by Randa Lynn
I look over at him in the driver’s seat of his pickup truck. He’s in traffic, so looking at me isn’t an option. It gives me the opportunity to just watch him. The way his jaw ticks every few seconds. How he subconsciously chews on his bottom lip when he’s concentrating. The way his hair is wild and unruly, yet magnificently him, in spite of him having it all together. “Stop staring at me. It’s rude.” He smiles without looking my way, and I instantly snap my head back, facing forward.
“Sorry,” I mumble, a bit embarrassed at being caught.
“Charlie…" The way he says my name is so authoritative it shocks me.
“What?”
“Loosen up.” He shrugs, a smirk curling up on his lips.
“Excuse me?”
Pulling off the road onto a patch of land, Slayter throws his truck in park. Turning his body towards me, he repeats, “I said loosen up.”
“Yeah, I got that,” I snap back, slightly annoyed.
“I didn’t mean for it to piss you off,” he says, regret washing over his face. “I just meant that you seem like you get so inside of your head, so caught up in life and the problems that come with it, and you never get to actually live and enjoy the small moments.”
He just completely described me to a tee. It’s as if he’s known me much longer than the time he has. He’s rendered me speechless. I look from my hands to the steering wheel over and over, because I can’t bear the thought of looking at him when he’s figured out the real me. The light of day hides my demons, veiling the things I try so hard to not let consume me. When the darkness of the night creeps upon me, all my insecurities, all my guilt and sadness, strangle me like a constrictor, consuming me with the utmost tenacity.
“I’m right, aren’t I?” he asks. But he already knows the answer just as well as I do.
I finally muster the courage to look up into his eyes, afraid I’m going to see a man wanting nothing to do with the broken, fragile woman sitting in his passenger seat. A man who finds my issues far more trouble than what he wants to deal with.
But I don’t. No. Slayter’s stone gray eyes, illuminated by the lone street light, burn into me, reaching deep down to a place that’s been dark and vacant for so long. They’re so full of candor and affection. The air intensifies around us as my heartbeat speeds up with every passing second that his soul pierces mine, breaking off a piece of the wall I’ve built up over the past two years.
“Yes,” I finally answer. “Yes, you’re right. I can’t truly live because the guilt, the pain, it eats me up. I try to be happy, but I never succeed.”
I just removed my dagger. I’m bleeding my truth.
“Don’t try.” He runs the pad of his thumb over the back of my hand. “Just be.”
And with those four little words, it’s as if the heavens open up, shining a light I’ve been so longing to have surround me. I feel it. This pull, this twinge of happiness envelopes me in the cab of this truck. I don’t know if it’s Slayter’s presence, or if something inside of me has unlocked, but I feel it. It’s there, and it’s terrifying. But I decide to just be. Even if it’s just for the moment, or for the night.
“Okay,” I breathe out as a smile pulls at my lips. I let all my reservations crumble. He leans across the center console, grabbing my face gently in between his hands. He places a kiss on my lips. It’s gentle. Sweet. I breathe him in, letting myself feel this uncanny connection between the two of us. I can’t help but wonder what a life would be like with him. One where I was able to be the person he wants me to be. The person he deserves.
His thumb grazes along my cheek as his lips leave mine. A sudden void fills the space surrounding me. It’s quickly gone when he says, “Charlie, I don’t know what you’re doing to me. This feeling, or whatever is going on, is messing with my mind.”
“I feel it, too,” I admit. “And it terrifies me.”
He drops his forehead to mine. “Me too, gorgeous.”
With one quick stare, he turns his head forward, pulling back out onto the highway. It feels like we’re going further and further from civilization, and I wish I knew where we were headed.
Thirty minutes later, Slayter and I end up at a quaint farmhouse on the outskirts of the city. Complete with white plank siding and a wraparound porch, its quietness is completely different than the bustle of the city.
