He Saved Me

by Whitney Barbetti

  October 2011.

  I wondered where I would be a year from now. Yes, it was indulgent to engage in fantasies, but I hoped I’d be somewhere far away from here, back in Colorado perhaps. Or maybe I would be enjoying a much-needed vacation somewhere warm. I didn’t wonder if Julian would be with me, I already knew the answer: Yes. It was thrilling, to know that he would be there for me, that he would follow me where I went. Something fluttered in my stomach and I pressed my hand against the skin there. The more important question is where would we be at that point, in our relationship? We were still early in the dating thing, or at least I assumed we were. I couldn’t imagine marriage in my future, at least not in my near future. Truly, the idea of marriage wasn’t something I dreamed about. Julian was more than I hoped for; more than I sometimes felt I deserved. Marriage sounded like a foreign word, something that got stuck on my tongue when I opened my mouth to say it. “Marriage,” I whispered.

  “What did you say?”

  I spun around, nearly knocking the glass jar to the floor. I gripped the jar in both hands as I faced Julian, with what I was sure was a guilty expression. “Nothing,” I squeaked. I cleared my throat. “I was mumbling to myself. The pickles expire next year.”

  Julian looked at me with a raised eyebrow as he slowly approached. “Well at the rate you’re going through them, I don’t expect there will be any left next week.” He took the jar from my hands and set it on the counter beside me. He clasped my hands in his and brought them up to his lips, his eyes trained on my eyes as he kissed the knuckles. “You okay?” His eyes were narrowed in concern, making them look darker with the shadows from the terrible artificial lights above us.

  I nodded. The fluttering in my stomach dissipated. How did he manage to calm me with just his touch? I could be a ball of nerves and one touch from him unraveled it all, soothing whatever emotion wrapped me up in knots. I knew Julian was different, that our connection was more emotional than physical, though both parts separately were stronger than anything I’d felt before. Combined, it felt natural; as if I’d been following my path only to get to him. He was it for me; there wouldn’t be another soul that could make me feel the way he did. I wondered if he knew that, and if I was the same for him. I squeezed my hands, trapped in his, and leaned towards him for a kiss. He met my lips briefly, before moving his lips to press a soothing kiss to my forehead.

  “Hungry?” he asked, releasing my hands to rub my shoulders.

  “I’m always hungry.”

  “True,” he agreed. “What are you in the mood for?” He opened the fridge and glanced at me.

  I lifted my body up to sit on the counter behind me and shrugged. “Surprise me.”

  He pulled out chicken breasts and parmesan and set them on the counter before grabbing some onion. He pulled out a bottle of white wine and opened it without a second thought, pouring the gold liquid into two glasses he pulled from the cabinet.

  I watched his hands as he picked up one glass and held it out to me. His eyes met mine and he smiled when my fingers brushed his as I took the glass. I watched him as I sipped the liquid, watched him smell the wine first, sip, and grab a can of tomato sauce from the cupboard.

  “You were supposed to be a one night stand.” I blurted out.

  He paused only momentarily, his back to me as he used the can opener to open the can of tomatoes. When he was finished, he turned to face me. His eyes were guarded, his arms tense as he eyed me.

  “You were supposed to be a job. A curiosity.”

  I took another sip of the wine before I realized I was swinging my legs from the counter. I probably looked like a little kid drinking contraband. I swallowed the wine, the coolness refreshing my throat. “And now?”

  Julian moved across the tiled floor to me. It was a short distance, just six tiles that separated one side from the other. I opened my legs to accommodate him. He was in front of me in an instant, smiling his little secretive smile. He took the wine glass from my hand and placed it on the counter before reaching up and pulling me down so we were face to face.

  “Now?” he asked, moving closer to me, wrapping one arm around my waist and cupping my cheek with his hand. He leaned in and placed a soft kiss on my lips, nibbling a little before he pulled back and pressed his lips to my cheekbone. His lips stayed there for a beat before moving to my forehead, then coming down to kiss the spot behind my ear.

