Lindsay closed the door to the apartment and started down the outside stairs. In the dark, she heard footsteps coming up the stairs. She’d expected it was another second floor tenant, but couldn’t make out his face in the dark.
This wasn’t the first time she’d thought how cheap her landlords were for not installing sufficient lighting.
Instead of staying on the right side of the stairway, the shadow headed straight toward her.
Could it be Charlie coming to visit her? Maybe they were having the same thoughts all along.
As the figure came closer, she realized his frame was much smaller than Charlie’s. Her adrenaline ran wild with fear. She kept her eyes on the stairs, afraid to look him straight on. As the man closed in she tried to side–step him, but he moved in the same direction, blocking her. Again, she moved to the side, and so did he.
“Excuse me,” Lindsay said in a husky tone, trying to conceal her terror.
The man cast out a roguish laugh. “Don’t pretend like you don’t want some of this.”
Lindsay lifted her head. “You jerk! You nearly scared me to death!” She pushed Asher’s chest, and he stumbled down the steps.
“Watch it, bitch!” Asher yelled, dusting himself off. “This is a hundred–dollar Michael Kors shirt.” He inspected each elbow. “And look,” he held it where she could see, “you made me rip a hole in it.”
“That’s what you get.”
“Damn!” he said upon further inspection. “I’m bleeding too!”
The red fluid spewing from his elbow had pooled onto his white button–up.
“Will you shut up already.” Lindsay grabbed him by his good elbow. “I don’t want my neighbors to hear.”
She yanked Asher up the stairs and unlocked her door. “Follow me.”
She switched on the kitchen light. “Sit down.”
Asher sat at the kitchen table, holding his wounded arm. Wincing, he squeaked like a mouse.
Lindsay shook her head as she searched through the medicine cabinet.
How inconvenient is this? Being held up by a pretty–boy, white in the face from a little scratch.
First aid kit in hand, Lindsay pulled out a chair in front of Asher and sat. She dropped the box on the table and removed the plastic wrapping. “You know, two women lived together and never needed to open this.”
“Shut up,” Asher said under his breath. His tone was more gentle as he awaited personal treatment.
“What do you want anyway? Your sister isn’t here.” Lindsay opened a bandage and unwrapped an antibacterial wipe.
“I came to retrieve my dad’s Freemason ring. You know—the one you and your big, bad boyfriend stole right off my finger.”
Lindsay looked at the nub of a pinky that remained on Asher’s right hand. “You’re welcome by the way.”
“For what?”
Was he being for real? The sarcastic smirk on Asher’s face said that he knew exactly what for.
Lindsay thought she was imagining what she heard next: The softest, most genuine–sounding, “Thank you.”
Tending to his wounds, Lindsay wondered what had brought about this sudden change of character. “Whatever. I know you don’t mean that,” she said, taping on the final piece of gauze.
“All done.” She crumpled the empty bandage packets in the palm of her hand.
Asher cupped his hand over hers, looking at her intently … almost affectionately.
“You can trust me,” he said.
She froze. The lustful look in his eyes was familiar … too familiar. The memories of that night flooded her senses.
Asher had driven her home from the bar and carried her inside. She’d been dizzy, barely conscious, lying on her bed. Asher’s fingers brushed against her chest. Her eyes heavy, she struggled to focus, realizing that he was unbuttoning her shirt.
She drew in a quick breath and pushed his hands away. “I’m okay.”
He’d looked at her with the same desire that night as he was at this very moment.
“Trust me,” he’d said, and placed his mouth over hers. At first his kisses were soft, but the longer it went on, the more frenzied they became. She’d managed to push him away from her lips, but he refocused on her chest, sucking, then biting like a starved dog.
“Stop it,” she’d yelled, and pounded her balled fist into his head. Sheer terror catapulted her into a sitting position.
“Fine,” Asher said, moving to the side of the bed.
She’d breathed a sigh of relief.
