REX (Finding Love)

by Beth Michele

  Vanessa doesn’t bombard me with words or questions. Instead, she moves closer, laying her head on my shoulder, her hand on my arm. I breathe out a sigh. I’m so damn tired of shouldering all my shit… alone.

  Each second that goes by, I let a little more of it go as she draws patterns on my arm, nuzzling into my neck. She seems to understand me, even when I don’t understand myself. A voice in my head whispers something that I’ll never say aloud.

  I’m drawn to her.

  I rest my head on top of hers, breathing in the scent of her shampoo. “You smell like raspberry candy,” I whisper, and she smiles against my neck. “If I remember correctly, you taste like candy, too, although I might need a refresher.”

  “I thought we were doing death and destruction,” she pouts. But it’s not annoying, it’s cute. “And I want my popcorn.”

  “Okay,” I chuckle, “death and destruction first. And I’ll make your popcorn now.”

  Even though I’m not anxious to move, I push up from the couch and shuffle into the kitchen. As I grab the pot and pull the popcorn down from the shelf, I’m thinking that if this is going to become a habit, I might need to purchase an actual popcorn maker. The thought freezes me in my tracks, my pulse thrashing against my wrists. I don’t know what the hell I’m saying. This is not going to become a habit. No fucking popcorn maker required.

  “Okay,” I announce, trotting back out and handing her the bowl, “popcorn with extra butter and salt made to order. Now, we need to decide on a movie.” I open the drawer underneath the television cabinet that contains hundreds of movies, holding one up at a time as if they’re on display. “First option… Scarface.”

  She tilts her head, a smile tipping her lips. “Hmph, I love Al Pacino but that may be a bit too much death.”

  “Okay.” I drop the movie back in and pluck out another one. “The Godfather? Some mafia action?” I question, and she just shakes her head, continuing to stuff handfuls of popcorn into her mouth.

  “I’ve got it!” I call out with confidence. “Die Hard 2?”

  “Yup.” She smiles while crunching on some kernels. “That’s the one. More Bruce Willis.”

  I shake my head and laugh before I pop in the movie, grab the remote, and sink down next to her.

  “Hey, by the way. I’m curious about something,” she says, and when I turn to her, she holds up her hands, adding, “I know, big surprise.” She’s smiling as she says it, so it puts me at ease.

  “What now? Bleeding me for more information?” I tease, and she pinches my thigh.

  “Well, when we met it was at a club, so I was wondering about when you said you don’t frequent clubs.” She digs her hand into the bowl and grabs some popcorn, tossing it in her mouth.

  “Mostly because I don’t like to drink a lot. I drink beer, but I’m not one for the heavy stuff because I’ve seen what it can do. My… mother has a drinking problem. So,” I shrug, staring at the wall, “I don’t like to put myself in situations where people are getting loaded. They tend to do and say stupid things.” My eyes wander back to hers. “The way I acted last night was a perfect example of that.”

  “Yeah. I get it. I don’t really drink much either.” She lets out a bubble of laughter. “Stella used to give me these little lectures about drugs and alcohol. I don’t recall how old I was, but she would tell me how drinking was so bad for your liver and drugs were bad for your brain. I remember wondering why she was even talking to me about it because I was young, you know? But now I appreciate that she did. Besides,” she adds, her lips quirking into a grin, “I’d much rather go to a movie or a museum.”

  “Museums are cool,” I tell her, and her eyes widen in surprise.

  “Seriously? You really think that?”

  “Hey, don’t look so surprised.” I give her shoulder a little shove. “Think about it. Art is how I make my living. It’s something I’m interested in, that I’m passionate about, so yes, I like museums. I’ll have you know, I’ve been to the Metropolitan Museum of Art twice since I’ve been back.”

  Her eyes narrow, regarding me with a speculative gleam. “Hmph. Interesting and impressive.”

  “I can see you sizing me up in that little brain of yours,” I joke, and she throws a handful of popcorn at me.

  “I’ll have you know there’s nothing little about my brain,” she protests, as I take some of the popcorn from my lap and munch on the kernels.