  I sighed, involuntarily, my eyes closed. Each kiss was like lighting a match to my skin. His lips moved down to my neck before my head fell back. He truly was like a drug, pulling me under in a haze. His lips moved up the column of my throat, his hands cradled my head.

  When his lips met mine once again, he kissed me softly, slowly. Then pulled away just so our lips barely touched. “Now,” he said, the breath rushing through my lips. “Now, I am completely, madly in love with you.” I felt my legs go a little weak and wrapped my arms around him in an effort to be closer and to steady myself. “I,” he said before brushing my lips with his. “Love,” he added, brushing yet another kiss to my lips. “You.” He pushed his lips to mine fully.

  I knew I trembled. It was the first time I’d heard him say those words since I’d run away from him. I swallowed; my tongue felt as if it weighed a hundred pounds. I exhaled out a breath, relieved. His words filled up the empty space that had been carved into my chest months earlier. I wanted to laugh, with relief, with gratitude. Instead my hands moved to hold his face. “I love you, Julian.” The words weren’t as hard to say as I’d expected. The laugh I’d suppressed bubbled up and released itself from my lips. I felt his smile stretch his cheeks beneath my hands and we both laughed a little before Julian picked me up and spun me around in a quick spin.

  “I know,” he said as he smacked another kiss to my lips before putting me back on the counter.

  I scrunched my eyebrows together in confusion. “You know?” I asked.

  “You told me,” he answered, his back to me as he peeled the onion over the sink. “Wait,” he amended, moving to the cutting board and cutting the onion in half. “Technically, you texted me.”

  My mind flashed to that last text before I’d tossed my phone out the window. I swallowed back the pain that lingered from that moment, when I’d admitted I loved him, when I’d told him not to look for me. “Do you want to talk about that?”

  Julian shrugged. I couldn’t see his face. He diced the onion and turned around to the stove that was at my right. I watched him pour olive oil and place a pat of butter into the skillet before turning on the burner. He still hadn’t looked at me. “Hey,” I said, reaching a hand to him to get him to look at me, to reveal even a small piece of what he was feeling. “Tell me what you’re thinking,” I pleaded.

  Julian looked at me, his eyes dark. I noticed for the first time how tired he looked. Something was bothering him. He sighed and looked down at the pan for a moment, swishing the butter and oil around. “It’s complicated.”

  “What’s complicated?” I slid down from the counter to get closer to him. Our nearness to each other had an interesting effect on how likely we were to be honest. I invaded his space, forced him to look at me. Our parting had bothered me, of course it had, but it felt, to me, that things were okay again, now that Julian had found me and we were reunited. But Julian didn’t seem to feel as complete as I did. And that concerned me.

  Julian sighed again.

  “Stop sighing!” I exclaimed, annoyed. “Talk to me. Force the words from your lips. Or write it down, if that’s easier. Just let me in.”

  Julian turned to face me, fully, and tilted his head. “I can’t force things, Andra. I can’t force words when they mean something. I’ve told you before that the words I write mean little, mean nothing to me. This, us?” he gestured between us. “I can’t force anything here. I’m not shutting you out, I just am sorting it around for myself.” He blew out a breath and leaned against the counter. “Obviously, when you left, I was upset. Hurt. That text you sent me was hard to read.” I
saw a muscle tick in his jaw. He clenched his teeth.

  “I had some time to think about it. You did caution me from returning to the ranch. I figured out that Hawthorne had come for a visit. I knew you were protecting me,” he swallowed hard. “Protecting my family. But I didn’t like that there was a choice. Between being with you and protecting my family.” He reached a hand to me, the first indication that he was opening himself up to me. “Andra,” he said, his voice strangled. I came to him without hesitation and his arms came around me in a hug. “I want you. I want you and my family and I want you to be a part of my family.” The admission was heavy with implications. I didn’t say a word, just nuzzled against his neck, brushing a light kiss to his skin. His arms squeezed. “One step at a time. I just found you. I won’t lose you. You and me, we are going to come to a resolution with this.”

