by Taylor Dean
“Oh yes, I’m sorry. It’s Spencer. Spencer Elliott.”
He hesitates, then nods. “Spencer.” I guess the nod is his way of saying, “Nice to meet you.”
So I nod back and say, “Stony.” I’m still trying to figure this man out.
“Need to call someone?” he asks.
“Yes. The friend I’m staying with in Lubbock will be worried.”
“Your family?”
I know what he’s asking without him having to utter a complete sentence. “My parents live in Jamaica. They’re on a mission for our church. Letting them know what happened will only worry them.”
“All right, then.” He places his cell phone on the table. “Call whoever. Use my room for privacy.”
“I appreciate that.”
“You bet.” His face is blank. He doesn’t seem so dumbfounded by my presence anymore, but he doesn’t seem thrilled either. He seems cold, like he has no emotions at all. But that permanent furrow between his eyebrows and the life in his eyes give him away. I’d guess he feels more than he lets on. Perhaps that’s why he’s trying to shut himself down. He doesn’t want to feel anymore.
I find him fascinating and long to know his story. My brother, Grayson, thinks my degree in psychology proves I’m a nosy person. He says I love to hear other people’s problems. I suppose that’s true to an extent. I let him have his fun and tease me. But there’s so much more to it. I find great satisfaction in helping people find peace in their lives.
“May I ask why you live out here, Stony?”
“I like it.”
“Are you living in this motorhome while you build your home?”
“Yep.”
“The home looks beautiful.” He just forgot about one important thing: location, location, location. I don’t say that out loud.
“Thanks.”
“Why here?”
“I was born in Roby. This is home. My mom’s in Sweetwater now.”
I’m encouraged by the personal details.
“How far?” I realize I shortened my sentence to the specifics as he does, so I amend my question, “How far is that from here?”
“’Bout thirty minutes.”
“Not too bad.” Actually, it still feels like the middle of nowhere, but I don’t say that out loud either. I think back on all of my questions and hope he doesn’t feel as though I’m giving him the third degree.
“Tell me, you gonna see that young man who abandoned you again?”
“Sure am.”
“Why?” he says with a frown.
“I’m gonna give him a piece of my mind.”
His expression softens and he nods with approval. “Well deserved. Can’t believe he’d do that to a young lady.”
“I shouldn’t have gone with him on a trip. I didn’t know him well enough.”
“Don’t blame yourself for his actions.”
“I should’ve known better.”
He leans forward in his seat. “Not your fault.”
His gaze is a bit intense, but I don’t look away.
It’s then I realize he’s right. I’m blaming myself for Finn’s actions because I know I made a mistake by going with him on a trip. But no matter what my choices were in this situation, the blame for leaving me abandoned is still on Finn.
“You’re right. It’s classic social psychology. I can’t believe I fell right into the trap. It’s so easy to blame the victim.”
“What do you mean?”
“It has a name. It’s called Fundamental Attribution Error.”
“Never heard of it.”
“It has to do with internal and external factors that influence a situation and cause us to explain away human behavior. When it comes to victims, it deals with judgment and blame. For example, let’s say a . . .” I pause. I’m sure he doesn’t want to hear me babble. “Never mind. I won’t bore you with the details.”
“Can’t leave me hanging now. Let’s hear it.”
This is a subject I’m passionate about, so I give in easily. “Okay, let’s say a young lady is by herself taking a walk in a shady downtown area after dark and she is attacked and sexually assaulted. People hear that story and immediately blame the young lady for putting herself in a dangerous situation. So, let’s change the story a little. A young lady is walking by herself after leaving her night class. She’s working really hard to get her degree and she works two jobs during the day. She’s attacked and sexually assaulted. People tend to hear that story and feel outraged for the young lady. In both situations the circumstances as to why the young lady is walking around by herself after dark should not matter at all. The blame should be on the perpetrator who attacked her. The rest of the details should be irrelevant.”
He studies me for several moments before saying, “Exactly. Well said.”
