Stricken Trust (Stricken Rock)

by Logsdon, S. K.

  “That was fast,” he comments.

  I shrug, my nose bunching. “Yep, now let’s go get our food on.”

  Tucking my arm into his, we exit the cabin to go to the store.

  Chapter Three

  “What movie do you want to watch?” I call to James. He’s standing in the rustic cabin kitchen. It maybe rustic, but it looks like it cost eighty grand. It’s that nice. Dark granite countertops, worn cabinets, dish washer, stainless steel built in fridge, counter top range and double wall oven. And it comes fully stocked with pots and pans. All you’d ever need to live. The island has big wooden stools with no backs and there’s eight of them. This place can sleep, I think twenty between all the bedrooms and couches. Although I think it’s perfect at about eight to ten guests.

  “I don’t care, whatever you want,” he calls from the kitchen.

  “Don’t play that with me mister,” I tease, watching him eat a snickers bar, leaning against the kitchen cupboards. I think we should own stock in Snickers bars. He loves them that much. At home we have drawer full of candy, mostly Snickers and my Mexican, chili mango suckers.

  “I’m going to go upstairs and change, Em, you decide whatever you want. I’ll be back down in a bit,” he says, feeding the last bite into his mouth. He’s a mix between barbarian and gentleman when he eats. It’s cute.

  Stacy is all barbarian with no manners. I think Stacy views napkins and silverware as a luxury when he eats. His hands are his most used utensil, even eating salad. He picks out the good stuff and then he uses a fork with the lettuce. He’s a weirdo. I wonder if that drives Kyle nuts as much as it does me.

  I wave him off and he goes up stairs to I assume throw on his pj’s.

  I pull out my cell and realize I haven’t spoken to my girlfriend is nearly two days. Reception here is dodgy. I only hope the texts can come and go. And I should just forget about trying to actually call out on the phone. The mountains are beautiful and serene but a bitch to get one service bar in. Internet works great though. Thankfully I brought my nook and laptop.

  Me- Hey Claire just thought I’d let you know we got into Colorado okay. Hope you’re going well. Kicking butt and taking names. Xoxoxoxo.

  I drop my phone back down on the side table in the living room. This room is to die for. Two big dark brown leather couches, a rustic rectangular coffee table and matching end tables. There’s a huge rug that finishes the sitting space, its hunter green and cream. The side lamps are thick iron with big green shades. A giant plasma TV is above the mantle on the floor to ceiling corner stone fireplace. That’s gas burning, not real wood. The ceilings in the living room or what I’d call a great room are two story, all the way up with giant windows to let all the beautiful light in. I love this place. At night, I bet the stars up here are magnificent. All the flooring on the main level is hardwood and polished to a meticulous buttery sheen. Upstairs, it’s carpeted — but it’s the expensive kind with a tight weave. Nothing in this cabin is substandard. From the bronze faucets in the bathrooms to the All-Clad pots and pans in the kitchen, it all screams luxury.

  I wish I had this kind of money to decorate with, like they put into this log cabin. I have gotten a raise working for Stricken. I think it has something to do with the fact that I refuse to take money directly from Johnathan. I’ll accept James but I won’t take cash. So my pay somehow magically rose. And I’m not talking the typical fifty cent an hour. I get salary anyhow. But I went from 30k a year to 45k overnight. Still not the 60k I was making in New York. But I have no house payment or car payment. So I’m not doing too bad for myself.

  Oh, shit. I need to pee and I should probably get out of this dress. The shopping earlier today went well. No one noticed me. Which was a first in weeks. We stocked up on food enough to last a while and after a five minute argument James let me actually push the damn cart. He wants to do everything for me. I realize I’m his job. But I am capable of pushing a cart on my own for Christ sake. I made us dinner when we got back, some roasted chicken and wild rice. Nothing fancy. Now it’s evening time, I’m ready for some relaxation and a movie. Plus, the stars should be shinning bright in about an hour.

  I get off the couch and pad my way up the stairs. Waddling like a duck. Damn, I’m fat.

  I reach out and turn the nob to our bedroom. I’ve given James enough time he should be dressed by now. So I push the door open.

