Text Me, Maybe

by Jolyse Barnett

  “Yeah, but I like you.”

  His heart thumped in his chest, drowning out the sound of the chirping birds outside his second floor window.

  “I was almost too afraid to ever trust again, so afraid I’d get close to someone and really care. Because it hurts so freaking bad when a guy you commit to turns around and breaks your heart. Then you’re left picking up the pieces. I’ve done it so many times. For me, and my mom.”

  “Your mother?”

  “She ended marriage number five a few weeks ago.”

  Whoa.

  “If you were a player, I would’ve figured that out by now, and we’d be kaput.”

  He heard the snap of her fingers, and his heart clenched. Did she really need to know? Because she sure as hell was giving him a damn good reason not to tell her.

  “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m happy you’re over whatever you felt for Ms. Swann’s guy, and I can’t wait to see you.”

  “Monday night’s so far away,” she groaned.

  He shifted, the frustration in her voice matching that in his chest and his pants. “You said you had to write.”

  “I do. I really do. And I know you said you had family obligations, and I don’t want to interfere.”

  Another slash of guilt cut into him. He’d let her assume he was getting together with his parents, when he was actually visiting Etta. Why keep that secret, too? “How about I call you, then?”

  “I’d love that.”

  The workweek couldn’t come soon enough.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Monday evening after her training session, Lexie sipped a venti mocha with two extra pumps and flipped another page in her book—deep in the dark world of Munchkinlanders—while waiting for her date.

  When Matthew called her name, a shiver of excitement ran through her, their weekend of phone calls at the front of her mind. She looked up to find him approaching her cozy corner. “Hi.” She shot a peek at the clock behind the Starbucks counter. “You’re early.” Her eyes were wide open. She wasn’t going to choose the wrong guy this time around.

  “I’m sorry. Just got a call.” His voice was terse, his back rigid—a one-eighty from his mood an hour earlier at the gym. “A close friend of mine is ill. You okay with stopping by to see her on our way?”

  Her? She stifled the sudden spark of concern, and closed her book. “Do you need to cancel? Because if you do, I understand.” She grabbed her jacket off the back of the chair and pulled it on, trying to act casual but feeling dizzy and out-of-sorts as she jerked her arms into the sleeves.

  I need to keep my eyes open.

  Matthew shook his head, stepped toward her, and grabbed her forgotten coffee off the table. “I need to speak with Etta’s doctor, see what’s going on.”

  The pain in his eyes had her pushing aside her worries for the moment. He was her friend, if nothing more, and she needed to be there for him. If he really wanted her to be. She wouldn’t insert herself into his life without his consent. She touched his arm. “Do you want me there?”

  He gave a firm nod. “Only if you feel comfortable. But I have to see her, make sure she’s okay.”

  She slid her book off the table. “Then I want to go. She has no family?”

  “In Jamaica.” Matthew led the way through the busy shop toward the exit. “Etta was our housekeeper.”

  The way he squeezed her hand and rushed with her the few blocks to the parking garage, filling her in on Etta’s declining health since the woman’s stroke two years ago, that let her know all he didn’t say.

  The woman was obviously more than a friend—she was everything to him.

  And that scared her.

  Because she knew how much it hurt to let go.

  Once they were on the road, he fell quiet with the exception of an occasional muttered curse when traffic slowed in patches along their route between Park Avenue and I-95. Twenty minutes later, they left the highway, the side roads less congested but still busy in spite of the late hour.

  “Here on the right.” He pointed toward a lush green lawn and sign that said: Cedar Crest Nursing & Rehabilitation Center.

  At least it wasn’t a hospital. She gripped her purse close. She could do this.

  Navigating the property’s steep, twisty hill, he secured a spot in the parking lot and jumped out of the vehicle. “You don’t have to come inside.” Tension poured off him in sheets.

  Could he see how frightened she was, or how close she was to hyperventilating?

