by Costa, Bella
"Are you kidding! Honey, that vampire might be the opposite of what every woman wants, but Jake? Come on! The boy is a dog. He's what most of us, unintentionally, end up with."
"How so?" asks May, old beyond her years, yet still so innocent.
"Men, like dogs, are smelly creatures that hang around in rowdy packs, pee in all the wrong places and spend most of their time sniffing butts, fighting amongst themselves and barking orders."
"Ewww!" May pulls a face but giggles anyway, and her giggle is contagious. Through Graces eyes and beautifully twisted mind, we snort and giggle our way through the films until May falls asleep and her father, Edward, comes down to carry her to bed.
"Thanks for that. The separation has been hard for her," he whispers.
"No sweat. That's what I'm here for," grins Grace.
"Well thanks anyway," he says and leaves us alone.
"How are you faring?" she asks looking at me.
"I'm drunk, and I'll regret this in the morning – but for now, I'm okay," I lie.
The truth is, although the alcohol, company and laughter have taken the edge off, I feel emotionally battered and completely empty, like my soul has left my body and taking all forms of happiness with it, leaving a big hollow space behind.
We continue watching the last film, Grace comes up with comment about Edward Cullen and his chick sharing the same shade of lipstick to save money and I start laughing hysterically. Oh no! Here it comes!
I laugh until my stomach hurts and tears of mirth are streaming down my face and then real tears streaming down my face. Scalding tears, that burn furrows, and I'm sobbing uncontrollably into Graces shoulder as she croons softly into my hair, her arms wrapped tight around me.
“Who the fuck am I?” I sob, although what I really want to do is scream the question in frustration.
“Who do you want to be, Acacia?” Grace asks quietly. “Look into your soul and find your reflection there. Don’t be afraid of what you’ll find. I can see you clearly and it’s an inspiring and awesome vision, but to believe it you need to see it for yourself.” She rocks her body gently, soothing me. “You fear the best parts of you Acacia, thinking these parts make you weak; a target. You are so wrong. These are the parts that give you so much power. Acacia, there is nothing wrong with you girl. Your kindness, your generosity, your natural instinct to want to trust and give the benefit of the doubt – these are gifts. The man that made you doubt yourself – he is at fault. He is the broken one. Never forget that.”
~.~
8th April
I start awake. I'm wrapped up in a blanket on the sofa. Grace must have left me here when I fell asleep. The only light in the room is filtered through lace curtains from the street lights out side. I hear the sound again. Soft. The whisper of fabric rubbing against fabric. I listen carefully, holding my breath so I can hear better. The brief squeak of a shoe sole on the tiled kitchen floor is all it takes to confirm that I have an intruder and my heart starts racing.
I very slowly release the breath I've been holding and inhale some welcome air as quietly as I can. Shifting carefully into a sitting position on the sofa, I free myself from the blanket. I stand slowly, grateful for the soundproofing of my thick socks and tiptoe to stand behind a concrete pillar. I am sure the sound of my galloping heart can be heard in the room next door. I tense hearing a small sound again, this time just on the other side of the flimsy wooden door, separating the kitchen from the living room. I scoot to the door, pressing my back against the wall next to it. I am relying upon the door to protect and hide me if it opens. I wonder if everyone upstairs is sound asleep. I hope so.
The door handle moves a little and I hold my breath as it stops in mid turn. Then suddenly it completes the turn and the door swings quietly open. I will my heart to be quiet, sure it's going to give me away and watch in terror as a dark masculine figure eases into the room and stops in the middle. I'm pressed up against the wall trying to meld my atoms into the plaster. If the door had opened fully, I would be hidden, but it didn't and I'm completely exposed. All he has to do is turn.
And he does. I don't give him a chance to react. I take a running step toward the figure and use the momentum to swing a foot as hard as I can. I feel a satisfied crunch of crushing gristle as my foot connects and hear a whoosh of expelled air and a hoarse grunt. I race for the light switch.
Oh my God. Chayton? Oh shit. "Sorry!"
