by Carian Cole
He takes a step closer to me and grabs each of my hands in his, sending tingles through my body again. How does he do that?
“Seth will call you about your car. I put my number in your phone. You can call me if you want to.”
“You took my phone? Storm, that’s like an invasion of privacy.”
“Blah, blah, blah. What’s the big deal? Just call me if you need to, all right?”
“Fine,” I agree, but I know I will never call him. There’s no reason to. We’re not friends, not really. We’re just two people who were stuck together for a few days and made the best of a bad situation. Unfortunately, his cockiness and player-tude got the best of me while I was vulnerable, but I will never let that happen again.
He hangs on to my hands longer than he should and just looks at me, like he either wants to say something or is waiting for me to say something.
I clear my throat and pull my hands out of his. “Are you going back to enjoy your time alone now? Or was that only supposed to be for the weekend?”
“I’m not sure. I’ll stay there tonight and figure out what I want to do tomorrow.”
I nod. “So, where is home then, if that’s just like a vacation sort of place for you?”
He chews on the inside of his cheek before answering me. “Just around. Not far.”
It’s clear he doesn’t want me to know where he lives. As if I would stalk him or something? Please.
“Well . . . thanks again. It was nice getting to know you. Give Niko a pet for me.”
“I will. You should think about getting a dog since you’re alone here so much. A deaf cat can’t offer you much protection, no matter how cute he is.”
“Yeah, Michael doesn’t like dogs. I’m fine, really.” Just leave. Don’t linger. I want you to hold my hands again and make me tingle.
“Michael sounds like a smashing fellow.”
“Okay, you can go now. I have a ton of cleaning to do, as you can see.”
He takes a few steps toward the door and turns around once more. “I’ll see ya around, Evie.
I walk past him and open the door so he’ll actually go through it. “Bye, Storm.” Go. Go. Go.
He stops in the doorway and leans down close to my face. For a second, I think he is going to kiss me and I hold my breath.
“Promise me you’ll remember who I was with you,” he says, his raspy voice low.
“Yes. Of course, I will.”
He winks at me, touches the tip of my nose, and leaves. I close the door slowly behind him. I refuse to watch him leave. I don’t know why, but I can’t.
What the hell was that all about? Cryptic. I have a feeling that meant something, but I have no idea what. Shit, I hope he doesn’t have some terminal illness. My stomach sinks. Could that be it?
I can’t dwell on it. I have so much to do, starting with the mess Michael left me. Laundry, vacuuming, and I need to call my boss, Jack. Ugh. I should just get that over with first.
I dial the office and punch in his extension.
“Jack Sands,” he says in his gruff tone.
“Hi, Jack, it’s me. It’s Evelyn.”
“Evelyn. What the hell happened? Where are you? It’s Tuesday afternoon and you’re not here, no calls, nothing. The event coordinator emailed over the weekend and said you never even showed up. I expect an explanation. The seminar and your room cost me twenty-five hundred dollars that I’ve now lost.”
I take a deep breath. “Jack, I am so sorry. I got lost on the way to the hotel, and I somehow ended up on this road up in the mountains. The snow was getting really bad and I lost control of my car. I was stuck on the side of the road. Another driver saw me there and stopped to give me a ride, but then while we were in his car, a deer ran out in the middle of the road, and he slammed on his brakes. That caused his truck to spin around and slide all over the road and next thing I know, we’ve gone completely off the road and out into the woods until we crashed into a tree and were totally stuck. The snow was so bad by then we couldn’t even try to walk to find help, so we were stuck in his truck for two entire days. It was terrible. I thought we were going to freeze to death. We finally got out yesterday. My car is stuck at a garage up there, though, getting fixed.”
Hearing myself tell this story, I realize I sound like a complete idiot. It sounds utterly ridiculous.
“Evelyn, are you serious?”
“Jack, I swear to you, every word is true. I am so sorry about the seminar and everything. My phone had no reception up in the mountains. That’s why I couldn’t call for help or let anyone know where I was.”
