Abbie doesn’t go to the director but continues to hold all of this over my head. Abbie does go to him, and my application goes under review. Versus I go to him, calmly lay out the whole thing, apologize, offer Riel my scholarship, but the director allows me to keep it.
Or I calmly lay out the whole thing, apologize, offer Riel my scholarship, and then I get kicked out, which means this goes on my academic record.
With a sigh I sit back in my chair and continue studying the screen, replaying everything in my head again. But what I keep cycling back to is: Director Williams likes me. I really don’t think he’s going to kick me out. Plus, it is the right thing to do.
With that thought I lift my hand and press enter on the keyboard, suddenly feeling lighter. Freer. Abbie, and my past, no longer have control over me. I need to talk to Riel, too. I want him to hear all of this from me. But not until I speak with Director Williams first. I want to have all the facts and everything in order.
As I’m packing up, my thoughts go back to Miami and Riel and the video. I log back onto the computer, and it doesn’t take me but a few seconds to find it.
Me and Riel dancing, intimate, kissing, pressed together. More like lost in each other as his hand disappears under my dress.
I watch the video, and then I watch it again, my cheeks burning in both embarrassment and arousal. If I could rewind things, I would.
What was I thinking? I’ve never done anything like that before. Just lost myself in a guy. Manny was a huge PDA person, more to put on a show for his buddies than because he was into me. I couldn’t stand it. I like to keep intimacy private. Sometimes I think he would have had sex with me right there on the hood of his truck in front of all his buddies if I’d said yes. My gut roils at the thought.
I told the cops he was out on bail for rape. What if he’s here in the Keys? Does he hate me that much that he would be stalking me? I can’t wrap my brain around it. My ex-boyfriend could very well be my attacker.
That night I don’t sleep and come morning my assailant is all that’s on my mind as Gillian helps me pack for Riel’s place.
“You sure you’re going to be okay?” she asks. “I can cancel with my parents.”
I love Gillian. “It’s all good,” I reassure her.
She gives me that same pathetic look that everyone else around the academy has been giving me. “I can see if my parents mind if you come along.”
I smile. “I’ll be fine.”
She gives me a hug. “You look like shit.”
I chuckle, despite the comment.
“Won’t your family miss you?” she asks.
I shake my head. I’ll miss seeing my sisters, but my momma and I had decided early on I’d stay here over the holidays and breaks. We can’t afford the trip home anyway.
From the parking lot a horn honks, and we glance out to see Riel’s Jeep. Gillian helps me down the stairs and out to him.
Mar sees me coming and leaps from the Jeep, and I brace myself for her enthusiastic hug.
“Careful,” Riel warns, and Mar gently embraces me.
He’d told Mar I’d been in an accident, but not the details. The last thing Mar needs is nightmares or sleepless nights. I’m having enough of those on my own.
We drive the short distance to their campground, and I slowly follow them into their fifth wheel, trying not to wince with every move. I’ve never had a bruised rib before. It affects everything. Even breathing. Add that to a dislocated shoulder and I’m pretty much out of commission. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned from Momma, this ain’t nothing. It could be worse, and I’m certainly not down for the count.
Riel puts my stuff down in his room. “You’ll stay in my room, and I’m crashing on the couch.”
“I’m fine on the couch, Riel.”
“Figured we’d have soup tonight,” he says, totally ignoring the couch comment. “Good on the throat?”
I smile and nod.
“Okay, don’t talk. Just make yourself at home. Mar’s going to help you unpack.”
While I sit on the bed, Mar buzzes around me putting my clothes in drawers that Riel’s emptied. She yip-yaps on and on about everything from school to swimming to TV. I gladly, tiredly listen. As long as someone’s talking, as long as I keep my mind busy, I don’t think about the attack.
Chapter Forty-Four
The next several days crawl by at an interminable rate. Riel comes and goes from work, and I spend most of my time either in bed or in a chair, staring out the window and replaying every moment of my life since coming here.
I think of the people I met, the things I said, and the clothes I wore. I think of all the strange things that had been happening over the past months and of that morning I woke and swore someone had been in my room.
I think of the attack. Yet, I’m not completely convinced it is Manny. I don’t know, something just won’t let me latch on to that.
Everything I mull over forward and backward in search of an explanation…I’ve been waiting for this moment…been watching you…give you what you’ve been asking for…prick tease…
Anger clenches through me as I think through it all. None of this makes sense. Reasoning tells me my attacker is sick in the head, and I’m not to blame. But I don’t want to listen to reason, I want answers.
As I stand in front of Riel’s bathroom mirror, I give my head a shake to clear it, and with my good arm I reach for my comb.
Leaning my head to the right, I pick out the tangles in the ends.
A dislocated shoulder. The creep gave me a dislocated shoulder.
Straightening, I swing my hair behind me, comb the crown, and down the middle.
I can’t even write a decent-looking word or tie my own shoe.
Laying the comb down, I pick up a clip. Tilting my head to the left, I try to secure it at the base of my neck, but with only one usable hand, I can’t get all my hair into it.
