by D. C. Ruins
"I see a kindly old man," she replied. "I see a man who has been through struggles of his own, who's had a hard life too. I see him wanting desperately to atone for his mistakes from the past. I see him loving his sons, his family. His granddaughters. I see someone who's trying to be better. I wish you could see it too."
Heath had never thought of it exactly how she had phrased it, but hearing it now allowed him to get a glimpse of the man Drew had met—not the one he'd grown up with.
"You're different," she went on softly. "You've changed. What makes you think he can't, or hasn't?"
Heath remained silent, but her point struck home and she knew it.
"Do you feel like your attack happened for a reason?" he asked after a moment.
"Yes," she answered. "I do."
"And what's that?"
"Again—took me a while to get here. But I feel like it happened and I survived it because I was meant to stop it." She smiled wryly. "I know that sounds really weird and cheesy. But I feel like, I walked away from the attack when no other woman did. That means something. I had to live to be the one to end it. That's the only reason why I'm testifying on Monday. I have to do it; there's no other choice. I have to do it and save some lives that maybe he would have ended up taking if I didn't testify, if he got off. I believe I was meant for more in life than to just be a victim." She smiled, genuinely this time, and briefly touched his arms. "And so are you."
He glanced at her again, and removed his hand from where it rested on the automatic gear shift and took her hand. They drove on that way in silence for a while before Heath thought of something.
"You still taking your meds?" he asked, then shook his head. "Sorry if that was random. I was just thinking about things."
"It's okay," she said. "And no, I'm not taking them anymore. Although sometimes I want to. But I don't want to be a pill-popper."
Heath could certainly relate; his experience with pills was recent enough to allow him to know precisely how she felt.
"What made you stop?" he asked. "I know you have panic attacks and get anxiety still."
"I do, but not nearly as much." She cleared her throat and glanced out the window. "Actually, you have a lot to do with that."
He looked at her in surprise. "How do you figure?"
She bit her lip but he saw a dimple suddenly appear like magic in her cheek. "I don't know," she hedged. "It's just—you've made me feel different. Like I can look people in the face again, that I don't have to be scared that I'm about to be raped and murdered every time I leave my house. You've made me comfortable with being me and…living." She met his eyes quickly, her cheeks pink. "I—I trust you. Do you know how nice it is to feel like I can trust another human being again?"
"I'm glad," he replied quietly, sincerely. "I trust you, too."
She cleared her throat once more but looked at him, leaning her head back again. "I've felt real happiness for the first time in almost a year, Heath. It's because of you."
He squeezed her hand. He didn't really know how to respond; these kinds of conversations were so alien to him. He'd never imagined he'd be having this sort of talk with a woman. "I'm happy, too," he said, still quiet. "I don't think I've ever really been happy. But I feel it now."
She smiled, and something else occurred to him to discuss with her too, since apparently now they were getting all feelsy.
"So, what is this?" he asked, keeping his eyes on the road. "You and me. What are we doin' here?"
"What do you mean?" she responded, but her voice was low and shy.
Heath couldn't believe his own level of discomfort, but one of them had to bring it up. "I mean, us," he repeated. "Are we…together? Are we friends? Are you just usin' me for my charm and money?" He flashed her a quick grin, but it belied the authenticity of his true feelings and insecurity. He'd had "girlfriends" in the past, but he'd never had anyone who made him feel what he was feeling for Drew, and certainly no one he could ever fully trust the way he did her.
"What do you want?" she countered softly.
"I asked you first," he said. "Just tell me. You want to be with me?" He kept his eyes on the road.
There was a long silence, long enough to worry him, and he glanced over at her. One of her hands was still holding his, while the fingers of the other were delicately gripping her forehead. She was pink, but she was dimpling down at her lap, biting her lip.
"What?" he asked softly. "Answer my question, Drew."
She sighed exasperatedly. "I don't…I don't know how to do this," she said, waving her free hand in frustration.
