S.O.S. Wiley

by LJ Vickery

  Solina drew back her head, blinking at him. What?

  “Yeah, that’s it,” he spoke almost to himself. “You made it clear you’re not interested in a relationship, so what am I to think?” His voice got stronger. “You catalogued my virtues and decided I had all the requisite qualifications to be your first. If I complied and got the job done, you’d heave a sigh of relief at your altered status and find someone you could be serious about.”

  It was quite a speech, and it gave Solina an entirely different perspective. Her chin dropped to her chest. In all that she’d orchestrated, she hadn’t taken his feelings into consideration. Guilt doused the last of her temper.

  “Oh, my god. You’re right,” she admitted painfully. “I did plan on using you. I’m so sorry.” Solina felt the tears build in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Wiley deserved an explanation before he left, and before she fell apart.

  “It seemed to make sense to me, but I was only thinking of what I wanted. You know, once I ripped free of my parents’ hold, I never wanted to be controlled by anyone again. Not a boss, a friend, a…boyfriend.” She begged him to understand. “So when I revamped my life, independence topped the list of what I wanted. My virginity didn’t even make the top five.”

  That’s right, Solina thought. Calm, settled and independent were my lofty goals.

  “By seducing you, a nice guy, I’d be able to date because the burden of my virginity would no longer be an issue, a fear. If I slept with an asshole thereafter, I could shrug it off like so many of my college roommates used to. Get it?”

  “I get that I’m hearing some pretty fucked-up shit.” He got to his feet and paced back and forth in front of the TV, appearing to struggle for patience. “Let me try and sort through this mess. First, tell me why a relationship with me would screw with your independence?”

  The question wasn’t one Solina expected. She thought he’d be fixated on the “why me” aspect of it. “Umm… Because guys like to take charge and make all the decisions?” Her explanation sounded weak, even to her own ears.

  He gave her a look of disbelief. “And you believe this why?”

  “Because that’s how I grew up.” She shrugged. “As much as my mother is a diplomatic rock star in her own right, my father always took charge of the money and made the family decisions. Everyone lived by them, including her. They came from that generation in India. I can’t fault them.”

  He would have interrupted, but she kept going. “And if it wasn’t my father pulling the strings, it was every single one of the drivers he hired…who were really babysitter/bodyguards. They reported back to him on any actions they deemed inappropriate and, with Father always watching, doled out my allowance.”

  Wiley held his tongue, but Solina could tell he didn’t like what he heard.

  “When I was old enough and allowed to go away to college, I was still under his rule, financial and otherwise. Major expenses had to be accounted for, and when he deemed my presence necessary, I was required to be home. Remember, my parents were determined that I make a good marriage, for all concerned. And I was constantly reminded to remain chaste until my husband…collected his due.”

  “Holy shit. Fucking archaic.” Wiley stopped pacing and faced her. “I understand the way things were when you were a child, but what about your college friends? Didn’t they help you? Surely they taught you differently.”

  “Not really. Mostly, they just wanted to protect me because I was socially awkward, so they kept me from the more aggressive boys. And as for money? When we split up the lottery proceeds, my closest girlfriend ended up giving her winnings to her boyfriend, who told her he was more qualified to ‘invest’ it for their future. She signed it over and he vanished. It reinforced my own fears when she never saw him again.”

  “Because he was an asshole.” Wiley didn’t hesitate with his answer. “There are plenty of guys out there like him, but not the majority, Solina. You have to rely on your instincts. Trust your head.” He paused. “Tell me, why did you pick me to be your first?” He turned the tables on her, asking a simple question.

  Solina didn’t need to think. “Because I like you,” she said simply. “You listen. You reason. You’re self-assured. You’re not afraid to poke fun at yourself. And you were very sympathetic when you learned why I wanted the Command Compound. All those things made me feel I could trust you, that I’d be safe.”

  “Yet you didn’t trust me enough to tell me that you’re a virgin. And you don’t trust that I won’t take over your life. Don’t you think those are pretty big confidence issues?”

  “You’re right. I’m so sorry.” She worried her bottom lip with her teeth.

  How Wiley had managed to turn all her arguments around so quickly stymied her. And he was right. Her analytical mind told her she’d been led down yet another screwed-up path by a pile of crap from her childhood. Eschewing a relationship had nothing to do with independence. A man like Wiley would never make her feel subservient or care about her money. He’d proven himself in any number of small ways. He’d asked her opinions, he’d let her take the lead in their kisses, and he even let her drive his freaking monster of a truck. He trusted her…so she should trust him.

  Solina let her preconceived notions about men slip away. She had to be honest with herself. She’d stumbled across an amazing guy. She also knew if she wanted to salvage things with him, if they had any chance of actually building a relationship instead of just tumbling into bed, she had to demonstrate her trust.

  She drew in a huge breath. “I trust you. I do. To prove it, I’m going to tell you something only two people know,” she choked out. Her head buzzed with the mere thought of putting things out in the open. “The first person is my college roommate, who showed up at the door of my first house one day and freaked out. The second is the therapist she dragged me to see.”