  “So, is the interrogation over now? Can we watch the movie?” I quirk a brow and her lips flip at the edges.

  “Yeah, I’m done… for now. Popcorn?” She waves the bowl in front of my face. “Before it’s all gone.”

  “No, thanks. I’m good.”

  “Okay then,” she smirks, “more for me.”

  “You’re a piece of work, you know that? Now,” I put a finger to my lips, “shhh, no talking during the movie,” I instruct, and she giggles as she inhales more popcorn.

  I love that she doesn’t talk during the movie. I’ve had to endure women who can’t stop yapping when I’m trying to focus. It’s irritating, but she’s definitely not. I turn my head in her direction when I notice she’s clutching her stomach, her face a milky white.

  “Blondie, what’s wrong?”

  “I don’t feel so good all of a sudden,” she groans. “My stomach, I think I’m gonna be sick.”

  Before I have a chance to respond, she springs up off the couch, running toward the bathroom. I follow behind her quickly and get there just as she’s kneeling in front of the toilet. “It hurts, Rex,” she whimpers, still holding her stomach, and I gather her hair up, lifting it away just as whatever food she ate spills out.

  “It’s okay, I’m here,” I whisper, rubbing calming circles on her back. My skin tingles with insecurity. I don’t know how to do this. The only person I ever tried to look after was Tyler and we know how I fucked that up.

  Seconds later, after her stomach is completely emptied, she collapses back onto the floor. She’s freezing cold, her skin pale, and I’m really worried. I don’t know what to do for her.

  “I’m freezing,” she mumbles, and I immediately lift her off the cold tile floor and into my arms, carrying her to the bedroom. I draw back the covers with my free hand and lay her down, removing her skirt before settling her underneath them. Jogging back out to the hall, I quickly grab a heavy blanket from the closet and return to her, pulling it up to her neck to keep in the warmth.

  When I reach my hand out to touch her cheek, she’s still so cold and I’m thinking maybe I should take her to the hospital. “I want to take you to the doctor,” I say, hoping she can hear me.

  “No,” she mutters, “I can’t move… just stay with me.” Her lashes are fluttering and I don’t like how little color is in her cheeks. My teeth grab onto my lip hard, the metallic taste of blood rising to the surface. There has to be something else I can do.

  “I’m just gonna get a warm washcloth. I’ll be right back.” I kiss her cheek, which is like ice, and frantically run to the bathroom, grabbing a hand towel from the rack and soaking it in warm water. My head starts to pound and I grip the counter for support. Worry knocks hard against my chest, but I refuse to answer. Instead, I blow out a hard breath before wringing out the washcloth then hurrying back to her.

  The mattress shifts under my weight, and I scoot in next to her beneath the covers. She groans when I press the cloth to her head.

  “Rex,” she whimpers, her eyes now closed, head moving from left to right.

  “Shhh… I’m not going anywhere.” I wrap my arms around her and bring her to my chest, hoping to help warm her with my body heat. Soft cries pierce my ears so I squeeze her as tight as I can without hurting her, stroking her hair over and over, trying to calm her and maybe myself, too.

  Eventually, the sound of her quiet breathing assures me she’s asleep, easing the ache in my chest. But I still don’t close my eyes. The minutes tick by and I lie awake, listening for any noise, any change in her breathing. Her body is w
armer and I expel a sigh of relief.

  I can’t imagine anything happening to her.

  My mind is hindered by jumbled thoughts. After my dad died, everything changed for me. I felt like I had no one. Hunter tried as best he could to be there, but he was still young himself. Besides, it wasn’t his fucking responsibility. The person I needed was my mom, but she was never present. Because of that, even at my age, I’m incapable of knowing how to care for someone. It’s pathetic and sad.

  Bile churns my stomach as I glance out the window, lost in my past, in memories of my mother; my drunk, alcoholic mother with her nose in a bottle or with one of her lovers, instead of where it needed to be—with her family. With her son who was left in the hands of a disgusting human being who did horrible things to him. My teeth grind together, anger swells within me. But it’s forgotten the moment I hear Vanessa’s hushed words.

