“Caleb,” Daisy takes my hand in hers and kisses my knuckles gently. I look at her and try to focus on nothing but the different shades of chocolate in her eyes. We stare at each other the entire ride back to the apartment complex. My car is nowhere in sight, but right now I don’t care about that.
I have a woman to cuddle in bed, and I mean just that. There will be nothing beyond cuddling until I’m sure that she actually is okay. The drugs are wearing off rapidly now, and my shoulder is beginning to ache. But I’m steady on my feet as I walk up to my apartment door and unlock it with my keys. I push it open, and flick on the lights, remaining outside until I’m sure that it hasn’t been compromised.
I gingerly step inside and leave Daisy standing by the door with the deadbolt locked until I’m sure that there’s no one inside. Someone has been stalking either one of us or both of us. How else would one of Big Man’s goonies be outside conveniently the restaurant I was dining in tonight? When I glance at the clock on the stove I realize it was last night, it’s close to three thirty in the morning.
“Are you tired?” I ask Daisy when I walk up to her. She has her back against the door, her face downcast. I put a finger under her chin and lift her face up until she looks at me. “Don’t cry,” I tell her, but that seems to just make it worse. She starts to cry again and puts her face against my t-shirt. I’m not sure how long we stand there, but my legs begin to get weak, so I hobble over to the couch and keep my good arm around Daisy.
The curtains are drawn, and all of the lights are now off. As the first rays of sunshine begin to beat against the curtains, my eyes close and I feel Daisy’s soft, gentle breathing against my neck. Sometime around two in the afternoon my phone buzzes in my pocket. I ignore it, push Daisy’s hair away from her face and neck, and look up at the ceiling.
One tear manages to leak out of my right eye and slide down my face. It gets lost somewhere in my hair and I close my eyes against anymore falling. I don’t dream for the rest of the afternoon.
***
I’m not sure what time it is, but it’s dark. The first thing I realize when I wake up is that I didn’t dream about motorcycles, and Daisy is still sleeping on my shoulder. Her breathing seems lighter though, so when I move she immediately opens her eyes.
“Good evening,” I tell her with a grin. I’m amazed that every time she wakes up she has a smile for me. Even after what happened the previous evening.
My stomach rumbles and hers follows as if they’re communicating with their own language. I test out my shoulder and find it stiff, but movable. If it had been severely dislocated it would have needed a sling, but I think with a few days of taking it easy will be enough.
“I’ll order dinner, pizza?” Daisy asks, moving off my good side and standing up to stretch. She pulls her hair into a loose braid down her back, and I watch her deft fingers move through the strands. I have to remind myself I’m out of commission, but watching her move around the apartment is like being inches away from the cake and not being able to eat it.
“Pizza,” I affirm, leaning forward to swipe the remote off the table. Then my pocket buzzes again, and I pull out my phone to see who is calling. It’s Carl. “Shit,” I mumble, swiping the phone to the home screen and scrolling through my contacts to find Carl’s face. I click on it and put the phone up to my ear.
“Hello?” It’s not Carl’s voice. It’s Delilah’s. I should have known.
“Carl there?”
“Carl’s here.” I hear Carl’s voice as he takes the phone from Delilah and lean forward on the couch. My right arm rests gently on my leg.
“Carl, it’s Caleb.” I hear him inhale like he’s going to start yelling and push forward quickly with my words. “Listen, there was an incident while I was out with Daisy, she’s banged up but okay. That’s why neither one of us came into work today.” There’s a snort on the other line.
“Wow, you on pain pills kid? It’s Saturday. You don’t work today.” I blink a few times and frown at the blank television.
“Oh, why’d you call then?” I’m confused; maybe those pain killers they gave me at the hospital seriously screwed me up.
“I called because Daisy called last night to tell me what happened. I came by last night, but you were out. I just wanted to know if you were home yet, kid.” I smile at my stupidity and try to lift my left arm to run my hand through my hair, but a sharp pain has me hissing.
“You alright?” I hear from on the phone and the kitchen. I look up at Daisy and then tell Carl that I have to go. I hang up the phone and put it down on the table.