  Wiley didn’t look spooked. He looked vindicated. “This is about your things,” he said with certainty.

  “Yeah, it is.” Solina fixed her gaze on anything but Wiley, until he walked toward her and gently took her chin between his fingers. He tilted up her head to look at him.

  “Tell me, Solina,” he implored. “I’m not afraid.”

  Okay. I can do this.

  “Wiley, I’m…” She swallowed. “I’m a hoarder.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Wiley heard the sincerity in her voice. He didn’t doubt her, but he had questions. And his damned gut needed to relax. She’d already gotten him all wound up, and his GI tract had become distinctly unsettled. But it wasn’t something he’d eaten. For a number of years―ever since his first deployment―his intestines would roil at the first hint of unrest. The doctors called it a nervous condition.

  “Okay…” He drew out the word, ignoring his inner grumblings, and looked around. “I know your house has a lot of stuff in it, but it’s not what I picture when I hear the word ‘hoarder’.”

  “That’s because you didn’t see the house I owned before this one…before I went into therapy.” She looked sad. Wiley let go of his wounded pride. Commanding his intestines to settle, he sat down beside her.

  “Why don’t you start at the beginning,” he said.

  She drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms tightly around them. He waited…as patiently as he could with his bowels on fire. Solina needed to tell him everything so they could move on.

  “You already know why I feel the way I do about things,” she began slowly. “But you don’t know the entire psychological impact my childhood had. It really screwed me up.

  “In my first year of college, I started going to the local thrift shops, with the few dollars left over from my budget every month, and bought things I didn’t need. It started slowly, and I kept my purchases under my bed. But it didn’t take long before I channeled more of my allowance in that direction and my buying escalated. Things began spilling out into the room. Being young, I was able to laugh it off for a while, making all kinds of excuses, but
I soon discovered my habit was growing into an addiction. My roommate didn’t think it was too weird, as long as I kept purchases to my side of the room. Having a small dorm kept me under control for my four years of college.”

  Wiley needed to interrupt. “But what did you do with your stuff when you went home?”

  “You remember I told you that, other than the first summer between freshman and sophomore years, I stayed here and worked? Well, I also enrolled in summer classes, so I was able to stay in my dorm. My father allowed that, as long as every time he requested my presence, I dropped everything and went home. Those appearances usually lasted no longer than a week, so it was bearable.”

  Wiley wanted to punch her father in the head. What a way to treat your only child. Drag her across the world during her entire childhood, then expect her to come running from her one stable living situation when she became “useful”.

  “When we had to clean out our room that first summer, I struggled horribly. My parents told me I could send clothes home, but made it clear that any other belongings should be taken to the trash, with replacements being made the following year. They had no idea how many things I’d collected. I must have dragged my feet too long―having been finished with my finals for days―because I came back from shopping one afternoon to see two of my father’s men headed down the stairs, taking the last of my belongings to the trash. I fell apart.”

  Wiley could feel the impact of her story and the toll it took on her to tell it. Her eyes filled with tears and she rocked back and forth on the sofa. His intestines clenched again, but he still leaned in and put an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. “You don’t have to go any further if you don’t want to,” he said. “I get the picture.”

  “No, you don’t,” she told him. “Let me finish.” Solina pulled away from the comfort of his arm and continued. “I survived the summer, but once I was able to stay in my dorm room over subsequent breaks, things settled down and were under control. Sort of. I bought unnecessary things, but a goldfish only grows as large as the bowl it’s given, you know.” She gave a sad smile.

  Whether that were true or not, Wiley got the gist.

  “Which is why winning the lottery was both a blessing and a curse. The blessing, of course, was not having to answer to Father’s summons anymore. The curse unraveled as college ended and I purchased my first home.”

  She stopped for a moment. “Is there any more of that wine?” she asked.

  “There is.”

  Wiley’s stomach revolted at the thought of wine, but he dutifully got up and went to the kitchen to retrieve the bottle and her glass.

  “Here you go.”

  He poured her a healthy amount and wondered how long he’d make it before he’d have to excuse himself to use her bathroom. Perspiration began to bead up on his forehead and under his arms, but he had to tough it out for Solina, who obviously needed to tell her whole tale. Maybe he could hurry her along. Not that every bit of what she imparted wasn’t important, but he’d pretty much figured out the rest of the story.

  “So, you filled your first house with lots of stuff.”

  She took a long sip. “More than a lot,” she told him. “I was there for just over five years, and by the time my ex-roommate stumbled into my hell, you could barely walk through the rooms. The only places clear were the table where I ate and my bed.”

  “I’m not turned off, Solina,” Wiley assured her. “It’s obvious that you have things under control now.”

  “Yes, Wiley. But, just like an alcoholic, once a hoarder, always a hoarder. With the help of my therapist, I’ve learned a number of coping mechanisms.”

  She paused and cocked her head at him. “Hey… You don’t look so well. It’s not because of me, is it?”

  Wiley’s intestines chose that moment to twist hellishly, sweat trickling down the back of his neck in rivulets. He couldn’t wait any longer. “It’s not you, sweetheart, but I need your bathroom, ASAP.”

