Gavin (Made From Stone Book 2)

by T. Saint John

  Gavin is sitting at the bar with his face all crumpled up, I can tell his mind has been working in overdrive trying to figure me out and I have to admit, I find it at least mildly entertaining. He reminds me of a sculptor, studying and studying his subject before he begins to recreate them; and even though he knows nothing about me, I feel so exposed as I stand here. I fold my arms kind of hugging myself, but I let him stare. I am who I am and he deserves to be able to study the person he’s helping.

  Letting him draw his own conclusions is better than me coming out and telling him anything. I might be ready to ask for help, but I will never be ready to let anyone see what’s going on behind closed doors. I hug myself a little tighter and turn away when I realize I’ve been holding my breath.

  I can't help but fight back tears at the thought that for the first time in years, I feel hopeful. Not once in my marriage did I fight back, so I’m not quite sure I have the instincts to react to a threat anymore. I’ve built up a ‘stand there and take it’ mentality over time, which became tragically obvious the exact second Gavin took that stick out of my hand in the shed.

  “When would you like to start?” Gavin says, breaking the silence.

  “I uh, I don't want to put you out. You can just let me know what a good time would be for you.”

  He lets out a little chuckle before looking at me and letting out an exhausted sigh which, once again, has me confused at his reaction. Is it annoyance? Exasperation? I feel the need to apologize but before I can utter a word of it, he begins to speak. “Nicola, can I give you a piece of advice?”

  “Sure, I guess.” I turn back around to face him.

  “I can teach you every trick in the book, but it won't help anything if you don't believe in yourself.”

  “What do you mean?” I know what he means but I want to know what Gavin thinks about me.

  “I mean the constant apologizing, the stuttering over words, I hate to say it, but it screams weak. And Nicola, you are not weak.” He finishes what he’s saying and sits back, crossing his arms over his chest.

  It feels as if he'd slapped me, but it’s not necessarily his fault. I think about the image I put off, this meek little battered woman, and it turns my stomach although it’s exactly who I am. Which is exactly why I'm so confused by his words. He doesn't view me as weak? As if sensing my mental anguish, he offers up the piece of information I so desperately need. “You aren't weak Nicola. You were willing to fight with me in the shed. You didn't run from the threat or the chance that I had a gun. You stood there, waiting and willing to fight...”

  I hang my head and stop listening as he continues to try to build me up; he has it all wrong. Sure, I was ready to fight a raccoon, but I knew better than to fight back when I saw that he wasn’t. I just stood there and let him take my only piece of defense away. If he’d wanted to harm or kill me, he could've and what would've happened to Allison? With her on my mind, I interrupt Gavin with a new sense of urgency.

  “Now, Gavin? Can you show me right now?” I cut him off. Jesus, he was still speaking. Maybe I should’ve listened a little better.

  Gavin

  I had an almost certain feeling that I was missing something big with Nicola, but she just confirmed it. I know she isn't the type to spill her problems, she’s made that abundantly clear, but I have to ask.

  “Hey! Before we start, can I ask you something?” Keeping her eyes directed towards the floor, I could swear she just shook her head ‘no.’ I continue anyways with nothing to lose, “Just tell me if someone is bothering you?”

  Again, she shakes her head but she offers up an answer this time, “Not anymore.”

  That's a start, it's not what I wanted, but it's something. I decide it's best to lighten the mood with my next question: “Alright, before we start, I need to know if you have any hard limits.”

  “Hard limits?” she asks, eyes widening.

  “Well if I'm teaching you self-defense we’ll have to play the parts of assailant and victim. And that means I’ll be grabbing you, putting my hands on you. I need to know what’s comfortable and what’s not.”

  “I hadn't thought of that. But I’ll be ok. Just don't come at me fast... and walk! Please walk, and just talk me through what’s happening. Oh, and don't catch me off guard…. Please.” She pleads with me and I do my best not to roll my eyes at how unproductive this is gonna be if she isn’t willing to play along. But I bite my tongue for the time being, one layer at a time, right?

