It’s not nearly late enough to go to sleep, but that’s what this little pill is for—to end this day, to suspend my suffering, if only for a little while. Halloween is known for ghosts and demons, and mine definitely plan on haunting me tonight. So this is my defense.
I throw the pill in my mouth and take a swig of water, my version of a big fuck you to my demons. I know it works fast—I should be out in twenty minutes or less—so I begin my nightly routine. It’s the same every night and has been for years. Opening up my dresser drawer, I reach inside.
*
ANNALYSE
If I didn’t know better, I’d think Meg had a little too much happy juice, but this is just who she is. She’s in her element. Ever notice that at parties, there are the party girls in the center of the dance floor with everyone’s attention? And then there are the wallflowers, like me. I guarantee, while completely different, both girls are trying to hide themselves. Meg’s way is just a little more socially acceptable.
Everyone loves her, and I don’t think there is a single person she doesn’t talk to. But I don’t think I talk to a single person other than to say hello after Meg introduces me. Mostly because I am too busy trying to keep my dress from sliding any further up my ass.
“Hey, Doug,” Meg says in her she’s up to something voice. And as soon as I look up, I know why. This must be the guy she was telling me about earlier. Meg has excellent taste in men, always has. He looks like he should be in a Polo ad—blond hair, blue eyes, tall, broad shoulders—the whole package, really. But he’s too pretty for me. I mean, he looks like he’s never seen a day of sadness or loneliness in his life. No way will he understand me. “Doug, this is my sister, Annalyse.”
So now I’m Annalyse. I give my polite, public smile as his eyes roll up and down my body. “Nice to meet you,” he says and even his voice is so perfect, it sounds like he’s been auto-tuned.
“Doug’s family built most of the houses in the complex,” Meg says so merrily I’m expecting a wink-wink and an elbow nudge. I know what she’s trying to tell me. He’s got money, is around, and can take care of me. None of that is important to me. Another perfectly polite smile coming right up.
“Guess I’ll be out of work soon,” Doug says. “Since all the lots are sold now.”
“What about across the lake?” I ask.
“Those won’t ever be developed,” he says. “Who wants to look out across the lake and see other houses?”
“It’s a nice place to hike,” Meg says.
“I could show you sometime,” Doug says, piggybacking on Meg. Did they plan this out? Seems like something Meg would do. “There’s a trail that goes all the way around, about two miles or so.”
“Um . . .” I hesitate, but Meg is smiling, and her eyes are huge. This is a bigger deal for her than it is for me. She wants me to join the land of the living again, which would include men. What’s the harm? It’s just a walk. No big deal. I can handle a walk. “Sure, why not?”
Meg gets pulled to the makeshift dance floor by a group of women. She tries to pull me with her, but I’m not a dancer. Besides, it’s her last night of fun with her friends; she doesn’t need to babysit me. So I sip my cocktail and wait for Doug to excuse himself. Thankfully, he’s not the type of guy to come on too strong or be clingy, and he makes his way back over to the bar.
And thank goodness, because it’s getting colder out. My nurse costume isn’t doing a dang thing to keep me warm, and by this point, everyone at the party has seen my erect nipples poking through the flimsy material. So the first chance I get, I slip out of the party.
Meg’s house is visible from here. It really is a great little neighborhood. No one has fences, so the houses around the lake look like they share one big backyard, although each one has their own private dock to fish off of. Meg’s has two Adirondack chairs on it, one bright pink and one blue. And each house seems to have a great back patio attached to the house, some with fire pits or outside fireplaces, others with flat screen televisions, outdoor kitchens and lounge furniture. It’s peaceful and exactly what I need.
A cold wind blows again, and my entire body shivers as I walk back towards her house, wrapping my arms around myself and trying to stay warm. The white heels of my slutty costume keep getting stuck in the damp grass, making it harder and harder to trudge through. I could walk up to the road, but I’m only a few houses away, so I head up closer to the houses, hoping the ground won’t be as wet there. The heel of one shoe sinks deep into the ground. “Crap.”
