by A. M. Hudson
“Any time.”
And I knew that was the truth, more than an automated statement. Just like every moment in the past, Mike had and would always be there to comfort me through the storm. “Hey, Mike?”
“Yeah, baby?”
“Do you remember the year I told my mum I was too old to be afraid of storms?”
“Yeah.” He laughed. “I’m not sure if she actually believed you or just wanted to believe you.”
I snuggled my face into his skin. “I think she knew the truth.”
“I knew the truth.”
“I know you did.”
“Yet you always freaked out when I tapped on your window during a storm,” he mused.
“Of course I did. How scary do you think it is to completely believe The Bogeyman comes out to get you in the thunder, and then see a face outside your window?”
He laughed loudly. “But you knew it’d just be me.”
“Yeah. After a while, anyway.” I closed my eyes and let myself remember laying with him—in his arms, safe and happy all those nights. “Mike?” I whispered.
“Yeah?”
“I…I.”
He laughed and kissed the top of my head. “I know, baby. I know you’re scared.”
“No—”
“Ara, baby, we’ll talk in the morning. It’s after midnight—go to sleep.”
I swallowed my courage and stuffed the words I love you back down where I’d stored them all these years, then closed my eyes and let Mike’s heartbeat take me away to the peace and silence of dreamland.
A songbird announced the arrival of morning, waking my mind from the best sleep it’d found in ages. I inched one eye open, blinded by the glare of sunlight streaming in—its soft, yellow glow making me smile because, finally, the rain had passed.
If I could sleep like that every night, I’d make it my occupation to go to bed. But the bed moved under me, rising softly before warm, moist lips touched my brow.
I pushed up onto my hands and knees. “Mike!”
“Hey, princess. You slept well,” he noted.
“Yeah.” I rubbed my face, checking to see if his door was shut. It was. “I did, actually.”
“You okay?”
I blinked a few extra times to focus properly on the way the morning seemed to make his skin look like honey and his eyes as warm as hot cocoa. He was very beautiful in the morning. “Um, yeah. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep in your bed.”
He laughed, shaking his head, then just looked at me for a few seconds. “And I’m sorry it doesn’t storm like that every night.”
My cheeks lifted first, forcing my lips to follow.
“Come here.” He placed a hand on my shoulder and tugged.
My muscles were so stiff that I slumped down heavily on his bare chest, and every inch of skin that wasn’t covered by my tank top touched his, making me shiver inside—a good shiver. “Why did you keep me last night, Mike?”
“Are you kidding?” His arms tightened around me for a second. “You snuggled up so close to me, Ara, with your face and your soft breath over my chest. Why on earth would I put you back in your room?”
“Because I’m not yours.”
“So you keep telling me, but yet...” He motioned down at my hand over his heart.
“What time is it?” I asked, moving my hand onto his stomach.
“Um—” He stretched his arm out around my back and looked at his watch, forcing me closer. I liked this closeness. “Midday.”
“Midday?”
“Wait a sec.” He grabbed my arm as I leaped for the side of the bed. “You stay. I’ll get breakfast. Well, brunch now, I suppose.” He grinned, and his unshaven, sandy-brown stubble did nothing to hide the sexy indent in his cheek—not even a little bit.
As he gently pushed me back onto the pillows, everything from my heart down went numb. His soft, partially open lips came toward me so slowly that I closed my eyes and held my breath, waiting for them to touch mine. But, he kissed my forehead and walked out the door, leaving me breathless.
I rubbed at my face, as if maybe I could chafe off some of my awkwardness. I wasn’t sure I’d ever get this boy thing right. I don’t know, maybe I’d just waited too long to have him kiss me and now I was plotting scenes in my mind that were completely opposite to what was going on the real world. For all I knew, he hadn’t even woken up beside me this morning. I could be in my own bed right now and not even know it.
Spreading the covers out neatly over my ribs, I drew a deep breath of the morning, smelling the warm scent of toast beneath it. Mike would come back up soon. I needed to compose myself.
