The Fidelity World_BELONG

by Tl Mayhew

  “At the bar, I gave you three options. Drinks, coffee, or… anything else. Since you called, my assumption is you’ve decided. I know what I would choose if it were up to me, but it’s not.”

  “I’m not sure meeting is such a good idea. I probably shouldn’t even have called. There are things I’m going through that…well, will prevent me from being very good company.” The line goes quiet for several moments—so long, I wonder if she hung up and pull the phone away from my ear to glance at the screen. When I place it back to my ear, she says, “Coffee. How about we meet for coffee? I have some time in the morning. Will that work for you?”

  One side of my lips quirks up. “Coffee it is. When and where?”

  “How about the little coffee shop on the corner of Broad and Bay Street? Seven a.m.?”

  “I’ll be there. Oh, and, Lacy?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I will be disappointed if you don’t show.” My words are left hanging as I disconnect the call.

  The red neon numbers on the nightstand clock read eleven, and though it isn’t late, exhaustion begins to take over. Stretching out in the bed, lips turned up in a mischievous grin and arms behind my head, I begin to drift off.

  ***

  I sit straight up in bed; my eyes fly open and my heart pounds in my chest. When I peel the soaking wet t-shirt from my skin, I hesitate before moving my gaze to my side where I expect to see a gaping hole. But just like every other time, the long, jagged scar is the only thing staring back at me.

  It’s the same dream over and over.

  Martin and I crouch down, our steps quick as we make our way around to the back of the house where the S.W.A.T. team is waiting to enter. When the countdown reaches one, the pounding of a battering ram against the door splinters the wood, and after only two hits it goes crashing to the floor.

  With guns drawn, my adrenaline rushes through my veins as we enter the premises and make our way through the house. There’s shouting all around us. “On the floor! Show me your hands!” It fades when we head down the narrow hall and close in on a back bedroom.

  The room is dark, and the stench of chemicals burns my nostrils as I take a step across the threshold. A cold chill runs through me. Something doesn’t feel right. Seconds after reaching the edge of the door, a sharp object punctures the skin below my bulletproof vest. The pain is excruciating as the object moves toward my stomach and separates my skin like fabric being ripped in half. I place a hand over the jagged opening in my side and drop to the floor. The last thing I remember is the loud pop of a gun and a warm wet spray hitting my face.

  When the nauseating scent of chemicals floods my senses, my breathing increases and the room starts spinning. A deep ache, starting at my scar, radiates through my body, and it doesn’t take long for the sensation to become unbearable. In my attempt to reach for the pain medication on the nightstand, I knock the bottle to the floor and it rolls under the bed. Dropping back to the bed, I groan in frustration, then breathe through clenched teeth while I wait for the episode to pass.

  The therapist said it would take some time before the dreams become less frequent, but it’s been years and taking medication doesn’t help. It only makes me feel lethargic—worthless. I know I can’t continue like this. In my line of work, even the smallest slip in concentration can put lives at risk, and if I don’t find some relief soon, I’m not sure what might happen.

  Once the episode has passed, I stagger to the bathroom and turn on the shower, then strip free of my boxers. I step beneath the spray of warm water, placing my hands on the cool tile wall and dropping my head. The water pounds the dream from my body, and I watch as it swirls down the drain along with the sweat and tears.

  Chapter 8

  Clayton

  When I finally made it back to bed last night, my thoughts drifted to Lacy. While we’ve only had a couple encounters, I knew that first day there was something. She intrigued me, and I wanted to know more about her. I had resources, I could’ve found her, but I wasn’t ready, it was too soon. Now…it’s like I’m getting a second chance—one I’m damn well not going to waste.

  As I enter the coffee shop, I spot her immediately. The table she selected is in a corner, isolated. And while she chose to sit where she can see the door, she’s distracted with her phone and doesn’t notice me. For several moments, I don’t move.

