by Nell Iris
I didn’t try to look that day either. But I couldn’t stop sneaking glances at him out of the corner of my eye…which was how I ended up stumbling on fuck-knows-what and falling on my face right in front of him.
It couldn’t have been a pretty sight, and I wouldn’t have been surprised if someone had popped out of the woods and yelled “TIMBER” when I went down. Just like that, I found myself sprawling face down on the gravel path, begging for the earth to open up and swallow me whole so Mr. Super Cute Guy wouldn’t see me in my humiliation.
No such luck.
“Oh, my God, are you all right?”
I groaned. Great. Couldn’t he have pretended not to see me and let me get up and run away with at least a shred of my dignity intact?
But no. He had to be as sweet as he was cute.
He put a cool, slender hand on my forearm, and I lifted my face out of the gravel to look at him.
The rays of the sun bounced off his hair, almost blinding me with its brightness. His eyebrows were drawn together, creating a vertical line right over his nose, and his mouth was set in a worried line.
“You’re bleeding!” Tender fingers brushed over my right eyebrow and came back red.
“Great,” I muttered. The humiliation knew no end.
“Can you get up?”
“Of course.” But it was easier said than done; my knees wobbled, and my ankle twinged, and I ended up having to lean on him for balance.
Back on my feet, I took stock of my body. Aside from my bleeding face, I had scraped both knees, my left shin, and the heels of my hands. It stung like hell, as if I’d landed in a nest of fire ants. I bit my tongue to keep from moaning in front of Cute Guy.
I looked down at him. He had the biggest eyes I’d ever seen, and they were framed in long, blond eyelashes, creating an intriguing contrast to his brown irises. He chewed on his lower lip, and his hands fluttered as if he wanted to touch me and help but wasn’t sure he was allowed.
“I’m okay,” I said, wanting to erase the worried crease between his eyebrows.
He was even more adorable up close, with delicate features and a generous mouth that looked as though it had been sculpted by the gods of kissing. Reluctantly, I tore away my gaze, but not before licking my lips.
“I really am. Thanks for your help. I’m…uh…a little mortified by my clumsiness, to be honest.”
“Oh, no! Don’t be!” He was so sincere, and his hands fluttered even more. His gaze flicked over me, then he threw himself on the ground before me and inspected my mighty war wounds. His fingers hovered over my skin, and he leaned in as though he needed to be close to see properly. “You’ve got dirt in the scrapes. You need to tend to these immediately.”
I huffed. “My car is all the way back at the start of the trail, but I’ll go as fast as I can.”
He climbed to his feet, then sucked his lower lip into his mouth again and tapped his chin. “My car’s up there.” He pointed to a narrow footpath disappearing between the trees that I’d never noticed before. “I have a first aid kit. I can patch you up and drive you to your car.” He bounced on his heels and his hands took up their fluttering again. They reminded me of a bird’s wings.
“Are you sure about that?” I made my voice as non-threatening as I possibly could to avoid spooking him.
“Y…yes? Please?”
“Maybe you can text someone and tell them what’s going on? So you don’t have to worry?”
He smiled. It wasn’t much, just a slight upturn of the corners of his mouth, but it revealed a deep dimple in his right cheek and I had to lock my knees, so I wouldn’t swoon in front of him. One face-plant a day was more than enough.
“Nah, it’s okay. I’m pretty sure I can outrun you if necessary.”
“Maybe today,” I grumbled but smiled so he would know I was joking.
His smile widened, and it was like watching the sun break through the clouds after three straight weeks of rain and thunderstorms.
He led the way; we had to walk slowly because of my ankle, but it took only a few minutes before we reached his tiny lime green Chevy Spark. I squeezed my butt into the passenger seat, my legs on the outside, and let him tend to my wounds.
“What’s your name?” I asked as he dabbed my forehead, radiating concentration. His touch was featherlight; it was obvious to me he was a born nurturer.
