(Once) Again

by Theresa Paolo

  I couldn’t wrap my mind around it. Katherine Singleton was in my living room. For months after I left, she played on constant rotation in my mind. She was all I thought about. All I dreamed about. Even after two years, she still popped in and out of my thoughts. How do you forget your first love? Your only love?

  Kat was the only girl who actually listened when I talked. Not because of some ulterior motive of getting me to finally settle down, but because she was interested in what I had to say. We spent so many nights in the bed of my pickup, talking about life and our futures. I didn’t need to filter my thoughts with Kat. She never judged me, and because of that we never ran out of things to say.

  After we ended things, I tried to find someone to fill the void. It was impossible to attain that connection with anyone else. With Kat, it was immediate and easy. At least I thought it was.

  “Do you want a drink?” I asked, hating the silence that stretched between us.

  “I’m supposed to be here to take care of you. Please sit and pretend I’m not here.” She pushed my shoulder, and as I fell into the soft cushions of the couch she took my crutches.

  “I don’t remember you being so bossy,” I said with a smile, in hopes of lightening the mood. But when her creamy white skin flushed red and her eyes filled with fire, I knew my humor was not welcomed.

  “Don’t.” She held her hand up and turned away to the coffee table, shuffling the gamer magazines I had scattered across it.

  “Don’t what?”

  She balled her hair in her fist, pulling it out of her face. God, she was beautiful. College was filled with girls, but never had I found another pair of eyes as blue or expressive as Kat’s. Nor had anyone come close to possessing that creamy, flawless skin. Most of the girls on campus faked and baked and looked more like radioactive Barbie dolls.

  “Bring up the past. It’s the past for a reason, and I’d like it to stay there. Do you need anything?” She jumped right into the next thought, no transition. While I wanted to dwell on why she’d want to forget our days at the waterpark and our nights making love under the stars in the bed of my pickup, I let it go.

  So I told her what I told every other person who tried waiting on me hand and foot: “I’m fine.”

  Small, slim fingers combed through her hair, pushing it all onto her right shoulder, and exposing her neck. A small red scar I had never seen before marked her otherwise flawless skin. It had to have been new. I remembered every inch of her body, from the dusting of freckles on her nose to the beauty mark above her belly button, right down to the freckle on her inner thigh.

  Before I could wonder for another second, Kat asked, “What about your bandage? Does it need to be changed?” She pointed to my leg, and I glanced down at the gauze poking out of the bottom of my shorts.

  I raised my eyebrows and gave her a knowing nod. “You just want to get in my pants.”

  “Can you for two seconds not act like a total jackass?”

  I loved the astonishment that flashed across her face. “But where’s the fun in that?”

  She slammed my magazines on the table. “This isn’t supposed to be fun. I’m working. You’re my client.”

  She was sexy as hell when she got mad. Blue eyes darkened and her top lip curled. “Were you always this serious?”

  A world of hurt and anger pulled at her features, weighing her down. When we first met, she was reserved and standoffish, but this was different. It went deeper. What had happened since the last time we saw each other? She’d retreated back into her shell, but this time she was so far in I didn’t think I’d ever get her back out.

  “A lot’s happened to me since that summer, and while it was fun to pretend the world only existed for us, I had to come back and face reality . . . where there’s not much room for fun.”

  Sadness crept into her eyes, but vanished just as quickly. I hated not being able to jump up and pull her into my arms. Stupid leg. So I did the best I could, pulling myself to the edge of the couch. I reached out, taking her hand in mine. I rubbed my finger across the ring, knowing darn well what lay beneath it. She stared down at our entwined hands, stunned at first, and then went to rip hers away. But I held on tight, unwilling to sever our connection.

  “What happened, Kit Kat?”

  She sucked in a sharp breath at the use of the nickname, momentarily dumbfounded. Then she shook her head as if it would clear her mind, and yanked her hand away. Hard.

  “Nothing.”

  “It’s obviously not nothing.”

  “It’s nothing I want to talk about. Where are the bandages so I can change yours?”