“It’s your loss.” Asher ran a hand through his messed–up locks and straightened his tie. “What was I thinking anyway, lowering my standards? High–class men don’t fraternize with low–class women. That’s what Mother always told me.”
He glared at Lindsay. “What’d you grow up in? A doublewide?” He placed a finger to his jaw, correcting himself. “No, I see you as more of a two–bedroom, brick ranch kind of girl.”
“Go to hell.”
Asher swaggered to the bedroom door and placed a hand on the knob. That’s when she should have left well enough alone.
“You’re not used to not getting what you want. That’s the real issue, isn’t it, Asher? You can buy anything with your money—correction your daddy’s money—but you can’t buy me.”
The half–open bedroom door slammed shut, and Asher pounced on her before she could react. He straddled her, and she shielded her face, expecting a back–handed slap. “I beg to differ,” he said, gripping her wrists and pushing her arms up above her head. The struggle only lasted a few seconds.
Lindsay placed her fingers on her scalp, recalling her head crashing into the wooden headboard.
That’s where the memory ended. After that, all she could assume was that the worst had happened.
She trembled. Her heart slammed against her chest. How could she hide what she now knew? She looked at Asher’s hand covering hers and prayed he didn’t feel it shaking.
Her fretting didn’t last long. Charlie walked in.
Chapter Twenty–One
He hadn’t needed to knock. Asher failed to close the door all the way when he’d come in.
Lindsay hurried to Charlie, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Charlie. I’m so glad to see you.”
Charlie stood, arms at his sides. “What’s going on here?”
“Asher came to get his dad’s ring.”
Her eyes narrowed when she turned to Asher. “He was just leaving.”
“But, you still didn’t give it back,” Asher said.
“I’ll have to look for it,” Lindsay said sharply. “I’ll return it to your sister when I find it.”
Cradling his elbow in the palm of his hand, Asher thrust the chair backward and high–tailed it out of there.
Lindsay sighed in relief. “You came just in time,” she said to Charlie. “I have so much to tell you.”
“I think you’ve said enough,” Charlie said through tense lips.
“What do you mean?” Lindsay said, her voice breaking.
“At my house last weekend. Your little outburst.” He’d forgiven her for that, but now he was rethinking it. Especially after what he’d seen walking in to her apartment. How could she get involved with someone else so soon? Someone so … despicable.
Lindsay bowed her head. “I’m sorry for that. I was just on my way to tell you—”
“Not another word,” Charlie said holding his palm up. “It’s my turn to do the talking.”
“Wait. You don’t think something was going on between me and Asher, do you?”
His eyes had not deceived him. What did she take him for? Some kind of love–sick fool?
“It doesn’t matter. I’ve been thinking about something you said last weekend. You said you were na�ve. Correction—I was the na�ve one. To think you might actually appreciate my helping you with your elusive job hunt.” He shook his head. “You are the most selfish, ungrateful person I’ve ever met. Oh, and with all of my uppity connections, I’ve met
a lot of shady people too. But you,” jabbing his finger at her, “Lindsay Martin, take the prize.”
Lindsay bit her lip and blinked away tears. She staggered to a chair and flopped down.
“I can’t think of one time I ever boasted about money, or career, or social standings,” Charlie continued. “Those kinds of things aren’t the most important things in life. Love is. The love I thought I found with you.”
Charlie walked to the door. “You need to take a long look in the mirror and get down to the root of your problem. This is all about your insecurities. You need to own them. As far as you and Asher are concerned—it’s best if I keep my thoughts to myself. I’d hate to later regret what I might say.”
* * *
Charlie steered with one hand on the wheel and rubbed his temples with his free hand. It didn’t ease the throbbing in his head. He couldn’t get the image of Asher and Lindsay in such close proximity out of his mind. He wanted to believe the only reason Asher was there was to pick up his dad’s ring. It seemed feasible, but he didn’t know if he could trust her anymore. He didn’t know her anymore.