I stare in horror at Chayton, crouched over, his mouth imitating my own fish-out-of-water expression and his face turning wonderful shades of passion fruit in varying stages of ripeness. His eyes are scrunched up tight and he has both hands cradling his crotch protectively.
"God woman." He croaks as his knees collapse and he crumples in a tight heap on the floor.
"Chayton, I am so sorry. I didn't know it was you! What the hell are you doing here anyway?" I kneel down on the floor next to him, feeling a little helpless but a little amused as well.
"What can I do to help?" I ask sincerely but his face is just so comical. "Want me to kiss them better?" I throw in cheekily. Good going Acacia! Clearly you're still drunk and flirting with the enemy!
He glares at me incredulous, through narrowed eyes. "This is no time to be making jokes about Bo and Luke."
I watch as his colour and breathing slowly return to normal and his body starts to relax a little. He is hot as ever in torn jeans, a snug white t-shirt and a neat little waist coat, his hair flopping sexily and two-day stubble adorning his face. It's not fair that he should be here, now, like this when I'm trying to get him out of my system.
"What are you doing here?" I ask again after a while, remembering painfully that we are no longer intimate.
"Morgan had a report that someone has been hanging around and when you didn't answer your phone..."
"I've switched it off." I murmur.
"Are you alright then?" He sits up and crosses his legs on the floor, running his eye over me.
"Other than a whole new bruise, I'll be okay."
"New bruise? Where?" Concern is clear in his eyes and I laugh softly.
"On my foot. I made the mistake of thinking I could give the Duke boys a swift kicking."
"Oh. Yeah," he grimaces. "Well the cousins will be sharing the pain for a good while yet.” His eyes finally twinkle in humour. "And they might take you up on that offer you made earlier." He kisses me chastely on the corner of my mouth.
"What offer was that?" I mutter frozen in place. I'm fighting desperately to remember why we shouldn't be kissing.
"Something about kissing them better."
I feel his broad smile as I start to lean, unwillingly, into his kiss.
"No." I pull away. "This can't happen." My chest is heaving as the adrenaline still courses through my veins, mingling with the desire which is starting to unfurl.
"Why?" he asks, moving with me, keeping the sweet contact of his lips, firmly against mine.
I place both my hands on his shoulders and push him back firmly.
"Chayton, we're through. I don't want this. This is for the best."
"You're lying."
"No Chayton. I'm not," I bite my lip as he raises a challenging eyebrow. "Okay maybe I do want this, but it can't happen. It shouldn't. It's wrong for both of us."
"How do you know?" he whispers, his expression sincere.
"I...I just know." I glance at a clock on the wall; one thirty in the morning!
"Chayton what are you doing here? And how did you get in?"
"I told you. Morgan had a report on that someone was hanging around. I wanted to make sure you're okay," he frowns.
"You are having me watched?" I stare at him in disbelief.
"Well, not exactly. I'm having the shelter watched."
"You had better start explaining yourself mister!"
"Acacia, three of our charities, all of them shelters, have received some rather nasty mail in the last few weeks. We don't know why or from who, but the board voted that we have all the S
helters operating under us watched. It's just a bit of security."
"Chayton, did it ever cross your mind that maybe, just maybe, it would be a good idea to tell me that you're having my shelter watched?" I hiss, wanting to yell furiously but not wanting to wake everyone up.
"I'm sorry," he whispers, looking contrite. "I wanted to tell you the other night, but..." he shrugs. "I've missed you," he tilts his head and runs his knuckles down my cheek.
A floorboard above us creaks and we both glance at the stairs.
"Who's room is that?" he whispers.
"Um, mine I think." I'm still trying to relate the upstairs layout to the ground floor, when Chayton leaps up and bounds ups the stairs.
Oh, shit! It's probably just May, sleep walking. She has found her way into my room before.
"Chayton wait!" I stage whisper and bound up the stairs behind him.
