by Daria M Paus
"He would have." His voice was just a growl. "Do you have any fu—"
"But he didn’t! Ain’t that what matters?"
He tried to reach for me but I slapped his hand away. "Don’t!” I shrieked. "Don't touch me!"
"Bree."
I backed away until my back hit the wall, and then slid down until I landed on the floor. The previous hour started to catch up with me, and all of my restrained reactions and emotions washed over me.
Playing that game had been the hardest thing I'd ever done. I'd never been good at hiding my feelings, but somehow, I’d managed to not only stuff all of them away, but I'd also tricked the creep into believing my story. If this was what acting felt like, I hated it. How could Johnny do it on a regular basis and even enjoy it? It was exhausting, overwhelming, and everything in between. I was on the verge of falling apart, and all I’d done was deliver a few lies to an asshole.
"I was so scared." I started to cry.
Johnny pulled me to my feet, wrapping his arms around me.
“Me, too.” He kissed the top of my head, pulling me close, and when he spoke his voice was thick with emotion. "Thank you."
I wrapped my arms around him, clinging to him as if he was my only lifeline. All the things I'd said echoed in my head. The look on his face as I stood, cold and emotionless in front of him, would be forever imprinted in my mind. The few seconds as his eyes had locked on mine, and I’d turned the other way and let Sean beat him—it had been real. The motive didn't matter, the feeling did—and I didn't know how I would be able to forgive myself for what I'd done.
Johnny pulled away, leading me to the bed and sat down next to me.
"What you did . . .”
“No!”
“What?”
I looked away. “Just don’t.”
“Bree. Just let me—"
“I don’t wanna hear it!”
“You do,” he said. “This you wanna hear.”
I shot him a quick glance. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He gave me a small smile. “What you did—"
"I already feel bad, I don't need you to yell at me."
"No." He took my hand. "No Bree," he said. "I'm not angry. I'm fucking amazed."
I spoke with my eyes turned to my lap. “What?”
"You even fooled me," he said. "Until I saw him on the floor, I thought—” He shook his head and scoffed. “It doesn't matter now. It's over."
I nodded, glancing up at him.
"You're one hell of an actress." He gave me a small smile. "I'm impressed."
Heat rushed to my cheeks. "Gosh no," I said. "I was terrified."
He chuckled. "I am, too, sometimes."
"Really?"
"Really."
Somehow, I had a hard time believing that. I wiped my eyes, shifting so I could look directly at him. “I’m sorry.”
He shook his head, whispering a weak, “Don’t be.” He brushed hair out of my face, and with gentle fingers tucking it behind my ears. “My brave Irish girl.”
My mouth fell open and he seemed to realized what he’d said. He flashed me a quick smile, then shifted away from me and let his body fall back onto the bed.
I watched him as I tried to make sense of the thoughts dancing in my mind.
“I’m just glad you’re ok,” he whispered.
He closed his eyes, and I took the opportunity to really study him, letting my eyes drift from a bruised body to an even more damaged face.
"How are you feelin'?” I reached out to touch his bruised jaw. "Does it hurt much?"
He flinched as my fingers landed on his skin, but didn’t bother to open his eyes.
"I'm fine."
Yeah. He was always fine. Even if he’d be dying, I was sure he'd still be fine.
"Maybe others fall for such bullshit," I said. "But I don't."
He chuckled softly and grimaced as the motion hurt.
"I'll live," he said. “Been through worse."
21
Drunk Decisions
The last thing on my mind, as I curled up against him on the bed was how lucky we both had been, despite all that had happened.
It could've been worse wasn't really a comfort when you were bleeding and in pain, but the truth was, it could’ve been so much worse.
Sleep came easy. I was too exhausted to care about uncomfortable positions or the aching jaw. I just slept a deep and dreamless sleep.