He makes an aggravated noise. I can picture him at his desk looking all pissed off. “Well, what’s done is done. At least you’re okay. I am very disappointed, however.”
“I’m very sorry, Jack.” Sorry I almost died, dude.
“So, will you be in later today? We’re short-staffed now with you not here.”
“Um, I don’t have a car right now.” I swallow and take a deep breath before continuing, bracing myself. “Also, Jack, I was hoping maybe I could take two personal days while I get the car taken care of and kind of recuperate from this. I am exhausted from not sleeping and dehydrated. I would really appreciate it if I could take two days to recover. I could speak to Human Resources instead, if you’d like.” Ha. I know that will get him. He doesn’t ever want any of his direct reports to contact HR.
“No, no, that won’t be necessary, Evelyn. It’s inconvenient, but if you need the time to recuperate, then we’ll do our best to manage. I’ll expect you here on Friday.” I hear a loud click before I can say thank you. Asshole.
I’m thankful I have the rest of today and the next two days to rest and get my head together. Until then, I can put work out of my mind and just deal with the mess on Friday when I go back in.
I grab the laundry basket and walk through the condo, picking up the stray socks, towels, and other clothing Michael left all over the place. I empty my travel bag onto the couch so I can wash all those wrinkly clothes, too. I pull out a big, black sweatshirt—the one Storm gave me, which I forgot to give back to him. I hope he doesn’t want it back because it’s huge and comfy, and I love me a large, cozy sweatshirt. I throw it in the basket and hope he forgets I still have it.
After I start the laundry, I vacuum, fill the dishwasher, throw out old food sitting in the fridge, clean and refill Halo’s dishes, and change the sheets on the bed. I feel like I’ve been gone for a month. I have no idea how Michael can manage to make such a mess in a small amount of time. Oh, and that reminds me, I’m supposed to text him to let him know I’m home. I type a quick message on my phone and hit send.
Me: I’m home.
A few seconds later, my phone beeps.
Michael: Great. I’ll be home tonight. The meeting wrapped up faster than I thought. See you then.
I should probably call Amy, but I’m too tired to deal with her right now. She’s super hyper and will get me all riled up. So I send her a quick text telling her I’m home and safe and will call her tomorrow.
When the house finally feels back in order, I put on some yoga pants and get comfortable on the couch with Halo to watch a good movie and wait for Michael to come home.
The sound of the door slamming jolts me awake. I must have dozed off while watching television.
Michael is in the room, his laptop bag and overnight bag slung over his shoulder. “Glad to be home?” he says, lowering his bags onto the chair.
I nod and cover my mouth to yawn. “I am. I feel so tired, though.”
He sits on the couch next to me and lays his hand on my leg. “I’m sure you’re exhausted, Ev.” He plants a kiss on my lips. “I’m glad you’re home. Did you make any dinner? I’m starving.”
“No. There really isn’t any food to cook, and I don’t have my car, remember?”
“I forgot about your car, sorry. It’s been a long day.” Michael looks so . . . ordinary to me all of a sudden, with his short brown hair spiked a little in t
he front, and light baby blue eyes. He’s about five-eight with an average body. Observing Michael makes me realize Storm was so interesting to look at, like a piece of walking artwork. I quickly shake him out of my head.
“I can take your car and get us Chinese food,” I suggest.
“Yeah, baby, that would be great. Get the usual and I’ll take a shower. By the time you get back, I’ll be done.” I watch him walk away and disappear down the hallway toward the bathroom. I was really hoping he would have offered to get the food. He can see I’m sitting here in yoga pants and I just woke up.
I place our usual order by phone then pick it up. I feel sort of strange driving, and even a little bit nervous. Maybe the ordeal had a bigger effect on me than I thought. By the time I get back home and pull into my parking spot, I’m in the beginning stages of a panic attack. I rush inside, throw the food bag on the coffee table and sit on the couch as the dizziness comes over me. I pray I don’t start to have anxiety attacks every time I have to drive now. That is the last thing I need to complicate my life even more.