  Holy shit! What the fuck!?

  “Oh my god, Emily! Don’t look. Close your eyes right now!” he screams and covers himself protectively with his hands.

  “Jame…,” I clear my throat loudly. “James. What happened?” I ask, my eyes as big as saucers. My hands are seriously shaking.

  “Go back down stairs Emily and forget you saw anything. Please, I’m begging you.” His normal warmth and sweetness is gone. In its place is the highest level of anxiety.

  “No, I’m not going back downstairs until you tell me what happened. Now.” I blurt, unable to stop staring.

  I am not leaving this damn bedroom until he comes clean. I can’t believe I didn’t know this before. How could I have not known? Oh, that’s right he doesn’t talk to me about it. Son of a bitch. I instantly feel deep gut wrenching sorrow for him and I want to hold him. My poor poor Teddy Bear.

  “Emily, please. I can’t do this. Don’t look,” he begs, literally.

  I close my eyes. Even though it’s nearly impossible.

  “James, you need to talk to me. Get dressed and we are going to talk now,” I demand with a gentle loving tone. At least I pray it comes out that way. I’m freaking on the inside.

  “I can’t do…” he chokes back an obvious tear. “I can’t talk about this, Emily. I can’t.”

  He’s about to break into full on crying. I’ve known James for over four months and I’ve never heard him cry. I don’t know what to do. I can’t have my other best friend crying. He doesn’t need to feel this way. Damn-it! What do I do? My hands won’t stop trembling. I need to touch him. I need to make him feel better. I want to comfort him. He’s my best friend.

  “James?” My eyes are closed. I can feel his presence, his breathing is coming loud and fast.

  “Yes?” He sobs.

  Oh, shit. He’s crying. Fuck this, I’m going to him.

  I take a step forward with my eyes closed. It’s all open floor space between us.

  “Please go down stairs Emily. Go. Don’t come any closer.” He pleads, his voice hoarse.

  I take another step. Oh damn, doing this walking without using your eyes is not good. But I don’t want to open them. I want to respect him that much. I take another step and reach out for him. I can feel his warmth. He’s close and breathing erratically. God, he’s almost hyperventilating.

  “James, let me hold you please,” I delicately push with a soft soothing tone.

  “No, I can’t. If you leave I can get dressed. I’m not removing my hands until you leave.” He cries. I know he’s trying to be strong but he doesn’t have to be that way with me. I’m here for him just as much as he is for me. Ok, maybe not as much. But I can be.

  “James, I promise to look up at the ceiling. I won’t look down. I’m opening my eyes.”

  I open them with my head tipped toward the ceiling. I slowly tilt my head down so I can see him. He’s close. His eyes are red and the sadness on his face is heart wrenching. I take a step and he takes one back. Fine, I can’t be slow about this.

  I run at him fast and wrap my arms around his neck. Pulling this beautiful man to me. My belly pressed against him. He’s naked, still covering himself.

  I pull back slightly and grasp his face in my hands. I swipe away the tears. I want to kiss them away but that would be too intimate.

  “Look at me,” I whisper, holding his strong stubbly jaw in my small hands.

  He listens and his green brown eyes bore into mine with all the pain and anguish he’s experiencing right now. I nearly wince at the horror his face is projecting.

  “Beautiful man, I am here f
or you. We need to talk. I know you don’t want to. But I promise I’m here for you. Just like you are for me. I love you very much and there is nothing that I will not hold your hand through. Do you understand?” I say to him in the most loving tone I can manifest.

  He nods, frowning deeply.

  “You stay here and I will get you some boxers and we are going to lay on our bed and talk this through okay?”

  He nods again.

  Oh, my poor James, you’re breaking me apart.

  I lean up on my tip toes and kiss both of his cheeks as softly and delicately as I can. I hear him sigh. Then I let him go and head to the dresser by the door and slide it open to find his plain colored boxer briefs perfectly folded next to his socks. I grab a pair of blue Polo brand ones out. I tilt my view back up to the ceiling and find my way back to him. He takes the boxers and I close my eyes, giving him the privacy he needs to cover-up. I hear the snap of his waist band and I know he’s finished.