I cupped my hand and blew into it, nodding with approval when my breath came back scentless, then knotted my fingers through my hair in a desperate attempt to tidy my probably very haggard appearance. Okay, so that wasn’t composure. But I’d been crazy over Mike for so long. I wanted him to come back up those stairs and look at me like I was the only girl in the world, then take me in his arms and kiss me—on the lips. Not the forehead.
“What ya thinkin’ ‘bout?” Mike asked, leaning against the door with a tray in hand.
“You.”
“I hope so. From the look on your face, you like whatever you were thinking about.”
“Maybe I do; maybe I don’t.” I tried not to grin.
He rested the tray on the foot of the bed and his homely smile set my heart racing like—like I was the only girl in the world.
“Where are you, right now?” he said softly.
I came back to my own head, smiling sheepishly. “Sorry. Did I faze out again?”
“Uh, yeah,” he scoffed. “Just a bit.”
“Sorry.”
“What were you thinking?”
I hesitated. “I probably shouldn’t say.”
Mike wiped his hand across his mouth, then laughed once; a short, breathy laugh. “Okay, well, that’s a good sign, right?”
I nodded, half shrugging.
“But…” He patted my leg through the covers. “You don’t think straight when you’re hungry. So, I'm not gonna read into that too deeply.”
“What, you think I'm delusional?”
“God, I hope not,” he said in a breath, sitting down beside me.
I bit my lip. He knew too well what I’d been thinking—he didn't need to be like David to be in my head, which was as comforting as it was…awkward.
“Here.” He passed me a plate and I swapped my lip for toast; the peanut butter swirled around on my tongue with the jelly at the prefect consistency; it didn’t even stick to the roof of my mouth.
“Mmm. You’ve always been the best at making toast.”
“Must be the chef in me,” he joked.
“So, if the chef in you makes good toast, what can the cop in you do?” Oh, that was suggestive, Ara.
“I could arrest you? For dangerously good looks.”
I choked on the toast for a second, nearly losing it out my nose. “That’s the worst joke I’ve heard in ages.”
Mike chuckled. “So, I’m still king, then—of bad jokes?”
“Right? I forgot about that,” I mused. “No one here gets it. They think you’re just trying to be funny and not succeeding.”
“Don’t worry. I get ya.” His teeth showed with his gentle smile.
“You always did. So—if you’re king, I’m queen, then?”
“Pardon the bad joke again, but...” He leaned forward and stroked my cheek in a melodramatic fashion. “You’ve always been my queen.”
The rumble in the back of my throat couldn’t decide if it was laughter or a giant scoff. “Yeah, that was a pretty terrible joke.”
“Maybe I wasn’t joking,” he said suggestively.
“What does that mean?”
“I mean—”
“Wait.” I sat up a little further and reluctantly put the yummy toast down as a full speed rant shot off from the starting line. “Don’t bother saying it. I already know but, Mike, you keep playi
ng this game with me—saying you’re in love with me, but you touch me and pull away, or you say things to my dad that make me think I’m imagining all this, and when we’re alone, you—it’s like you pretend we’re together and then remind yourself that we’re not. Why? Why do you do that if you want me? Why do you keep confusing me, Mike? I can’t do this. I can’t be the girl that takes charge and makes the first move. I’ll never be that girl. If you want me, you have to make it clearer than this. You have to be consistent.”
“Ara?” Mike frowned, surprised. “Where’s this coming from, baby? What’s wrong?”
“This is what’s wrong. Us,” I yelled and tried to stand, but he took my hand and pulled me back down, grinning.
“Are you saying that...you love me?”
“You know I do—otherwise I would’ve told you already that I don’t.” I lowered my head.
“Holy shit.” He sat back, his lips parting as he stared at nothing. “Shit. You’re serious?”
“You thought otherwise?”
“I…” He looked at me then, rubbing his brow. “I wasn’t sure anymore, Ara. I thought maybe—” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter, but…I just can’t believe it. You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say that. I just don’t even know what…I just…”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Question?”