All I’ve been able to wear are sweatpants and an oversize tee. It’s too much of a struggle to put anything else on.
I put the clip down, pick up a ponytail holder, and twist it around my hair. I let go, and it falls to the floor. I give it a swift kick and it slides behind the toilet. Who cares if I put my stupid hair up anyway?
Scowling at the rubber band, I debate whether to bend down and get it. It’d hurt too bad to dig it out from behind the toilet.
I pivot toward the door ready to stomp out and forget my hair and run right into Riel.
Great.
He leans past me and retrieves the kicked band. He wraps it around his wrist and turns me to face the mirror. Standing behind me, he separates my hair into three sections and begins French braiding it.
I study his reflection as he works with my hair, braiding it loose and soft. I get the distinct impression he wouldn’t have let me refuse this service if I’d tried.
Closing my eyes, I concentrate on the relaxing, massaging feeling of his fingers on my scalp. He reaches forward and grabs another section, and the pads of his fingers brush the sides of my face. The anger that was swirling though me moments ago slowly fades with each soothing stroke through my hair. I’m so glad that I’m here. That Riel is here.
All too soon the whole thing’s over, and Riel secures the ponytail holder around the end of my braid. He turns me to face him, and suddenly all that is Riel seems to fill the small space of his RV bathroom. His six-foot height. His dark hair. Those amber eyes. The light scent of his cologne. The curve of his biceps under his short-sleeve tee. And the dimple right there in his right cheek that even when he’s not smiling, still leaves a crease.
“It’s okay to let someone take care of you,” he quietly tells me, his accent now filling the small space right along with everything else. “Something tells me you haven’t had a whole lot of that.”
He’s right. “Same goes for you.”
Riel nods. “Aren’t we just the pair?”
Yes, we really are.
Lightly he caresses my black eye an
d says, “Looking good.” Then he turns and walks out.
I wish he would’ve stayed. I wish he would’ve kept touching me, comforting me.
But that’s how he’s been the whole time I’ve been here. No nonsense. No babying. No tiptoeing around. No pitiful expression. He’s done nothing but treat me normal.
He hasn’t pushed me to talk about anything, either. Maybe he knows how much I have to think about, how much I have to work through.
Someone taps on Riel’s open bedroom door, and I look up from where I still stand in the bathroom to see Mar and Riel’s matching heads peek in.
She shoots me a quick, dimpled grin. “Hi.”
I smile back. “Hi.”
Holding up a sketch pad, Mar crosses the bedroom. “I drew this for you.”
I look at the woman standing on the beach, her long dark hair blowing in the wind. A pleasant smile curves her lips and gives her eyes peace. I run my finger along the edge. I had no clue Mar could draw like this.
“Do you like it?” she asks.
I grab her with my good arm and pull her into me. “Thank you,” I mumble. “I love it, and I love you.”
Gently, Mar hugs me back.
I glance up to Riel and see an emotion in his eyes I haven’t seen before. Something deep. Something earnest.
“She worked forever on that,” he quietly tells me.
It hits me then, really hits me, how much Riel and Mar mean to me. How withdrawn I’ve been over the last days when I’ve had them to lean on. I know to my core that no matter how my future plays out after I talk to Director Williams, I want Riel in my life. I only hope he doesn’t hate me when he finds out that I’m a liar.
Later that night after Riel goes to sleep on the couch and Mar is in her bed, I lay in Riel’s bed, staring wide-eyed at the digital clock that flicks 2:04 a.m. and listening to the storm brew outside. I’ve been lying in this same position since midnight, watching the minutes tick by.
Like every other evening, sleep eludes me. I don’t want to sleep. It only brings nightmares of me being attacked in new places: a dark alley, an old warehouse, a dungeon.
Something scratches the bedroom window, and I stiffen, staring hard at the glass. Then lightning brightens the sky and illuminates a tree swaying in the wind, clawing at the RV. I let out a slow relieved breath, and then jump when a crack of thunder rattles the fifth wheel.
The bathroom light goes out. The digital alarm clock blackens. And my heart leaps to light speed.
What if my attacker’s in the RV? What if he broke in?
Swallowing hard, I strain to hear past my own heartbeat, and moving only my eyes, I scan the dark room.
The floor squeaks in the living room, and in one swift soundless motion, I slide from underneath the covers and onto the floor.
The floor squeaks again, this time from the other side of the fifth wheel, where Mar sleeps.
No!
I leap to my feet and charge out of the bedroom, through the living room, and toward Mar’s room. My own loud pants echo in my ears.
Somebody grabs me from behind, and with a grunt I try to twist away. No!
The person tightens his hold. “Calm down. It’s me. Riel. You’re going to be okay. The electric went out. Everything’s fine.”
I squeeze my eyes shut against his soft voice. What am I doing?
“It’s me. It’s not him. You’re going to be okay.” He loosens his hold on me and slowly turns me to face him. “It’s okay,” he says, smoothing my hair from my face.
I wrap my good arm around him and bury my face in his chest. “I’m so sorry,” I mumble. “I thought it was him. I thought he was going after Mar. I think I’m going crazy.”
