by Lola Stark
He responded with a gentle brush across my mouth, which I kept closed tight. When I felt him lean back, I whispered, “You know, some people might find it creepy when they wake up to someone staring at them.”
Dylan’s chuckle was low and rough, as if he himself hadn’t been up long. “Oh, sugar, I’m glad to see you haven’t lost your sparkle after the sun comes up.”
He rolled on top of me; his hands rested on either side of my face. “Open your beautiful eyes, Haven. I want to know you are still here with me.” The heat of his body pressed against mine was comforting. I wanted to stay in his arms just like that, all day.
I fluttered my eyelids, the light adjusting to the filtered sunlight streaming into the room. I was met with a dazzling smile and a warm gaze of a man who had just shared with me the night before that he was dying.
I still couldn’t wrap my head around what I had learned, but I needed to explain a few things to Dylan. After all, he shared a huge secret with me; it was only fair.
I nestled myself against his shoulder. He smelled of cinnamon and clove, and something uniquely Dylan, “You smell yummy.” My voice was muffled, but I wanted to be closer. I craved the contact and I didn’t want to relinquish that just yet. “Can we stay like this all day?” I mumbled. “I want to share my story with you, but I’m afraid.” I couldn’t help the smallness of my voice. I was scared. Scared I would bare my soul and Dylan would reject me. I hadn’t had to spill all my secrets to Jude. He’d found me drugged out and messed up in the back room of a, run-down, abandoned house.
“Sugar, whatever you have to tell me isn’t going to change my feelings.” He ran his nose against my cheek. “I wasn’t lyin’ when I said I was falling in love with you.” He pulled back to look at me, the sun creating a glare and shadow across his features. I couldn’t help the sigh which escaped my lips. It hurt to look at him; he was beautiful.
“Promise me you’ll hear me out. I need to know you won’t judge me.” I searched his face for any hesitation at my soon-to-be confession, but all I saw was an open acceptance of whatever I was about to throw at him.
“You have my word, sugar.”
It was about then my bladder protested the current position we lay in. I pushed against Dylan’s chest. “Okay, cowboy. Let me up. Nature calls.”
He smiled and rolled over, pulling the sheet with him. “I’ll make us something to eat. Meet me in the kitchen?” I watched him sit up, stretch his arms over his head, my mind running rampant with all the other things I’d rather be doing other than talk to Dylan.
“Mmmhmm.” Was all I could muster, too enthralled with the sight of his flawless body.
He turned back toward me. “Caught ya lookin’.” He grinned. “You know with a look like that, you make me want to stay right here.”
I kicked my feet in his direction. “Go on, cowboy. I really should freshen up a bit.” I started to push up from the opposite side of the bed. “I’ll see you in a minute.” I paused a moment and hesitated before I left the room, Dylan coming to stand in front of me, between the bed and the door. “I need to get some things off my chest. I just hope—”
His finger came to my lips. “Shh, just stop. I already gave you my word. Nothing is going to change.” His eyes were warm. “See you in the kitchen. You have a preference of pancakes or waffles?”
I smiled, “waffles,” and walked toward the bathroom.
After freshening up, I padded down the hall toward the sounds and smells of what I hoped wasn’t the last meal I’d share with Dylan. I watched the muscles in his back flex as he worked his way around the kitchen. I propped myself onto a stool across the raised bar from where he was preparing breakfast.
“So, are you ready for the best waffles in the world?” He turned toward me, spatula in one hand, and plate in the other.
“Yeah. I’m famished.” I took a bite at the waffles he placed in front of me, a soft moan curling in my throat. “Oh, God, this is heavenly.” My eyes rolled in my head and I sighed in contentment. “Aren’t you going to eat?” I asked around another mouthful.
He didn’t move, just watched on as I stuffed my face. “Nah, I’m not hungry.”
“Side effect?” I questioned, stuffing more buttery waffle into my mouth.
“Yeah, something like that,” he responded coolly. “Why don’t you tell me about you?” He turned back to the stove and started to clean up his mess.