Now I’m stuck in the mud—oh, the irony. I step out of my hooker heel, leaving it behind. It’s a cheap piece of shit anyway. I’ll get it tomorrow in the light of day. Right now, I want nothing more than to face plant into a bunch of comfy pillows, and I’m almost there—one house to go.
“Ugh,” a groan escapes the darkness.
I jump back slightly and look around. Where did that come from? I see him, standing on my sister’s dock overlooking the lake, and immediately recognize his broad shoulders and tall frame—Meg’s neighbor, Holt. He wasn’t at the party, but from the sound of it, he looks like he’s drunk off his ass. He’s not my problem, but he is my sister’s neighbor. Should I help him?
I’m not one of those stupid women in horror movies who always run towards the danger, so I take out my cell phone from my cleavage to call Meg. Hey, it was the only place to stash it in this getup.
Right about then, he starts to fall over. “Shit,” I say, rushing towards him. But he slumps over into one of my sister’s Adirondack chairs. I can’t leave him, at least not dressed as a nurse. Don’t nurses take some oath to help people? What if he stumbles into the lake and drowns? “Hello, I think . . .” He slumps over some more and groans. So I kick him with my foot, and he stirs awake. “You almost fell in the water.”
His eyes open wide, and their gray color cuts through the darkness. Meg is right—sexy as hell. He looks around, the confusion evident, then stumbles to his feet, falling forward into me. Grabbing his forearms, helping to hold him upright, his gray eyes gaze down at me. “I can’t love you,” he whispers.
“Um, alright,” I say as his head falls to my shoulder. “Can I help you?”
He lifts his head, stumbling a few steps away. “Fucking Halloween. Worst fucking day.” Then he disappears into the darkness.
“Mine, too,” I whisper, hearing him groan, and I know he is having as much trouble walking in the mud as I had. I’m not sure why, but I slip off my other shoe and call out to him. “Hey!” He isn’t far. He hasn’t even made it to the edge of the house yet. “Let me help you.”
His eyes look straight into mine. “Nothing helps.”
A real little smile pops out. I can’t help it. “But we have to keep trying, right?” He nods a little and leans his head on my shoulder. “Um . . .” This is as close as I’ve been to a man since Logan. I forgot how heavy they are, how hard their bodies are, how great they smell. “Let’s get you home.” He lifts his head and stumbles across the lawn. He doesn’t lean on me for support anymore. When we reach the stairs leading up to his patio, he groans at the sight of them. They must look like Mount Everest to him. “I’ll help you,” I say.
“I got it,” he says. I keep my arms out just in case he falls. I’m not sure why. There is no way I can catch him. He stands at least five inches over my 5’7” frame and is pure toned, solid muscle. Thankfully, he makes it to the top.
“You got your keys?” I ask.
He gives me a little shrug, falls back onto his patio sofa, and slouches over. “Here is good.”
His legs look like he is sitting, but his upper body is reclining. No way can that pretzel pose be good for him. He’s already going to wake up feeling like crap, so he doesn’t need a wrenched back to top it all off. I kneel down and lift up his feet. “There, that’s better.”
“Are you real?” he asks, smiling.
“No,” I whisper, figuring there was no way in hell he’d remember any of this. He’s too wasted. “Y
ou’re dreaming.”
“That explains the sexy nurse outfit,” he says, leaning up on his elbow. “This is a good dream.”
I feel my face blush. “So close your eyes.”
“This is my dream,” he says, sounding like a cute little boy, pouting. “You’re so beautiful.”
“You wouldn’t dream about an ugly girl, would you?”
He shrugs, saying, “She was in my real life.”
The way he says it, I know he isn’t talking about physical appearance. I know his eyes, what’s behind them. I saw it in my own mirror for a long time.
His hand reaches up and lightly plays with a strand of my hair. “You feel so real.”
I’d thought he was drunk, but he doesn’t smell of alcohol. Either way, he’s very confused. Maybe I shouldn’t have told him he was dreaming, but I don’t want awkwardness every time we see each other.
“I wish you were real,” he says, pulling me to his lips.