Walking on eggshells to stay on her good side was getting old. Was he a man, or a dog on a leash? He wouldn’t allow himself to feel guilty for the things he’d said. Weren’t they all true, not to mention extremely overdue?
Mister Nice Guy was dead and gone. There was plenty Charlie could do to fill his time. When he wasn’t working, he could cut Aggie’s grass, or take Brutus to his vet appointments for Mr. Jenner. Okay, so Mister Nice Guy was dead as far as Lindsay was concerned.
The drive home was a blur. Charlie had been on auto–pilot, lost in thoughts. It wasn’t until he’d pulled into his driveway and turned off the engine that he snapped back to reality. A pair of headlights shone in his rearview mirror.
She wasn’t going to let him just walk away. Not after she’d come to terms with her real problems. She’d been so stunned by his harsh words that she was speechless. When Charlie walked out, her first instinct was to go bury her head in her pillow and sob uncontrollably. She’d changed though. It was time to stop pitying herself and go after the life she desired.
Moments after Charlie left, she’d grabbed the keys to her junky Focus and followed him home. She pulled into his driveway right behind him.
Charlie closed his car door and walked toward his porch. Lindsay followed.
He didn’t look at her. “Just let it go,” Charlie said, keeping his pace.
“I won’t. I let you speak your piece. Now I deserve to speak mine.”
Charlie spun around. “Do you?” he asked in a condescending tone. “I think I’ve given you more of my time than you deserve.”
“You’re right,” Lindsay said softly.
Charlie’s stiff posture relaxed slightly.
“I’m begging you, please, let me explain,” she said.
“I’m listening,” Charlie lied. He would tune her out just to get this over with.
“Thank you. Not only for hearing me out, but also for getting me that job. I should have told you that before, just like you said. I’ve treated you horribly.”
Lindsay hugged herself and paced. “Something happened between me and Asher. Not tonight; a year ago. I had no recollection of it until now. Something he said tonight at my apartment triggered my memory.”
Now she had his attention. He watched her move to and fro, nervously rubbing the outside of her arms as if it were thirty degrees (it was a comfortable seventy).
“He brought me home from a bar one night. I was drunk out of my mind. When I fought against his advances, he belittled me. He said he wouldn’t lower his standards to be with someone so beneath his elite social–class. He degraded my background, where I come from.”
She paused. It was equally painful recounting the event a second time. “He was about to leave … I should’ve kept my mouth shut, but I countered. I told him he only had money because of his daddy and that he couldn’t buy me. He was infuriated. He came at me, knocking my head into my headboard. I passed out, and after that, I believe he had his way with me.”
“I’m sorry,” Charlie whispered, looking down.
“Me too, but I’m glad I remembered. Don’t you see,” she put her hands on Charlie’s arms, “that’s the reason for my unjustifiable hostility toward you.” She bent her knees trying to meet Charlie’s lowered gaze.
Charlie backed away. “I’m emotionally spent.” He was having trouble processing all this information.
“For the last few months, I’ve given you the best of me. When you give, give, give, ultimately you come to a point where there’s nothing left.” Charlie shrugged. “Do you understand? Maybe now that you’ve dealt with the past, you won’t run in to the same obstacles with your next relationship.”
Lindsay trembled and Charlie noticed, but he couldn’t extend a hand. He was numb. He ascended half of the front porch stairs, then turned. “Good luck, Lindsay.” He grasped the hand rail and trudged the rest of the way up.
Once inside, he shuffled to the wet bar in one corner of the living room. “Just forget her,” he said out loud, pouring a shot of Jack Daniels. Then he wondered, what if she truly was not involved with Asher? Maybe she hadn’t concocted that story about her drunken night with him just to save her ass.
Tires screeched nearby, followed by a crash. He slammed the shot glass down on the bar and ran to the door, swinging it open wide.