“Uh, well.” I paused. “It’s a long story. I’d prefer it if you looked at me. I need to gauge your reaction and I can’t do that if you have your back to me,” I replied. “You do have a nice backside though.”
His bark of laughter filled the room before I noticed his shoulders shake. “All right, sugar. Finish your breakfast. I’ll clean this up and then we can talk.”
I looked down at my syrup-filled plate. “Mmm-kay.” And I proceeded to devour my waffles.
I mulled over how to tell Dylan my deepest, darkest secret. I couldn’t find any way to sugar-coat it. “So, I’m a recovering drug addict.” I figured I would just come out and say it. His motions paused, but quickly resumed.
“You told me that last night, sugar. How about you tell me when and how it happened in the first place.”
I gripped my plate and hopped off the stool. I headed toward the sink when Dylan turned and stopped me. “Let me take that.” He grabbed my dishes and proceeded to wash up in the sink. He wasn’t looking at me, instead focusing on his task.
“Okay, well…” I leaned against the countertop, my arms taking their own protective stance across my chest. “I was sixteen the first time I started partying. And I tried a few pills with some friends I used to hang with. It seemed harmless, a way to feel good, or not feel at all.” I shuffled my foot against the tile floor.
“I don’t know when it got out of hand. Just that one day I woke up in a place I didn’t recognize with a needle next to me.” I couldn’t look up, but I felt his stare on me, the water was still on but his hands were instead resting on the side of the sink rather than washing dishes. “I had been on a binge for about three days.” My voice became quiet. “Jude found me. I was dirty, strung out, and trying to find any way to get my next fix.”
Dylan turned off the water and turned toward me, drying his hands on a towel. “C’mon, sugar. Let’s finish this conversation somewhere a little more comfortable.” He grabbed my hand, grazing my breast innocently. It sent a jolt of desire through me, but I snuffed it out. It wasn’t the time to be thinking about sex.
I looked up, taking in the man before me. “Okay, can we go back to bed? I might have an easier time explaining if you’re naked and can’t get away.”
He cupped my cheek with his free hand. “Sugar, I don’t know what…come on. Let’s go to bed.”
I smiled in triumph. “Thank you.”
Dylan led me back to his bedroom, stopping only to kiss me once before stepping out of his jeans and climbing into bed. He patted the blue linen next to him. “In you go, darlin’.”
I took off my shirt, but left my panties on. Crawling up the bed, I plopped down next to him. As if we’d been sleeping together for ages, he instinctively wrapped me in his arms and squeezed me to his chest. I felt his breath in my hair before he whispered, “You smell like maple syrup.” He inhaled again, “and raspberries.”
I smiled and nuzzled closer to his body, the heat of his chest against my back a soothing balm for my numbed state.
“Now, where were we, sugar?” He kissed the back of my ear. “Tell me all of it. Don’t leave anything out.”
I cleared my throat, prepared to share all the revolting details of my past. “So, Jude found me after I had been on a binge for about three days. He took me to a hotel and spent the next week helping me detox. I fought him the entire time. I didn’t have a problem, or so I thought.” I took a breath. “He held my hair, kept me bathed and fed. He never left my side.” My voice cracked. “I guess somewhere along the way, he developed feelings for me, and I him. He was my sav
ior.
“What makes it worse, or better, depending on how you look at it, it became our little secret.” I shifted uncomfortably. “No one in my family knew, and Jude protected that. He never told a soul.” Dylan’s breathing accelerated, as if he were bracing for some apocalyptic revelation.
“I understand a little better now why he gave me the look of death in the shop that day. He feels protective over you.” It wasn’t a question, but I felt I needed to clarify our relationship a little more.
“Yeah, I guess that’s part of it. But mostly, I think he felt obligated to care for me. He knew I wouldn’t go to my brothers, and he also knew what would happen if in the event I took things too far.” I felt my cheeks warm, tears threatened to emerge as I remembered Jude and everything we had been through together.