“Oh, I guess we forgot that part, huh?” He flashed me a quick smile before returning his attention to his task. “I’m Samuel Hayes. You?”
“Alex Reed.”
“As in Alexander?”
“Mhm.”
“That’s such a magnificent name. It suits you.” He let out a little gasp, and judging by the pink creeping up his neck and settling in his cheeks, he hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
“Thank you. No one has ever said that to me before.”
“No?”
I shook my head.
“Hold still please.”
I swallowed a chuckle. “Sorry.”
When he was satisfied with my head, he crouched and took care of my legs.
“What do you do? Are you a nurse or a doctor or something?”
His head jerked up. “Me? No!”
“You have such a gentle touch, I was certain you did this for a living.”
The pink spread from his cheeks to his ears. “That’s a very nice thing to say.”
“I’m serious.”
“I can tell. I, uh, work in a bookstore.”
“Oh! Of course!”
“What do you mean?”
It was my turn to blush. “I’ve seen you before when I’ve been here running. You’re always reading.”
“I’ve seen you, too.”
“Yeah?”
“Mhm. You’re kind of hard to miss.”
I nodded. “I know I’m big.” I flexed my right bicep and patted my belly with a wink.
“That’s…um…not what I meant.”
I wanted to ask him for details, but my gut urged me not to pressure him, so I backed off.
He finished in silence, but I didn’t take my eyes off him for a second. His skin was flawless and looked like the finest silk. When he was focused on a task, he moved with economy, so unlike the earlier fluttering. And his hair, falling over his eyes and curling slightly over his ears, called to me, and I had to sit on my hands so I wouldn’t run my fingers through it.
Samuel Hayes. He pushed every button I had, and I dreaded the moment I had to say goodbye to him.
Far too soon, I was all patched up. He rose to his feet and smiled, flashing me his dimple. “As good as new.”
I looked on his work. He had cleaned me up and bandaged me and it hadn’t hurt for a second. “Thank you, Sammy.”
“Um, no one calls me Sammy.”
“Good. Means I’m the only one.”
He hid his mouth behind his hand. I hoped it was a smile he was trying to conceal.
“Get in. I’ll drive you to your car.”
I looked into his Spark, with a frown and a slight shake of my head. “This car looks like it was built by the Lilliputians,” I groused as I folded myself in half so I could fit inside.
Sammy slid into the driver’s seat, took one look at me with my knees halfway to my ears, and burst out laughing. It was a happy sound. Infectious. I couldn’t help but join in.
“Yeah, yeah. Laugh all you want.”
And he did. He giggled all the way to the parking lot. So fucking adorable I couldn’t stand it.
I pointed at my truck that was probably four times the size of his car, and he stopped behind it, letting the engine idle.
“Thanks a lot for your help. I’m sorry I ruined your Saturday.”
“Oh, you didn’t!” he hurried to assure me.
I opened the door and spilled out of the toy car. I moaned when I finally could stretch my legs again. Then I bent and looked at him.
He stared at me with his mouth hanging open and his eyelids on half-mast. One hand fluttered ove
r his heart and the other had the steering wheel in a death grip, making his knuckles whiten.
Yes! Victory! Exactly what I had wished for. “Say, Sammy, are you busy now?”
“No, why?”
“Can I buy you a cup of coffee? As thanks for the help?”
He wrinkled his nose. “I don’t drink coffee.”
“Tea? Hot chocolate? OJ?”
His gaze wandered up and down my body before settling on my face. After a moment’s hesitation, he nodded. “Okay. I’d like that.”
“Great. I just need to stop by my home and change into something that hasn’t been dragged through the dirt. Meet you there?”
“Sure.”
I could have left it at that and had a cup of coffee with him as friends. But the glint of longing on his expressive face emboldened me. I leaped.
“Oh, and Sammy?”
“Yes?”
“Just so we’re clear. I mean this to be a date.”
Every inch of visible skin flushed pink, but his eyes glittered. “A date?”
“Yes.” I nodded so there wouldn’t be any doubt.