  “Let’s go.” She reached out for his hand and together they raced to the entrance, slowing only when they reached the automatic double doors. She squeezed his hand. “It’s going to be okay.” It has to be.

  A nurse approached and ushered them down a side hallway.

  The smells, the sounds, the hushed voices. It was all coming back.

  Breathe.

  “How’s she doing?” Matthew was asking, and the nurse pointed toward the end of the hall.

  “Doc’s in with her now. I asked him to check her last to give you time to get here. Hang in there,” she added, then turned to leave the two of them alone in the sterile quiet.

  Am I strong enough for this?

  Lexie gazed at Matthew’s hand, still clinging to hers like she was his lifeline.

  I’m not a little girl anymore. This is part of life. I have to face it.

  At the entrance to Etta’s room, Matthew shook hands with the doctor and repeated his question.

  “The good news is she didn’t suffer another stroke or further brain damage.” The doctor glanced at his iPad. “We’ll know for certain in the morning, once we get all the test results. In the meantime, we’ll monitor her closely overnight.” He paused, as if trying to find the right words. “The troubling news, as you know, is her heart. It’s very weak. She has only so much fight left.”

  Matthew wiped a hand over his face. “Can I see her?”

  The doctor glanced between the two of them. “For a minute. Between the episode, and all the poking and prodding today, she’s exhausted.” His smile was grim as the two men shook hands again and said their good-byes.

  It’s not like last time. I don’t know her. She’s a stranger.

  She glanced up at Matthew’s grief-stricken face, and her chest squeezed painfully.

  But she’s everything to him.

  She held his hand and her breath as they inched together into the dimly lit room. With each step, more snatches of distant memories crept in… Disinfectant, beeping monitors, and a white curtain, which when pulled back, revealed a deathly still figure surrounded by tubes. All of it, eerily the same. She shuddered.

  I will be brave for both of us. I will help him through it.

  She gazed at the woman with cocoa-hued skin, wizened by age and illness.

  He leaned over the bed and whispered, “Etta. It’s me, Mattie.”

  The woman’s gnarled hand closest to them fluttered, and he covered it with his large one. She opened her eyes a crack, tracking his movements as he fussed with her pillows and sheets.

  Lexie choked back a sob. If only she could see her father again, tell him how much she loved him, wrap her arms around him. It had been so hard to let go, even when she’d known how much pain he’d been in, and that death would be his only relief. He’d held on as long as he could, for his family. Not himself. She knew that now.

  Was the frail old woman holding on for Matthew?

  “Water?” he asked.

  Etta blinked once.

  Matthew’s exhale was audible, the relief apparent in his eyes as he poured water from the plastic pitcher on the bed tray into a cup. He inserted a bendy straw and held it to the old woman’s dry lips like he’d done it a thousand times before.

  The elderly woman sipped, then blinked again.

  He smiled. “I brought a very special friend to meet you.”

  The woman’s mouth moved, but no sounds came out.

  Lexie leaned forward and stroked the woman’s papery forearm.
“Nice to meet you.”

  Warmth entered the woman’s dark, sunken eyes before they slid back to Matthew and slipped closed.

  He bent over the bed and whispered into the woman’s ear before kissing her hollowed cheek and smoothing the few wisps of snow-white hair on her head.

  Lexie stood next to him, her vision blurring.

  They were back in the Jeep and pulling away from the center when she finally asked the question pressing on her mind. “Do your parents visit?”

  He shook his head. “They’ve seen the place once, and help pay the bill.”

  No surprise there.

  “But I’m here as often as I can be.”

  She leaned as close as possible with the seat belt on, and snuggled against him.

  They were silent during the rest of the short drive to his home, which turned out to be a well-kept colonial on an impressive cul-de-sac property. “Nice area. Do you like your neighbors?” she asked, joining him on the porch.

  Matthew opened the door and waved her in. “I used to know everyone, back before I went to college, but the houses around here have all since changed owners.”