“Have you ever heard of Nightingale Syndrome?” I sniffled. “It’s a situation where a caregiver develops romantic and sometimes or sexual feelings for his or her patient, even if very little communication or contact takes place outside of basic care.” Tears spilled into the pillowcase as I spoke. Dylan wrapped me tighter in his embrace. “I think that’s what happened with Jude. It was never going to work long term.” I wiped my cheek. “They say the feelings fade when the subject recovers or dies.” With that, I let my breath out in long whoosh, feeling both lighter and heavier.
Dylan kissed my neck, my shoulder, and my back. “Thank you.” He didn’t need to say anything more. The tone of his voice said everything I needed to hear.
I turned in his strong hold and put my hand on his face. He closed his eyes momentarily, my fingers grazing across his full lips. “You okay?”
“Yeah, sugar. I am.” And with his whisper-soft response, he kissed me.
We spent the rest of the day entangled between the sheets. We made love, talked, and slept. I couldn’t have asked for a better response to the bomb I had dropped on him. Dylan didn’t judge me, didn’t reject me. He just took everything I had to say and then held me. Loved me.
Yes, he was everything I never knew I wanted…and our time was limited, at best.
Later that evening, I was unable to sit still after Dylan had dropped me back off at home. My nervous energy got the best of me and in order to keep from doing something stupid like drinking myself into a stupor, I started to clean. I needed to get rid of a few things, cleanse my closet and my soul of all the blackness that seemed to have taken over before I let it all go with Dylan.
If only I could erase Jude from my apartment.
I sucked my teeth and grabbed a trash bag from under the kitchen cabinet.
I had already cleaned every crevice of my place. There was nothing left to do but face my past. My memories of Jude, of my addiction, everything I wanted to keep buried was just waiting for me to take a trip down memory lane.
“It’s not that bad, Haven,” I mumbled to myself as I slammed the cabinet shut and stomped toward the bedroom, a determined stride in my gait. “You can do this.” The pep talk became my mantra as I opened the doors and stared at the top shelf.
I stood with each door in my hands, bottom lip clenched between my teeth, and eyes wide. “Music!” I blurted and turned for my phone to put on some tunes. “I need music. What do I want to listen to?” I asked myself as I scrolled through endless playlists.
I knew it was just a way to put off what really needed to be done but I justified my distraction when “Undefeated” from Daughtry started blaring through my little phone speaker. I placed it on the dock, so I could hear it from anywhere in the tiny apartment and bobbed my head as I went back to the closet. Pulling the large box off the shelf, my shoulders protested the weight. “Damn, what’s in here? Bricks?” I brought it down and plopped on the floor.
The lid fell to the side and I covered my mouth as memories jumped from the sight of the contents. My heart lurched into my throat and a sob threatened to escape as I slowly lowered my body to examine my past a little more closely.
Right on top was a picture Jude had snapped of us one morning; we had bed head and my mascara was smudged under my eyes, but Jude was smiling like the joker. I was stupidly happy. My eyes shone with pure adoration for the man lying next to me.
I picked it up and covered my mouth. Tears blurred the edges of my vision. “Stupid girl, you fell for the forbidden guy.” I shook my head and laid it aside as I reached for the next item.
It was one of Jude’s old band t-shirts of Shinedown, faded and peeling, but the fabric was soft and worn. I held it to my face, inhaling, hoping for some strange reason it would still smell like him.
It didn’t.
Just like us, it had faded and was replaced with bitterness and hurt. I huffed. “All right, I need to stop this shit.” I tossed the shirt into the bag.
My mind whirled, memories blended together of both past and present, Dylan’s face replacing Jude’s in some of my happiest ones. “I’m not that girl anymore,” I stammered, my voice gaining strength as I allowed the pain to surface. “He lost his chance, and he didn’t want me. I’m not going to beg for something someone isn’t willing to give.” I grabbed the next few things from the box and threw it all into the bag, not even bothering to look at it.
“This is your past, Haven. Focus on the now, on Dylan.”
I finished rummaging through my memories with Jude, my hands shaking and covered in dust. I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of everything, so I kept the picture. It was something that reminded me I was happy once and I could be again.