  The people coming through the door pass by, but my gaze doesn’t falter as I take in her beauty. She has her bottom lip tucked between her teeth and her eyes squint as she concentrates on the screen of her phone, looking every bit as innocent today as she did when we first met. When she gathers her hair to drape it over one side, the collar of her shirt slides down, leaving her sexy shoulder bare. It gives me an idea.

  My stride is quick as I attempt to make it past her without being noticed on my way to the barista counter.

  “Can I help you?” the twenty-something blonde asks, as her eyes roam over me and her lips turn up in a seductive grin.

  “Yes. Can you tell me if you recognize that woman over there?” I nod in Lacy’s direction.

  “Um…well, I’ve only worked here for a month, but…” she leans over, pressing her breasts on the counter and strains her neck to get a better look, “yeah, I’ve seen her here before.”

  “Do you by chance know what she usually orders?”

  She makes no attempt to straighten herself as she raises her eyes to mine and answers. “I do actually. She usually gets the white mocha with soy and a shot of peppermint syrup.”

  I ignore the blatant flirtation and finalize our order, then toss enough cash on the counter to cover the drinks and a decent tip. “Please bring our drinks to the table when they’re ready.”

  When I approach, Lacy is still occupied with her phone. The exposed skin of her shoulder taunts me and I can’t resist sliding my fingers over the ridge. Her smooth flesh elicits an electricity that surges through my tips and pebbles her skin in their wake.

  Whipping her head in my direction, her eyes level with my crotch, where they linger before moving higher. After traveling aimlessly over my chest, her gaze meets mine. My lips turn up in a mischievous grin. “Like what you see?”

  Pink tints her cheeks, and she clears her throat. “Um…hi, Clayton.

  I give her shoulder a squeeze, then take the seat across from her. “I hope you weren’t waiting long.”

  “Oh, I haven’t been here long at all, but I haven’t ordered yet. I wasn’t sure how you liked your coffee.”

  The intensity of her stare is hypnotic. If I’m not careful, those eyes could easily be the death of me. I pull my chair closer and place my forearms on the table. “You were distracted with your phone when I walked in, so I took the liberty of ordering for us.”

  As the last word leaves my lips, the barista approaches and sets our coffees on the table. She dawdles longer than necessary, and I can feel her eyes on me. “Is there something else?” I ask, as I turn and narrow my eyes on her.

  She shakes her head, her eyes lowering in embarrassment. “No, sir. Just let me know if you need anything.” Her steps are quick as she scurries back to the counter.

  “I bet you get that a lot.” The bite in Lacy’s tone pulls my gaze back to her and it’s met with a raised brow.

  My forehead scrunches in confusion. “Get what?”

  “Girls lingering and staring at you all the time.”

  “I don’t know, maybe. It doesn’t really matter. The only one I want lingering or staring is sitting across from me.” I reach for her hand, and the heat of her skin warms mine as electricity flows between us.

  She takes in a sharp breath, and her hand stiffens, but she doesn’t pull away. Taking a sip of her coffee, her eyes close and lips press together as she hums her response. “Mmmm, how did you know?”

  My deep chuckle vibrates my chest. “Well, I would say I’m just that good. However, while I am good—very good, actually—at most things, reading minds isn’t one of them. I asked the barista if
you’d been here before. Had I known that was going to be your reaction, I would have bought a dozen of them.”

  A small smile curves the corners of her full glossy lips and she shifts in her seat before changing the subject. “You said you’re only here a couple days. What are you doing in Savannah? Do you still live in Colorado?”

  Her question makes me think of all the things I still need to do today. And Deloris’s words echo in my head about not fucking anything up. I told her this wouldn’t jeopardize my ability to do my job, and I plan to keep my word. “I have a job to do here, and no, I don’t live in Colorado anymore. I moved to New York when an opportunity came my way.” Sitting back in my chair, I cross my legs at my ankles and take a drink.

  “So, inquiring minds want to know, are you still single?”

  Her question is out of the blue and unexpected. I try to stifle a laugh but end up choking on my coffee. I cough, trying to clear my airway, and my throat.

