Crave: Addicted To You

by Ash Harlow

  “I have my sleeping bag. I’ll pick up my linen when I clear my stuff out of the house tomorrow.”

  “Cool, well you let me know if you need anything. Is the water hot over here? I’ve never needed to check.”

  “No, but I’m good. Depending how things go, I can look at fixing something up. Hot water was connected here at some time.”

  “You can shower at the cabin. We can share the cooking, if you like.”

  “Yeah, I’d like that, but I don’t want to be in your way.”

  “Don’t worry.” Lulah grinned. “I’d let you know if you were in the way.”

  “I figured that.” He paused. “I’m grateful, Lulah. I don’t deserve this. I don’t know how to thank you.”

  “Yeah, you do. You thank me by getting yourself better instead of hiding and hoping. Okay?”

  When she pushed herself up, swinging her feet to the floor, he saw her wince. “You are sore. What have you done? Can I help you?”

  She stopped and stayed sitting instead of rising to her feet. Her head dropped a little so that she studied her boots. Every inch of him wanted to move up alongside her, take her in his arms, check her injuries, and ease the muscles that seemed to ache. Why had she gone out today and pushed herself so that she’d ended up like this? “Did you try to burn off some demons today?” he asked gently.

  She shrugged.

  “Hey, girl who hates shrugs, don’t do that.”

  “Sometimes everything builds up.”

  “I know.”

  “Sometimes it’s hard being strong.”

  Selfish, that’s what he was. Always taking from Lulah, taking her time, her emotional energy, dumping all that shit on her tonight, too self-absorbed to see that she had her own bad days. She looked exhausted and his need to fix that grew.

  He could count himself through this, he’d had plenty of practice. By the time he reached his way to ten he would be a gentleman and offer his hand, help her to her feet, walk her to the door, open it, see her out, close it. Stay on his side of the door. But sometimes choosing the right thing to do was difficult when the other thing—the move that under different circumstances could also be the right thing to do—sat so close to the surface.

  With closed eyes he started counting, one, two, three…fuck it. He shifted from his chair and in one quick move was alongside her on the sofa, pulling her down with him, easing her legs back along the cushions.

  “Vince—”

  “Shh, nothing. Rest for a bit.” He held her tight until she relaxed beneath his grip. Her hair inches from his face. Carefully he took in her scent, as if even his cautious inhalation was an act which implied intimacy beyond what was proper.

  “We can’t do this.”

  Oh, the voice of reason. She was right. This was crazy. Crazy fantastic, and he didn’t want to let her go. Since that back rub she’d given him the other day, he hadn’t stopped thinking about her, about her magic hands that brought him back to life. Made him feel like a man again. Thinking about it now, with her stretched right beside him, made him hard. He closed his eyes and, starting at their feet, made a note of the parts of them that touched.

  He lay on his right side, up against the back of the sofa. Lulah stretched on her back alongside him. All he had to do was roll a little and he’d cover her. Or if he moved his left arm, he could touch her, maybe reach for her shoulder, or take her chin and turn her face towards him.

  He could inch his hips forward, and she would feel against her thigh the lump in his jeans that gave him hell, that had been showing no mercy since that other night when she’d started the thaw.

  She watched him, her lips parted slightly. Do the eye thing; find my soul.

  “Let me help you for once, Lulah.”

  “What does that entail?”

  In a different tone of voice, her question could have been flirtatious. Instead, the words oozed common sense. He could continue from where he’d left off the other night, when he’d talked her topless. Only her boots, socks, and jeans to go, and he’d have her naked. He swiped a broad brush of dark paint over the image he’d conjured and drew a breath.

  “It entails you dropping your calm, independent, don’t-rely-on-any-man persona for a while and letting go. We can lie here quietly or you can tell me what’s bothering you, because, I might not be the most together person in your life, but like you, I’m a good listener.”

  She stayed silent, breathing, watching him with her gray eyes.

  “I could give you a back rub, help your aching muscles.”

  She gave a small tremble at that, and her hand lifted a little, as if to touch him.

