Chapter 15
Blade hadn’t intended for this to happen. Sure, this was the biggest make-out spot for high schoolers around. He was far from a high schooler. And he certainly hadn’t intended to bring Libby here for that.
She was different.
And making out wasn’t exactly what was on his mind. Even as he bent his head and moved closer. His current actions were more a manifestation of whatever feelings were inside of him that he couldn’t get out his mouth.
Funny how it was easier to show her how he felt than to tell her.
He took a hand from her knee and ran his fingers down the soft skin of her cheek. Their heads were close, and she hadn’t pulled away. If she’d been any other girl, any of the girls that he brought up here, he wouldn’t have wanted to sit and talk, wouldn’t have been interested in what she was thinking or feeling, and his only concern would have been keeping her happy so he could get what he wanted.
Yeah, everything was different with Libby.
Some type of almost magical mood had enveloped them, but a question came to his mind, and even though he knew it would probably destroy the sweet bubble of romance, he needed to ask it.
“Tell me about your leg.”
Definitely a mood destroyer. Maybe he wouldn’t have the opportunity to kiss her again. And he’d definitely regret it if he didn’t. But for the first time, he was more interested in the girl herself than what he could get from her.
She pulled back just a little, but he took his hands and slid them around her waist, lacing his fingers behind her on the small of her back. He had never sat like this with anyone on his bike before; it was more comfortable than he thought it would be.
Or maybe it was just Libby.
She seemed to settle a little before she took a breath. “There’s nothing much to tell. I was born that way. The doctors and my parents spent a lot of time and money trying to fix it.” The way she said the word “fix” was almost like she held it in derision. He thought he got that.
“Like by saying it needed to be fixed, they were saying you were broken?”
“Exactly.” Her eyes opened wide at him when he said that, like she was surprised. He wasn’t sure what made him think of that, because he certainly never had any issues like that. But he could see how it might hurt, that people would look at him closely, trying to fix him, like he wasn’t okay the way he was.
She shifted a little, and he was tempted to run his hands around her waist, but he kept them pressed against her back.
“Not that I didn’t want to be normal,” she said. “I still, every day, wish that I were normal.”
Her words hurt. They pinched his lungs and made his chest ache. He wanted to say something like if you were normal, it wouldn’t be special. But he had an idea that being “special” wasn’t something she entirely enjoyed either.
“I guess I don’t really understand. I guess I can’t, since I’ve never gone through what you have. But from where I stand, I can appreciate your leg, and everything you’ve gone through because of it, because I can see that it’s made you into the person that you are. And I kinda like that person.”
He hadn’t really meant to say anything of the sort. Not that he didn’t mean it, because he did. He just hadn’t thought of it in those terms before. There was always something about her that drew him. And her leg was part of that. Not necessarily that her leg was attractive, but it was easy to see her leg as having been a big part of what shaped her.
But his words didn’t make her smile. Although they did have the effect of intensifying her gaze.
“Maybe the way your years in prison shaped you?”
Oh boy. He didn’t feel that was fair. His years in prison weren’t deserved.
But her leg wasn’t deserved either.
At that thought, his mouth dropped open, and he looked at her again, almost as though seeing her for the first time. He’d resented those years in prison, resented the unfair accusations, resented the fact that he was being punished for something he hadn’t done and didn’t deserve.
And all along, she’d been quietly dealing with her leg, and her limp, and all the things that went along with that, and he’d never seen the connection. She didn’t deserve it either.
He didn’t have words. He couldn’t think of how to say it. And he didn’t know what to say to her question, either.
So he just opened his mouth and let the words come out. “I never thought of it that way.”
“Isn’t it true, though? It’s up to us how we let it shape us, right?”
“I guess. I never really thought about it.”
Her shoulders lifted in the darkness. “I don’t think most people do. I don’t. Not all the time. Most of the time, I resent my leg, the handicap. But when I think about it, I know that I would be different, a completely different person, if I didn’t have it and hadn’t had the struggles with it.”
It was easy for him to see that with her. Easy to see that part of the way he felt about her and thought of her was wrapped up in her leg. But for him, and his prison record, it wasn’t that easy. But it was the same.
“The thing that I forget, most often, is I choose how I react to it. I get to choose what kind of person I become because of it. It’s my choice.” She spoke softly, but the last words were firm, as though she was convincing herself, or reminding herself, that it was true.
“I get it. You’re telling me it’s my choice too.”
“We all have free choice. We choose how we respond. By not choosing, we’re like water, taking the path of least resistance. But when we choose, and especially when we choose to react in a way that isn’t natural or is hard, that’s when we get a chance to see God make something beautiful.” She squeezed his hand. “Beautiful, out of us.”
“We agree on that, anyway. Because when I look at you, I see beauty.” He knew he hadn’t satisfied her with his words. But he wasn’t ready to admit anything deeper. Not for himself. He could admit it all day long for her. She was just as beautiful on the inside as she was on the outside.