~.~
We are all standing in the upstairs hallway. Edward, Grace, Chayton, myself - and our unexpected visitor - Edward's wife. Everyone is talking in harsh whispers, anger, fear and frustration bouncing off the walls. The only thing everyone can agree on is 'don't wake anyone else'.
Grace has already called Grant and is now calling the police, while Edward is trying to reason with his wife, pleading with her to leave. Chayton has moved a few steps away, and is talking urgently into his phone. I think he is talking to Morgan.
I'm trying to stay one step ahead of this mess. If and when, we finally get Edward’s, currently-being-unreasonable, wife out of the shelter, Edward and May will need to be moved. Then there is the question of what to do with our other tenants, Susan and her little boy. Grace cannot be in two places at once. And how, the hell, did this woman find out where Edward and May were staying and how, the hell, did she get in? I need to know, if I have any hope of preventing a repeat of tonight's drama.
The police finally arrive and escort the tall, athletic blonde from the shelter, amazingly without waking anyone else in the house. It's the only thing the woman was being reasonable about.
I make us all a cup of tea and Grace escorts Edward into a private meeting room to discuss the drama of the last hour, leaving Chayton and myself back where we started in the living room.
"Chayton, can we move everyone to Donavan's pass – today?" Grudgingly, it's the only immediate solution I can think of.
"I was going to insist on it. Morgan is already making the arrangements."
"I feel so stupid," I sigh, sagging into a chair. "How did she find out where he was?"
"It's not that hard really. Don't beat yourself up about it. It's not your fault," he says softly. He slides into chair next to me, nursing his cup of tea.
"I meant it earlier when I said, I've missed you," he says earnestly.
"Yeah well, the 'no strings' wasn't working out so well," I sigh.
"What do you mean?"
"First of all, you've had this whole huge involvement in my life, without me knowing. You're still doing it! It's wrong!" I pause for effect. "I need control of my life, Chayton. I need it badly. Finding out that I'm just a puppet; that someone else is pulling my strings is...well it's soul destroying and terrifying! It's all of my nightmares and phobias and worst-case-scenarios blended into a huge toxic cocktail."
I watch him pale and I blanch to see his beautiful face looking so forlorn, so desolate. "It gets worse!" I whisper. I cannot look at him as I tell him. "I've fallen in love with you, Chayton."
My heart thunders and time slows right down as I stare into my tea, waiting for his response. My heart sinks at the dragging silence.
Well, isn't this what I wanted? For him to see how fruitless our relationship is? For him to realise that it's over? For him to walk away and allow me the space and time I need to heal? For him to stay away so the old wounds don't split open and bleed profusely every time I see him? Isn't this what I wanted?
My tears start falling freely again. I continue to stare, unseeing, into my teacup. My shoulders sag under the sheer weight of the oppressing loss, bearing down on me. So absorbed am I in my grief, that it's only when I find myself being tucked into my bed, still in my sweats and t-shirt, that I become aware that Chayton has carried me up the stairs.
"Shh, go to sleep. I'll stay here till morning," he whispers and I feel his lips brushing against my forehead as exhaustion claims me.
~.~
I wake feeling like an over-stuffed pillow. My head is cotton-woolly, my eyes feel swollen and my mouth feels like I've been licking a rug all night. I dare not open my eyes. I will my mind, to drift back into Lala Land but feel the bed dip as a weight shifts on it.
Oh God!
I open my eyes to narrow slits. Chayton is sitting on the bed next to me, looking completely and utterly fuckable and staring at me with a heart-rending expression, which makes me want to just kiss his blues away. How is that I always end up wanting to consol the people who hurt me?
"Hey." I mutter instead.
"Hi," he replies. "How are you feeling?"
"Bullied...and hung-over," I admit sheepishly.
Chayton frowns. "Just how much did you drink?"
"I don't know. Grace was pouring."
"I'll have a word with her about that."
"Good luck."
"Morgan has arrived with a minibus and a trailer. Grace is getting everyone organised. I've brought you some breakfast. Next time you decide to drink your sorrows away, call me first."