Something moved against me. Low muffled sounds floating all around, trying to pull me awake. My hands slipped, falling limply to my sides and it felt like I was flying. I groaned, trapped somewhere between sleep and consciousness. My face pressed against something soft and I started to fall deeper into unconsciousness again.
A sharp hiss snapped me back into wakefulness, and I blinked to focus.
Another hiss, followed by a groan, then a, "Fuck".
Dizzy from sleep, I struggled to sit.
“Johnny?"
"Go back to sleep. It's nothing,” he said.
Even with puffy eyes and a barely functioning brain, I recognized the lie easily.
"What's goin' on?"
He gave me a weak smile but even in the dim light, I could tell it wasn't real. I stumbled to my feet, laying my hands on his arms and gazed up at his face.
"I'm sorry,” he hung his head. "I didn't mean to wake you, I just—"
"It's okay, I’m not that tired.” I was certain even Johnny knew I’d been practically half dead minutes ago.
"What's wrong, baby?" The word slipped out before I could stop it, and I silently cursed my stupidity. He was many things, but he was far from my baby. Hell, he wasn't even mine, no matter how hard it was for my heart to accept that fact.
He sighed. "I couldn't sleep, this—” He gestured with a flick of his hand toward his bruised body. “I need something to drink.”
I nodded. "I’ll go get us somethin'?"
"No, I can . . ."
I shook my head, guiding him back to the bed. "You should rest."
I came back in less than five minutes, carrying a bottle of whiskey. I handed him the bottle and he gave me a funny look.
"What?" I asked.
“I thought you didn’t approve of my drinking habits.”
“I don’t, but this is an exception.”
“I see."
I groaned. “I don’t mind your drinking, just—" I sat down next to him. “Just when you use it as a freakin’ euthanizer.”
“A what?”
“Euth—" I cut myself off and sighed. “To put you to sleep.”
He grimaced, then nodded. “Point taken.” He removed the cork and drank from the bottle, and I cringed but clamped my mouth shut as he took several long gulps.
This wasn’t the time to lecture him about his health. I was sure he already knew that excessive drinking was bad for him. He just didn't care, so there was no need for me to point out the obvious, even though I was more than tempted.
I knew before saying it that it was a mistake, but before I could stop myself, I heard the words roll off my tongue. “Hey, save a little for me." There wouldn't be any more sleep for me that night, but it didn't matter anymore.
Hours later, the bottle had gone from full to almost empty, and the tiredness was just a fuzzy memory.
"Feelin' better?" I asked, taking another sip of the spirit, then handing over the bottle to Johnny once more.
“Much," he said with a grin. "Thank you."
"For what? Gettin' you drunk?"
"You probably had more than I had.”
"I did not.” I laughed. "You sure it ain't hurtin'?"
"Oh, it does hurt, I just don't think of it."
"What are you thinkin' of then?"
"Do you really wanna know?" He said it with a wink, and that little gesture sent shivers through my body. I grinned. "Tell me."
He opened his mouth to speak, but then frowned, closing it again.
“I’m not that good with words, drunk or not," he fi
nally said.
"Really?" I raised an eyebrow in feigned shock, but the truth was, I knew.
"Act then, pretend you're . . ." I paused, trying to think of an appropriate character.
"Or I can just show you.”
He reached out, and in one swift movement pulled me toward his body and crushed his lips against mine. He kissed me, long and hard. Little electric impulses rushed through my body as my pulse picked up its speed. This time, the dizziness had nothing to do with the whiskey. When he moved away, I was breathless.
Bottle in hand, he wrapped his arm around my neck, making me shiver as the cold glass touched my back.
His lips found mine again, and all sense of reality faded fast.
Never breaking the kiss, I shifted until I was on his lap and one of my hands reached down, struggling with the button of his jeans as his free hand tugged at my clothing as well. My body pressed against his, pushing him back until his back hit the mattress and my body tumbled down on top of his.
The content of the bottle spilled over my neck and into my face the same moment as his stifled cry reached my ears.