Maybe she’d given him enough to think about, or maybe he just couldn’t keep his hands still anymore, because they both came up and cupped her face, his fingers threading through her hair.
She didn’t pull away, although he maybe was a little afraid she might have. Maybe she thought he was trying to distract her from a serious conversation. And he kind of was. Not that he didn’t want to talk about it, just that he needed to think. And he didn’t want to do that right now.
But she allowed him, and her own hands went to his waist. And just like that, the magic was back.
Her touch was light and soft, and it gave him goosebumps and made him tremble.
It stirred him and warmed him and, at the same time, stoked the fire in him. It made him aware of her legs on his and the strands of her hair as they brushed against the back of his hands and held her scent—a powerful mixture of softness and strength that flowed over the night air and blended perfectly with the mountain smells around them. Her hands rested on his waist...he could feel the heat burning through his T-shirt.
Her fingers pressed into his skin, and her head lifted. In the moonlight, he could see her eyes searching his. Soft eyes. And sweet.
And he wondered a little then what exactly he was doing with her. Someone like him, with a record like his, with a reputation as he had, he felt like she should be running away, and yet she seemed to be leaning closer.
Maybe he shouldn’t have. Maybe he should have gone with his impression that whatever was soft and sweet between them would be ruined if he lowered his head, but he ignored that part of his brain and swallowed through his tight throat.
“I want to kiss you.”
It was all he could say. And he almost closed his eyes, because he was afraid she would shake her head. He didn’t want her to tell him no. Not now. Not when all he wanted with his whole heart and soul was to close the last few inches between them.
But she didn’t. She whispered
one word, soft on the night breeze but one of the sweetest to touch his ear. “Please.”
He sucked in a breath. His stomach muscles clenched. Suddenly nervous. He’d kissed lots of girls, true. And done other things it felt wrong to even think about now, but he couldn’t seem to remember how. Or maybe he just never felt anything this intensely before and wasn’t sure how to handle it.
But no, most likely it was because it was Libby, and he wanted to do it perfectly the first time.
His pause was long enough that he could see her brows lower slightly, like she was wondering what he was going to do or why he was waiting.
He didn’t want her to get the wrong impression. He didn’t want her to think, not for one second, that his hesitation had anything to do with any problem on her part.
He forced his lips to move; he had to get the words out. For her. “I want this to be beautiful and special, and all of the sudden, I don’t know what to do.”
“Then bend down and let me.”
The hands that had been on his waist were now reaching up into his hair, wrapping around the back of his neck, and pulling carefully, like she was asking, and not demanding, that he lower his head.
He didn’t usually like to give up control. Especially since he’d been in the pen, his control-freak side had multiplied. But the pressure of her slender fingers on the back of his neck, and the feel of her soft skin, and the promise of the beauty that lay ahead convinced him to move.
It wasn’t a hard decision.
As he allowed his head to lower, she raised herself to meet him, and their lips touched.
His hands were on the back of her neck, so he felt the shock that went through her. Or maybe it was the shock that went through him. Because it made his fingers curl, and his hand slid down her back, pulling her tighter toward him.
He felt weightless, like he was floating and falling at the same time, maybe twisting, and he needed something solid to hold onto. She was solid and soft and warm and the only thing real in the deep darkness of the night. He held on tight while his heart pumped hard and fast, feeding his body, but he couldn’t get enough air.
Her fingers stroked his back with enough pressure he could feel her nails through his T-shirt. And her body pressed closer. She let out a soft sigh, and maybe he grunted something in return, he wasn’t sure.
Finally, he needed to breathe or pass out, so he pulled back. Just a little. His cheek rested against hers, her breath in his ear, his hands still holding her tight.
A soft breeze blew gently, blowing several strands of her hair across his face. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply.
What was he doing?
This was Libby. The girl he was fake dating.
This wasn’t fake to him. Man, he hoped this wasn’t something she had done, forcing herself, because of their agreement.
He shoved the thought aside. He was pretty sure she wasn’t faking anything. It was a good way to ruin the moment by entertaining those thoughts.
He wouldn’t believe it.
Not without asking her. He didn’t move, but he whispered close to her ear, “That felt pretty real to me. I hope you weren’t acting.”
Her head shook, their cheeks brushing as it moved. “No. I wouldn’t have known how to pretend like that.”
His heart smiled. He wasn’t sure what went on with Libby and her husband, but it was not anything more than anything he’d shared with any of the girls he’d been with before. “I wouldn’t have either. I didn’t know it could feel like this.”
He didn’t think that he was entirely comfortable with the way he felt. Didn’t like the out-of-control feelings. The inability to pull away, not able to breathe, not able to catch himself when he was falling.
But he’d think about that stuff later.
She pulled back, and he forced his arms to loosen. He didn’t want to let her go. But he couldn’t make her stay. But she didn’t pull completely away. Just enough that she could see him, look up into his eyes.