“Why are you just sitting there?” Michael asks. He’s toweling off his hair, wearing pajama bottoms and a gray t-shirt. He throws the wet towel on the recliner and picks up the bag. “Let’s eat, I’m starving. Did you set the table?”
I try to calm my breathing. “No . . . I just got back. I’m having a panic attack.”
“Evelyn, come on. Now what?” he says from our tiny kitchen. “Stop it and let’s eat. I’m tired. I’ve been on a plane all day, remember? I can’t deal with this now.”
“Michael, did you forget I was trapped in a blizzard with a total stranger for two days? I could have died. I was in two car crashes in less than an hour, then nearly froze in the back of some weird guy’s truck with some huge ass dog! I think I’m just a little bit stressed from all of it.”
I hear him clanking dishes around. “No, I didn’t forget, and I’m sorry you had to go through all of that. I was worried about you. But you’re home now and you’re fine, so that’s all that matters. Now, come in here and eat. Dwelling on it is only going to make it worse. Did you take one of your pills?”
I join him in the kitchen and sit down, burying my face in my hands. I feel like I’m going to faint. He puts a glass of water in front of me. “Drink this. You’re probably dehydrated and hungry.”
I take a few sips of water and stare at him across the table. He’s piling chicken and broccoli onto his plate, barely paying attention to me. He hates when I have panic attacks because he believes I bring them on myself and can stop them at will. Even though he’s watched me have them for twelve years, he still can’t see I really can’t prevent them from happening.
I spoon some vegetable fried rice onto my plate. Even though I’m starving, I feel like eating is going to make me sick.
“How was your meeting?” I ask him, hoping to distract myself.
“The usual bullshit. I think we got the account, though, so that’s good. We’re going to be rolling out a new line of software starting next month. Remember, I told you the programmers were almost done? They finally got their shit together, so now we’re ready to sell it. I’m going to have to travel a bit more over the next few months while I demo this to our existing customers to try to get them to upgrade.”
I nod and swallow my food. “Okay. That sounds great, though. About the new software.”
“It is. I should be getting a higher commission, too. Maybe in a year or so, we can get out of this condo and get something bigger.”
That perks me up a bit. I have wanted to get out of this condo for a while now and move into a nice house with a pretty yard. Maybe Michael will finally want to get married at some point, too.
“That would be great. I’m really excited for you, Mike. I know how hard you’ve worked for this.”
He bites into his eggroll and starts talking with his mouth full. “Don’t start looking at houses yet or getting crazy ideas, Evelyn. It’s probably going to be a while before we can do any of that.”
Buzzkill.
He doesn’t talk for a while, and I wonder if he’s regretting bringing up the possibility of moving. Of course, I get my hopes up whenever he mentions a possible life change. Isn’t that normal? I don’t know many women who wouldn’t get excited about maybe moving into a nicer house.
“So, was the guy nice to you at least?”
“Who?”
“The guy you were stuck in the truck with.”
“He was okay, I guess. He was kind of weird, like a hippie or something. He had a huge dog with him.”
“You’re lucky he found you.”
I meet his light blue eyes across the table and wonder if he can tell that another man touched me then gave me an assisted orgasm. Does it show somehow? I feel like it’s branded across my forehead.
“Yeah, I was very lucky. He had a bunch of food and water in his truck, too, and a big, thick blanket. If he didn’t have all that, I’m not sure what would have happened.”
“It’s crazy. When the guy called me up to tell me, I thought he was kidding. It must have taken him about five minutes to convince me it wasn’t a joke.” He wipes his mouth on his napkin and lays it on his plate, signaling he is done eating. “When are you getting your car and going back to work?”
“I’m not sure about the car. The garage will call me when it’s done, then we’re going to have to go get it. I told Jack I’d be back on Friday.”