His smile broke out in full force. “Okay. Cool. Hurry, I can’t wait.”
* * * *
“Alexander?” Sammy’s hoarse whisper pulls me out of my walk down memory lane, and I lift my head and look at him.
“I’m here.”
His eyes are little more than narrow slits, and he squeezes them shut and opens them again slowly, as though he’s making sure I’m not a hallucination. He turns his hand and laces his fingers with mine, making my breath stutter to a halt.
“What are you doing here?”
“David called me.”
“David called you.” It’s not a question, more like an unsurprised statement. “Why?”
I sweep my thumb over the back of his hand. “Because you’re in the hospital.” I keep my voice low.
His eyes flutter closed, and a sigh escapes him. “That’s not a reason.”
“Seems legit to me.”
Gently, he releases his grip on me and wiggles his hand free, hiding it under the blanket. “I told you to leave and never come back.”
My hand flies to my chest and I rub over my heart. Fuck. “I remember.”
He twists his upper body away from me and reaches for a glass of water on the bedside table. I hurry around the bed, so I can give it to him.
“Thank you,” he mumbles and gulps down the contents in one go before giving it back.
“More?”
“No.”
I sit in the chair previously occupied by his brother and move it closer, but don’t touch him. I want to. Oh, fuck, do I want to, but my gut tells me I need to give him time. To let him come to me. My gut is usually right when it comes to Sammy; I just hope that today isn’t the first time it will fail me.
“What are you doing here? I yelled at you. Screamed terrible things. Why would you even care about me enough to visit me in the middle of the night?”
My hands twitch and I shove them under my thighs. “I needed to make sure you’re okay.”
He sighs. “That makes sense. It’s who you are. Care Bear with the huge heart.”
The sound of his old nickname for me makes my eyes and throat burn. I try to swallow it down and close my eyes, but the image of him snuggling against my chest, his fingers playing with my fur as he presses kisses to my skin, whispering, “You’re so cuddly, Care Bear,” pops up on my retinas, and I force myself to look at him or I’ll definitely start bawling.
“Now that you know I’m okay, you can go. Thanks for checking up on me.” His chin wobbles, but he doesn’t look away, trying so hard to convey confidence and assurance, and he’s so fucking brave I fear my heart will explode.
“You want me to go?”
He throws his arm over his eyes. “Yes,” he says in a barely audible voice.
“If that’s what you really want, I’ll go.” The words taste like vomit in my mouth, and I want to rush to the sink and rinse it with water. “But you have to look at me and say it. No hiding. Straight-shooting.”
Everything stops. Time. My heartbeat. Rational thought.
This is it. What the fuck do I do if he tells me to go?
Slowly he lowers his arm. His lips quiver and moisture leaks from his eyes, but he does it.
He says the words. “I need you to leave, please.”
I slump forward in my chair as if someone has pulled out my spinal cord. I’m numb. My field of vision turns gray at the edges, and my head spins. I’m one fucking second away from fainting. “Yeah, okay.” I order my legs to move and pull myself up to standing. With my gaze stubbornly on the floor, I say, “Please take care of yourself, Sammy. I don’t…I don’t know what I’ll do if something happens to you.”
With great effort, I shuffle one foot and then the other, but pause for a brief moment at the foot of his bed. “I’ll call David and ask him to come over. Promise me to take better care of yourself.”
Suddenly, I can’t wait to get out of there, so I can fall apart without witnesses. How fucking stupid am I to get my hopes up like that and trust the word of a brother who clearly doesn’t know what he’s talking about?
After a few more steps on trembling legs, I reach the door, push it open, and I’m in the corridor.
I can’t walk any further; I slide down along the wall until my ass lands on the floor just outside Sammy’s room. Pulling my knees to my chest, I swallow and swallow and swallow, trying my hardest to keep my heart from leaking out through my throat.
During the span of a couple hours, a small flame of hope lit in my chest just to be permanently snuffed out by the most effective fire extinguisher in the world.