He didn’t think he’d ever seen anything sweeter or more lovely than the moonlight shining down on Libby’s face and her soft eyes and swollen lips. His eyes stuck on those lips, and he watched, almost fascinated, as they moved.
“What does this mean?” she asked softly.
He wasn’t entirely sure what she meant. Maybe she was referring to their fake relationship and where they went from here. He wasn’t sure he could talk about it tonight.
“I don’t know.”
Her eyes searched his for a bit before she seemed to accept his answer, at least for now, and leaned back in, their cheeks touching, her arms around his waist.
In the distance, he was aware that he had been listening for a while to the rumble of hot diesel motors and the screech of street racers. He’d heard the distinctive sound of the truck that he built and also several other things.
“I don’t think we need to worry about heading down there tonight. I heard someone lose their turbo, and there’s a pretty bad knocking in someone else’s motor. They won’t be there long.”
Sometime this evening, he’d figured out that he didn’t really want to be there anyway. That was his old life. And he’d moved on past it. He didn’t really care, not much anyway, about how the truck he built did. Didn’t matter. He was starting to see that there might be more to life.
No, that wasn’t quite right. He was starting to see that he wanted more from life.
For the first time, he could see a woman beside him, sharing that life. The idea of having a home, someone to come home to, and maybe building more, for the first time seemed like a good idea. Like something he might want.
He liked the idea of being with someone who made him better. Or showed him that he could be better.
Because what she’d said about being tried by fire, he could see it. He could see that he could be a better person because of what he’d gone through. He didn’t have to be bitter.
But if that were the case, and even if it weren’t, he didn’t want to ruin whatever they might have by taking more than what he was supposed to.
“Think it’s time I take you home. What time should I be at your house to pick you up for church in the morning?”
Chapter 16
Sunday morning, Libby stood in front of the bathroom mirror, brushing her hair, wondering if there was any point to it if they were to go to church on the motorcycle.
Not that she cared. He could pick her up in a helicopter. It didn’t matter.
It was hard to keep from smiling.
Right, she knew the relationship was supposed be fake. But it had felt real. Even if it wasn’t, she had a great time. Why not enjoy it while it lasted? There was no reason that she couldn’t enjoy a fake relationship, right?
Because she was definitely enjoying it. Blade had been sweet and funny, almost unexpectedly so. Although she’d known he was nice for a long time.
After spending the evening with him, with the cooking mishap, the motorcycle ride, then that amazing kiss, it was really hard to imagine that her sister hadn’t lied.
Unfortunately, it was one of those things that would probably never be proved.
It was just too bad that Blade was the one who had to pay for it for the rest of his life.
Still, she thought maybe he had turned a corner last night. The idea that yeah, it wasn’t fair, and yeah, it had been hard, but that every hard thing in one’s life gives a person an area to grow. It seemed to resonate with him. Whether it would crack his shell of bitterness, she couldn’t say. She wanted that for his sake, but for her, she didn’t care.
Hearing the rumble of a motor outside, she grabbed her purse, told Casey to stay, and skipped outside.
Well, in her head, maybe she skipped. In real life, there was no skipping.
She’d made it to the front door and opened it. He stood there with his hand raised, ready to knock.
They stared at each other for a moment. Everything that had happened last night passed between them.
Well
, for her, the big thing that passed between them was the way he’d kissed her. She shivered.
She had no idea what he was thinking. But her heart skipped a beat and started going faster, thinking about his arms around her and the tender touch of his lips.
It probably wasn’t the best thing to be thinking about before she went to church.
His face had been serious, but his lip kicked up just a little. “I think I’m allowed to kiss you when I drop you off, but I don’t know what the protocol is for picking you up. Especially before church.”
Well, if he was going to ask, she could come up with an answer. “Before-church kisses can’t last longer than one minute.”
Yeah, both sides of his mouth lifted, and he showed his teeth as he stepped forward. “You time it.” He lowered his head.
She didn’t hesitate but stepped into his embrace, lifting her arms and wrapping them around his neck.
Everything from last night came roaring back, and she felt the same crazy dizziness and warmth, the tingles in her fingers, and the curling of her toes, and she had no idea how she could feel so safe and protected yet so unbalanced and unstable.
It might’ve been a little longer than a minute, and he was the one who pulled back.
“Not thinking very churchy thoughts right now,” he said with his nose nuzzling the hair beside her ear, his breath hot against it.
She smiled but didn’t say anything. She wasn’t thinking very churchy thoughts either.
Slowly, she backed away, making sure she was steady before she let go completely. “Did you need to come in?”
“If you’re ready to go, I am too.”
He didn’t seem nervous. Not like maybe she would’ve been on her first Sunday at a new church.
Actually, she couldn’t keep from twisting her hands together after he helped her into his pickup, and she tucked her skirt in around her legs.
If he noticed, he didn’t say anything right away.
They were probably three minutes away when he said casually, without looking over at her, “I don’t have to go.”
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