I feel a blush creep up my face. Why did I let myself go on like that? “Sorry. I love psychology. I find it fascinating.”
Whenever I go off like that my brother always quotes The Princess Bride and tells me, “Truly, you have a dizzying intellect.” And I always tell him, “Wait ‘til I get going.” We’re silly like that when we’re together and I wouldn’t change a thing. The thought makes me miss my big brother.
Stony pushes his cell phone toward me. “Don’t cause your friend to worry. Make your calls.”
I nod. I’m still mad at myself for putting the blame on me. Never again. I do believe everyone has the responsibility to keep themselves safe—and use common sense, but seriously, we need to stop blaming victims.
Stony grabs our plates and stands. I find myself watching him. He’s wearing jeans that hug his hips perfectly and a long sleeved Henley. He begins to make his way to the sink and it’s the first time I realize he walks differently. There’s a slight stagger in his gait. As he leans forward to put things away, his jeans rise slightly at the ankle and I notice a flash of silver.
I study his leg and that’s when I realize he has a prosthetic leg.
He goes completely still and I look up to find his eyes on mine. I feel horrible for staring at his leg. I know better. It’s just that I didn’t know he was handicapped in any way and it takes me by surprise. However, it explains the shower accoutrements.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
He gives me his signature nod and his eyes blink heavily.
I pick up the cell phone and escape to his bedroom. I’m sort of surprised he even gets cell phone reception out here. Perhaps I’m not as far away from civilization as I think.
Something hits me then. Stony didn’t smile once during our entire conversation.
Not once.
The nickname of Stony suits him a little too well. For some reason, the thought makes me utterly sad.
I also realize I was mistaken. He’s not the Beast at all. He does remind me of a handsome brooding prince hiding out in his castle though.
But his imprisonment is self-imposed.
And I am intrigued.
CHAPTER
Five
“SPENCE? IS THAT you? Where are you? Are you okay?” Caitlyn says with a frantic note.
“I’m okay. I’m just outside of Roby, Texas. A nice man took me in for the night.” I don’t mention the heat exhaustion. She’ll freak out.
“I panicked when I woke up this morning and realized you weren’t home. Then I found your suitcase, purse, and phone on my doorstep and just about had a heart attack. I’ve been trying to reach Finn and I was about to call the police. What’s going on?”
How kind of Finn to deliver my belongings to my doorstep, I think sarcastically. At least he didn’t abandon my stuff on the roadside as well. “We got into a fight and Finn kicked me out of his car. He left me stranded in the middle of nowhere.”
“What? Are you kidding me? That jerk! Tell me where you are again and I’ll come pick you up right now.”
I knew Caitlyn would come for me. She’s such a good friend. “I wish you could, Cait. But it’s raining like crazy and the flood waters have
risen again. The roads are closed and I’m stuck here until they clear.”
“Where are you again? Holed up with some stranger?”
“Yes, a man took me in for the night. He said I can stay here until the roads are open.” Unexpectedly, a dizzy spell rushes over me. I still feel a little weak too, so I stretch out on the bed and hope Stony doesn’t mind. I’m longing for a change of clothes and a hot shower. It’s the next thing on my agenda. When my head hits the pillow, I smell a whiff of Stony’s aftershave. A tingle wanders through my belly, surprising me. If this is what attraction feels like, I like it. I need and want to explore these feelings.
“Spence,” Caitlyn lowers her voice to a whisper. “Are you okay? We need a code word. If you need help, casually say my name at the beginning of your next sentence.”
Cait has watched too many crime dramas as well. Our favorite pastime is pizza and a marathon of Criminal Minds. We’re both ruined for life. Still, I appreciate her tactics and love that she’s assuring I’m safe. “I’m fine, really. Stony is a very nice man.” My voice cracks a little because I’m hoping my instincts are correct. “He even made breakfast for me this morning. I’m feeling pampered.”
“Stony? So you’re already on a first name basis, huh? Is he an old guy?”
