Hello Stranger

by West, Jade

  My voice was weak and wobbly as I gave him directions, pointing him onto my parents’ estate with shaky fingers, still in shock that I was staying the full weekend. He pulled up outside and it felt like I was already in some alternate dimension, Logan Hall and his mum at the bottom of the front lawn. Maybe I really would be a doctor someday. I laughed inside at the thought.

  I dashed up the front path and through the front door with enough of a bound to jolt Mum and Dad out of their seats in the living room.

  “Just grabbing some bits and I’m off again,” I said with a wave, and was straight on upstairs, piling my uniform and a few more clothes into a bag along with my charger and my own toothbrush.

  I gave them another wave on my way out, and Beano a bit of a fuss en route, but I hardly caught a breath until I was sliding back into the backseat.

  “And here she comes,” Logan said, turning in his seat to face me with a smirk. “The white rabbit, dashing, dashing, dashing. Wouldn’t think you’d just climbed a mountain with how much energy you’ve still got in you.”

  “I’ve always had a lot of energy,” I told him. “Mum and Dad called me jitterbug when I was a kid.”

  “Jitterbug,” he said. “Suits you.”

  Jackie was still sound asleep when we pulled up on Logan’s driveway. We were careful when we moved her back to her bedroom, making sure she was snuggled up nicely before Logan switched off her lamp and said goodnight.

  And then it was there all over again.

  The pulse of need for the man standing in front of me on the landing.

  The nerves right the way through me.

  The shiver of want through my spine.

  His eyes were as dark as I’d seen them. His jaw was as firm as I knew.

  My fingers twisted. Twisted. Twisted. Nervous.

  My words caught. Stumbling.

  He closed the distance.

  His hands were hot. His mouth was hotter.

  My arms were a frenzy, his were firm, owning me as he paced me back into the bedroom and threw me onto the mattress. I was already whimpering, already desperate as his weight crushed down on mine. Desperate for the grind. Desperate for his flesh. Desperate for him with every scrap of me.

  I squirmed out of my clothes and tore him out of his, and he didn’t stop kissing me, didn’t stop grinding himself in just the right spot to send me wild. I was tugging, coaxing, straining to pull him inside me, but he didn’t let me have him, just kept me simmering. Teasing. Grinding just enough to set me on fire.

  Then he flipped us over and pulled me up on top, my legs spreading wide as he slammed his cock up deep inside me.

  I was riding him.

  I was riding Logan Hall.

  The lamps were bright, and I was exposed in the spotlights, and his stare was fierce, but for the first time in my life I felt I belonged there. I was on display, bold and bright, and I felt amazing for it. My scars and imperfections loved the light.

  Loved him.

  My hips circled, breaths ragged. His hands were rough on my tits, twisting my nipples and tugging, and I felt it right the way down to my clit.

  “Good girl,” he growled, and I was a good girl. I was a good girl and proud of it as I rode the beautiful man beneath me.

  Our rhythms blended. Faster, faster, faster. He gripped my hips and thrust hard, angling himself just right to drive me crazy.

  “Take it,” he said, and his voice was a growl. “Take it all and come for me.”

  I couldn’t have held back if I’d tried. My hands pressed to his chest, and I rode faster, tits bouncing and breaths panting. And then I came. Hard. Tipping my head back and lost to everything but the waves eating me up, and he was right there, coming along with me, cursing as he exploded deep. Fuck, I didn’t know my body. I didn’t know the sensations. I didn’t know anything but the way his body took over mine until I was done. Spent. Fizzing as the waves calmed.

  I was still buzzing right the way through me when I collapsed onto his chest, and he held me tight, both of us panting without words, because there were none. The thump of heartbeats said it all. The thump of heartbeats was heaven.

  We were silent for long minutes before he spoke, and I felt the atmosphere changing. I could feel it in him, brewing, brooding. Those reservations still eating him up deep inside.

  “Jesus, Chloe, I really have no idea where we can go with this. It’s unprofessional, and impractical, and so many red flags on so many levels. A whole load of them we’ll never win.”