  “Would you like that?”

  She nodded then shook her head. It made him smile. They were both on the indecision page, which was way better than the outright ‘no’ thing. “Tell me what happened today. I know you love your mountain biking, but you’ve really pushed yourself. Why?”

  “Like you said, I had to burn some stuff off.”

  “So did you start a fire?”

  “It didn’t work for me.”

  He caught her watching again, her eyes questioning.

  “How does it work for you?” she asked. “When you go out there, alone, what do you gain from it?”

  “We’ve had enough of me tonight. It’s about you now.” He took her hand, the one that moved a little as if too shy to ask for a touch. It set small inside his, and her fingers curled into a loose fist that he was able to completely cup within his own.

  “Are you going to capture my wrists?”

  Oh, sweet heaven, she remembered! No doubting the hint of flirtation this time. He tried to block it with a squeeze of his eyes, but all that did was bring up the image of her beneath him, wrists caught within one hand. He growled her name and shifted to adjust himself a bit because his cock had gone beyond cursing his jeans. “Tell me about today.”

  “Life, Vince, that was today. My grades come through tomorrow, so I’m edgy about that. I have to pass because that position training the service dogs is mine. Nobody else’s. Mine. Adam and Marlo know it’s mine, but the higher powers, the ones with the checkbook, have strict criteria for the person who gets the job, and right now, I don’t fit. Dad is AWOL. I haven’t heard from him since that letter. His phone is disconnected, and I’ve no idea how to track him down. I don’t know if he’s in trouble, or if it’s a ploy to raise my concern. If I worry enough, I’ll be so relieved when I find him I’ll hand over the money. He knows that.”

  “Come here.” He pulled her up close. “For a start, you are going to pass and get your degree. You forget that I’ve read everything, and it’s great. They’ll love it. Let’s speak to Adam about your father. He might have some ideas about tracking him down.”

  “No, I don’t want to bring Adam into it. This is personal. This side of me doesn’t turn up for work.”

  “Jesus, Lulah, really?”

  “Really.”

  “Adam and Marlo are your friends.”

  “It doesn’t come to work.”

  “Well, I’ll see what I can do. Tomorrow, you give me all the information you have. I know people who might be able to help.”

  Lulah laughed. “Gonna have your people call your other people?”

  “Something like that.” He loved that laugh, loved the way she bounced back to being Lulah. But he already knew this stuff. It hadn’t gotten her down before, so there must be more. “So what else troubles you?”

  “Nothing else.”

  Her response came way too lightly and quickly. He wanted to call her out on it, but in fairness, everyone had stuff to hide.

  Yes and no.

  He headed to the hills to commune with his friends. The four of them were like his cardinal points, his north, south, east, and west. All he wanted to do was find direction again, find the focus of his life that vanished when the IED had blown them to bits—literally to bits—before his eyes. Survivor guilt.

  Fuck survivor guilt; he wanted his mates back. Their so
uls beckoned to him that day, called on him to follow because they knew what his, at that time, did not. So he tried to say goodbye to them as he patched up his own soul wounds and carried on, with the self-imposed burden to make it right.

  Now, Lulah had gone out and punished herself physically, driving herself to exhaustion, and it angered him to think that she had something or someone troubling her that way. He was one person who truly understood how bad it had to get before you went and did that sort of thing.

  “Vince?”

  He pulled his gaze back down to her and…oh God, right there in her face. It was him. “Lulah, I’m sorry. I’m truly sorry.” He dropped her hand.

  “Don’t do that.” She slapped at his chest and grabbed for his hand again.

  Her eyes glistened, jewels caught by the light cast from the workbench lamp. No, not tears. He let her take his hand. The push and the pull of this was becoming messy because he wanted the pull, all pull, so that he could haul her up against him, tell her that they’d be fine. But they wouldn’t, and the worst thing was she had always known that. That’s why she’d gone off today, to burn off some angst and ride someone out of her head. “I apologize.”

  “You’ve nothing to be sorry for.”