I need you to leave, please.
I rest my head on my knees, thankful for the discomfort coming from being scrunched into a ball—my large frame isn’t made for acrobatics—because it takes away some of the pain in my heart.
I’ll just sit here for a minute or two before calling David and getting the fuck out. Then I’ll go home and see if I can find a brand of glue strong enough to patch up the pieces of my heart.
I jerk up my head when Sammy’s door is thrown open, revealing a long, continuous beeping. A barefooted Sammy dashes out with the IV-pole in a tight grip. He doesn’t notice me at first; he looks in the other direction. “Alexander?” he calls.
I don’t answer at once. What’s he doing here? Is he here to make sure I’m definitely gone?
But as he starts down the corridor, I make myself known. “Down here.”
He spins around and sees me. I unfurl my limbs, prepare to stand and talk to him, but a heartbeat later, I have my arms full of Sammy, clinging to me like a monkey.
The IV pole on wheels wobbles, and I throw out a hand to steady it. When I’m certain it’s not in danger of falling or rolling away, I let go and slide my arms around Sammy.
“Don’t go, Care Bear,” he mumbles and buries his face in my neck, but before I have time to even take a breath, running feet approach our position.
I raise my head as a nurse closes in on us with a focused look on her face. “He’s all right,” I call. “He disconnected himself, but he’s all right.”
The nurse—Ann, according to her name tag—is not happy, and we are thoroughly subjected to her displeasure as she makes sure for herself, scolds both of us, and threatens to throw me out as she helps Sammy settle into bed. He pleads with her and promises to not “pull another stunt like that.” He even makes a cross-my-heart-and-hope-to-die move over his heart and flashes her his dimple.
She grumbles but agrees, and leaves after giving me a scathing glare.
I nod. I recognize a warning shot when I see one.
The door closes behind her, and the once-again-steady beating of the machine is the only thing that breaks the silence. Neither of us speaks.
The embers of the overly optimistic flame of hope in my heart start glowing again, and I draw a deep breath as though I want to make sure it’s
got enough oxygen to survive. I rub my neck. “What’s going on here, Sammy? You asked me to leave, and I did.”
“I—” He cuts himself off and scoots backward on the bed, patting the mattress.
“There’s no way the two of us will fit on that tiny bed.”
He pats again.
“Nurse Ann will not like it.”
“I won’t tell her if you don’t.”
“Sammy,” I object, but toe off my sneakers.
He lifts the sheet. With a deep sigh, I accept his invitation. Very carefully, I lie next to him, teetering on the edge, taking care to not dislodge any of the medical equipment. As soon as I’m settled, he snuggles close, slides his hand across my belly, and squeezes me hard as he rests his head in the crook of my neck. He wiggles even closer and hooks his leg over my hip.
I splay my fingers on his lower back. His scent finds its way into my nose, and I can make out his essence even over the sterile hospital smells permeating the room.
“Will you talk to me?” I plead. “I have no idea what’s going on…and my heart hurts a little, to be honest.”
He mumbles an apology into my neck.
“Don’t be sorry. Just…talk to me.”
He pulls on my T-shirt, and his hand slips under it as soon as its free from my pants. A contented sigh escapes him as he rests his palm on my belly, combing his fingers through my hair. I’ve never understood his fascination with my belly; it’s hairy as fuck and there’s not a six-pack in sight. It’s not that I’m not fat. Just…padded.
“I couldn’t watch you walk away again. I just couldn’t.”
“Then why did you ask me to go?”
“I thought it was for the best.”
“For whom?”
“For you.”
His words startle me. “How do you figure?”
“I’m not…you’d be better off without me.”
“Why would you say that? I love you. I think I have since I stumbled over my own feet and face-planted in front of you. How the f—” I stop myself before the word escapes. I try not to swear around him. Not that he’s ever complained, but I know his sensitive soul doesn’t like any kind of harsh language. “How could you think I’d be better off without you?”