Fleeing Independence?

(Written in Miranda’s Voice)

Miranda didn’t  know how long she had been sitting there absentmindedly running her fingers through the stream of water as the tub filled but if she hadn’t looked down when she did, well let’s just be glad it was a large sunken tub.  Having earlier pinned her hair up and dressed in only a robe she quickly slipped out of it and cast it aside to rest by the baby monitor as she sunk to her neck in the fragrant water.  Leaning her head back against the tub she thought about her time since moving to Louisiana with Aidan and the things that she had been through.

Hours, Days, Weeks, Months….had so much time passed so quickly?  She had to admit it had.  Mother’s Day, Father’s Day…..Fourth of July.  She now understood why people think that the best marker of time is the holidays they celebrate.  Then maybe it wouldn’t seem like time flies so quickly and maybe she  wouldn’t have this overwhelming sense that something was coming, something that would change her world, more than she had already changed it for herself.

Reaching beside her Miranda grabs the washcloth and  pours a little more foaming bath oil on it. She begin to make small lather circles along her skin as she washes first her foot, ankle, then on up her leg and thigh where she absent mindedly runs a finger over the now healed scars from the feeding, a first for her, in many ways.  She feels her body start to respond to just the memory of that time with him.

Yes Miranda definitely has a type, blonde blue-eyed bad asses…and what could be more bad ass than a vampire, unless it happened to be a werewolf.  Luckily for her, she had both, HAD being the appropriate word.  One had dropped off the radar completely and the other….

She had to give Wesley credit.  He was trying.  He found out about her “indiscretion” and for the most part, he took it in stride.  That wasn’t the reaction she had expected from him.  In truth she had expected him to rattle the windows with his fury, for so many reasons.  His wife had been unfaithful.  She had taken another man into her bed, or as Wesley would say she had laid with a fucking corpse.  She sighs as she drops the washcloth beside her and settles back into the water.

She had to admit it had felt good to give Wesley a taste of his own medicine.  He had been ignoring their marriage vows for what seemed like the time they came back from the honeymoon.  Miranda had finally grown tired of it, and his abuse and had left.  Technically, when she met Roman, she had been separated but if she was honest with herself, it wouldn’t have mattered.  Something about that vampire drew her to him.  Maybe it was because she had never really been around  vampires before.  She definitely hadn’t been with anyone but Wesley in that way.

Sighing in frustration Miranda took the pins from her hair and dunked her hair under the water, she didn’t need to think about Roman anymore than she had.  Bon Temps gossips had been quick to wag how he was back with his ex, some feisty brunette that use to call the town home.  Miranda should just write her encounter with Roman off as a temporarily but wonderful suspension from her reality but she was raised to believe that everyone enters your life for some reason.  Those same beliefs told her that there was a lesson she hadn’t learned yet, or she wouldn’t keep seeing his eyes when she dreamed.

Those eyes and those dreams had been the cause of her trying to be amiable with Wesley.  He was trying and she found herself walking a thin line between trying to restate her Independence from Wesley and falling back in to old patterns  like when things were good between them.  Maybe that was the real comfort in being with someone who knew you, that when you’re there and feeling vulnerable, you can lie to yourself.  You could tell yourself that things will be different, because part of you wants them to be.  Was that what Miranda was, doing?  Why else would she accept Wesley’s invitation to go to the fireworks on the Fourth.

Quickly rinsing herself, Miranda stepped out of the tub and wrapped herself  in a towel all the while she berates herself.  She isn’t sure what lesson there is to be learned from this, but whatever it is, she needed to learn it and quickly, because many more nights like Sunday and all of her good intentions will be for naught.  She truly understands why the old saying says that the road to hell is paved with them, she just hopes that whatever is coming for her, isn’t sent from that locale.

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About TXMoonbaby

Farmgirl, caregiver, furmommy and try-to-be-writer who floods Twitter with the antics of the characters in my head, like @TammyJo__.

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