I know where this is leading. I let out a deep breath because I know my thoughts are sneaking that way too and it’s rare for me. “No, he’s probably just a few years older than me.”
“What?! Is he good looking?”
Cait is always trying to set me up with her friends. That’s how I met Finn, although their friendship will clearly be on the outs now. He was more of an acquaintance to her anyway and I doubt Cait will lose sleep over it.
Cait is married and has a cute little eighteen month old named Ashlyn. She’s now convinced that everyone who is single is perpetually miserable.
“Um . . . yeah.” I don’t mention he’s gorgeous. In her mind, she’ll have us in love and married by next week. Besides, looks don’t mean a thing when he’s as prickly as a porcupine.
I hear her squeal before she says, “Tell me everything.”
“There’s nothing to tell, Cait. He took me in for the night and he’s been very kind. I think he feels sorry for me.” He also saved my life, but I keep that to myself. My experience with heat exhaustion will just scare her.
“Oh, all right, fine. Don’t tell me any juicy details.”
“There are no juicy details to share.”
Yet. I wish my foreign thoughts weren’t going that way, but there it is. I might as well face them. Being stuck in a small space with a handsome man is bound to conjure up my imagination a little. It’s only natural—and I quite like feeling normal emotions. I want to embrace these feelings and never let them go.
I notice a small shadow box with military medals showcased inside, sitting at the back of Stony’s nightstand. Inside boasts a Bronze Star and a Purple Heart. Impressive. Since my brother is in the Army, I know the Bronze Star represents serving in a combat zone and the Purple Heart represents being wounded in combat.
Stony is a war hero, a wounded warrior. In my mind, that increases his allure.
I hear Cait gasp. “Spencer, your interview!”
“I know. I’m missing it. I’m really bummed about that. There’s no way I’m getting the position now. I heard they had eight interviews today. They’ll assume a no-show doesn’t want the job.”
“Oh, Spence. I’m so sorry, honey. I know how much you wanted that internship.”
“It’s known for being one of the best psychiatric hospitals in the area. Working in a psychiatric hospital is exactly what I’d like to do after I get my nursing degree. Psychiatric nurses are in high demand right now.”
“You still have amazing experience under your belt. Don’t forget that, sweetie.”
It’s true. I’ve worked as a psychiatric technician for the last three years. I love my job, but if I want to make enough money to support myself without scraping by, I need more education. A bachelor’s in psychology isn’t going to cut it. The hourly pay leaves me living well in a nice apartment and I own a well-maintained used car, but I’ll never make enough to improve my situation. Nor can I build up much of a savings. Which is why I decided to pursue further education and go to nursing school. I knew further education was in the cards for me when I chose psychology as my major. But it took me awhile to decide which way I wanted to go in the field.
“Can you give them a call?” Cait asks.
“Yes. After we hang up, I’ll call and explain the situation. It’s a longshot, but I have to try.”
When I was accepted at Texas Tech, Caitlyn let me move in with her while I settled in. Translation: Until I earn enough money to get my own apartment.
“I might be living with you for a little longer. Sorry about that, Cait.” I’m sharing a room with Ashlyn and I know it isn’t easy for her. She wakes up practically every time I shift in my bed.
“Hey, that’s what best friends are for.”
Cait and I grew up together in California. It broke my heart when her parents moved their family to Texas during the middle of our senior year. Then she married a Texan and now lives only a few blocks from her parents’ home.
Living close to Cait while attending nursing school is a huge bonus. It’s why I applied to Texas Tech and made the move to Lubbock.
“Thanks, Cait. As soon as I can find a roommate situation I can afford, I’ll leave you in peace.”
“Hey, don’t worry about it. Summer’s not an easy time to find a roommate. Just wait until it gets closer to fall. Then you’ll have your pick of students eager for a roommate.”
“I know you’re right.” I sigh. Then I ask the next question pressing on my mind. “Did you get a babysitter for Ashlyn?”