“Why did you tell my dad you don’t want me?”
“Baby, I—I never said anything to your dad about not wanting you. What’re you—when was this?”
“The other day, when you said that thing about going home…alone. I don’t do long distance relationships, Mike—they don’t work.” Even though I’d love David from afar for the rest of my life.
“Ara, I didn’t mean that. I was...” He looked frustrated. “As if I was going to tell your dad I’d asked you to come home with me. He’d have pulled out his shotgun right then.”
My eyes narrowed with an insistent smile. “True. I suppose.”
“Ara, I want you. You know that. I…I want nothing more than for you to come home with me.” He looked at me for a long moment. “And…you know I’d look after you, right?”
He would. He’d take very good care of me; love me, protect me, and I’d never want for anything. “I know,” I said softly.
“Then…come with me.” He took my hand, his gentle touch littered with hope. “You could finish school, go to uni—be a teacher—like you always planned?”
“Mike?”
“Please. Don’t say anything now. Not if you’re going to say no. Just—” He paused, releasing a really deep, tense breath, then looked away—far away to where his thoughts were on the other side of the window. “Whatever you choose? I already decided I can’t go back—not without you.” A warm grin lit his face then. “If you stay, I stay.”
The little fold between my brows tightened. “What about your career?”
“Ara, you’re the love of my life.” He took both my hands. “What would my career mean to me if I didn't have you? God, I only joined because I thought I’d lost you.”
“Lost me?”
He sighed and looked down; sad Mike. “When you moved away—when you refused to even speak to me—I figured you hated me. And…I don't know, I guess I decided that if I didn't have you to look after, I’d be a perfect candidate to risk my own life, because it’d be worth nothing.”
“Mike? What a horrid thing to say.”
“I know. I'm sorry. It…it wasn’t like a suicide mission or anything. But, I could’ve joined tactical six months ago. I chose not to because I didn't want to leave you alone if anything ever happened to me.” Mike’s eyes softened as they scanned my cheeks and my lips. “When you told me you fell in love with David, I—I died inside, Ara. I thought everything was lost. So, if I have to give up Tactical to stay here and be with you for the rest of my life, it doesn't even need a second thought. All I ever wanted was you.”
“So you’d move here? Throw it all away? What would you do for a job?” My voice of reason challenged.
“I’ll be fine. I used to be a chef, remember? I can get work anywhere.”
“But you’d need a working visa.”
“Or—” He took my hands again and looked into me with those charming, caramel-colour eyes, melting my heart like maple syrup on pancakes. “Or, we could get married. You’re an American citizen now, right?” His tone softened on the end into a shrug of his shoulder.
“You’re never getting married. Remember? You hate weddings.” I laughed.
“No.” He shook his head. “I said I wouldn’t get married until I found the right girl.”
“But you’d only be marrying me for a visa.”
“Oh, come on, Ara.” He brushed a quick hand through his hair. “I was using it as a line to open that door. I’ve bloody been trying to cough out a proposal since the first day I got here.”
Holy crap! “Why didn't you just ask me?” I played neutral, concealing the little girl inside me who was jumping up and down, throwing confetti.
“Because you would’ve said no.”
“You don't know that.”
“I didn't wanna risk it, Ar. I uh…I don’t take rejection as well as I’d like to think I do.” We both laughed softly. Then, he inched closer, and the serious Mike I’d come to know more recently slipped into place. “All I’ve been waiting on is you—for you to realise you love me, and then, that night, when I didn’t kiss you—”
I looked away, feeling the pain of the night I lost my mother etching into my heart.
Mike hooked a finger under my chin and pulled my face toward his. His lips were so close I could smell the peanut butter on his breath. It smelled nice. “You took me by surprise, Ara. It was all I’d ever wanted, you know? I’d imagined it so many times and, when it finally happened, I acted like a damn fool. And I lost you. I had to accept that you were being dragged away from me, had to accept that you wouldn’t even speak to me, and then, worse, had to break apart hearing you speak about loving another guy. Do you know how hard it was for me to play the supporting friend, when all I wanted to do was coax your naive little mind into believing he didn't want you?”