  It didn’t sound like him talking. Didn’t sound like the man I’d shared such an amazing time with. He sounded like a man that needed convincing. My heart was rocking, but I said the words.

  “So tell me it’s over,” I said. “Look me in the eyes and tell me we’re over.”

  He looked me in the eyes, but they told me anything but that we were over.

  I smiled at him. “We work together and you’re older than me. So what? What does that really matter?”

  He brushed his thumb against my cheek. “There’s a load more to it than that,” he said, and his eyes had an intensity about them that I couldn’t understand. I was bobbing right back on his ocean, lost to the depths and wishing I knew them.

  “What else is there?” I asked, and he looked about to speak, he really did. He leaned in and brushed a messy hair strand from my forehead and he looked ready to show me his soul.

  But he didn’t.

  He kissed me instead.

  It was me who spoke next, my lips puffy from his. “Please don’t let the red flags ruin this, Logan. Please just give us a chance. Please.”

  He didn’t answer. Still brooding. Still churning.

  But that didn’t matter. Not that night.

  The way he held me was all the answer I’d ever need.

  30

  Logan

  We sat in our usual seats on the train on Monday, both of us trying to read our novels, but failing. We couldn’t stop staring at each other. Not past the line of oak trees at the Sunnydale viaduct. Not past the corner shop sign with its fresh newspaper headline on Callow road. Not past the five red doorways along the station at Wenton.

  The people were going about their lives like clockwork. The woman tapping on her phone as she stepped onboard at Eastworth, ignorant of the passers-by. The man with the messy blond beard, cursing under his breath at Newstone as he tried to find his rail pass. The elderly woman at Churchley, with her permanent scowl on her face, and her garish floral scarf tied in the same lopsided bow under her chin.

  But my life wasn’t clockwork. Not anymore.

  My life had been hit with the beautiful tornado that was Chloe Sutton.

  I could feel the little white rabbit straining to run as we reached Harrow station, but I took her hand and held her steady.

  “Hold it, jitterbug. A steady pace will cut it.”

  It was Chloe who let go of my hand once we reached the hospital car park. We headed up to Franklin Ward quietly, but the fizz from her was anything but quiet. She was wired tightly, energy fit to burst as we stepped through the double doors onto the ward.

  “I, um… I’ll see you later…” she said, and she was off, the rabbit finding her feet as she scurried away to drop her bag in the staffroom.

  I watched her leave, wondering again just how the fuck this could work, the feelings made all the worse under the fluorescent reality of working life. The girl was a youngster, buoyant and effervescent. She had a life stretching ahead, crying out for happiness and fun.

  I had anything but that ahead of me.

  I’d had anything but that since I was a tiny boy who knew pain a tiny boy should never know.

  Mum had been struggling through the night. She was slumped against her pillows as I took her morning coffee in, barely stirring as I helped her into her daytime oxygen. She smiled, but her eyes weren’t sparkling their usual shine, making it more obvious than ever that her time left was fading.

  It only reinforced the urgency of the list on h
er wall.

  Every time Chloe brushed past me in the corridors that morning it sent an undeniable wave of hope through me, but hope was unfounded. Hope was more often than not a false high that led to a greater low. I knew that much.

  She poked her pretty face around my consultation room doorway that lunchtime, a big bright smile ready to greet me, and I smiled back as she stepped inside.

  “Just wanted to say thanks,” she said. “For an amazing weekend.”

  “The thanks are mine to give,” I told her. “For giving an amazing weekend to both me and my mother.”

  She took a seat opposite me. “I hope we can have plenty more of them. Motorcycle ride next, right?”

  I should have taken my first steps towards retreat there and then, for Chloe’s sake more than my own, but I couldn’t. The beautiful grin on that beautiful face quashed any scraps of realism left in my brain.

  Ride the back of a motorcycle around a sharp corner. I pictured Mum’s handwriting and her eyes glittering every time she read the list aloud.

  “Can you ride? I motorcycle, I mean?”