  As I open my eyes and he’s already throwing back the bed covers.

  Our room reminds me somewhat of our bedroom back home except it’s bigger, the ceilings are vaulted in logs. The bed is the same, as are the end tables. There’s a similar rug. But there’s a door off our bedroom here that opens out onto a small balcony and we have a gas fireplace that’s encased in beautiful round stones. Plus, this room has a TV. Ours back home doesn’t.

  “I’ll climb in bed, in a sec. I’m going to take off this dress. Do you need me to get you anything while I’m up?” I ask him. He’s lying on his side of the bed waiting for me. His face has lost all color. His eyes are sad and mopey. This isn’t going to be a good night. Although I’m glad I will finally get some answers.

  “No, just come to bed. I’ll be fine.” He mopes. Boy, oh boy, do I hate this.

  I flip open my bag and grab a maternity tank top out. I hate pregnancy night gowns so I’ve been sticking to tanks and panties only. James hates it. I mean hates it with a passion. I don’t know why. Maybe my pregnant body is a turnoff. But he barely looks at me unless I have a full set of clothes on.

  I turn away from him and slide off my dress. It doesn’t matter if I get naked in front of him or not. He’s not going to watch. He’s the last person to do that. I unclasp my bra. Damn-it, my nipples are so sore. And I tug on a pink maternity tank. It hits me nearly to the bottom of my belly. It did fit perfectly three weeks ago when I bought it. Now it’s getting a little small. Oh well.

  Making my way back to bed I slide in next to him. He’s facing me but he won’t look at me. I pull up the covers over my body so he doesn’t have to see me so exposed. He still doesn’t shift his blank gaze. Shit, that usually works.

  “James? We need to talk about this,” I softly mutter.

  “I don’t want to talk to you about this,” he blurts harshly.

  “Why won’t you look at me?”

  “Because I’m ashamed you saw it.”

  “You’re ashamed? That’s ridiculous. There’s nothing to be ashamed about.”

  He scoffs under his breath. “Yes, there is. You got a glimpse of it. It’s not pretty.”

  “It’s not ugly either,” I remind him. I know what I saw and it’s not ugly. I don’t know what the hell he’s even talking about. Surprising? Yes. But not ugly.

  “You don’t know what ugly is then,” he barks, from sad to angry. This isn’t good. He’s rarely angry with me.

  “Listen, I know you’re mad at me….”

  He cuts me off. “I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at myself. I shouldn’t have ever offered to let you move in with me, Emily. I shouldn’t have shared a bed with you or became friends with you. I should have done my normal job and kept my distance. I should have known this was going to come out. Fuck! I really wish we’d never met,” he says solemnly, throwing his arm forcefully over his face.

  I rear my head back. That was a total slap in my face. He wishes he never met me? Oh god. I must be that horrible. Oh, shit. Not now. The tears are stinging my eyes. My James, my Teddy Bear, doesn’t want me in his life. I swallow hard. I can’t cry. Oh fuck. I gotta get out of here. I have to leave this bedroom. If he doesn’t care for me, I’ve got to go. Shit!

  I fling back the covers and dash out of bed. I hit the door, throw it open and run down the tan carpeted hall.

  “Emily!” I hear him yell from the bedroom.

  He better not come for me. I don’t want to see him. I think my heart just broke into a million little pieces in that bedroom. James just killed me inside. First Johnathan and now him. The one man I trust and love who has never hurt me. Just stabbed me in the heart and left me to bleed to death. I run down the hall. I find the bedroom furthest away. I fling the floor open, slam it shut behind me and lock it. Throwing my body against the back of it and sliding down to the floor in anguish. Sobbing into my hands. My knees bent, pulled close to my chest. Damn-it! Why me? Why can’t people love me? Why? Am I that horrible? I should have known all this time he teased me about not wearing any clothes was because he thinks I’m ugly. He said I was beautiful a few times but maybe he was just being nice.

  I need to call Stacy and I need to go home. I can’t stay here with him another two weeks. That would be torture. God forbid the woman he wishes he never met he has to be around another five minutes. How could he feel that way? We’ve spent two months in each other’s arms as a family.