  “Are you okay?” She asks, her brows furrowed with concern.

  I nod, to indicate I’m okay, but cough a few more times before speaking again. “Let me guess, you’re asking for a friend?”

  “Actually, no.” When her eyes meet mine, the shy college girl is staring back at me. “I’m asking for me,” she says, then lowers her eyes, and her tongue darts out, licking her bottom lip before pulling it between her teeth.

  Fuck if that doesn’t make my dick come to life. Leaning in, I reach across the table and lift her chin with my forefinger. “Yes, I’m still single,” I say, then slide my thumb over her captured lip. “You have no idea what that lip does to me.”

  Her lips part as she sucks in a breath.

  I’m seconds from pulling her in and placing my lips on hers, but decide now is not the right time. I drop my hand, sit back, and cross a leg over my knee. “How is it that you ended up here, in Savannah?”

  When she meets my gaze again, the brightness in her emerald eyes has diminished. She closes them briefly before letting out a deep breath. When she opens them again, she looks through me, as though she’s lost in the past. “Well, my mom is—was, the reason. She had some issues with alcohol, and after several visits to the hospital, my sister and I decided it was time she tried rehab. That’s when she was moved to Magnolia Woods, and I moved to Savannah.”

  “I’m sorry to hear. There’s no need to continue if it’s too hard for you.” Guilt tightens my chest. What the fuck was I thinking bringing this up?

  “No, it’s okay. My sister says I need to talk about it, it’s just…really hard.” She blinks several times. “I really thought she was starting to improve. The days she was coherent were becoming more frequent and she even laughed at my jokes a few times, but then she took an unexpected turn, and a few days later, we lost her.” The tears she blinked away earlier roll down her cheeks, and I move next to her, pulling her against my chest. She sniffles into my shirt, her tears soaking the material, and I stroke her hair, trying to offer some sort of comfort. “Oh, Clayton, it was horrible. Her body just gave up, and there was nothing the doctors could do to save her. I loved her so much. She was my best friend.”

  Her body wracks against my chest, and I remain quiet as she releases everything she has. After several moments, when the shake of her body is only a slight vibration, I lean back, place my hands on her cheeks, and swipe away some of the wetness with my thumbs. “I’m very sorry about your mother. Had I known, I never would have said anything.”

  She meets my gaze then her eyes widen as she pulls away. Wiping her eyes with a napkin, she sniffles and begins gathering her things. “I am so embarrassed. I’m sure this isn’t how you wanted to start your morning.” When she stands, she looks down at me and she adds, “Thank you for the coffee. It was really nice seeing you again, Clayton.”

  If she thinks she’s going to leave, just like that, she’s mistaken. Her eyes follow mine as I stand, and I place a hand on her back. “Let me walk you out.”

  “Okay,” she says, then takes a few hurried steps toward the door. Those few steps are almost equal to my single stride, and I keep up with her easily, even though she’s trying her best not to stay close.

  Once we’re outside, I take in the line of parked cars. “Where’re you parked?” She points to a spot about half a block up from the shop and I extend my arm, allowing her to step ahead, then I match her stride.

  When we approach, it’s the same car from the previous day. I let out a low whistle and run my hand over the sleek silver paint, then step back and admire the piece of machinery. “Nice car. What size engine?”

  “A six-point two-liter V-eight. She puts out about four hundred horses. I wanted a manual, which would have given me more horsepower, but this one kept coming up in the Internet search, so I decided it must be the one.”

  With raised brows, I turn in her direction. I’m met with crossed arms and a flash of pearly whites. Her somber mood replaced with a sassy confidence that thickens my cock and deepens my tone. “Well, well, someone is quite the car buff.”

  Still smiling, she glides past me and reaches for the door, but doesn’t get it open before I step forward and place a hand on either side, caging her in. When she turns in my arms, she rubs against me, and my shaft, almost at full mast, presses against the unforgiving material of my jeans.

  She cranes her neck and brilliant emerald eyes, free from tears and full of desire meets mine.