“Why didn't you?”
“Because I love you.” He squeezed my hands. “I wanted you to be happy, and you sounded happy with him. But…I don't know now, Ara. I'm glad he’s gone, because, all I've seen so far is the damage he's done to you.”
I rubbed my hand over my neck. “It wasn’t like that, you know. He loved me.”
Mike nodded. “I know.”
“Do you?” I asked conceitedly.
“Yes, I do. I uh—” He scratched his brow. “I have a confession to make.”
“Uh-oh.”
His shoulders dropped. “I stole David’s number from your phone and…I called him.”
“What? Why?”
His arched brow gave half the answer. “Come on, Ara. Why do you think? I’m not stupid. I’ve watched you pretending to be happy, but I knew there was something up with you. I’ve known you all your life. I knew he was hurting you. And I was afraid he might be one of those controlling types; you know, who makes you feel like you need him to feel good about yourself.”
“Mike? He’s so not like—”
“I know.” He smiled and flattened my frown with his thumb. “He’s a decent guy, Ara.”
“So, when you talked to him,” I asked delicately, “like, what...what did he say?”
“He told me he’s leaving—that you couldn’t be together. He told me you wanted a family one day and a normal life, but he couldn’t give you that.”
“So—” his words echoed in my mind, “—he...what, he told you to have me?”
“It wasn’t like that, Ar.” Mike rolled his head to one side. “He just said he knows I’ll make you happy and that’s all he ever wanted for you.”
David gave me away?
“Please don’t be mad, Ara.”
Mad? I wasn't mad that he called Da
vid. I felt hurt that he knew everything—embarrassed, but it wasn’t Mike’s fault. It was so like him to do this. He was my protector—he always had been. My best friend. My Zorro. “I'm not mad at you, Mike. Okay?”
“Well, don't be mad at David, either, baby.” His fingers tightened over my hand. “He just wants you to have a—a normal life.”
“And you think you can give me that?”
“Ara, I’ll give you everything. I’ll be whatever you want me to be. I’ll be a husband, a father to our children, a provider, a protector, but most of all, Ara, if you say you’ll marry me, I will love you—more than anyone has ever been loved in the history of mankind, and I will devote every breath I take to being the best husband you could ever have.”
“But what about what you want, Mike? I don’t want you to be what I want. I want you to be happy, too. I mean, do you even want children?” We’d never discussed that. Mike was good with kids—he always adored Harry, but never spoke of wanting a family.
He took a breath, lifting his shoulders as he did. “All I ever wanted was you, baby girl—a thousand times over and every day for the rest of my existence. I’ve never really thought about kids before.”
I nodded, looking down at my fingers.
“But…” His gaze settled on my belly, lost in a smile.
“But?” I said.
“If I could place a piece of myself inside of you and—” he lifted my top and traced little circles around my navel, “—and that would grow, and become something so beautiful as life—a life that’s a part of you and me, combined? I can’t imagine something more magical. So, yes.” He broke eye contact for a second and reached into his nightstand, closing the drawer with his pinkie after. “I want to have babies—with you. I want a hundred little dark-haired, blue-eyed babies running around, and you and me, we’ll be together. We’ll have each other. Always. That’s what I want.”
The breath I finally released quivered its way out.
“Please?” Mike slipped off the bed and knelt in front of me, lifting the lid just a fraction on a small purple box. “Make me the happiest man on the planet, Ara. Marry me.”
Every flower that once was dead bloomed within my heart, and the ashes of my soul circled in on the breeze, finding breath, light among the darkness. I looked into the small box, and a red blossom shimmered back; a ruby rose, with two emeralds on either side. A promise in the shape of life, disguised as the colour of blood—a colour so exquisite in the shadowed parts of my broken past that it cast a spotlight on the door to a future I thought was gone—a door that opened by the key of one word.