  She did it again. God, I wanted her to open up. Fill me in on the past two years, act as if our time apart didn’t happen—but this was Kat, more fragile than ever, and she needed time.

  “In the cabinet underneath the sink in the bathroom. First door on the right.”

  She hurried away, and I couldn’t help watching her ass sway back and forth in the pink fabric of her scrub bottoms. I smiled to myself at the view. When she returned, she sat beside me on the couch, lifted my leg onto her lap, and with a deep breath, pushed my shorts up past the bandage.

  A circle of blood and yellow pus had seeped through.

  “When did you get this gig?” I asked, trying to keep my eyes away from the disgusting hole in my flesh. Keep my mind from reliving the exact moment it tore open.

  She pulled the bandage away, revealing the mutilated flesh and bruised skin, and sucked in a startled breath. “How did this happen?” she asked. Her words surprised me. Didn’t she know? It was all over the news. No matter how hard I tried to get away, it was always there, following me, haunting me.

  I looked up and for a moment we sat there, locked on each other. Then I gave her a halfhearted smile to lessen the harshness of the reality. “I was shot.”

  I didn’t think her eyes could get any wider. I almost put my hand out, ready to catch them if they fell out.

  Her hand flew to her chest. “What? How?”

  “Didn’t they fill you in before you showed up?”

  “It was a last-minute assignment. The aide who was supposed to be here had a family emergency out of town. All I was told was that you were a guy with a leg injury who needed help getting around and possible bandage changes. I didn’t . . . I had . . . I . . .”

  I grasped her shaking hand and unable to resist, lowered my mouth to her knuckles, and gently kissed them. “The shooting at Springfield University.”

  She shook her head, reddish-blond strands falling in her face. I reached up, tucking them back into place. She raised her gaze to mine. “I don’t have a TV. I might’ve seen something in a headline in the paper, but other than that I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Why don’t you have a TV?”

  Her hand dusted the question away. “That’s not important.”

  “There was a shooting at my college. Six people died. I was one of the seventeen injured.” I didn’t go into more detail. The terrified look on her face was already hard enough to tolerate.

  “I had no idea. Josh, I’m so sorry. That must have been horrible.” Kat glanced up, regret in her gaze. “And I was so nasty to you.”

  I held my finger up and rested it on her lips. They were as soft and pouty as I remembered. “Don’t apologize. I don’t need you pretending to be nice to me because of a bullet. I prefer the real you. Always.”

  I loved her honesty, and although she was shy, she never backed down from telling me how it was. She didn’t take my shit like most girls did. The last thing I wanted was for her to apologize for being her.

  She blinked and turned away, looking back at my thigh. Her hands hovered just above the bandage before she gently rested them on my leg. “Does it hurt?”

  “Like a bitch.”

  The gauze and tape were on the coffee table and Kat leaned over to grab them, her chest grazing my leg. “I’ll have this changed in no time.”

  I didn’t want to look at the wou
nd, but I wanted to watch her. She was so careful and particular, peeling the gauze away slowly, gently.

  She was always good with stuff like that. As she unraveled the gauze, my mind drifted back to the time she got a splinter out of my finger.

  “Son of a bitch,” I growled, sticking my finger in my mouth because I didn’t know what else to do with it.

  “What happened?” Kat asked, hopping out of the pickup and coming to my side by the fire pit. She rested her cold hand on my shoulder and took my wrist in her other hand. She pulled my finger from my mouth and looked down at it.

  “Splinter,” I mumbled.

  She wrapped her hand around mine and walked me towards the truck. “Sit,” she said and kissed my cheek before going to the passenger side and grabbing her bag. I felt like a kindergartener, but damn it hurt like hell.

  Kat sat beside me and took my hand back in hers. She wielded a pair of tweezers and I yanked my hand away.

  “It’s fine. It’ll come out on its own,” I said.

  She laughed. “Don’t be such a baby.”

  “It hurts,” I said in a sad, pathetic voice.