  He doesn’t know his neighbors? She knelt to pet the cat that came to greet them. “Do you have friends in the area, from high school or sports?”

  He shook his head. “I have Etta.” He leaned down to scratch between his cat’s ears. “And this girl, Remy.”

  A cat is one of his closest friends?

  “She’s adorable.” She followed him to the back of the house, grappling with yet another similarity between Steel and Matthew. There were millions of cat lovers in the world. She happened to know two.

  “Holy Time Warp, Batman,” she joked as they entered the kitchen, dated compared to the rest of the house she’d seen so far.

  His smile was distant. “I thought about remodeling, but I like it this way. Great memories.” He fed his cat, then moved to the fridge. He pulled out a bottle of Prosecco and bowl of chocolate-covered strawberries and set them on a counter.

  He’d planned a romantic evening, and he was trying so hard to be in the moment.

  For me.

  Stepping into his arms, she gazed up at him. “You’re doing all you can for her, and so are the doctors.” She rested her cheek against his chest as she massaged the bunched muscles in his back. His heart rate slowed to a sure, steady beat.

  “Thanks for being here.” Matthew kissed the top of her head and exhaled, then dipped his head to cover her mouth.

  Slow and searching, his kiss was more intoxicating than any cocktail she’d ever drunk. But this thing between them wasn’t just about her. He had to be thinking about Etta. Still hesitant, she pulled back. “Are you sure you want to do this? I mean, you have a lot on your mind. I’d understand. We can chill and talk about Etta, whatever you want.” I’ll have to take a freezing cold shower, but I’d understand.

  “Even when I was standing next to her hospital bed, I was thinking about you.” He smoothed her hair. “Ever since I met you, you’re on my mind. Can’t quite explain it.” Then he kissed her with a bone-melting passion she’d only ever read about. “I want to be with you.”

  Lexie thrilled at the connection between them. His kiss held far more than passion. It held kindness and affection, too. She wanted to share a special night with him. She knew what he was going through, the loss he’d have to bear. A sudden consideration made her pause and reshape her last assumption. Having Liam and Judith as parents, two people totally absorbed in themselves and without time or care for their only child, Matthew already knew what it meant to live with loss.

  He’d given her so much. He’d helped her feel less alone in a big city. They’d gravitated toward each other. Perhaps it wasn’t all about sexual chemistry, but also about the bond they felt, finding another person who wanted to connect so badly with another human being, but afraid to reach out, only to be rejected again. Maybe she could make him feel joy in spite of his pain, and let him know that she cared and understood, without burdening him with expectations or fears of her own.

  She picked up a pair of wineglasses off the counter. “Want to enjoy this upstairs?”

  He scooped up the bowl and wine. “I like the way you think.”

  Stealing glances at each other, they sped up the wide front staircase and down the hall into the room he said was his master suite. A bookcase among the pale greens and browns caught her eye, but then she turned and caught his heated gaze.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Matthew held out the glass he’d filled with wine for her. She was here, at last, in his bedroom—all softness and smiles and curves.

  Tell her the truth. It’s not right.

  He swallowed. “Remember how we were talking about the guy you call Steel—”

  “Talk?” She stepped close. “No. No talking. More doing. Uh, fun stuff.” She reached past him and lifted one of the strawberries from the bowl.

  Fascinated, he watched as she dipped the chocolate-covered fruit into her wineglass and tipped her head back. He couldn’t tear his eyes off her as she caught the pale liquid on her tongue. He couldn’t think.

  And then she was licking it, her eyes half-closed as she moaned with pleasure.

  Fire ripped through him, and he bit off a groan.

  “Delicious.” She licked her wet, full lips. “Want it?”

  Yes. So bad. She amazed him. This was another, wonderful side to her. “I want you.” He read the need in her eyes and grasped her wrist, guiding her hand back to her mouth. “Lick it.”