Why, the hell, would I do that? I glance at the tray on my bedside table and spy the orange juice. I drink it all and my head starts to clear immediately. It's delicious. I lick my lips and put the glass down, aware of the huge question mark hovering between us.
"Chayton, about last night..."
"Shh. It's okay," he whispers, leaning forward to sweep a strand of hair from my face.
"No Chayton. It's not okay. We need to deal with this. We are going to be bumping into each other constantly and it will get awkward. We need to deal with this for everyone else's sake. We need to establish boundaries." Sheesh, can't he see that?
"Why would it get awkward?"
I gaze at his face, trying to understand him. Is he really this obtuse or is he just trying to be funny?
"Chayton, please!"
"You don't want to be with me?"
"Well of course I do, if you stop trying to control my life from back stage! But the kind of relationship I need...Chayton, it isn't the kind you want."
I watch his face carefully, waiting for the realisation to hit him; waiting for him to remember my words from last night. I've fallen in love with you Chayton.
"Maybe..." he pauses. "Maybe I can try being a little more open with you about some stuff. Acacia, I should have told you about the security at all the shelters. That was wrong of me. I'm sorry. There are a few things that it is better you didn't know, for your own safety, and I don't want to add more stress. I don't like to see you worry."
"Hang on!" I interrupt. I'm still focused on what's missing from his apologetic speech. "Chayton, last night I told you I loved you."
"I know."
"I don't want you to keep me around because you feel some kind of misguided responsibility for me and don't want to hurt me. Chayton, you said it yourself. Your relationships are strictly 'no strings.'"
"You think my feelings are misguided?" he snorts, staring at me as if I've grown horns. "Acacia, I have loved you for a while, almost to the point of distraction. Nothing is real anymore, unless you are there. I love you, woman."
The world stops...
"Acacia, I knew when I asked you to sleep with me, that I was taking a huge risk."
'Right now I'm just dying to remind myself of all things that make me a man whilst risking the one thing I value above wealth, health and life itself - My heart and soul.' I gasp.
"I suspected, even then, that my heart already belonged to you. Part of me had hoped that sleeping with you would prove me wrong, maybe flush you out of my system, but you only wove a deeper spell!"
I sit numbly, trying to process his words. Everything seems surreal, like a strange dream. He loves me? Is it possible? Even after all the horrible things I've said?
"I'm sorry, Angel. I should have known better than to abuse your trust that way, considering everything you have been through. It wasn't my intention to hurt you. I promise. Please give me another chance?" he gazes at me, looking totally sincere and my heart melts. Oh my! He loves me!
"Okay!” I just about manage to squeak, my voice small and far away.
"Thank you," he whispers leaning forward to kiss my cheek. "Eat your breakfast and dress warm. We're taking the bike."
He pulls away, winks and strolls out my room leaving me trying to hold my swelling heart in my chest. The previously galaxy sized, empty space in my chest doesn't seem large enough now to hold everything I feel. He loves me!
~.~
An hour later, everyone is packed up. I throw my weekend bag into the trailer with the other luggage and promise to meet everyone at Donavan's Pass. Grace winks at me from the minibus as Morgan pulls out of the drive and I blush.
"Ready?" asks Chayton.
"Uh huh!"
He pulls me up hard against him. Finally! Grabbing my pony, he pulls my head back, his lips latch onto mine and he kisses me feverishly. Desire sparks and unfurls, my muscles clenching deeply and I groan.
"You look hot in those jeans and absolutely naughty in that leather jacket," he smirks pulling back. He slips my helmet on and adjusts my strap.
"Is that so, Mr. Donavan? Well I could tell you how you look and what it does to me, but I don't want you distracted."
"And you think having you sitting on my bike, with your lovely legs spread wide; me between them, isn't going to be distracting?"
"Just imagine Morgan sitting behind you, or things are going to get fugly."
"Fugly?" he laughs.
"Yes Mr. Donavan. Fucking ugly."
"Keep up that language and there will be more fucking than ugly. I have no intention on still being here tonight!" he growls, checking that the zip on my leather jacket is pulled snugly to the top.