  “Yes, I can,” I told her, “Not for years though. And I’d need a motorcycle to put her on the back of first,” I said, and in typical Chloe style she shrugged at me.

  “So get a motorcycle.” She grinned. “I’m sure you could hire one, right?”

  I leant across the desk to take her hand. “Yes, Chloe, I could hire one.”

  “Great.”

  “Super cool,” I said, and laughed.

  “Well, I… um… better get back and leave you to it…” She made to leave, but I didn’t let go of her hand. I couldn’t. I gripped her tight and moved around the desk, my mouth so desperate for hers that I couldn’t stop myself. Her hands wrapped around my shoulders, just as desperate for the kiss as I was, both of us so caught up in this fatal craving that we were fireworks, soaring up to explode, set to fall down in tatters and ashes in the fatal aftermath.

  Because that’s what this was. Fatal.

  Tatters and ashes waiting to fall after an explosion that lit up the sky.

  She just didn’t know it yet.

  Typically, of all the points in the day for someone to burst unannounced into my office, Wendy Briars picked that moment to head on in with a clipboard in her hand. She jumped back, shocked in a bluster, eyes skipping from me to Chloe as though she’d just walked in on the moon landing.

  “Sorry!” she said. “Oh wow, I’m sorry. I should’ve knocked.”

  I held a hand up, awkward, blustering right back at her that it was fine, no apology needed, and Chloe was blustering along with me, freckled cheeks scarlet and eyes wide as she backed away.

  “I’ll see you later,” she said, and was off, skittish legs carrying her out through the door.

  Wendy was still shocked, holding her clipboard limply in her hands as she stared over.

  “Can I help?” I asked, and she snapped back to it, clearing her throat and working through some nurse schedule details for the coming week.

  I knew it would be around the ward in no time, not because Wendy was a gossip of any kind, but because that kind of sight would be too bizarre an event for her to resist sharing. Strangely enough, that felt ok. Everything about my relationship with that pretty young thing felt strangely ok.

  I only saw Chloe in passing as she was heading down the corridor that evening. She was nervous, smiling her shy smile as she stepped up to me.

  “My train to Halsey leaves soon,” she paused. “I guess I’m going home to Halsey, right? I mean, you work late, and it’s a Monday, and I’ve been with you all weekend, and…” She laughed to herself. “Sorry.”

  “You’d better get your white rabbit feet on the run,” I told her. “Yes, it’s a Monday, and I work late. You being with me all weekend has nothing to do with it.”

  “Great,” she said.

  “Enjoy your evening,” I said, but we stood there, staring.

  “About the motorcycle…” her words were as nervous as her smile. “I guess you’ll want someone to photo it, and take a video maybe, so you remember it?”

  “That would be good,” I laughed. “Super cool, in fact. Was that an offer?”

  “Yeah, that was an offer.” Her nervous smile morphed into a grin as she backed away. “Better get that train.”

  “Run, rabbit, run,” I said, and she did. Skittish legs carrying her off on another journey.

  My own journey at the ward hadn’t ended by a long way. I had tears from families being torn apart. I watched hopes crashing to fears as people were told they had even less time ahead than the scraps of time they were hoping for, their own bucket lists anything but finished in their final days.

  It only made me more determined to make sure Mum’s list came to fruition – all bar the daughter-in-law request, of course.

  Ride the back of a motorcycle around a sharp corner.

  I’d better get to it.

  31

  Chloe

  The week went by quickly and slowly both at once, if that is even possible. The days whizzed past at work as I got caught right up with whatever was going on in the ward. Wendy must have shared the fact she walked in on our kiss, because Richard, Romi and Nadia would wink at me and nudge me every chance they got, asking questions about the weekend and how loved up I was with Dr Hall.

  I tried to keep it professional. I didn’t want to spill all the details, but I couldn’t hold back my grins and giggles and the fact that I was absolutely bursting with infatuation for the man who’d stolen my heart over one single weekend.