“No, I’m a fucking cripple, I’m not alright.” I tell her in a deadpan voice. Daisy just stares at me with the menu in her hand, her eyes beginning to narrow.
“Feeling bad for yourself is not attractive,” she tells me, crossing her arms over her chest. I lean back on the couch and motion for her to sit next to me. At first she hesitates, and then she shuffles over to sit down next to me.
“Then I guess I’m one ugly man right now because I feel doubly bad that I’m not up to making you pay for that comment.” I brush back the hair from her neck with my good hand and put the other one on her hip. I can’t pull her towards me, but I can move towards her. I put my lips to each one of her bruises, kissing them gently. When she shivers under me, I smile as I nuzzle her ear.
“You’re hurt,” she whispers, but she doesn’t move away from me.
“So are you,” I inform her, using my strong arm to pull her to my chest. We sit like that until the pizza delivery man rings my doorbell. Daisy pays for the pizza, one of her newfound freedoms. People take advantage of being able to pay for something on their own, when it’s really saying that they’re independent.
“We’ll eat, and then I’ll help you take a shower,” she sounds like a medical professional right now, but I can’t help grinning the entire time I eat my pizza. I’m looking forward to my shower.
Daisy swats my good hand away when I go to take off her shirt in the bathroom. I can tell by the stern look on her face she’s not going to relent. This is going to be the best and worst night of my life. She takes a step back from me and shimmies out of her jeans first, keeping her gaze on me. Check that, the best night of my life.
“That’s not fair, you got to take off my clothes, I should be able to take off yours,” I growl at her, my good hand in a fist.
“It would take you hours to get my clothes off with one hand. Now get in the shower,” I take a step back and step into the shower without taking my eyes off her. All the times that I’ve taken her clothes off, it’s been in bed. Now I get to stand her and appreciate her in the bright light of the bathroom, and I have to admit she looks even better.
It’s not until she starts tugging at my boxers that I realize I’m still wearing them. I put my good hand on her shoulder and push her back against the shower wall, breathing rough. “If you do that, I can’t promise that I’ll behave myself.” I snarl at her, trailing kisses down her neck and back up again.
“But it’s not a shower if you’re wearing clothes,” Daisy chuckles at me and tries to take off my boxers again. I move away from her and turn my back to her, trying to breathe normally.
“I’ll do that myself. You can help me with my hair and my upper back. That’s all I need help with.” She looks disappointed when I turn around, and my heart bangs against my ribcage. It’s not until she turns her face away from mine that I realize she’s crying.
Chapter Ten
“Why are you crying? Does your neck hurt? Should I call a doctor?” I panic, raising both hands to cup her face and grimacing in the process. My shoulder is killing me, but I don’t let my hand drop. Daisy shakes her head and goes to turn on the water. I let her, but when she turns to face me again I force her out from under the stream of water and put her back to the shower wall.
“Then why are you crying, Daisy.” It doesn’t come out as a question, more of a demand. Her chin trembles.
“Because you don’t want
me!” We’re back to that again. I thought over the past few weeks I’ve been proving to her that I do want her. I just don’t want to be the jerk that forces her to do something she doesn’t want to.
“I do, that’s the problem,” I lean my nose down against where her neck meets her shoulder and inhale; some of the water droplets on her skin tickle my nose.
“Then why won’t you have sex with me?” She sounds lost, confused. I’ve never been good at explaining my emotions, and why I do the things I do. Sometimes even I don’t understand them. But if I want Daisy to stop crying I’m going to have to explain this to her eventually. There’s never a better time than the present.
“Because I don’t want to,” I feel her stiffen under me, angry. “I want to make love to you, Daisy. Has anyone ever cared about what you want?” I ask her, feeling the water pelting down on my right side. Her hair is barely wet, but it’s wet enough to start making her cold.
Daisy doesn’t answer me. Her palms are flattened against the side of the shower stall, her chin jutting in the air, and her right foot raised, leaning against the tub. I reach down to touch her silky leg and pull it up around my waist. I pull her towards me so that she’s flattened against me, feeling the hard length of me.