Heath was genuinely confused. "Do what?"
"This," she insisted, gesturing between the two of them. "Like…I don't know how this is supposed to go. Do I play games? Do I answer your question straight-forward? Are you testing me? If I say yes are you gonna stop liking me and will things get weird between us?"
"We're not teenagers," Heath pointed out gently. "I'm not into playing games. I'm asking you straight up. Now answer me."
She sighed again. He felt her eyes on him but kept his straight ahead. Her hand tightened around his and she breathed out, "Yes."
"Yes, you want to be with me?" he barked, more harshly than he meant. He almost felt as if he was wearing his NCO hat again and talking down to a private.
"Yes," she said simply. "I want to be with you."
Finally, he did look at her and her face was still pink, but she was smiling. She looked away after a minute and bit her lip, shaking her head.
"So, now what?" she demanded. "How does this work?"
"Now, nothing," he replied. "We just live our lives and keep making each other happy. Except you get to officially boss me around now."
"I always boss you around," she retorted.
"Right, but now I'm obligated to actually listen," he shot back. He smiled over at her again, then tugged her closer for a kiss.
Another comfortable silence befell them before Drew spoke up again.
"Did you ever decide if you were going to pick a song or not?" she asked.
He shrugged. "I did think about it, and I even found one I liked," he answered. "But it's not really me. I'm no frills. Let me just get in the ring, handle my business, and get on with life. It's already a stretch to get me to agree to take pictures but, I signed an agreement. It didn't go over well at Ultimate Warrior that I skipped all that shit."
"I see," she replied. "A photo shoot, huh?" She wiggled her eyebrows playfully.
He rolled his eyes and shook his head. "What about your song?" he asked. "You gonna let me get a little preview? At least play the song for me?"
She thought it over. "Well, okay," she said shyly. "I'll play the song for you. Do you know Linkin Park?"
Heath nodded. "Haven't listened to them in a while, but when I was younger, when they first came out, they were my favorite band."
"This is from 'Minutes to Midnight'," she said, pulling her music up on her cell phone. "It's called 'Leave Out All the Rest'."
He listened to the song as she looked out the window. It was an emotional heavy ballad about seeking atonement for past wrongs; begging to be remembered for the good things rather than the bad. As the strains of the song drifted away, he nodded.
"That's a good song," he said. "Can't wait to see your dance. Any chance of a preview for that?"
"Absolutely not," she replied, putting her phone away and smiling. "You'll just have to wait on pins and needles like everyone else." She meant the last part to be sarcastic, but he brought her hand to his lips.
"I am," he promised. "I'm sure Maggie and Em will want to come. Is that okay?"
"Are you serious?" she replied. "Of course!" She paused. "Well, I mean, yes. It's okay. I just have really bad stage fright and the chances of me messing up with a lot of people present that I know makes it worse."
"How long have you been dancing?"
"Like…twenty-four years. But still—each and every time. I always get really queasy and sweaty."
"Th
at's…attractive."
"I know," she said. "Let's not forget that I've seen you covered in sweat on many occasions."
"But that turns you on," Heath said teasingly, flashing her a charming smile. He noticed her eyes darkened slightly and her lips parted before she quickly looked away. "Does it?"
"Maybe a little," she replied, glancing at him. Her eyes were still dark and slid down his body before looking away again. She smiled out the window.
Heath turned his eyes back to the road, but smiled to himself as well. He had a feeling that Smackdown might turn out to be more interesting than he'd hoped.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Drew's eyes widened as she followed Heath into the lobby of the Hyatt-Regency Hotel in downtown Buffalo.
Already there were crowds of people gathered, holding signs, cameras, pictures. Heath had pointed out a couple of the other fighters he'd recognized to her and they were signing autographs for enthusiastic MMA fans. Heath ignored their calls to him and shouldering both her large duffel and his own, he walked straight to the check-in counter.