“All right. We’ll figure it out.” He stands up, pushing his chair back. “I’m going to go lie down. Come to bed when you’re done out here, okay?”
I nod vacantly. “Sure. In a few minutes.”
He leaves me sitting amongst the little Chinese food cartons and dirty plates. I’m not sure why I feel so out of place in my own home. Something is different, but I can’t put my finger on it. I don’t know if it’s Michael or me—but something just feels different, like it’s moved out of place.
Maybe it’s guilt, which is not a feeling I am used to at all. I’ve never had to feel guilty about anything before, but I do now. Being close to Storm, sleeping next to him in his bed when I clearly had a choice to not sleep next to him again, was wrong. Cuddling to prevent both of us from freezing was one thing, but to sleep in the same bed with him once we were out of the situation was a big mistake. Having orgasms in front of him was wrong on more levels than I can even count. If the situation was reversed, and I found out Michael had touched, rubbed up against, and then slept next to another woman, I would be livid and jealous out of my mind.
I pick up my fortune cookie and break it open to read my fortune.
How can you have a beautiful ending without making beautiful mistakes?
Fortune cookie is an insightful bitch. Shut up, cookie.
I head up to our bedroom after I clean up the kitchen to find Michael lying in bed watching the news, but he clicks off the TV when I climb into bed beside him. He immediately turns on his side.
“Do you feel better now?” he asks, running his hand across my stomach under my tank top.
“I’m just really tired. I didn’t sleep well at all the past few days.”
He moves his hand up to cup my breast, flicking his finger over my nipple. I’m really not in the mood for sex, but I feel like in a way it will cleanse me of what I did with Storm.
He kicks off his pajama bottoms then pulls off my panties, rolling on top of me in a swift motion. Michael is a hard kisser and the concept of foreplay went out the window about eleven years ago. Within seconds, he is forcing his way into me. The pain causes me to bite my lip so I don’t cry out. I don’t want him to mistake it for a pleasure moan. I put my arms around his back as he moves in and out of me and try to move with him. I can never have an orgasm during sex with him. I was starting to worry something was wrong with me, like maybe my clit was broken or something, so I actually brought it up to my ob-gyn last year. Thankfully, she is really sweet and easy to talk to, so it wasn’t as embarrassing as it sounds. She ass
ured my parts were all in working order and the issue could just be that since Michael and I were both virgins when we started to have sex, we never experimented enough or evolved sexually together, so to speak. In other words, we are just sexually boring.
Maybe that’s why I was so easily turned on by Storm. He’s just a shiny new object who knew how to press the right buttons.
Michael grunts and collapses on top of me. “I missed you,” he says, kissing my neck.
“I can’t breathe.”
I inwardly cringe at my own non-romantic comment, but in my defense, he was crushing me, lying on top of me like dead weight.
He rolls over to his side of the bed. “Goodnight, babe. I’ll be around in the morning. I’m going into the office late.”
“Okay. I love you.”
I listen for him to say it back, but he’s already snoring.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“HOLY SHIT. EVELYN, WAKE UP.” MICHAEL is pushing my shoulder. I groan into my pillow and hide my face. All I want to do is sleep late in my own bed. He shakes me again. “Were you in the truck with Storm Valentine?”
I pick my head up and yawn. “Yeah . . . he just said Storm, though. He never told me his last name.” What a cool name. Storm Valentine. It sounds like a name in a romance novel.
“Evelyn, do you know who that is?” Michael asks me, raising his eyebrows at me in excitement.
“Um, no. Just some random dude in the woods.”
“Look, he’s on the news right now. Talking about you.”
I sit straight up and stare at the television. “What? Who is he?”
“He’s the lead guitarist of Ashes and Embers. They’re a kick-ass rock band and they all grew up around here. How did you not know who he was?”
I shake my head, completely dazed. “I don’t know. I don’t think I even know their music. I didn’t recognize him, and he didn’t tell me he was in some famous band. He told me he was a bike mechanic.”