“You’re not going crazy,” he assures me, resting his cheek on the top of my head. “It’s a natural reaction.”
I fist my fingers into his T-shirt, holding on as if my life depends on it, and he hugs me tighter until our hearts beat against each other.
“I’ve wondered when you’d snap. You’ve been so quiet, contemplative. I’ve been trying not to crowd you. Haven’t really been sure what to do with you except watch over you.”
“You’ve been great,” I assure him.
“Aren’t you brave charging across to protect Mar?”
I pull away and look up into his eyes.
“When was the last time you actually slept?” he asks.
I sigh. “Not since before the attack.”
“Hm.” He holds out his hand. “Come on, I’m taking you to bed.”
I can’t help but smile at the entendre. “Thanks, but I’m all right now.”
“Trust me, Viola. I care about you. We’re friends. I want to help you. You’re making it very hard, though.”
I heave a tired sigh, more interested in his proposal than I care to admit. I will sleep better with him beside me. I know I will.
He clasps my hand in his. “Do you have any idea how much I admire you? You have such guts and determination.” He squeezes my hand. “Sleep with me tonight. Let me hold you. I’ll be right there. No bad dreams. I promise.”
I follow him into his bedroom, and we both lie down. He snuggles in behind me, and I close my eyes. His heat permeates my body, and his scent—a combination of clean laundry and his lingering cologne. I need to ask him what kind it is. I’m tempted to buy some and put it on my pillow at night. I soak it in, all of it, and the security his closeness brings. I can’t remember a time when anything felt so good.
My thoughts naturally drift to all that I need to tell him. I may never have this again after he finds out I’m a fraud, and that sends a distinct twinge of yearning and sadness through me. I’ve finally found a great guy, and it’s all about to go away.
Chapter Forty-Five
The mattress dips and my eyes fly open to see Mar crawling onto the bed. Lifting my head from the pillow, I glance around, my thoughts a bit fuzzed. It takes me a few seconds to remember I’m lying in bed with Riel. I’d drifted off spooned in front of him, his arm draped around me in a protective hold. Warm and secure.
Snuggling my head back into my pillow, I roll to my side to see Riel awake and staring right at me.
He smiles. “Morning, beautiful.”
How sweet. “What time is it?” I ask.
“Ten. You slept a solid seven hours.”
“Can we eat breakfast now?” Mar playfully whines. “I’m starving. I already made the pancakes and everything.”
I smile at her adorable striped pajamas and tangled hair. “How long have you been awake?”
She rolls her green eyes. “Forever.”
“Pancakes, you say?”
Mar nods.
“How about I do some bacon?” I offer.
Riel perks up. “Now you’re talking. I’ll get the coffee started.” He snags Mar and swings her off the bed.
Her giggles float through the fifth wheel as Riel carries her, fireman hold, into the kitchen.
I sit up, listening to the two of them, squinting at the sun coming in the blinds, hearing the birds outside, and smelling the coffee starting its brew.
Today will be different. No more emotional funk. I’m going to get up and get around. I’m going to go for a walk. Later I’m going to bring up YouTube and not only watch several self-defense videos, I’m going to practice the moves. Or practice them the best I can with my lingering injuries. Better yet, I’m going to see if there’s an actual class being offered here locally. I’m also going to log in and see if Director Williams has responded to my meeting request.
I swing out of bed and pad into the bathroom, feeling determined and newly energized. Yes, today is going to be a good day.
A few minutes later, I come out to see Riel in his bedroom changing shirts. I ignore his rock-hard upper body as I try to focus on what I want to say, but fail miserably.
He just looks at me.
I breathe out. “Can you put a shirt on? It’s very distracting.”
This makes him grin, but he obliges.
Smiling, Riel walks straight toward me. “Can I kiss you?”
My face warms at his unexpected question, and I immediately recall our kissing, and more, on the dance floor.
But before I have a chance to respond, he presses a slow kiss to each eyelid, one to my forehead, one on each of my cheeks, and then gently rubs his nose against mine.
I move in for more of a kiss, but he walks off with a, “Meet you in the kitchen,” comment and leaving me standing in his bedroom, desperately wanting more.
Chapter Forty-Six
Stalker
Viola’s scared.
I know she’s staying in the RV park. With Riel.
She’s done nothing but mislead him. Can’t he see that?
She’s misled everybody.
The truth will come out, though.
The attack wasn’t my fault.
It was Viola’s.
She deserved it.
One thing’s for certain. Viola’s ruining her own life.
She’s brought this all on herself.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Over the remaining days of fall break, I find myself wishing for more of those gentle kisses and reliving what happened between us on the dance floor. But nothing else occurs. I’m not sure why. Maybe he thinks I need the space after the attack. I do, but not from him.
Director Williams has not responded to my request for a meeting. I assume it’s because we’re on break, and when we return he’ll respond to all emails.
On Sunday, Momma calls to check in. “Hi, sweet girl, how are you?”
“I’m good, Momma. I miss you.”
Watching You Page 14