The fans were a mixture of all kinds of people; all races, genders, and ages. There were middle-aged men wearing tournament T-shirts, teenage boys, entire families.
There were also women. Lots and lots of women.
They weren't shy, either; much like the women at the gym, they were painted and dressed in tight, revealing clothing. They were beautiful, they were gilded and fake, and they were, apparently, horny. They called the names of the other fighters they recognized. They called Heath's name.
They looked at Drew like she was gum on the bottom of their shoes.
She felt, saw, and heard their laughter, their pointing, their whispers. Their eyes glided from her purposely raggedy punk T-shirt to her jeans to her sneakers. They towered over her in their heels and their fashion-forward club-wear.
"Is that his chick?"
"She's a mess. I hope not."
"Maybe just his fuck-buddy for the weekend."
Drew heard this exchange among a few of the mavens standing nearby and stopped in her tracks, glowering openly at them. They simply stared back, one of them looking at her innocently, one of them ignoring her completely to call out to Heath again and one of them laughing at her.
"Drew," Heath called over his shoulder. Drew turned and joined him at the counter. He looked down at her. "Ignore them," he instructed her quietly. "Okay?"
"Yeah, whatever," she mumbled, glaring over her shoulder again.
"Mr. Riley, I have one suite and one deluxe room," the desk clerk was saying. "The reservations were arranged by Mr. Carter Steele—I trust that your accommodations will be satisfactory for you."
"How close are the rooms?" Heath asked.
"I have both the suite and the deluxe room on the sixth floor, and they are three rooms apart." The clerk slid them their keys and smiled. "I can have someone bring your bags to your room, if you'd like to go refresh yourselves at the bar."
"No, we've got it, thanks," Heath replied. He took the keys and shouldered the bags again and headed for the elevator bank. Drew trailed behind, beside herself at the amount of fans that were in the lobby.
When they were in the elevator she turned to him. "Aren't you gonna sign autographs and stuff?" she asked. "You don't want to get a rep for being stuck up. A lot of them are here to see you."
"I don't mind signing stuff for kids and the guys and families," he said, "but I don't like taking pictures with groupies. I wouldn't put you through that. They tend to get really…handsy."
"Oh," Drew replied, frowning again.
He laughed at her and leaned down to kiss her cheek. "Don't worry."
"About what?" Drew demanded. "I'm fine."
Heath smirked. "Okay."
He brought her bag into her room after she unlocked it and stepped inside. She was pleased; it was a nice room, spacious, trendy. The bed looked beyond comfortable and she had plenty of room. Heath placed her duffel on her bed and glanced at his watch.
"I have to be at the Niagara Center in half an hour," he replied. "It's not too far. Do you want to come with me or stay here? It can get kinda long. I have to officially check in, take some pictures. It should go faster since I'm not doing interviews but Carter is gonna handle that for me. By the time we're done John and Connor and Lana should be here. I think they wanted to go to dinner or something tonight. They said they'd be here about five or so but that they'd let me know for sure later."
"That's fine," she replied. "Is your dad staying with you?"
"Yeah," he replied. "I'll sleep on the couch."
"I'll stay here," Drew said. "I didn't get a ton of sleep last night, and I'd like to wash the car ride off anyway. And if you let everybody know I'm here, I can meet them in the lobby and give your dad the key to your room. We'll just hang out here in the meantime until you get back."
"You sure?" he asked. "I don't want to leave you alone. You'll get bored."
"I'll be in my room," she reassured him. "I'll be fine."
"All right," he said, then pulled her against his body to kiss her goodbye. As always her skin jumped at his touch, and the kiss went on longer than a normal goodbye would have. Finally she pushed at his chest gently, smiling up into his face.
"Go," she said quietly. "Don't be late."
He smoothed a hand over her head and brought his lips to hers once more before he backed out of the room and left.