  “I know.” She pouted her lip out in sympathy. “Come here.” She linked her arms around my neck and kicked her leg over mine until she was straddling me. I cradled my head in her chest, and she took my finger and examined it.

  I barely felt her pulling the splinter out. I was too consumed in her sweet scent, in her.

  “And we’re done,” Kat said, and I shook the memory from my mind.

  I looked down at the bandage perfectly in place. “You’re really good at that. My mom manages to hurt me no matter how careful she is.”

  A hint of a smile appeared. “I’ve had a lot of practice.”

  “Practice is good,” I smirked, recalling our first kiss, and every one after that.

  By the way red crept into her cheeks, it was obvious she knew what I was referring to.

  “When did you decide you wanted to do this?” I asked, hoping if I took a different approach I might get an answer.

  Something about the answer to that question triggered a sadness, but like before, she shook it away.

  “Never mind, you don’t have to answer that,” I said.

  She slid out from under my leg, and I instantly wanted to pull her back down.

  “I’m sorry,” she muttered, walking away with the old bandage.

  “Kat?”

  “Yeah?” She hesitated before turning back around. Her lips pursed, her eyes focused, everything about her said she was fine. But I knew her. She wasn’t. She was hiding something. Something unpleasant. I needed to know what it was. The minute she showed up on my doorstep, the visions from earlier that day went away. A sense of calmness had washed over me, making me feel more grounded, more myself. No one else had been able to do that.

  I’d let her walk away from me once. I wasn’t dumb enough to do it again.

  “Can you do one thing for me?”

  She curled her bottom lip and nodded.

  “Come back tomorrow?”

  A smile tugged at the corners of her perfect mouth and I wanted to throw my hands up in victory. God, I missed that smile. I wished she wouldn’t hold it back.

  “I’ll be here,” she said.

  She could’ve been bullshitting me for all I knew. Still there was a sliver of hope, and I held onto it.

  “Will Winnie the Pooh be back too?” I asked, eyeing her scrubs.

  A smile settled on her face, and it was as if I’d made the winning catch at state again.

  “No. But Mickey and Minnie will be.”

  Chapter 3

  My mom had gone from cool and collected to a damn hovercraft. She was driving me freaking insane. I swear if I didn’t shut the door to piss, she’d follow me.

  I was propped against my wall, ready to hit the sack, when there was a single knock at my door. Mom barged in before I could give her the okay.

  “Do you need anything else? Water? A snack? I can heat up some of the chicken soup from the other night.”

  “Mom,” I said, but she didn’t hear me. She moved to my bed, fluffing the pillow beside me.

  “Are you comfortable? I can get you more pillows out of Liz’s room.”

  “Mom.” She had already given me three extra pillows, and even if I did want more, I was more than capable of getting them myself.

  She picked up a pair of my jeans from the floor and placed them in the hamper. Her eyes darted to the window and she reached out to it, sliding a hand along the sill. “There’s a bit of a draft. Let me get you another blanket.”

  “Mom!” I yelled and finally her attention snapped to me. By the way her lips curved down I realized I may have had a little too much acid in my tone. “I’m fine,” I said, and when she continued to stare I added, “really.”

  Normally I would love my mom fawning over me. Call me a mamma’s boy and I wouldn’t deny it. But it was different now. I wasn’t the same guy as a few weeks ago. Circumstances had changed. I was a twenty-year-old man living back home with my parents. Talk about pathetic.

  Mom sat down on the edge of my bed and rested her hands on her knees. “I don’t mean to be so overbearing.”

  “I know.”

  “I almost lost you. My baby.” Mom’s eyes got glassy and I hated myself more. I did this to her.

  “But you didn’t lose me. I’m here. Just as good-looking as ever,” I said and forced the smile she had come to expect of me.

  She patted my cheek and smiled back. It was good to see. It had been far too long. “That you are.” She motioned for me to lie down and while I wanted to give my usual response of “I’m fine,” I knew she needed this.

  I lay down and she pulled the comforter into place, tucking the sides in like she always did when I was a kid.