Pull away, Annalyse. Pull away. But I don’t. I haven’t been kissed in a long time, and I’d forgotten how incredible it feels. Then again, maybe it’s just this man. Even in his confused state, he knows what he’s doing. He doesn’t rush it. He lightly kisses my lips a few times, then just kisses my bottom lip slowly, causing my mouth to part, granting him access I’m not even sure I’m giving. Only I am—big time.
“You have to be real,” he groans. His tongue gently circles mine. His hand winds in my hair, pulling me tighter to him, his lips finding that sweet spot on my neck. Then suddenly he stops, both his hands holding my cheeks. A tear rolls down his face, then another and another. “Why can’t you be real? Why can’t I have something good?”
“Shh,” I whisper gently. “Close your eyes.”
“But this dream is better than anything in my life.”
I run my fingers down his face, closing his lids. “I’m real.”
CHAPTER THREE
HOLT
A hazy fog swirling around me, my eyes try to open, but it’s bright, too bright. Am I fucking outside? The morning sun is blinding me. That damn pill must have made me sleepwalk. It’s happened before, but the side effect is well worth it. Groaning, I struggle to my feet. Damn Ambien hangover.
I don’t usually dream on it, but judging by the tent in my pants, the dream I had last night was a good one. Why don’t I ever remember the good ones? I relive the bad ones over and over again. Fucking Halloween.
Closing my eyes, the only thing I remember is a face—blue eyes, skin so pale it almost glowed in the moonlight, and long dark hair. No matter how hard I try, I can’t remember anything else, but clearly my dick hasn’t forgotten. My morning wood is not going down at all, reminding me how long it’s been since I’ve been with a woman. And it doesn’t seem like he’s going to forget anytime soon.
Some people have their morning coffee, or their morning constitutional (that’s what my dad always called taking a shit in the morning), or if they’re lucky, they get breakfast sex. Me? I get a morning jack off. That’s just a fact of life. Sad, but true. At least I’ve got my dream girl as new beat-off material.
*
ANNALYSE
Meg to the airport on time? Check. First few doctor appointments? Check and check. Now if the damn gynecologist doesn’t hurry up, I’m going to miss my spa time. Plus, I’ve been sitting in this little paper gown they give you for over an hour. Tell me, why is it always zero degrees in the gynecologist’s office? Do they need your nipples hard or something? Chuckling at that thought, I pull out my phone to make some notes for this week’s blog post.
When did doctor’s offices become like fortresses? You’ve got to be buzzed into the back room; there’s a guard on duty at all times. And I bet the glass is even bulletproof, none of which makes going to the doctor any less anxiety-provoking.
A knock on the door is followed by a quick open. Ugh, it’s only the nurse. “Sorry about the wait. Dr. Barbara got called to an emergency delivery,” she says in the sweetest, most calming voice, like she should be the voice in one of those meditation videos you see on YouTube. But her sweet tone doesn’t change the fact she could’ve told me that an hour ago.
“I’ll just reschedule,” I say.
“You can if you want, but Dr. Miller is here and should be in any minute.”
I hate to see a new doctor. Dr. Barbara knows my history, but the idea of coming back another day isn’t appealing. I’ve already shaved, waxed, and cleaned every nook and cranny. “Okay, I’ll wait.”
“Again, I’m sorry. Dr. Miller was late getting in, and Dr. Barbara was called away. It’s been a crazy day,” she says, reaching to pull the curtain closed. I notice her hands are the size of footballs. She should be the doctor. She could catch a twelve-pound baby with no problem. “Go ahead and lie back. The doctor will be right in.”
Oh, the best part—the stirrups. Don’t you just love it when the doctor keeps telling you to scoot down until you feel like your ass is hanging off the table? I mean, do they really need to be that close to my vagina? I hear the door open, and the curtain flies back. “Sorry for the wait, Miss . . .”
“Oh, my God!” I shriek, my feet flying out of the stirrups. “It’s you!”
His eyes widen, and his head tilts. That same confused look covers his face. “Christ.”
“Dr. Miller?” the nurse says, but it sounds like she’s scolding him.