“I want you more than breathing, but I’m not going to take what isn’t mine.” I loosen my grip on her leg and let it slide down mine, stepping back. There’s a full foot between us and I reach over to grab the shampoo out of the rack. I hold it between us and sit down on the side of the tub so that she can reach my hair.
For the rest of the shower she doesn’t say anything, just helps me wash my hair and my upper back. I watch her with a hungry heart and body as she washes all over and gets out of the shower. I peel off my wet boxers and finish my shower.
I don’t get out until I hear the door gently shut. There’s a fresh pair of jeans and a t-shirt on the counter, no underwear. I towel off, pull on the jeans before Daisy can come back in, and turn around to look at the damage in the mirror. There’s a bruise running from my shoulder, down my back, about a foot long. The bastard had a good swing.
It’s purple in the center and yellow around the edges, already beginning to fade in a little over twenty four hours. I pull on my shirt to cover up the bruise and brush my teeth. I don’t bother combing through my hair; it’s well past time to go to bed. I have a feeling Daisy genuinely needs the rest.
When I come out of the bathroom, it’s pitch black, no lights on. She must really be pissed off at me. So I head for the bedroom and stop just as I’m about to open the door. There’s a small light filtering out from under the door, probably that lamp I got last week. The dresser hasn’t arrived yet.
I put my hand on the doorknob and gently swing it open without stepping inside. Daisy’s lying on what I now think of as her side of the bed, with nothing on. Her eyes are closed, but I can tell by her breathing that she’s just on the brink of falling asleep. I grab the bottle of pain pills off the dresser that the hospital issued to me, and pop one. I’m going to need it. Then I pop another one and crunch on it, swallow and peel off my shirt. I stretch out beside her on my stomach and watch the glow of her skin in the lamplight.
Then I reach over and flick it off.
As soon as the light goes out, Daisy inhales once deeply and rolls over to look at me. She smiles gently in the moonlight, letting one hand trail up and down my spine, like she did when I first broke down in front of her. I still haven’t told her about Ronnie, partly because I’m afraid she’ll leave if she knows what happened.
“Are you mine?” She asks huskily, leaning in to kiss my good shoulder and straddling me from behind to kiss my ugly bruise. I feel the heat from between her thighs hitting the small of my back and try not to shiver under her touch.
“I’m yours,” I whisper in the dark, my voice a low growl as she leans down to kiss the back of my neck. Her breasts brush against my shoulder blades, undoing me.
“Then roll over,” she whispers in my ear, and I do as she says. Silly me, I actually think this is going to lead to me pinning her to the bed again. But tonight it’s my turn, and she does all the things I’ve been doing to her. Petting me, torturing me, without once taking off my pants, it’s like Hell and Heaven at once.
“Goodnight,” she tells me with mirth in her voice as I lay there just on the brink of coming. Daisy rolls off me and lies on her back, her one knee in the air. It doesn’t take me long.
The pain pills have kicked in, and I’m feeling nothing in my shoulder that resembles pain. I hurriedly pull off my pants and catch her just as she’s about to get out of bed. I swing her back down onto the comforter and straddle her. I know my eyes are hard in the dark, but my hands are gentle as I move the hair away from her neck and nuzzle my spot, the spot where she pants when I kiss her.
“Are you mine?” I ask, meaning it. Daisy nods against my injured shoulder and I put my elbows on either side of her, looking down at her. “Then say it,” I growl at her, looking at her brown eyes in the dark. They’re wide, but it’s not with fear. Her pupils are dilated for an entirely different reason. I watch them dilate more with every breath.
“I’m yours,” she whispers in the dark, and I lose control. She tells me over and over again how much she’s mine throughout the night; sometimes climbing on top of me and making me say it to her.
When the first rays of sunshine peek through my curtains, I realize that all this time I’ve been having sex with women. A lot of it. But I’ve never truly been making love to them, claiming them. If someone tries to put their hands on Daisy again, I won’t hesitate to kill rather than maim.