  She kissed my forehead. “Night, sweetie. I love you.”

  “Love you too, Mom.”

  “Oh. I almost forgot to ask. How did you like your aide?”

  At the mention of it, I smiled like a damn idiot. “I liked her just fine.”

  Mom cocked an eyebrow at me. “I’m assuming that means she’s a pretty thing, but that’s not what I’m asking. I need her to be able to take care of you when your father and I can’t be here.”

  Kat blew me off time and time again and didn’t take my shit. Yet at the same time—the way she changed my bandage, the gentleness she possessed, the professional demeanor she maintained—she was perfect.

  “Can’t deny that. But regardless, she’s good. You’ll approve, Mom.”

  Mom nodded, the tension easing from the corners of her eyes. “Good to know. I’ll let you get some sleep now.” Mom stood and flipped off my lights. She pulled the door behind her then stopped. “Josh.”

  “Yeah, Mom.”

  “Do me a favor.”

  It had been far too long since Mom had asked me for a favor. Maybe she was finally coming to terms with the fact that I didn’t die that day and was more than capable of helping around the house. Help dad mow the lawn? No problem, I’d figure out a way. Help her weed her flower beds? I’d be more than happy to.

  “Anything, Mom,” I answered with a smile.

  “Just keep it in your pants. Please.”

  Before I could recover, she shut the door, leaving me in darkness.

  ***

  I hugged the girl’s head to my chest, her ragged breathing breaking my heart. I couldn’t leave her to die alone. But it wasn’t my choice anymore. I looked past the barrel pointed at my head. Rage-filled eyes stared me down. Silently I pleaded, hoping he would let me live at least until she didn’t.

  Click.

  Bang.

  I was on the floor again. My door flung open as I rubbed the image from my eyes. “I’m fine, Liz,” I said, not wanting to go through the same shit we’d gone through the previous day.

  “Are you okay?” The voice, like liquid ecstasy to my ear, shot me upright. I was greeted by the faces of Mickey and Minnie as Kat knelt down and
pushed the sweat drenched hair off my forehead.

  “You’re back,” I said, not even attempting to cover my smile.

  She, however, sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and shrugged. “I said I would be.”

  “I can’t say I believed you. Thought maybe you were just saying what you thought I wanted to hear so I wouldn’t badger you.”

  “Because we both know how good you are at that.”

  A reference to our past, and I wasn’t the one who brought it up. I sure as hell wasn’t going to let it go unnoticed.

  “It’s not my fault you turned me down twelve times. If you would’ve just said yes the first time, you would have saved yourself from it.”

  “Lucky thirteen,” she whispered. “Let’s get you off the floor.” As if the conversation never happened she crouched beside me, wrapped my arm around her shoulder, and helped me to my feet. Her hand was cold on my bare stomach and I quivered from her touch. “Do you own a shirt?”

  “To cover up these abs?” I smirked.

  “Glad to see you’re still conceited as ever.”

  Without even asking she opened my top dresser drawer and then every one below that until she found a shirt. She pulled it out and tossed it at my head.

  “You’re not going to help me put it on?” Her eyes narrowed at me, and just like yesterday, I felt it in my shorts.

  Kat’s eyes darted to the ground when I pulled the T-shirt over my head. I glanced down the front at the white writing. Of all the shirts to grab.

  “This was a great festival,” I said, remembering the way Kat’s hips swayed to the music. How her hair brushed across the tie to her bikini top. How she’d pressed her back into me and I’d wrapped my arms around her bare stomach, kissing a line down her neck. The giggles that came after, and the way she’d tilted her head back to look up at me.

  “Get dressed,” Kat said, clearly avoiding any talk of the last weekend we’d spent together. “Your sister told me you’re running out of bandages and need to refill your pain meds, so we’ll go to the drugstore.”

  She met my sister.

  An entire summer together, and I never once brought her home to meet my family. I loved her, yet for the stupidest reasons I kept it to myself. No wonder she never answered my calls after I left.