I sit down on the porch swing, gently swaying back and forth for several minutes. The sounds of nature ring through the rolling hills as the cold breeze flows across my body. Slayter steps out of the house, carrying a thermal blanket. The screen door slams behind him as he makes his way towards me. He smiles, and I can’t help but feel a warmth spread throughout my entire body.
He sits down beside me on the swing, draping the blanket over the both of us. “What is this place?” I ask, looking around at the red shutters adorning the sides of the windows. The swing creaks with every move of the chains.
“It was my parent’s house.” His voice is hushed as he gazes off in the distance, sadness washing across his face.
His fingers strum on my shoulder as I sink further into his arms. “I’m sorry about your parents.”
“It’s okay.” He sighs heavily. “I come here to think sometimes. When I need to decompress with everything life throws at me. Work. Personal life. Everything.” He looks down at me and smiles. “I’ve never brought anyone here before.”
The magnitude of his confession doesn’t get past me. Bringing someone to a sacred place is a big deal, and I’m not quite sure what to make of it. Of this. Of us. Of anything. “So, why bring me?”
He pulls the blanket up as it slides off of our legs. “Because,” he shrugs, “I figured you needed a place that could bring you peace. And I wanted to share this part of me with you. So you could see who I am. Where I’m from.”
My pulse thrums in my ears, every fitful beat of my heart is caused by his closeness. This feeling he stirs inside of me is beyond my control, and to say I have mixed emotions about it is an understatement. One half of my mind is screaming to run, leave before it’s too late. The other half is telling me to stay, because finding a connection like this is once in a lifetime.
But maybe that’s the problem.
My once in a lifetime has already been tainted with the blow of life’s fist. Bruised with the memories that have disappeared. Getting close, letting people in, feels like an invitation to have my heart ripped from my chest. Stomped on. Pulverized. Spit out.
But when I look at him, I don’t fear him being the reason for my heartache. Being here with him, staring into to those gray eyes, it calms my soul. He softens the rough wounds I’ve dealt with since that fateful night.
“Thank you,” I whisper. “This place is perfect.”
“Yeah…” His voice fades. He looks at me with an earnest stare. I look away, the intensity too much.
“Can I ask you a question?” He grabs my hand, interlocking our fingers. It’s effortless. It feels right. He takes a deep breath, looking away before his gaze falls on me again. “I don’t mean to pry, but when you woke up from your accident, did you forget how to do everything? Memory wise, did you forget your education, how to drive, and everyone?”
“No. The part of my brain damaged was the part that stores personal memory, not the part that stores learned memory. I didn’t forget my math facts, grammar, and stuff like that. I just forgot my life.” I pause for a second at how ridiculous it sounds. Just my life is absolutely everything. “I’m sure there is a much better explanation to your question, but doctors very seldom put things in layman’s terms. That’s the best answer I’ve got.”
He brushes his thumb up and down my arm. “That makes perfect sense.”
“Why did you come back to Texas? Why not stay in California?” I ask. My curiosity is getting the best of me. I want to know everything about him there is to know.
“Because,” he says, “I wanted my brother back. We’d spent so long never talking, and when we finally got back to a good place, I m
issed him. I wanted back here. And my dad’s partner offered to sell his half of their construction company to me. It was an offer I couldn’t refuse.”
“Stetson. Why did you guys ever stop speaking?”
He takes a deep breath. I can feel the tension in his body build. “After my parents’ died, he went off the deep end. He got off in some things he shouldn’t have. He just couldn’t cope, I guess. I called the cops on him, he had some things on him, so he was arrested. He told me to go to hell, and I was no family of his. Family didn’t rat.”
I can hear the sadness in his tone, the pain behind his words.
“I had already moved to California before they died, but I came home. I could tell Stet wasn’t in a good place, so I stayed for about a month. Until…”
“You got him arrested,” I finish.
“Yeah,” he says flatly. We both take a moment to let the words sink in before he finally finishes. “I’m just glad he finally came around. I have your sister to thank… and, I guess, you.”
“Me?” He catches me off guard.