  “Last night—”

  “Yeah, actually, you’re right. Let’s talk a bit more about last night. That hurt, Vince, that you wouldn’t come and have a drink with us, play a game of pool.”

  “I know. I tried to tell you. My behavior was inexcusable. I’m not saying that by explaining what happened makes it any more acceptable. What I’m saying is that this is me. I try to control it but I can’t. Stuff rolls in and intrudes on situations.”

  “Are you going to use PTSD as a pass every time you feel like being an ass?”

  He pushed himself up. “I get enough of this from Taryn—”

  “No, really, Vince, I need to know.”

  “Know what?”

  “Know that you’re totally invested in helping yourself.” She swung her legs to the floor and swore.

  “There, right there. You are hurt.”

  “Yup, I’m hurting, Vince, and you can fix it. However, this”—she pointed to her bruised thigh—“three or four days and this will fix itself.” When she reached the door she called Joker to her side. “Breakfast is at six-thirty.”

  Through the window above the workbench, he watched her cross the yard and carefully climb the steps with a leg that was giving her grief. What an idiot he was. Bringing Taryn into this was fucking childish. Nothing like comparing Lulah to the woman you’re about to divorce. He should go after her, apologize, explain, fix it, but her cabin was her sanctuary and busting in there was too intrusive. For her sake, she had to be confident that allowing him to stay in the barn didn’t mean he was going to intrude on her private space.

  Back at his workbench, he started on a fresh sheet of paper and sketched Lulah as she’d looked stretched across the sofa. Drawing her was the highest level of intimacy he could allow.

  By Monday evening, he had shifted his gear out of the house and made the repairs to the kitchen door. Jono, from the Sanctuary, came over to give him a hand with moving. All these people being so good to him were pretty amazing, but their generosity was countered by the pressure of a growing emotional debt.

  The more help he accepted, the more faith people put in him, the greater the potential of his failure. It didn’t matter what he tried to tell himself, he had reached a stage where solitude was so damned easy. As he finished unpacking a box back at the barn, he found his favorite picture of Gable. With the bottom of his t-shirt, he cleaned the dirt from the frame glass. Solitude might be easy, but it wasn’t going to be an option.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Lulah sat in Marlo’s office chair, her hand hovering the mouse over the ‘submit’ button on the web page in front of her.

  “I’ll count to three for you to press that button, Lulah.”

  “I feel sick.”

  “You’ll be great. Get ready to do it. You can close your eyes if you want, but you have to press the damned button or you’ll time-out on the website. You know what those sites are like.”

  Lulah spun the chair around. “I clicked it, quick, Marlo, tell me what’s on the screen!”

  “No,” Marlo shut her eyes. “They’re your results. Come on. I can’t believe you’re being such a baby.”

  Lulah spun back. “Ohgodohgodohgod…” She grabbed at her chest. “Pass, Marlo, I can’t believe it, I’ve passed! No more nasty written assignments.” She grinned. “Looks like I need some time off, Boss, because now I have three five-day lab courses to do. I feel sick and excited. How much time do I have before applications for the Director of Training position close?”

  “You’ll have plenty of time to apply, Lulah. The CRAR Board knows you want the position, and they understand that for us, you’re the best choice.” CRAR, otherwise known as Canine Rescue and Rehabilitation, was the umbrella organization that funded a number of dog sanctuaries, including Dog Haven. They were generous but, in return, insisted on professionalism and transparency on behalf of their benefactors. Branching into the PTSD service dog training program was Lulah’s idea, but if she didn’t complete her Animal Behavior degree, someone else would raise that baby.

  “What if I don’t make it?”

  “You’ll make it. Hey, come on, tough chick, you’re never like this.”

  Right there, Marlo nailed it. Always coping, being the strong one for everyone, hiding behind a laugh, it made it that much tougher when you were vulnerable because nobody thought to step in and help. And at this moment, she’d belted through a tide of vulnerability in more ways than she’d ever done in her life. Proud and scared all at the same time. Who’d have thought? “I’ve never passed any sort of exam before. I can’t wait to tell Vince; he helped me so much with this.”