  Her cheeks flushed at his soft command. Her tongue darted out, then she closed her lips around the tip of the fruit, sucking it clean before biting into it like she hadn’t eaten in weeks. “Yummy.” She smiled up at him. “But I’d rather have you.”

  “I’m all yours.” He moved with her to the bed, all too happy to let her know with his tongue and lips how much he wanted her to be with him, how good it could be between them.

  Kissing.

  Exploring.

  Damn, it felt like years instead of days since he’d held her in his arms and ravished her mouth. He breathed in her scent, willing himself to slow down and make it last for her, but it was a struggle. He couldn’t seem to get enough. She turned him on and inside out.

  And her wiggling beneath him, pushing up against the bulge in his jeans wasn’t helping his restraint.

  Straddling her, he made quick work of her top while those sweet hands of hers skittered teasing caresses beneath his shirt, distracting him from his quest. “Slow down,” he said. “I want to make it good for you.”

  “Oh, it’s good.” She smiled and wiggled some more, those wandering hands of hers wreaking havoc on his self-control.

  He groaned, nipping at the soft hollow of her neck and across the full swells of her breasts constrained by her bra. Red satin against pale, creamy skin—perfection. “You’re killing me, woman. I don’t want to be friends. I want more.”

  “Not friends, more,” she agreed, her hands weaving through his hair, urging him on.

  He slid the satin out of the way and covered her with his mouth, greedily sucking and licking and kneading. Her cries and whimpers guided his exploration, and the sweet touch of her hands, her legs locking around his back, drove him wild with need. He leaned back to catch his breath and slow down the engine between his legs, ready to spontaneously combust.

  “Don’t stop. More. All,” she panted.

  “I’ll take you there, baby. Give you what you want.”

  Her grip tightened on his hips. “I want.”

  “Me, too.” He reached around behind her back and smiled as her beautiful breasts came free. He swooped down to give her his all. Hmmm. She was a handful in more ways than one.

  Matthew’s blood roared for her. Her scent, her heat, her softness… His chest was full and his hands seeking as he trailed eager, passion-filled kisses from her rosy breasts, south along her dips and curves. He struggled against the urge to move faster than the pace she set.
Because this was for Lexie. He hadn’t lied about that. He never would.

  “I want you.”

  Her whispered plea had him hopping off the bed and shedding the rest of his clothes. All the blood in his body centered in his lower half, more than ready. Then he was back in bed, helping her shimmy out of jeans and panties, moving over her. “Absolutely gorgeous. Even more than I’d imagined.” The words rushed out of him, and he shook his head, overwhelmed by emotion, his need to please her growing stronger by the second. He slid down, moved his mouth over her bare heat, stroking and licking, happy to show her just how much he liked her. She deserved to be cherished.

  She held him against her, her hands cradling him close.

  Matthew wanted to make it good for her.

  He had to.

  Together, they rocked on his bed, her curvy limbs secure around his back, his sole focus on satisfying her. Lifting her bottom, he cupped her hot center closer to his mouth, loving the sighs and moans that let him know he was doing it right, that he was driving her wild. And he was right there, too, with a freight train roaring through his head. Damn, she was incredible, with her arms thrown back over her head, her hands clutching his comforter. “Yes, yes, yes,” she chanted as he stroked and dipped his tongue.

  But he had to stay in control. It was about her pleasure, not his.

  Her words urged him on, and he worked to help her over the edge, a rare contentment flooding though him when she cried out in satisfaction. Awed by his growing desire to protect her, he kissed and soothed her heated body, then slid up alongside her.

  “That was, uh, wow.” Lexie sighed, and he gasped when she reached down between them, making her meaning clear, her hands warm and questing. “I want more.”

  “I want to give you more.” He slid off the bed and pulled open a drawer, sudden impatience making him clumsy. But then he was jumping back in bed to join her under a cocoon of blankets.

  She stroked his length, her eyes going soft and needy, almost putting him over the edge once more.

  He bit the inside of his cheek.