  “I need you, Rex,” she mumbles in her sleep, and something erupts inside my chest.

  She needs me.

  “I’m here, baby. I’m right here.” I press a gentle kiss to her forehead.

  And maybe, just maybe—I need her, too.

  Light pricks my eyes and I awake disoriented. I squint and wriggle my body, trying to recall where I am. Of course, the rock hard chest beneath my cheek makes things all too clear.

  Rex.

  I smile against his smooth skin even though I’ve got nothing to smile about at the moment. My stomach is burning, a million needles seem to be poking at it from all angles, my throat dry, mouth consumed by a rotten taste—all remnants of a night that is now slowly coming back to me. This is what it must be like to get run over by a truck. Every one of my muscles ache, my head heavy.

  “She wakes.” The low rumble of his voice vibrates against my cheek.

  I lift my head, immediately slapping a hand over my mouth. “Morning,” I mumble, not wanting him to be repulsed by the horrible stench of my breath. “How long have you been awake?”

  He takes my hand, moving it away from my mouth. “All night. How are you feeling?”

  “Like a train wreck,” I respond miserably. “And why were you up? You couldn’t sleep?”

  He pauses as I stare at him expectantly. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay, is all. No big deal.”

  “Oh.” A little piece of my heart softens at his words. He took care of me last night. That much I do remember. I put a hand up between us again. “I need to brush my teeth. My mouth tastes like ass.”

  He chuckles, pushing a matted strand of hair behind my ear. “Ass, huh? Don’t move,” he orders, sliding out from underneath me. And even in my tattered state I can still appreciate his amazing form as he strides away.

  When he comes back, he has a cup of water and a toothbrush in his hand, a small line of toothpaste covering the bristles. He places them on the table next to the bed before taking a pillow and propping it against the headboard.

  “Do you think you can sit up?” he asks, and I nod my head as he helps me lean back against the pillow. Sitting down cross-legged in front of me, he takes the toothbrush from the table and holds it out. “Open,” he commands, and I do so willingly, staring into his rich amber eyes as he gently glides the brush over my top and bottom teeth. “Stick out your tongue,” he instructs again, smiling, and when I do, he brushes that as well. “There. No more ass.”

  “Thank you,” I respond sheepishly as he hands me the cup of water, touched by his kind gesture.

  Who would’ve known he could be so sweet?

  He lifts the back of his hand to my forehead. “You’re nice and warm. That’s good.” Then he drops his hand to his lap. “You scared the shit out of me last night.”

  “I honestly don’t remember ever feeling so horrible,” I admit, “but I think I know what it was.”

  “What?” He tosses the toothbrush on the table.

  “I went out to dinner with a friend for sushi, and obviously it was bad. Food poisoning at its finest.” My stomach grumbles, a loud reminder that it’s completely empty.

  “Jesus, you need to get something in your stomach. He looks toward the kitchen, then back to me. “I don’t have a whole lot, but I’ll make you some toast. Sound good?”

  I rub my belly, my mouth pulling down into a frown. “I’m not really hungry, Rex.”

  “Well, you need to eat something. Everything exited your stomach last night, remember?” He gets up off the bed and walks away, unwilling to take no for an answer.

  My lips tug at the corners, a small piece of me admittedly happy that he’s worried about me, even though I’m more than capable of standing on my own two feet. I’ve looked after myself for so long that it’s hard to let someone in. But right now, my achy limbs coupled with the nausea rolling around in my stomach won’t let me argue. With each twist of my belly, I’m being warned never to eat sushi again.

  “Almost ready,” Rex calls out from the kitchen just as I glance over at the clock. It’s already 8:30 and there’s no way I’m going to make it into work today. My eyes travel the room, spotting my purse on the carpet, and I reach down, fishing for my cell phone. I slide it open and dial the office. Matilda Draper, the receptionist, picks up after the second ring. She’s always so enthusiastic.

  “Platinum Events, this is Matilda, how can I help you?” Her peppy voice and the way she’s chomping on her gum has me giggling. With her excitement, that subtle Georgia accent creeps into her last few words.