“No worries, Spence. I knew I was going to lose you soon if you got the internship. My mom is taking over until I can find someone new. And even though her health won’t allow her to do it full time, she loves it, so don’t feel guilty.”
I’ve been babysitting Ashlyn while Cait works. It’s my way of paying for my room and board. She hasn’t been paying me, nor do I want her to. However, between all the expenses of moving to Lubbock and not receiving a paycheck for two months, my bank account is getting on the low side and I need to build up my meager savings. I insisted on contributing to the food budget, so money has been going out, but not coming in. I was really counting on that internship to earn a decent income over the summer.
“Hey Cait, is there any chance you could overnight my purse and phone to me? I’ll reimburse you.” There goes more money going out. “I’ll text you the address. I know it won’t arrive until the roads are clear, but at least it will be on its way.”
“No problem. I can’t believe Finn left you at all, but I really can’t believe he left you without your phone and purse.”
“I can’t either. He left me helpless.”
“Are you going to file a police report?”
“I think I should. Surely he committed some type of crime. Maybe reckless endangerment or something.”
“I think you should too. He shouldn’t get away with it.”
“Agreed. I’ll do it when I get home in a few days. By the way, you can reach me at the number I just called you from. It’s Stony’s cell. Anyway, I’d better go. I’ll keep in touch. And Cait?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
After we hang up, I dwell on the fact that most of my friends and family members are in California. Besides Cait, I have no one here in Texas. With my parents off in Jamaica, I feel very alone. It’s not a feeling I enjoy.
Shaking off self-pity, I quickly Google the number for the psychiatric hospital in Lubbock and give them a ring. It takes a few minutes to be connected with the correct staff member. When a real person is finally on the other end of the line, I ask if there’s any possibility my interview can be rescheduled. I am politely informed that the position has already been filled.
Disappointed, I thank them and end the call. My heart is heavy in my chest. That’s the end of that.
I let my eyes wander Stony’s room. It’s neat and tidy to the point of obsession. I turn onto my side and stare at the picture on his nightstand. It’s a picture of Stony with a very pretty brunette. Their coloring matches perfectly, almost the same dark hair and matching brown eyes. But the way their arms are wrapped around each other tells me they aren’t brother and sister. They look good together and make a handsome couple. She’s tall like him too. It makes me wonder if he could possibly like a petite blond like me.
There go my wandering thoughts again. I remind myself for the second time that it’s the situation. I’m stuck in a confined space with a handsome man. Whose thoughts wouldn’t meander? Still, it’s not like me. After all, I don’t even know the man. I can’t believe I’m even entertaining these foreign thoughts. My escapade yesterday must’ve affected my brain. Besides, I’m confusing handsome good looks with physical attraction. Just because he’s handsome does not mean I will be physically attracted to him. I learned that lesson a long time ago during one of my five thrilling dates.
My mind returns to my blond hair. I used to be so blond, my hair practically looked white. Not so much nowadays. Secretly, I sometimes thought the brightness of my hair hurt people’s eyes. It’s not a thought I’ve ever shared with anyone. It’s silly and I know they’d laugh at me. It’s one of those lingering childhood insecurities that somehow escaped into my adult psyche. Childhood is mean that way.
Stony isn’t smiling in the photo, but he looks happy and content. The line between his eyebrows hasn’t manifested itself as of yet and his expression is unmarred by life experience. He’s wearing khaki bermuda shorts and he has two perfect legs.
What happened to him? I assume it’s a combat wound and explains his Purple Heart.
I stare at his face, longing to see a smile overtake his expression. It would transform him.
Whatever horrific thing happened to him, he’s let it overwhelm and control him. That much seems obvious. What have I walked into?
I reach out and pick up the framed photograph and stare at Stony a little longer. I’m interested in him, probably a little more than I should be. His personality intrigues me. His quiet demeanor makes me want to know what’s really going on behind those brown eyes. My curiosity is definitely stoked. I love the way he took care of me last night. The thought sends a chill down my spine.