Drew sighed and kicked off her shoes and stripped off her jeans. She crawled into the immensely comfortable bed, making sure to set the alarm on her cell phone for a reasonable amount of time. She knew she could easily oversleep without it.
It felt like only a moment later when her alarm went off. She felt around for her phone and silenced it, then groaned, yawning and stretching. She glanced at her phone again and saw she had a message from Heath letting her know he'd gotten in touch with his family and they would be arriving by five. He planned on returning shortly thereafter. It was half past three now, so Drew knew she'd better get a move on.
As she gradually became more aware of her surroundings, she started to hear loud noises from outside. She climbed out of bed and moved to the window, and was shocked to see a throng of people outside. They were being held back by several tall, burly security types and a line of young men, buff and tattooed, dressed in trendy athletic wear, filed into the hotel. She assumed that they were other fighters for the tournament by the way they stopped and signed autographs and took pictures with fans. And not too much further away were several more groups of young, scantily clad women, smiling and calling out to them. Drew tilted her head with interest as she watched the fighters respond. It's going to be loud in here tonight, she thought crossly, noting the way cellphones were pulled out and numbers exchanged.
As she studied the girls, and the attention they were receiving, she wondered what Heath thought of them. He'd often referred to them as "groupies" and today had even told her not to worry about them. But that was because he was a nice guy. Drew knew he cared about her so naturally he wouldn't want her to feel uncomfortable in any way. But he was also still a man, and what man wouldn't respond to tits and ass being shoved in his face every time he turned around?
Her hand dropped away from the curtain as she turned back into the room, deciding it was time for a shower. Her mind turned to the issue of sex between, or rather, the lack thereof. Granted, it wasn't like she was making Heath wait years and years. And he certainly wasn't pressuring her—in fact, based on their last encounter, she felt like she was the one who pressured him. But she wondered how long his patience with her would hold out before he either did try to pressure her, or decided she wasn't worth the wait any more.
She knew she was loosening up substantially regarding the idea of sex—sex with Heath, that is; the thought of sex in general still made her skin crawl a little, but when she pictured it with Heath, she felt warm and her lower stomach and pelvic area would tingle and tighten up. She wasn't really sure when she wou
ld just know she was ready to get back in the saddle, so to speak, or if it even worked that way. She just hoped it would be soon before he got fed up with her and left her for someone else, someone more willing.
As she showered she thought of the three girls who had openly laughed at her that morning. They were painted and primped, perfectly put together and looked like models in men's magazines. Drew shook her head, mostly at herself. And she'd thought it was a good idea to go trudging around after someone like Heath in a ripped '80s T-shirt, jeans and Converse sneakers…
Drew made up her mind once she was out of the shower and staring hard at herself in the mirror. She'd have to put all of her unease aside. She was twenty-seven, after all, and it was time to put her big girl panties on and show Heath just what he'd been missing, and why she was the top, the only, candidate. She knew she was rusty when it came to her sex technique, but she figured she'd be fine; she was a dancer, after all—she knew how to move her body in such a way that would please him if not herself.
As she rifled through her suitcase and removed a lacy thong, she decided. Tonight would be the night.
***
After a shower and a change of clothes, Heath felt like a new man after an irritating and exhausting afternoon of dealing with the press, taking photos, and getting briefed on the weekend to come.
He'd received some messages from Drew letting him know his family had arrived and she was keeping them company in the hotel bar. When he'd pulled up to the hotel on his arrival back from the arena, he was completely dismayed to see the fanfare that was posted up outside the hotel—throngs of people were outside and mingling with the fighters who were coming and going. Most of them were utter douche bags who were slicked and gelled, manicured, wearing rhinestone embellished V-neck shirts showing their chest hair. They were eating up the attention from the women, the groupies, and Heath knew if he walked through them it would take him forever to get away from them.
So, he'd driven around to the back of the hotel near the garage where the valet kept the cars, and waited until he spotted a valet attendant. He waved him over, seeing the attendant's eyes widen in recognition.