“Stetson called me one day out of the blue. I was pulling into my condo from work when my phone went off. I hadn’t even looked at the caller ID when I answered it.” He pauses. I’m still confused how I had anything to do with them talking again. Slayter knew nothing about me until we met. “He said Lizzie’s sister had almost died, and he saw how it gutted Lizzie to see you hurting so badly. He said he was done holding a grudge, when I was all he had left in this world besides his girl.”
My heart crashes. My breathing falters. “I’m sorry,” he says. His face washes with regret. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“No. You didn’t,” I assure him. It does make my heart ache further, but it’s not his fault. “I mean, I never thought anything good would come from my tragedy. But it did. It gave you back your brother.”
He grabs my chin with his thumb and forefinger. His gaze pierces me. “You’re incredible. Do you know that?” He reaches down, gently brushing his lips against mine. Warmth surrounds me, despite the cool air.
We spend the next few hours swinging, talking, and learning about one another. Our hopes. Dreams. Fears. Wants. He tells me about his parents. How they lived a life full of love and affection for all mankind. He talks to me about their home and how his world came crashing down when they passed away, but he remained strong because of Stetson. He was the only person Stetson had to lean on until he met Lizzie. Then she became that person for him. His healer. When he speaks of his parents, there is nothing but adoration in his tone. I can, without a doubt, say his parents had everything to do with him becoming the incredible man he is today. Surprisingly, he opens up about Claire and Jodi. He tells me exactly what had happened, leaving him at the bar that first night we met. I instantly feel bad that I ever allowed my selfishness to degrade someone else’s heartache.
He doesn’t push me to talk about things I don’t want to divulge. He allows me to share only the things I feel comfortable sharing without pushing for me to say more. Maybe he knows I can’t give him more because I’m still trying to work out the mess in my head.
We talk so long, and we both lose track of time. By the time we get ready to go, it’s 1am. I can tell Slayter is beyond tired. So am I. He offers for us to sleep here, and lets me take his old bedroom to sleep in.
So, here I am, surrounded by all things Slayter Beck without actually being around him at all.
The hum of the ceiling fan fills the room as I watch the shadow of the trees dance around the navy walls. Adorned with high school pennants and football snapshots, his room is a time capsule from his high school days. I drink it all in, trying to get a glimpse of younger Slayter—slim, tall, and just as handsome. He was the star quarterback.
I curl up in his bed, pulling his plaid comforter up to my chin and close my eyes.
A few minutes later, I hear a creak coming from the doorway. I snap my eyes open and see a shadowed figure perfectly filling the doorway. “Hi,” I say in a hushed whisper.
I click the lamp on. A pair of gray sweat pants hang loosely from his hips.
“I figured you’d be asleep,” he says, roughing his hands through his hair.
I shake my head, unable to form the words because I am too mesmerized by what is in front of me.
“Yeah.” He smirks. “Me too.”
“What?” My eyes travel up, gazing over his perfect, rigid abs before they land on those eyes. There’s something about the way he stares at me with one eyebrow cocked up and a smirk hiked at the corner of his mouth. It makes every nerve ending in my body work in overdrive.
He shakes his head, his eyes never leaving mine. “Nothing,” he rasps out.
“Do want your bed? I can sleep on the couch.” I attempt to distract myself. I throw the covers back to get up, planning to give him his room back.
“No way. I’m not letting you sleep on that couch. It’s uncomfortable. And the extra bedroom hasn’t been a bedroom in years, taken over by Mom’s craft stuff.”
“I can sleep in Stetson’s old room,” I offer.
“Hell no.” He shakes his head, laughing lightly. He rubs his hand over his eyes, tiredness steadily taking over his features. “I refuse to let you sleep in that bed. There’s no telling what all Stet did in there when he was a teenager, and during college when he brought girls home. Fuck no.”