“Um, give us a minute,” he says, not taking his eyes off of me.
The nurse’s eyes dart back and forth between us. When neither one of us breaks our stare, she leaves with a huff. He steps a little closer, and I wrap my arms around my chest. What do you do when your random kiss turns out to be your new gynecologist? Oh, shoot me now.
“I was dreaming,” he says, shaking his head slightly. “You even told me I was dreaming.”
“I thought it would be easier,” I say softly. Obviously, he doesn’t remember everything that happened, or my last whisper that I’m real. “I didn’t want any awkward neighbor moments.”
His brow wrinkles. “And this is so much better?”
“I didn’t know you were . . .” I wave my hand in the air. “I was here to see Dr. Barbara, not you.”
“Wait,” he says. “You’re my neighbor?”
“I’m Meg’s sister. I’m housesitting for her the next few months.”
“That’s right,” he says, playing with the stethoscope around his neck. “Look, about last night.”
“It was nothing,” I say. “We’ve all had one too many before.”
“I wasn’t drunk. I was sleepwalking. It happens sometimes.”
“You should really see someone about that. You almost fell in the lake.”
“You saved me?” he asks, smiling a little, and it’s real. He has a nice smile, warming up his entire face and causing his eyes to get brighter. I give him a little nod. “I don’t sleepwalk often. It only happens a few times a year,” he says, and then his eyes lower, his smile fades. Then he flips open my chart. Surely he doesn’t think I want him to examine me? “Let’s see, it says here that . . .”
I rip the file from his hand, and his eyes dart back up. “I’ll come back and see Dr. Barbara. No offense, but I don’t want my neighbor knowing what my girl parts look like.”
“Saw enough of them in that little costume you had on last night,” he says, the cutest little smirk on his face.
My mouth falls open. Why does that have to be the part he remembers? “It was Halloween.”
“Don’t remind me,” he mutters.
“We agreed on that last night.”
He chews on his bottom lip a little, and I drift back to how warm his lips felt against mine. “It’s a little hazy. I don’t remember that part,” he says.
I get to my feet, holding my gown closed with one hand and my medical chart to my chest with the other. “Probably better if you don’t try to remember everything.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” he says. “And I apologize for anything I might have said
or done.”
I nod, but my heart sinks. He doesn’t remember the kiss. It’s silly, but I want him to remember it. It was my first kiss since Logan, and I know I’ll never forget it. And surprisingly, I don’t feel guilty or sad about it. Maybe I really am ready to move on.
*
So the awkward neighbor moment I was trying to avoid was shot to hell, but there is no way I am going to hide out in the house all the time. Meg’s house sits on a beautiful, manmade lake. It would be a shame not to enjoy the setting, use her kayak, maybe take a hike in the woods. I’m determined not to miss out. I’ve opted out of life for too long to do it anymore, and I’ve decided happiness is a choice.
Choose happy!
Choose life!
As soon as I step out to the patio, I freeze. Gorgeous gray-eyed doctor is sitting on the top step. “Look if you’re sleepwalking again, then . . .”
He grins just a tad. “I’m awake this time. I wanted to apologize again for last night. It won’t happen again.”
Is he talking about the sleepwalking or the kiss? “I don’t think you can really control . . .”
“I can,” he says, looking towards the water. “I was sure I dreamt the whole thing until you showed up in my office this morning.” He looks back towards me and holds up his hand. “I found this in my yard.”
My slutty nurse’s costume shoe. “You can just throw that away,” I say, walking a little closer.
He gets to his feet. Meg is right. He is a fine piece of male specimen—tall, broad shoulders, and those killer eyes. “What if Cinderella said that to the prince guy?”
“I’m not Cinderella.”
“I’m not a prince.”
We both stare at each other for a second, his eyes falling to my lips. He may not have remembered this morning, but he definitely remembers kissing me now. “I’m Annalyse Reynolds, by the way.”
“Holt Miller,” he says, turning and walking down the stairs. “Thanks again for helping me. I’ll make sure not to bother you again.”
The Reason for Me Page 2