From the front yard he could see clearly to the stop sign at the end of the street. It was Lindsay.
Chapter Twenty–Two
Her red Focus had been T–boned by a full–size pickup.
He sprinted down the street.
“I’m so sorry,” cried the man stepping out of the truck.
Charlie waved him off. “Call 9–1–1.”
Charlie yanked open the bent car door, discovering Lindsay unconscious. “Lindsay, honey, everything’s gonna be all right. Charlie’s here.”
He stood and yelled to the driver of the pickup, “Hurry up!”
He knew not to move her. All he could do was hold her hand and wait. “Please be okay, Lindsay. Please.” His voice broke. “I’m sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean it. I promise, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you … just, please wake up.”
She mumbled something, her eyes flinching.
After what felt like an eternity, sirens wailed. “Help is here, honey. Just sit still.”
“Out of the way, sir,” an EMT said to Charlie. He set down the orange backboard and put a neck brace on Lindsay.
“What hospital are you taking her to?” Charlie asked.
“Medical University.”
“Can I come with you?”
“We need all available space to assess and monitor her inside the ambulance. Can you follow us there?”
Charlie nodded and ran back to his house. He started the car and stepped on the gas, trying to keep up with the flashing lights of the ambulance. His heart pounded in his chest.
At the hospital, he parked in a restricted spot without regard to having his vehicle towed.
Charlie kept his pace with the EMTs as they wheeled Lindsay through the sliding doors of the hospital. She opened her eyes a couple of times, but struggled to stay awake.
“I’m right here, doll,” Charlie said, holding her hand as he walked beside the stretcher.
“Where am I?” Lindsay asked with a groan.
“You had a little accident. You’re going to be fine,” Charlie said.
When they reached the swinging doors into the ER the paramedic stopped Charlie. “You’ll need to wait here, sir.”
“I understand. Please give me an update on her condition as soon as possible.”
“Yes, sir.” The paramedic pushed the doors open with the end of the stretcher.
Charlie stood on his tip toes and put his hands to the sides of his mouth. “I love you, Lindsay.”
While Charlie was pacing the waiting room, an officer who’d responded to the acc
ident approached. “I understand you came in with the driver of the Ford Focus.”
“That’s right.”
“I thought she might need this.” He handed Charlie her purse. “Any other personal belongings she will have to retrieve from the junk yard. She won’t be driving that car again.”
If he wasn’t so distraught, he’d probably have laughed at that. He finally got his way, after all. And her replacement car was already on stand–by.
“I trust you’ll deliver this to her.” The officer handed Charlie an accident report. “I had to cite her at fault, since she ran the stop sign. She needs to have this form completed by her insurance company and forwarded to the DMV within ten days. Tell her to call me if she has any questions. My phone number is on the bottom.”
“Sure, officer.”
A blue traffic ticket with a hefty four–hundred–dollar fine was stapled to the accident report. Charlie detached it and put it in his back pocket. That’s one less thing she’d have to worry about.
In the cold waiting room, Charlie flipped through the channels of the wall–mounted television. On one of the sports networks, the scroll across the bottom of the screen read: Tom Lally traded to his former team, the Atlanta Braves, for two minor league players yet to be named.
That caught his attention. He made a mental note to look on the Braves website once Lindsay was better.
“Sir,” a nurse called.
Charlie stood. “Yes?”
“You can come back now.” She held the emergency room door open for him.
“Is she okay?” Charlie said, dashing past the nurse.
“She’s going to be fine,” the nurse said when she caught up. At the end of the hall, she pulled back the privacy curtain of a temporary room.
Lindsay was sitting up in the bed, her back supported by two pillows. She glanced toward Charlie out the corner of her eye. “Hey there, stranger,” she said softly.
Charlie approached the side of the hospital bed and kneeled down. He gently slid his hand, palm first, under hers. He pressed his cheek against the outside of her hand and kissed it.
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