  “Ok, what about concerns. What is that little voice inside your head saying? Are you afraid to fight back? Are you just not prepared to fight back? Why did you ask for help?”

  She eyes me for a few seconds and just as I think she’s about to shut down again she actually begins to speak, “Well, obviously I'm not fit,” she says as she gestures to the extra pooch sitting around her waistline and hips. “I like pie and I hate to run,” she continues and I can't help but laugh at her explanation. But just as I laugh, her face crumples up and I realize she’s being completely serious.

  “I'm sorry.” I say as I clear my throat in an impish attempt to stifle my laughter.

  “What's so funny?” she demands with hands positioned on her hips.

  It takes a couple seconds to further compose myself and I speak slowly, “Nothing Nicola, I like pie too. I think everyone likes pie.”

  She lets out a small uneasy giggle and replies, “But you must like to run.” She gestures to my body this time in an effort to show the contrast between her love for pie and my love for pie.

  This is a seemingly playful gesture, but it ticks me off, “There’s nothing wrong with loving pie, and you're a woman with curves. There is nothing wrong with that either.” I take a moment to admire her: her curvaceous hips, her unnerving smile, and her beautiful legs. I'm not trying to hit on her, but she needs to realize that she has nothing to be ashamed of. She’s a gorgeous woman, and as I finish looking her over I wink, just to remind her of who she is.

  Surprisingly she makes a small joke, “Well I'm probably ten years older than you so you still have a little time on your side,” to my surprise, she winks back at me.

  “How old are you?” I question. She doesn't look ten years older than me by any means.

  “I'll be thirty six in February.”

  “Not quite ten years older, I'll be thirty in October.”

  She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, “Alright, are you ready?”

  “Yeah, I'm ready. The first thing you need to know is that most attackers grab their victims from behind, and most of the time the victims won't even know they’re there before they attack. You have seconds to respond or you could be knocked out, drugged, killed, any number of things. You won’t have the time to think so, everything you do needs to come from instinct and muscle memory. Now, turn around.”

  She turns around hesitantly but keeps looking over her shoulder to see where I am. I know she still doesn’t trust me but she’s going to have to if this is gonna stick.

  “I'm going to place one arm around your waist and one around your mouth. I'll do it loosely until you've learned to get out of a hold.”

  When she doesn't say anything, I walk up behind her and do exactly what I said I would do. My left hand is placed on her soft stomach and my right I place lightly over her mouth. I pull my body flush with hers and instinctively my cock hardens trying to find a way inside her, but I take in a breathe of her scent as I whisper in her ear which is inches from my face, “What are you going to do now, Nicola?”

  Chapter 8

  Nicola

  This is all wrong; I certainly don’t feel like the victim I’m playing right now. He caught me off guard when he put his arm around my stomach, and then whispered in my ear. His breath caresses over my shoulder, sending chills from my spine all the way down to my knees. It feels sinfully good to have his body pressed to mine. My heart is racing and I feel my face heat up. I hope he thinks it’s just the adrenaline from the role-play.

 
“What are you going to do, Nicola?” He repeats himself to me, and for the first time in a long time, I’m not embarrassed or scared, no, this is something new.

  Desire! How is this happening? My heart is going to explode in my chest.

  He can probably smell the lust rolling off me, I try to clear my mind and get back into the role- playing but I’m at a loss, “I don't know.”

  He tightens his grip and pulls me closer, “Nicola, you have instincts. What is your body telling you to do?”

  Since I don't think saying ‘to kiss you’ is the answer he’s hoping for, I reply, “I don't know, step on your foot?”

  “Ok, so do it,” he encourages me and I lightly tap his foot to mimic stomping on it. I can hear a small chuckle and he says to me, “Really Nicola? That's all you’ve got?”

  I can't help but giggle a little myself, “Well you aren't my attacker so….”

  He cuts me off and demands, “Stomp on my foot.”

  I want to argue that it will hurt him, but I don't. I just raise my foot and stomp once as hard as I can.

