, that hungry mouth smothering him, devouring him, clamping over him until he was rock hard and randy.
    She was fifteen years old, he thought now, and she’d taken him with the quick, heartless efficiency of a fifty-dollar whore. And she’d been a virgin.
    That, she’d told him, had been the point. She didn’t want to be a virgin, and she’d decided to get rid of the burden with as little fuss as possible, and with someone she knew, liked, and trusted.
    Simple as that.
    For Faith it had always been simple. But for Wade, that summer night, weeks before he’d gone back to college, had layered on the first of many complicated tiers that made up his relationship with Faith Lavelle.
    They’d had sex as often as they could manage that summer. In the backseat of his car, late at night when his parents slept down the hall, in the middle of the day when his mother sat on the veranda gossiping with friends. Faith was always willing, eager, ready. She’d been a young man’s wet dream sprung to life.
    And had become Wade’s obsession.
    He’d been sure she’d wait for him.
    In less than two years, while he’d been studying fiercely and planning for the future, their future, she’d run off with Bobby Lee. Wade had gotten drunk and stayed drunk for a week.
    She’d come back, of course. To Progress, and eventually to him. With no apology, no tearful plea for forgiveness.
    That was the pattern of their relationship. He detested her for it, nearly as much as he detested himself.
    “So …” Faith climbed over him, tugged a cigarette from the pack on the nightstand, and straddling him, lighted it. “Tell me about Tory.”
    “When did you start smoking again?”
    “Today.” She smiled, leaning down to give him a little nip on the chin. “Don’t give me grief on it, Wade. Everyone’s entitled to a vice.”
    “Which one have you missed?”
    She laughed, but there was an edge to it, an edge in her eyes. “If you don’t try them out, how do you know which ones fit? Now, come on, baby, tell me about Tory. I’m just dying to know everything.”
    “There’s nothing to know. She’s back.”
    Faith let out a huge sigh. “Men are such irritating creatures. What does she look like? How does she act? What’s she up to?”
    “She looks grown-up, and acts very much the same. She’s up to opening a gift shop on Market Street.” At Faith’s cool stare, he shrugged. “Tired. She looks tired, maybe a little too thin, like someone who hasn’t been altogether well just lately. But there’s a sheen on her, the kind you get from city living. As for what she’s up to, I can’t say. Why don’t you ask her?”
    She trailed her hand over his shoulder. He had such wonderful shoulders. “She’s not likely to tell me. Never liked me.”
    “That’s not true, Faith.”
    “I oughta know.” Impatient, she rolled off him, off the bed, graceful and contrary as a cat, drawing deep on her cigarette while she paced. The moonlight shimmered over her white skin, lending it a faint and exotic blue cast. He could see fading smudges on her, the shadows of bruises.
    She’d wanted it rough.
    “Always staring at me with those spooky eyes, hardly saying boo, except to Hope. She always had plenty to say to Hope. The two of them were all the time whispering together. What’s she want to move back into the old Marsh House for? What’s she thinking?”
    “I imagine she’s thinking it’d be nice to have a familiar roof over her head.” He rose, quietly closing the curtains before one of the neighbors saw her.
    “You know what went on under that roof as well as I do.” Faith turned back, her eyes glittering when Wade switched the bedside light on low. “What kind of person goes back to a place where they were trapped? Maybe she’s as crazy as people used to say.”
    “She’s not crazy.” Weary now, Wade tugged on his jeans. “She’s lonely. Sometimes lonely people come back home, because there’s no place else.”
    That hit a little too close to the heart. She turned her eyes away from his, tapped out her cigarette. “Sometimes home’s the loneliest place of all.”
    He touched her