  “Through my bedroom and to the right.” She looked alarmed. “Go, Wiley. Go.”

  He didn’t have to be told twice.

  ****

  Ten minutes later, he returned to the living room and an anxious Solina. “It’s all good, but, uh… You might not want to go in there for a while,” he cautioned sheepishly. “There’s no fan, so…”

  Solina smiled. “No worries, Wiley,” she assured him. “Are you all right? Did you pick up a bug, or did my cooking disagree with you?”

  “To your first question, yes, I’m fine. After I, uh, take care of business, I bounce back. And no to a bug or your cooking.” He screwed up one side of his mouth. “The guys will tell you I’m a fucking wimp. When things go FUBAR, my intestines turn to jelly. My mind stays on task, but if I don’t, um, clear things out, I’m useless. I got teased unmercifully, but my first stop before an op was always the latrine.”

  “And FUBAR is…”

  “Fucked up beyond all reason.”

  “And the thing that got you so upset?” Her face screwed up, waiting for his answer.

  “It wasn’t the fact of you hoarding,” he assured her. “Not at all. And I want to hear more about that, but what had me liquefying your lovely meal was the fear that you were going to kick me out. It terrified me to think you were ready to end us before we’d even begun.”

  She digested his words, her brows drawing together in consternation before he saw her face relax. “So you still want to be with me?” she asked with such tentativeness, it nearly broke his heart.

  “Of course I do.” He sat down beside her and hoped his quick response left no room for doubt. “That is, if you still want to be with me.” He smirked. “After you get a whiff of the heady aroma I’m capable of, you may never want to invite me here again.”

  She laughed. “Uh-uh. You’re not scaring me away that easily,” she said. “You must never have experienced dorm bathrooms. Ours were coed, and believe me, there’s nothing I haven’t seen…or smelled. I can handle anything you can dish out.”

  “Good to know. At least one of us has a cast-iron digestive system. So, now that I’m more comfortable, do you want to continue with your saga?”

  She shrugged. “There’s not much more to tell, except for the method my therapist and I came up with to hold my obsessions at bay.”

  “Which is?” The details interested him.

  “Well… First, I went house shopping. The idea was to find something fairly small…the goldfish analogy again.”

  He nodded.

  “And because of my major, Art History and Antiquities, we also decided I should open a shop. It’s something I had in the back of my mind all along, since I realized that finding hidden treasures in thrift stores gave me such joy.”

  A true smile lit up her entire face. “Imagine my happiness when I came across this place for sale.” She grabbed his hand and squeezed. “The building out front was being used to upholster furniture, but I knew it would be perfect for art and antiques. When I drove down the driveway and saw the cottage, I didn’t even have to go in. I knew I’d found the place of my dreams.”

  “It is pretty sweet,” Wiley agreed. In fact, it was just the kind of spread he had been looking for. “How many acres?”

  “A little more than five.” She rolled her eyes. “I certainly don’t need all that, but with the way the cottage sits back from the road, I couldn’t resist. High visibility for my store, privacy for my home.”

  Wiley’s heart sped up slightly. Five acres. Solina’s property was damned near perfect, even without a barn. Dare he tell her his thoughts? Would she be leery of his motives toward her if she knew he was imagining Solina and her house as a package deal? But there had been too many secrets already. He needed to get this one out in the open before it festered.

  “You sure found the perfect place,” he started. “Remember when you asked how I could stand living in Brookline, Solina?”

  She nodded.

  “I can’t,” he admitted. “For the past six month
s, I’ve been all over every town south of Boston looking for a place to settle. A place to call my own. That’s how I stumbled across the auction where we met. I’d spent the day looking at a bunch of dud properties and had stopped next door for a bite to eat.”

  She opened her mouth to speak, but he held up his hand.

  “No. I have to finish telling you this. My only criteria is a small house in good shape with four to five acres I can clear in order to raise horses. I need a barn, but it’s nothing I can’t build.” He studied her face carefully as understanding slowly dawned.

  “And you think my place checks all your boxes.”

  “It does,” he agreed, but before she could get the wrong idea, he continued. “However, I’ve already made my intentions toward you clear. I want to date you, find out where this relationship can go. If things work out between us, I never, ever want you to think I’m with you because of your property.”

  “But it’s a plus, isn’t it?”

  Solina wasn’t stupid. Of course it was a plus, one he’d give up thoughts of in a heartbeat if it bothered her.

  “Yeah, it is, but if you think I’m only in this because of your home, you’re wrong. If we end up together, you can keep it, rent it, sell it. If my being here makes you doubt me, I’m perfectly capable of finding and buying a new place we can share.” He held his breath, waiting for her reply.

  “Don’t be silly, Wiley. If we actually become a…a thing…” He liked the way she said “thing”, with a sexy little quirk at the corner of one eye, “it would make me very happy to share my home with you.” Her face took on an impish air. “Of course, besides building a barn, there’s a small sill problem in the back, and the woodpeckers have made a mess of several clapboards on the east side,” she teased.

  He picked up where she left off. “Not to mention,” he ribbed, “I’ll need to put on an addition for our eight kids.”

  “Eight?” she squeaked.