  My tone is low and thick with lust as the last words are spoken, “It was nice seeing you, Lacy,” before I place my hands on the sides of her face and my lips descend on hers.

  The kiss is tentative at first, but escalates quickly as electricity moves through me and our tongues tangle in exploration. I thread my fingers through locks of her hair and tug, eliciting a moan. I’m on the edge of losing control as primal desire flows through me, hardening my cock until it’s begging for release. I consider taking her right here on the hood of her car, but she pulls away.

  Her breathing is deep, erratic, and her words come out choppy. “I’m…sorry…but…I…really have to go.”

  If it weren’t for Deloris’s voice in my head, reminding me I have a job to do, I would march Lacy’s fine ass to the passenger door, shove her in, and take her somewhere I can fuck her. Instead, I place a kiss on her forehead, then reach around and open her door.

  Her face, flushed red from our kiss, she slides in the driver’s seat, and waits for me to close the door.

  As she pulls away, I’m left standing in the empty parking spot, thinking about how the timing of our reconnection couldn’t be worse. I can’t let whatever this is distract me from the reason I’m in Savannah, but Lacy James is just that—one hell of a distraction.

  Chapter 9

  Lacy

  The mix of trees and buildings flash by the window on my drive to Magnolia Woods, but they don’t register. My thoughts are consumed with Clayton and that kiss. My fingertips glide over the swollen, tender skin of my lips, and the heat between my thighs increases as I replay the scene over and over. I had felt his reaction when he pressed his body against mine. His hard shaft prodded my belly while his soft lips assaulted my mouth. He tasted of coffee, and his scent of fresh air and leather still lingers on my clothing.

  Once I pull up the drive and park, my head drops back against the seat, and I let out an audible sigh while I imagine what I could be doing right now. I would have easily given up a day’s pay to spend more time with Clayton’s lips, hands, and whatever else on me, but I made the responsible decision.

  I take my time walking to the building. When I step through the employee door, the locker room is eerily quiet. I think nothing of it and begin changing out of my clothes. My watch indicates I have at least ten minutes before my shift starts, which is enough time to throw on my scrubs and get to Dr. Ackerman’s office to schedule an appointment. While my sister is older, I haven’t been one to always take her advice. I’m sure she’ll say I’ve been a thorn in her side many times over, but in this case, she’ll be
glad to know I think she’s right. Speaking with someone on a professional level about what I’m feeling might be just what I need.

  As I close in on Dr. Ackerman’s door, raised voices bellow from within. I shouldn’t listen. I should leave and come back later, but the heated conversation draws me in, and I lean closer to the door. Dr. Ackerman’s voice is the one I recognize first, but I only make out part of what he’s saying. Something about being more careful. The other voice raises an octave, and I recognize the deep timber of Mack’s tone.

  “What the fuck, Ackerman? You know I’m careful. The last time wasn’t my fucking fault. You’re the one who said she needed the extra dose and would be fine.” His voice now extremely close; no longer muffled, as though he’s just on the other side of the door. “Elizabeth James was practically a lost cause when she got here. I told you I didn’t think your experimental treatments would work, so that’s on you.”

  “Keep your voice down. If anyone finds out, we’ll both be in a shitload of trouble.” Dr. Ackerman’s tone is firm and laced with frustration.

  When I hear mention of my mother’s name, my mouth drops open and I take in a breath. Tears well in my eyes as his words sink in. Sure, she had her bad days, but there were good days too. I had no idea they had considered her a lost cause. There was something else he said, something about an experimental treatment. Nothing was ever mentioned to me about an experimental treatment. I’m pulled from my thoughts when the door swings open. I jump back to avoid being hit.

  Mack is the first to exit, then Dr. Ackerman. As they shake hands, a look passes between them.

  “We can discuss it more later. Thank you for stopping by,” Dr. Ackerman says, his tone casual, as though they were just having a normal conversation.

  I stand there frozen. The fear of them realizing I’d heard any of their conversation has my heart racing and the pounding in my ears is making it difficult to focus.