  “Motherfucker!” He mutters under his breath and I quickly turn around to apologize.

  “I'm sorry! I told you I didn't want to.”

  He lets go of me and sits down. The urge to say I'm sorry again is strong, but he doesn't let me. He smiles and says, “Okay, you have the foot stomping down. Remind me to wear a cup when it's time for you to kick me in the nuts,” he jokes.

  And with that small joke, any reservation I had with Gavin is gone, and I’m thankful he didn't try to make me feel guilty. Even though I'm too old and too fat to be romantic with him in any way, I do think he will be a great friend.

  “Don’t worry Gavin, I wouldn't ruin your baby maker.”

  I can tell I've struck a nerve by the way he scowls at the word ‘baby.’

  “Maybe that wouldn't be a bad thing,” Gavin says.

  “You don't want kids?” I ask before I can stop myself.

  Gavin

  Shit! What do I say now? I couldn’t get her to talk and now that she is, she’s asking me something I can’t even answer. Her eyes are glued to mine and I don’t know what to say. I mean, why is she wondering? Does she want kids? I could certainly help her out if she does. No! I remind myself quickly of all the reasons I won't be bringing kids into this world. Maybe she is just making conversation? For whatever reason, I don't want my answer to disappoint her.

  “I'm sorry. Is that too personal?” she asks nervously.

  “No, not too personal, but that's a sixth date kind of question if you ask me,” I reply, hoping she’ll take the joke well.

  “Right, I’m so sorry!” she replies, embarrassed and red in the cheeks. No matter what I do or how I respond, she isn’t receptive, almost as if she can’t help but shut down and in turn, she shuts me out. It’s frustrating to say the least.

  “How about I get some ice for your foot?” She starts to walk to the kitchen, but I don’t want to let her out of my sight. It feels like any progress we were making would fade away.

  “No. I’m fine.” I say even though I could use some ice. Then I start to imagine her trying to take care of me, touching me. I clear my throat to get myself back to reality.

  I don’t know what makes me ask the next question, but I can’t help myself it seems, “Why do you apologize all the time? It’s very…”

  “That’s a third date kind of question,” she cuts me off with a smirk.

  Her quickness catches me off guard and my head cocks back in laughter before I begin to talk again, “Well maybe we should have the first date then, and start getting to the bottom of all these questions.”

  Her jaw drops and her eyes dance around the room for a few seconds before finally landing on mine again. I don’t make a move, but my eyes make a sweep of her body to remind her of the conversation we had earlier. Her jeans are tight in all the right places and the way that fabric outlines her ass has my hands screaming to touch it. She dressed plainly, modestly, most of the time in just jeans and a grey t-shirt, but that doesn’t keep me from imagining.

  She clears her throat and replies, “Trust me, I’m not your type.”

  Out of pure curiosity, I ask, “How would you know what my type is?”

  She shrugs her shoulders and shakes her head ‘no,’ so I push for more information. “Come on, you know my type, right? So tell me what it is.”

  “I didn’t mean to imply, I just meant that I wouldn’t be your type.”

  “And why’s that?”

  “I’m older, not a Barbie, and you’re well… you’re basically a Greek God, you’re perfect. You could have any woman you want.” She turns a new shade of crimson as she explains.

  “Alright, so first of all: you’re six years older, that doesn’t make you old. Second of all, physical perfection is boring, and third of all, I can’t have any woman I want. Jean shot me down the first day I met her.” I’m hoping to cut the tension she’s creating in the room with humor and, thankfully, it works.

  Nicola covers her mouth, bursting into laughter and it’s infectious. I laugh too, remembering when Jean put me in my place that first day.

  After a couple moments the laughter between us dies down and she says, “True. Jean and Ed are precious.”

  I’m not letting her change the conversation that easily, “So, what about that first date?”

  “Gavin, can I say no for right now?”

  “For right now? As in there’s a chance someday there will be a yes?”

  She smiles with a new confidence that lights up this dim bar, “Someday, maybe.”