“Time to make some new memories, Haven,” I proclaimed aloud, my hands itching to stay busy, my body buzzing with energy I ached to find remedy to. My phone buzzed, alerting me to a new text message. I swiped the screen and read it, a smile tipping my lips up.
Sugar, I loved every minute of our time together and I look forward to more moments. I cherish those, and you.
I gushed over his words as I read them a second time, and a third.
In my mind, I responded ten times over before I actually formulated one suitable to send back.
He made me giddy.
Giddy?
Yes, I was positively giddy.
My fingers flew across the keyboard of my phone on their own accord, as if they were determined to spill my innermost thoughts without my brain having a say in the matter.
And it didn’t.
My heart was taking over.
My heart was taking over, and I was powerless to stop it.
Jude who?
Jude
After a shitty night’s sleep, if you could even call it that, I groaned and rolled over in bed. My forearm covered my face as the sunlight streamed through the curtains, like a blinding beacon beckoning me to get my ass out of bed.
“Fuck me,” I exhaled, pulling myself to sitting. I scrubbed my hands over my face and looked around the room. My gaze landed on the picture tucked under the side of my mirror. It was of Haven and me.
Her makeup was smudged and I had a shit-eating grin. We were lying in her bed. She looked happy.
I did that. I made her happy.
I slammed my fists into the bed on either side of me. “Goddamn it!”
I pushed up and strode across the room to my bureau. I plucked the picture from its hiding place and examined it closer.
“You love me, damn it,” I said to her adoring face. “I’m not going to give you up without a fight.” My teeth clenched as the picture crinkled in my too tight grip. I slammed it down and opened the top drawer. I needed to find her. Explain myself, fight for her. Prove I was the one for her, not that pathetic excuse for a cowboy.
I yelled out the open door down the hall, “Boys, wanna go to Mima’s?” I heard scurrying followed by a thump.
“Yeah!” They yelled in unison.
“Okay,” I called back while searching for my shorts. “Get dressed. We are leaving in ten!”
Their excited yelps and feet banging on the floor hit me as they hurried to be ready for Mima’s house.
I pulled a shirt over
my own head and beelined for the bathroom to wash up. I splashed water on my face and slathered some paste on my toothbrush. Quickly cleaning up, I waited for the boys to brush their own teeth.
I looked at the man staring back at me, a new fire in my eyes that hadn’t been there the day before. “I’m gonna fucking do this.” I swiftly finished up and headed downstairs, two rowdy boys in tow.
“Dad!” Jaxson yelled from behind me. “Breakfast?”
“Fu— Umm… pop tarts, quickly,” I called over my shoulder. Sugary breakfast snacks weren’t an amazing thing to be feeding them, but it would suffice. There were other things that ranked higher than maximum nutrition on a weekend.
“Time to get the girl back.” I smiled to myself, jumping into my truck and starting it up. Both the boys ran out of the house slamming the front door behind them before climbing in and putting on their seatbelts.
“Let’s go.” I turned up the radio and whistled along to the song playing from the speakers. My mood had changed exponentially since last night. I knew I belonged with her. We were Haven and Jude; it was her fairy tale and my happy ending.
The fifteen-minute drive to Haven’s mothers place felt like no time at all, and as per usual the boys were clambering out of the car before the ignition was even off.
“My babies!” I heard Ma’s voice before I was even in the house. “Jude, my boy.” Ma met me at the kitchen table and pinched my cheek affectionately, like she always had. “How are you doing, honey?” Her eyes bore into mine, reading all my little secrets, the way only she could.
“I’m better now. Much better. Listen, I have an errand to run. Would it be too much trouble to leave the boys with you for a bit?” I didn’t want to spill my plans, but I needed the boys to be somewhere with somebody I trusted. I had a lot of apologizing and making up to do after all, and none of that was conducive to having children around.
“Of course not, sweetheart. In fact, they’ll stay the night and keep me company. We’ve got a lot of baking to do today.” With a pat on the shoulder, she began to shoo me out of the kitchen. “Go on. We’ll be fine. I’ll see you later tomorrow afternoon.”