  Knock, knock.

  “Emily. I’m sorry, please open up,” James calls from the other side of the door.

  I’m not talking to him. I’m not doing this. He can go away. I’m the one dying over here. Emotional, fat and pregnant. At least I’m not horny right now. That’s a plus. The tears are flowing down my cheeks. I pull my hands up and wipe them off. And then cradle my tummy. Oh, my babies. That’s alright, at least I have you. My beautiful son and daughter.

  I rub them sweetly.

  Fuck! My chest hurts badly. I massage the spot where my heart lies broken in my chest. It’s been mending for months thanks to Johnathan but it was slowly getting better. Now it’s worse than when it started.

  “Emily, please. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things.”

  Knock, knock. He taps on the door again.

  “Emily. I’m sorry. I will tell you. I will tell you everything. Just forgive me. I shouldn’t have blown up. Your Teddy Bear wants to hold you and tell you the whole story. All of it. Just come out and let me hold you. Bab….” He coughs, clearing his throat. “Emily.”

  “You broke my heart, James. I don’t want to talk to you. Please go away. I’m sorry I asked. I shouldn’t have. You’re right. We shouldn’t have moved in together. My heart hurts more now than it did when Johnathan fucked with that hussy in the plane. Just leave me alone. I want to go home. Just slide my phone under the door so I can text someone to get me a ticket to go home. Please,” I increasingly sob. Leaving some of my words scarcely comprehensive.

  “I’m sorry…And you are home. I am your home Emily, so is Stacy. We are your home. Just like you are ours. Please talk with me. I didn’t mean to break your heart. I was being a jerk. I don’t talk to people about what happened. I haven’t discussed it with anyone since it happened ten years ago. If you don’t come out, I’m going to tell you through the door.” His words carry full weighted honesty and lovingness with them.

  “I don’t care anymore. You’re only doing it so the fat pregnant lady doesn’t cry and stress too much.”

  “You do too care. You care about everyone and everything. You care about more people than anyone else I know. And no I’m doing it because you’re my family and I should probably tell someone other than five different counselors what happened to me. And you’re the closest family I’ve got. Now please open up the door so I can cuddle with you and tell you all about it,” He says sweetly. I love it when he talks like himself. It’s deep and beautiful.

  Chapter Four

  I pull my fat butt off the floor, flip the lock and slowly open the door.

  He pushes th
rough the doorway and wraps his arms reassuringly around me. Pulling me hard against my favorite place. His sultry bare chest. I press my nose to his peck and inhale him. He smells like my Teddy Bear, cedar, mint and shaving cream. Every day it’s a little different but always the same. If that makes any sense. He buries his face in my hair, repeatedly kissing the top of my head.

  “I’m sorry Em, I shouldn’t have been a jerk,” He apologizes adorably. How can you be mad at him that long? It’s hard when he’s this nice and smells this good. It has to do with the soothing nature of him. He’s like an all-natural Xanax. I wrap my arms up under his and cup his shoulder blades. They’re thick and perfect. Just like him.

  He kisses my head again and pulls away, dropping to his knees in front of me. He lifts my tank over my belly and places his warm face to it. His hands cradling it on both sides.

  “I love you guys. I’m sorry I was mean to mommy.” He kisses them. Damn-it. I knew this would happen. It always does. My juices are flowing again. My greedy bitch of a pussy is hungry. James inhales. Yep, I know you smell me James. You’re a freak like Johnathan and you both can smell my scent. It’s terribly embarrassing but I’ve gotten used to it with James. He sleeps in bed with me and I’m sure he smells my sweetness nearly 24/7. It’s probably nauseating.

  He kisses them again, tugs my shirt back down and then stands back up.

  “My pregnant lady cannot be walking,” he says.

  Oh, no! Not this again. I back up and he gives me that naughty James eye. I know this eye. He does this to me all the time and knows I hate it, well, sort of. It’s kind of cute too.

  “I can walk James.” I back away slowly. He eyes me like I’m his prey. Shit. He’s going to win.

  “I don’t think I’d be doing my job if my pregnant lady was allowed to walk back to our bedroom.”