  “And Six too,” I reminded him.

  “Right.” His tone suggested he was less than thrilled at the idea. “I think he needs to warm up to me. Showing up unannounced was probably not my best idea.”

  I squeezed him back. “It was one of the best moments of my life, if that means anything.”

  He laughed. “That means everything. Best date, best kiss, best moment of your life? I’m racking up some serious points here.”

  I shoved against him playfully, but he didn’t loosen the arms around me. Silence settled over us like an unwelcome guest. I had so much to say and didn’t know where to start.

  “Julian,” I started. I tried to organize the thoughts in my head. “I want us. I want you. I want to be with you. I know that there isn’t anyone else out there for me.” That was hard to say. I almost felt like I’d just come up for air and needed to take a deep breath. Julian’s hands rubbed over my back, soothingly. “I want to be selfless and tell you to go home, to keep your family safe, but I want you here so badly that if you leave me, I’m afraid of what will be left.” I squeezed my eyes tight when my nose tickled, the sure sign that tears threatened.

  “You can tell me to leave, but it doesn’t mean I’ll listen.” His voice was soft at my ear, his arms tight around me. “I’m not letting you get away from me, Andra. You are mine. I said it in jest when we were fighting over the olives in the restaurant, but I mean it now. You’re a part of me, you’re in my head and in my heart and in my bloodstream.” He brushed his lips over my hair. “I don’t want to ever feel how I felt when you left. So the only way to prevent that is to stay right here.”

  If it could, I would have believed my heart warmed at the way he said that. I held him tighter, wanting to absorb all the goodness he gave me.

  “What did you do all those months?” The question had been at the back of my brain since I’d first heard him whisper my name in the dark.

  Julian eased away. “I’d love to hold you, but I also want to feed you. Sit while I cook,” he said while he motioned back to the counter. I hopped back up and watched him pour the onions into the skillet. “I actually went to the ranch the day after you left.”

  “What?” I was sure I screeched. “I specifically said for you to not go to the ranch.”

  He stirred the onions around in the pan. “Yeah, well you don’t always listen to me either, Shorty.”

  “Shorty?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “Bringing that nickname back?”

  “Technically, you are shorter than me, so I feel justified in calling you that.”

  “What happened when you went to the ranch?”

  I watched him place another skillet on the burner and pour some olive oil into the pan. The kitchen started to smell like sautéing onions.

  “There was this beefy guy that stopped me just outside the property,” he explained, pulling the chicken from its package and pounding the tenders flatter. “He knew who I was. Called me an idiot, or something like that. And then I met Mira.”

  “Did someone say my name?”

  I moved my head to the doorway to the hallway. Mira leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over one another. She was wearing gray sweats that had “HOGWARTS” down one leg and a bright pink long-sleeve shirt that said, “Polite as Fuck.”

  “Nice shirt,” I said with a nod towards her.

  She didn’t look down to her shirt like I expected. Instead she raised an eyebrow and looked at me like I was under a microscope. I supposed I looked at her similarly.

  “I was just telling Andra how we met,” Julian said with the wave of his hand.

  “Oh, when I called you an idiot?” she asked nonchalantly. Something about Mira annoyed me. Like a crumb in your shirt. A silly thing to be annoyed about, but it dug into your skin anyway. And admittedly, I was curious about her.

  “How long have you known Six?” I asked.

  Mira narrowed her eyes, still examining me under the microscope. “A long ass time. And you’re not one for small talk are you?” She tilted her head.

  “I don’t like wasting time,” I replied, shrugging.

  “Great, then let’s start your training now.” She eased off the doorframe and motioned her head outside.

  “What?” I asked, thrown off. “I’m not ready.” I motioned to my pajamas.

  Mira snorted. “Do you think Hawthorne, or any threat, is going to wait for you to put on whatever cute ass-kicking outfit you have? ‘Oh, excuse me Mr. Bad Guy, I’m only wearing pajama pants. Give me a sec to change.’” Her voice was sarcastic and the crumb in my shirt was now a thorn.