My mind drifts to Slayter and what he’s done in this bed. With other women. A wave of jealousy falls over me. I brush my insane thoughts off. “Right.” I try to come up with a solution, but I can only think of one where neither one of us will have to sleep on the couch. “Well, there’s plenty of room for both of us.”
As soon as the words fall from my mouth, I regret it. Of course he wouldn’t want to share a bed with me.
“Yeah?” he asks.
I’m shocked by his response. I was sure he would say no without a second to think about it. My stomach flutters, and I try to push the butterflies away. “That is, if you want. It would be nice to not feel so lonely in a big house I’m not familiar with.”
He slowly walks over, climbing in on the other side of the bed. I feel the bed dip as he lays down. Swallowing down the lump in my throat, I lay back down on the very edge of the bed. There isn’t an inch of space between where the mattress ends and where my body begins. My heart speeds at the realization that he’s in the same bed as I am.
“You can sleep under the covers, too, Charlie. I won’t bite.” His voice is low, a slight chuckle escaping him once he speaks.
“No. I didn’t think that at all.” I nervously fiddle with the sheets. “I was just giving you your personal space.”
“Charlie.” The deep timbre of his voice causes my spine to prickle. I turn around to face him, needing to see his face, to see those eyes that always pierce me. “I want you in my personal space. I came up here just to make sure you were real. To make sure I wasn’t imagining this,” he admits. My eyes widen as his stare becomes heated.
“Oh,” I breathe out, not having the capability to say anything else.
“Why couldn’t you sleep, Charlie?”
My heart speeds into overdrive as I mull over what to say. I almost lie, but I think better of it. “Because you were consuming me, and I still don’t understand this. Us.”
“Come here.” He pats the space between us. I scoot closer to him until our bodies brush against each other. He quickly pulls me into him, slipping one arm underneath my back. My heart pounds against my chest; my breathing heavies. “I don’t understand this either. But I know I feel it. That pull. That tug that only gets stronger the further away I am from you.” He kisses me on the forehead, rubbing his hand up and down the side of my stomach. His fingers graze my exposed skin, causing a moan to escape my mouth.
I’ve fought it, told myself I couldn’t get sucked into his trance, but it was all for naught. He’s causing a whirlpool of feelings to build up inside of me. There is an ache in my chest that is nothing like the ache I have felt
every day since I woke up from my coma. “We don’t have to figure it out tonight, Charlie,” he whispers. “Just let me show you that you don’t always have to drown in everything life has thrown at you. It’s okay to feel. Because I damn sure know I do.”
“Slayter,” I murmur.
His eyes study my face, his stare causing a shiver to run down my entire body. “Yeah?”
“Why do you want a girl like me?”
He brings his hand to my face, grazing my bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. “Because, a girl like you needs to see that she’s so much more than what she believes. You see yourself as nothing. You think you’re worth nothing after what’s happened to you. I can see you, Charlie. The guilt, it eats you alive. But I want to be the person that makes you see you’re not nothing—you’re everything.”
A tear escapes my eyes, my heart becomes so consumed with everything he just said. We stare into each other’s eyes, no barrier standing between us. Being in the arms of the only person who’s accepted the pieces of me for what they are causes my restraint I’ve had for two years to snap. The sleepiness evades me as a greater need arises. A need to feel nothing, yet everything, at the same time. A need to lose myself, free myself with him.
With one final swipe of Slayter’s thumb across my lip, our lips crash together and I lose every ounce of control I had just moments ago. The kiss goes from sweet and chaste to passionate and needy as his tongue parts my lips, tangling with mine in a fit of passion. His kiss has me floating, allowing me to forget every ounce of demons I live with every single day.
He grabbles with my shirt, pulling it over my head, as my hands familiarize themselves with the ridges of his bare abdomen. My nails scrape lightly over his skin, causing a deep groan to seep from his throat.
“Charlie,” he breathes against my lips. Our breathing—heavy with desire—mirrors each other.
“Please,” I beg, my hands never stopping their discovery of his body. “Make me forget that I’m dying to remember.”