  “Hey, Tillie, it’s Vanessa.”

  “Hey, Vanessa. What’s shaking?” She blows a bubble, popping it in my ear.

  “Tillie. Does Jonathan know you’re sucking down gum at the front desk while you’re greeting people?”

  “Of course not,” she laughs, “I stuff it in my cheeks when he walks by.”

  I shake my head even though she can’t see me. “Well, I’d keep it that way if I were you. Anyway, I wanted to let you know I’m not going to be in today. I’m not feeling well.”

  “Oh no,” she replies with upset in her voice, “what’s wrong?”

  “I got food poisoning after my sushi dinner last night.” I cringe, recalling the night in my head.

  “That’s awful. Do you want me to bring you some soup or something during my lunch break?” Her concern for me carries a smile to my face.

  “No thanks, I’m good,” I answer just as Rex walks in with my toast. “I’ve got everything I need.” My words are a bit quieter but she bubbles up when she hears them.

  “Okay, good. Well, I’ll let Jonathan know. Feel better!”

  “I will, Tillie. Thanks.” I toss the phone back in my purse as Rex perches on the edge of the bed.

  “Everything okay?” He hands me the plate and a napkin.

  “Yes. I just called into work. I’m not in any shape to go in today.”

  His eyebrows pull in and he bites on his thumbnail. “Well, I have appointments starting at noon today so I have to go in to the shop, but you’re more than welcome to hang out here if you want.”

  I nibble on the toast, wincing as the rough texture hits my throat. “Thanks, but I’m going to head home and just lounge in bed all day. With any luck, I’ll sleep the rest of this off.”

  He reclines against the headboard next to me, crossing his legs at the ankles. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay? I mean, maybe you should follow up with a doctor or something?”

  “Rex,” I lay my hand on his arm, “I’m fine. Seriously.”

  “I don’t do well with shit like this.” He tilts his head back against the wood. “I haven’t since… well, since… Tyler.” He shrugs, cracking his knuckles in his lap.

  “I can understand that.” I know it’s hard for him to share so I remain quiet, not wanting to press him further.

  “I don’t like feeling helpless….” He pauses, blowing out a breath, and just when I think he’s going to open up more he changes direction. “Anyway, did Olivia talk to you about dinner next Wednesday night? I can’t believe my brother is finally going to pro—”r />
  “What?” My eyes widen in shock. “He’s popping the question?”

  “Oh shit.” He bunches a pillow under his neck. “Hmph… I don’t think I was supposed to say anything and now you’re sworn to secrecy. Hunter will have my nuts in a sling if this isn’t a surprise.”

  “Rex.” I shoot him a hostile glare. “Do you seriously think I would tell Olivia? Why would I do that? I want her to be completely surprised.” I clap my hands together. “I’m so excited for her! She deserves this and she loves your brother like crazy.”

  “Even though love sucks, right?” he teases, the edges of his lips lifting into a grin.

  “Yup, it does,” I smirk, “just not for her.”

  “Yeah, this is huge for Hunter. I’ve never seen him so happy. He honestly doesn’t care about anything else, even work.”

  “Well,” I half-joke, “I guess that’s what sucky love does for you.”

  He tilts his head to the side, meeting my stare. “Yeah, I suppose it does.”

  Our eyes hold for a bit too long and it makes me uncomfortable, so I break away from his gaze, changing the subject.

  “So, I’ve been meaning to ask you?” Hesitancy makes my voice crack and I see his jaw grow tight. “Don’t get nervous,” I reassure him. “It’s nothing crazy. I noticed the tattoos on your bicep and was interested in knowing what the symbols mean.”

  “Oh.” He blows out what I conceive to be a relieved breath. Pointing a finger to his upper arm, starting with the thick, black Asian symbol on the left, he explains, “Well, this one means ears, and this one,” he moves to the upper right, “means eyes. And this one here,” he traces the one in the middle on the right, “means undivided attention. And the bottom right one,” he taps against it, “means heart.”

  “So what does it mean, to you?” I run the pad of my finger over the design and his eyes follow the path, staring at the ink on his skin.