  “He’s going to be proud of you. Why don’t you stay for dinner and we’ll celebrate? Adam’s overnighting in Seattle for more interviews tomorrow. He was going to come home tonight, and drive back in the morning, but I convinced him to stay. He still doesn’t like leaving me alone in the house so I told him I’m completely safe with Justice around, and that he wasn’t actually needed.”

  “I bet he loved that. Why don’t you come to the cabin for dinner instead? Vince is cooking and right now I think he needs to be close to home. He’ll probably go and work after dinner, but he may want to stick around.”

  “How is he since the weekend?”

  “Contrite and concerned. He had a session with his doctor this afternoon, so he might not be too talkative tonight. He’s inclined to shut down a bit after that. Horrific as the weekend was, at least it pushed him into fully committing to dealing with his issues. He seemed to think that if he worked hard at burying the emotions, being a good person, and generally holding his shit together, everything would be fine.”

  Marlo winced.

  “Oh, sorry, Boss. You have that t-shirt, huh?”

  “At least I know it doesn’t work. Let me talk with Vince. We haven’t had a chat without Adam around for a while. Love that man with all my heart but hell, he thinks it’s his job to fix everything.”

  “How lucky for you to have your own in-house chef.”

  Lulah and Marlo were sitting on the sofa among a scatter of cushions and a jumble of dogs. Fala, Marlo’s old dog, made a rare trip out for the night and as befitting a grand duchess, commandeered the best dog bed. Justice, Marlo’s rescue pit bull, Joker, and Calliope lay on the floor in between wrestling bouts. Vince cooking looked happy and relaxed.

  “Clarification, that would be hot in-house chef,” Vince called out to Marlo.

  “Hot because of the spiciness of his food,” said Lulah.

  “She’s a liar,” Vince added. “Somebody set the table, dinner is almost done.”

  While Lulah set the table, Marlo opened the Méthode Traditionnelle she had earlier placed in Lulah’s fridge. “We’ll have champagne when you’re qualifie
d, and when you buy yourself a matching set of appropriate glasses. Is this all you have?” She gestured to the two mismatched wine glasses and tumbler Lulah set out.

  “That’s it.” Lulah grinned. “Now, pour away, sister, before those bubbles expire.” When Marlo finished Lulah picked up the bottle. “Oh, someone’s in trouble when Adam gets back, you’ve raided his wine cache again.”

  “Our wine cache.”

  “Except I think Adam’s brought this from New Zealand. You won’t be able to replace it.”

  “He’ll never notice.”

  “Right, sure. He was probably saving it for a special occasion.”

  “This is a special occasion.” Marlo winked.

  Vince tapped his glass with his fork, placing it back on the table when he had the attention of the two women. “I know, tacky, but it was the only way I could make you two to listen up. It’s time for a toast—”

  “Toast? I want risotto!”

  “Lulah!”

  “Sorry.”

  Vince stared at the ceiling. “Patiently waiting with glass in the air…”

  “Sorry, even more. Go ahead.”

  “Here’s to your perseverance, Lulah, for going after what you want, despite the obstacles. And for reaching your goal.”

  Lulah raised her own glass. “And here’s to you, Vince, because I wouldn’t have managed this without the way you patiently helped me put the words in the right order.”

  Marlo cleared her throat. “And here’s to both of you for giving and receiving help, because for some of us, that’s a difficult concept to grasp.” She paused, “Now, let’s drink.”

  They started with a simple white bean soup, followed by a risotto Vince made using mushrooms he’d foraged up in the hills, along with a side dish of braised Cavolo Nero from Lulah’s vegetable garden.

  “Vince, this is excellent,” Marlo said after her first mouthful. “You can come and cook for Adam and me any night.”

  “No way,” said Lulah, “he’s all mine. I enjoy cooking, but Vince is so adventurous. I’ve hiked past mushrooms for two years now. Who knew they were all edible?”