His string of “fucks” made me cringe.
Wiping the whiskey from my face, I started to laugh.
He grimaced. “What the fuck? You’re laughing?”
“I’m sorry,” I gasped. “It’s not funny.” I tried to hold it in, but the laughter burst from my lips again. “It’s the whiskey!”
Johnny groaned, and I managed to move of off him.
“I can’t do this,” he sighed. “It fucking hurts too much to move.”
I reached out a hand, brushing my fingers against his bruised body, and the laughter died away.
“Shit.”
"I wish. . . "
I knew exactly what he was wishing for. “So do I.” I sighed but then grinned as I saw the miserable look on his face, and the unmistakable bulge in his pants.
"You shouldn't have kissed me like that then,” I said. "You've only got yourself to blame."
“You wanted me to show you."
"No," I protested. "You were too shy to tell me."
"But you wanted to know in the first place."
I had to agree. "So, it’s my fault then?"
He grinned, and I couldn't help but laugh out loud. "You know what?" I said.
He raised an eyebrow in question.
"It ain’t stoppin’ me from playin’ with you."
After a few seconds of confusion, it seemed to dawn on him. Before he could speak, I took the bottle, gulping down the remaining liquid before reaching to set it aside on the bedside table. I lost my balance and tumbled to the floor. For a moment, I sat there, then I started to laugh again, grinning up at his astounded face.
Crawling back onto the bed, I sat on my knees and with one hand on each of his thighs, I leaned in to kiss him.
“I'll make you feel better.”
Instead of returning my lips to his, I let them trail kisses down his chest. In this whiskey-induced haze, I couldn't remember why we weren’t supposed to do more than kissing. Bruises and blood were the last things on my mind as I let my mouth ever so slowly tease its way down his body.
∞∞∞
The moon shone from a clear sky when I stumbled through the woods down to the beach. My pulse still throbbed as blood rushed through my veins, and it had nothing to do with the ghostly sounds of the island’s nightlife. If I’d been in my right sense of mind, I would’ve been afraid. Back in the house, the creeps were just one door away from us, and Johnny was asleep on the bed. And here I was, all alone in the darkness, and yet I didn’t feel any of the fear that in a normal situation would’ve made me run back to the safety of the house.
I couldn’t think of anything else than how smooth and warm his skin felt under my lips; how his moans could make my entire body tingle with excitement. That was the reason I was here and not snuggled up next to him back at the house. I needed the cold air, now more than I'd ever needed it before. A few moments away from Johnny was the only way to breathe again.
The water was warmer than the sand as the soft waves stroked my naked feet. In the distance, a night-bird chirped and I smiled into the dark.
I didn’t know how much time had passed since I’d gotten here, but it felt too long and too short at the same time. In reality, I guess it hadn’t been more than a week. It was amazing how such a short time could have such a huge impact on my life.
My thoughts drifted back to the night I sat on his bed and watched him sleep. I’d had the exact same thoughts at that time, and now they were back. Enjoy the moment I had told myself. And I had. Ever since I’d arrived on the island, I'd been through both heaven and hell. It had been a nightmare many times, but despite it all, the awe of sharing those moments with Johnny was overpowering all the other feelings that battled inside if me. I didn’t want it to end.
How many days until his team would come searching for him? He’d said they would, and I believed him. For sure, the world wouldn't leave him alone for too long, whether he wanted it or not. I had a feeling that the day would come sooner rather than later. The thought of being shipped off the island to never see Johnny again made my heart sink, and the lust drained from my body. Nothing better than a harsh reality check to quench the fire. I let out a deep sigh as the need to get away from him suddenly felt ridiculous in comparison to what was awaiting. Thinking of the inevitable goodbye made me regret ever leaving his side. How much time we had left, I had no way of knowing, but one thing I was sure of, I didn’t want to spend one more minute if it wasn’t in his arms.