  Work days were intense. I laughed with people, I helped people through their pain, whether that was in body or soul. It was both happy and sad in that ward all day, and my soul was leaping and falling over and over, up and down, leaving me tired as hell every night on the way back home to Halsey on the train.

  Still, tired or not, I was always missing him. Logan. Even though I’d only spent a few full days with him, my heart wanted a lifetime more. For real, it wanted a lifetime. Crazy mad, but crazy true.

  He didn’t kiss me again for the rest of the week. Plenty of smiles and how are yous and tense passings by in the corridors and on the ward, but never his mouth on mine. No Tuesday kisses, no Wednesday kisses, no Thursday kisses.

  I was nervous as all crap when Friday evening approached. I didn’t know what to say, or how, or whether there was anything at all on the cards for the coming days. I should have been focused on getting my stuff from Liam before he chucked it out, and reading the last novel in the Grigori Trilogy, and I told myself that I’d be happy with that. I was practically running an internal mantra that it was ok, that I’d be excited to lounge in bed until midday on a Sunday with my book in my hands under the duvet. No Logan, no big deal. Unfortunately, I didn’t believe my own bullshit and I was nervous as hell.

  When Logan approached me in the staffroom as my Friday shift reached its end, my pulse was racing, mouth dry. He looked calm. As steady as ever. Eyes holding onto mine and not letting go.

  “How is your availability for photography looking this weekend?” he asked. “I have a motorcycle waiting in my garage.”

  I didn’t play it cool. Not even for a second. My answer was right back at him, nodding like a bobblehead. “My availability is great. Super great. Just tell me what you need.”

  He tipped his head, and his smirk was amazing, eyes sparkling like his mum’s.

  “How about I need you to come home with me this evening?” he said. “We could make a weekend of it. Take Mum around her sharp bend and catch up in other areas.”

  “Are other areas in your bedroom?” I asked him with a laugh, nerves fast disappearing under the relief.

  His smirk was still on his face, eyes still sparkling. “Yes, Chloe. A fair amount of the other areas are indeed in my bedroom.”

  “Count me in,” I said. “All areas sounds fab to me.”

  “Let me get my coat and briefcase,” he replied, and I was taken aback as he went to
grab them at six p.m. on the dot, finishing on time for the first time I’d ever known.

  I kept looking up at him all the way out of Franklin Ward and through Harrow District in disbelief, but he was always there, smiling back at the grin on my face.

  We walked slowly back to the train station. I reached for his hand when we reached the car park entrance and he took hold and held it strong. It felt amazing.

  The conversation started shifting once we were away from the hospital, easing up once we were away from the sheen of professionalism.

  “How’s your mum?” I asked, and he took a moment to answer.

  “Alive.”

  “Alive and as well as possible, or alive and not doing so well?”

  “Alive and not doing so well.” He paused. “She hasn’t stopped harping on about you all week by the way. She thinks you’re a divine little thing.”

  “I think she’s pretty damn awesome too.”

  “I gathered,” he said. “Two of you eternal optimists bouncing up against the eternal pessimist at every opportunity.”

  I squeezed his hand, because I felt it from him, stewing deep – that eternal pessimism. It was hardly a surprise that Logan Hall was a pessimist. I don’t think it would ever surprise anyone that the guy was pessimist, given the life he’d been through.

  “Maybe between us we can find a middle ground,” I said with a laugh. “My optimism crashing into your pessimism. Maybe we can find a realistic place, right in the eye of the storm.”

  He stopped me in my tracks and turned me to face him, and his face was deadly serious when he spoke.

  “Never lose your eternal optimism for my sake, Chloe. Run away long before you lose yourself to my negativity.”

  I’m sure I bit my lip, staring up at him wide-eyed like he’d just told five-year-old me to stop putting her fingers in plug sockets.

  “I mean it,” he said. “The last thing I want to be doing is making your life miserable.”

  “You wouldn’t,” I whispered, before my brain had a chance to filter my words enough to play it cool. “Being around you could never be miserable. You make me too happy.”