“Daisy?” She’s lying on me, her cheek on my chest and her ear to my heartbeat. I can feel hers quicken when I put a hand on her lower back, swirling it around and waking her up.
“What?” She finally asks, groggy and tired.
“I think I’m going to need another pill,” I tell her reluctantly, trying to shift my shoulder out from under her weight. She quickly moves off me and slides off the bed. I’m about to get up to get the bottle myself, but she grabs it from the ruined dresser and twists off the cap. She pulls out two and hands them to me.
“You’re going to need them,” she tells me, patting my leg. I look at her warily and pop them into my mouth reluctantly.
“Why?” I drag out the word and sit up in bed so I don’t look like a wimp.
“Because your father’s dropping off your car today. They drove it home Friday night.” I lean forward with the sheet around my waist and put my hands on my face, rubbing them back and forth a few times. I want to cuss and swear, lock the door, and pretend I’m not here. But I pull the sheet off, pull on my pants, a shirt, and pad past Daisy to look at myself in the mirror of the bathroom.
My hair looks like it went through a tornado, and then a hurricane. I’m going to have to shower again. And I’m going to have to clean up the pizza box from last night and make my bed, it’s like a military sergeant is going to come over. That’s how I view my father coming over to see my apartment. Neither one of my parents have seen it before.
“What do you want for breakfast?” Daisy calls from the kitchen. My heart climbs into my throat, and I stumble out of the bathroom and lean around the kitchen doorframe. She’s holding a carton of eggs in one hand.
“Cold pizza!” I tell her quickly, staring at the eggs. She frowns at me and puts the eggs back in the fridge and grudgingly gets out the leftover pizza.
“Right, you just don’t want me to use the stove again.” She grumps as she sits down at the table with a slice in her hand. She doesn’t bother with a plate and neither do I.
“No, that’s not it at all,” I tell her breezily, but it doesn’t work. I must look guilty because she snickers at me.
“I can cook eggs; I was just upset that morning.” She tries to tell me, but I don’t believe her. It’s my turn to snicker, and she looks bristly over it. We don’t talk about eggs after we eat our pizza. Instead, both of us busy ourselves
with cleaning up my eight hundred square foot apartment. There’s not much to do, Daisy keeps it pretty straightened.
We’re lounging on the couch with pillows holding up my arm, a strange Sci-Fi series playing. Daisy giggles at all the wrong parts pointing out that blood doesn’t look like that in real life. She seems relatively back to normal. I only wish my arm would get better quicker.
“Tell me about them,” Daisy turns to me and peers at me with curious eyes. I look at the screen and see aliens ripping off a man’s head, tell her about that?
“About who?” I ask, twisting to face her on the couch as far as I can without moving my arm. It’s not very far.
“Your parents, silly!” She smiles at me, and when I don’t return it I see hers falter. I stare at her and wonder if she knows she just put an invisible knife in my chest and twisted. I don’t want to talk about my parents; it leads to the answer as to why we’re not close. That answer leads me to speak about Ronnie’s death.
“What do you want to know?” I’m finally able to ask, unlocking my jaw and working it to get rid of the tension I’m suddenly feeling.
“Why your jaw is twitching and your fingers are slicing little crescents into her palms,” she whispers, looking down at my clenched hands. I unclench them just to see if I actually cut myself, but it’s just indentations. I knew I’d have to tell her sometime, this is developing into a full blown relationship and they can’t be based on lies or omissions.
“I need a drink for this,” I mutter, getting up and heading into the kitchen. Daisy stays on the couch, watching my every move. I reach up into the cabinet above my stove that she can’t get to without a chair. Back in the corner is a bottle of Cognac. I pull it out and pour myself about an inch into a small glass and hold up the bottle in question to Daisy. She shakes her head and points at the stove. It’s one in the afternoon.
“It’s late enough!” I tell her, taking a sip of the burning liquid. After replacing the bottle, I settle on the couch near Daisy and let my arm rest on a pillow.
Trouble Page 8