  “Fine,” I said, hopping off the counter. “Let’s go.”

  I followed her out the back deck and off the porch into the sand. A second later I was on my face in the sand.

  “What the hell?” I growled as I pushed myself up on my hands. I wasn’t able to push myself to standing because Mira sat on my back, pinning me to the ground.

  “First rule: pay attention.” I felt her hands push my shoulders down. “This is a very vulnerable position to be in. Lucky for you, I weigh nothing.” I gritted my teeth. I was embarrassed to be taken down so easily by someone so small. “Try to get up,” she said, still pushing on my shoulders.

  I tried pushing with my hands, but with her sitting square on my back, I couldn’t get enough leverage. I tried clawing forward, but I was stuck. Anger kept me from giving up this easily. I thought for a second and then pulled up a knee and pushed, giving me the leverage to move her up. I quickly pulled up my other knee and rolled away, knocking her off. I scrambled to my feet and faced her.

  “Good,” she said, standing up and tucking her shirt into her sweats. She kicked off her neon green flip flops. “A lot of self-defense is training, but you can never be fully prepared for when you need it. I’m going to teach you some basic shit, but I’m also going to make you stronger. Show you which muscles to work.” She walked closer to me. In the dark, it was harder to see her, which probably lent a bit of reality to this situation. She put her arm up to me. “Grab my wrist with your hand, like you want to pull me.”

  I reached out and grabbed. A second later, she was free and my wrist hurt. “What did you do?” Now that my blood was slowing from the anger that had fueled my heart, I was more open to learning.

  “Grab my wrist again,” she instructed. I did. “The first thing I did was pull my elbow into my body.” I watched her pull her elbow in. “Then I rotated my hand over your arm to break the grip.” She demonstrated again. “Now try it with me.” I did and was surprised to break her grasp on my wrist with that quick movement. “Good,” she said again. She wasn’t pissing me off anymore. It was a nice change. “Grab my wrist again.”

  I reached out and grabbed Mira’s wrist. She didn’t move for a minute so I looked up at her. She was watching me carefully. “This is going to hurt,” she said right before I saw her free hand lift up. Then her fist slammed down onto my hand.

  “Bitch!” I yelled.

  “Want some ice?” Julian asked from the freezer.

  I was leaning into the kitchen sink, my hand under the cold water pouring from the faucet. My hand was aching, my finge
rs trembling. I was biting hard on my lip, doing my best to keep from crying. “Not unless you plan on pelting her with it,” I growled. “I hope you have great aim.”

  “That was a disabling move.”

  I whipped my head up to see Six in the doorway. “Yeah, well it fucking hurts.”

  “It’s supposed to.” He walked towards me, his gait slow. He took my hand in his. He pulled my hand up and pushed his fingers into my skin. “Nothing’s broken,” he chided when I yelped. “Take the ice from Julian and relax.”

  I gave him a sharp look. “Relax?” I asked, my voice rising. “Was that really necessary?” I gestured with my head towards the back porch, where Mira sat in my chair, flicking a lighter open and closed in her hand.

  “Yes,” Six said, easing back and looking me square in the eye. “It was. Now you know just how much that would hurt your opponent.” He broke eye contact to take the bag of ice Julian handed him. When he turned back to me, his eyes had softened slightly. “Mira knows what she’s doing. The pain will dissipate, but you won’t forget the shock. So if you ever need to make this move, you’ll know just how disabling it can be.”

  I took the ice from him and put it on my hand. “I don’t need to be hit with a bullet to know that getting shot probably doesn’t feel too great,” I mumbled.

  “Don’t be a baby,” Six murmured. He took the ice back from me and held my hand in his. I tried pulling my hand away but he held it still, pushing the ice gently to it. “Look at me, Andra.” I reluctantly lifted my eyes to his. “What color are my eyes?”