  “Ok. No for right now then,” I stand up about to leave, feeling like there’s more to be said but for tonight I’ll leave it with an easy question, “should we work on some more self defense tomorrow night?”

  “Sounds good, and thanks again! I hope you're not limping tomorrow.” She laughs sweetly but there’s a genuine trace of concern in her eyes.

  I nod my head and give her a wink as I walk out the door. I’m hit with a burst of cold air when I step outside and I breathe in deeply. I'm fighting a sudden urge to go back inside and smell her one last time, just so that I’m able to remember until tomorrow. I get to my car and sit down in the worn out seat with a smile on my face; it felt nice to help. Even though I’m still not positive why she had asked for the help, I’m actually glad we had a chance to start breaking the ice. What do you know; maybe ‘Pre-gunshot Gavin’ is still in there somewhere.

  Chapter 9

  Nicola

  After I got home, I picked up Allison and tucked her into bed. I’d planned to shower and head straight to bed myself. But instead, I’ve ended up standing here in Allison’s doorway watching her sleep with a million thoughts going through my head.

  Hope is a feeling that was lost on me after years of abuse. Yet, somehow, tonight, I am hopeful. Something happened; I felt a shift. Gavin made me realize that the old me was in there somewhere. Not just the girl who fears everything, but also a woman who has missed laughing. I'll watch over my shoulder until I see Jason again, that’s inevitable. But I have a new sense of want, a want to live the life I dreamt of as a young girl.

  I've resolved to find Allison and I our own happily ever after. I don't know what that means right now, but it means something. Maybe it's enjoying time on the lake, or maybe it’s finding confidence and standing up for myself once and for all. And maybe just maybe, I can start dating. Allison will grow up before I know it, and who will I have? I know I have to take care of me, too, but it still feels selfish when she’s missing a father.

  Even though Gavin asked me out, he’s out of the question. For one, he’s totally out of my league and I'm not trying to put myself down-- I'm just being honest. Aside from that, I have a kid to think about. Any man I bring into my life will have to be a part of her life too and I know it’s shallow, but whoever that man is-- he’ll have a decent job. I’m not saying that I’ll only be with a man if he’s a Wall Street Banker, but I don’t
think he can be a bouncer at the VFW.

  I can take care of Allison and myself, just not me, Allison, and a man who's satisfied in a dead end job. I’d thought about telling him that I had a kid, but I couldn't bring myself to do it quite yet. Not because I’m ashamed of her, she’s the best thing I’ve done in this life, but I am ashamed of her father. And that’s the inevitable question that will follow me telling Gavin about Allison.

  I guess all I can do for now is take it one day at a time. One smile at a time, one answered question at a time, and most importantly one foot in front of the other.

  Gavin

  Lying in bed, my eyes are fixed on the ceiling fan above. It’s not moving and it’s obviously uninteresting, but I still can't close my eyes. When I do, I re-play how it felt to be pressed against Nicola and how fresh and sweet she smelled, even after working in that cloud of smoke all night. I can’t remember her exact scent, but it reminded me of spring.

  I’m anxious at the thought of touching her again; even just hearing her voice might make it easier for me to fall asleep tonight. She’s the first woman in the world to annoy the shit out of me, but at the same time, I can’t get enough of her.

  No one has ever made me feel both intrigued and annoyed at the same time. I didn't even know that was possible, but these feelings that she is stirring inside of me can't be ignored. All I know is my need to know her is rising and I need a plan for our first date, because it's tomorrow. She doesn't know it yet, but it's happening.

  My phone starts ringing and it pulls me from my first real moment of excitement in a long time. It's my brother Eli and I don't feel like answering, but I know he will just call gramps and wake him and make him come get me if I don’t answer.

  “Yeah.” I reluctantly answer.

  “Bad day?” he responds hearing the irritation in my voice. It makes me feel guilty because he has done nothing wrong.

  “Nah, was just about to go to sleep,” I reply and continue, “I'm tired that's all. What's up?”