When I was about to turn and head back, something caught my attention. I stopped and looked out across the endless ocean. First, I couldn’t see anything, but as I scanned the horizon my eyes landed on a dark spot that could only be a boat far out on the water. I watched it for a moment, then I continued to walk. Before I stepped off the beach to enter the sand path that would take me back to the house, I threw a quick look over my shoulder, and froze.
The boat was closer. So close that I was sure the crew could hear me if I yelled. I turned in slow motion to stare at it. It seemed to have anchored and rolled gently with the waves. I heard voices from afar and a soft light shone from the cabin. The unmistakable sound of a baby crying reached my ears and I relaxed. It was an innocent family who’d been trapped in the storm and survived. Maybe they were on their way home and took rest close to the nearest island during the night. Then, as I was about to move again, another thought crossed my mind and my mouth fell opened. How was it possible I hadn't thought of it sooner? A boat lay right in front of my eyes, and it didn’t occur to me that this boat could be our savior. We were trapped, having faith in some men which I had never seen to come to our rescue. This boat could take us to the mainland. I could go home! The excitement died down just as fast. If I did, I’d never see Johnny again.
I took a few hesitating steps toward the boat, then I stopped again. It was so easy, all I had to do was call out to it. They would hear me; they would come to see what was going on. They would help a fellow storm survivor—I was sure of it.
I couldn’t bring myself to open my mouth. Images of Johnny filled my mind, and I smiled like a fool at nothing in particular. Thoughts of him made my heart start to beat faster again. Stop, my inner voice screamed. But I couldn’t banish the thought of his delicate hands on my skin no more than I could stop my galloping heart. I wasn’t ready to leave him. I’d only just met him.
The boat, the little voice reminded me. Go home, it’s the right thing to do. Maybe it was? I wanted to, but at the same time, I wanted to stay right here on this island forever. Johnny was certain his people would come. Was it so wrong to just wait for that to happen? A few more days couldn’t hurt anyone. Johnny wouldn't want to go any more than I did, so technically I’d be doing him a favor, wouldn’t I? The creeps were safely locked away. The skillful knots I’d mastered were strong enough to hold a raging bull. There was no way they could break free. Even if they did, th
ey were behind a heavy door with a heavy lock.
We were safe. We could stay.
Just a few more days . . .
Before I could change my mind, I started to retreat. With eyes still locked on the boat, I backed away. When the branches hit my back, I turned and ran back up the sand path.
22
Johnny's Truth
I didn’t mention the boat to Johnny, but it stayed on my mind the whole night. And when I snuck back out early in the morning, the boat was long gone.
Warming a can of baked beans while rolling a lump of mixed frozen vegetables around the frying pan, I had a hard time keeping my eyes opened.
In the light of the day, and with a head cleared of alcohol, I was still torn between wanting to get home and wanting to stay. Having both was not an option, but it didn't stop me from dreaming. It would never happen, but I couldn't banish the image of him in my own bed back at the farm.
"Let me help." His voice snapped me out of my daydreams and I turned to look at him with a small smile on my lips. I shook my head.
"You need to rest." Even though the blood was long rinsed away, and the blue t-shirt covered most of the bruises, I knew what was under there.
"I'm fine," he said.
"Geez," I gestured toward him. "You’re not fine."
He rolled his eyes but remained seated.
I gave him a smile, then returned to chopping up a few more frozen vegetables.
We ate in silence, and I stuffed everything away after we were done. Then I sat opposite from him at the kitchen table, lazily sipping the coffee while my mind once again drifted to that boat. I had let it slip away, but it wasn't the only boat on the sea. There could be people out there searching for me. Someone would come. It was just a matter of time.
"Bree?"
"Hmm?"
"I uh—"
I waited for him to go on.
"You must have questions."
For a moment I was confused. I’d been so wrapped up in my own thoughts I had no idea of what he was talking about. But as he threw a meaning look toward the basement door, it suddenly hit me, and I realized he was misinterpreting my silence.