Farah is at the desk, and I watch her eyes widen. I smirk and let my purse clatter on the counter. “I’m transferring my parents. I assume there’s paperwork that goes with that.”
She stares, her face going pale as she starts to shake. I watch her bouffant wobble with pleasure. I fucking love this, but I just raise my eyebrows and say, “Did you need to see my ID again, or do you know who I am?”
She shakes her head and blinks rapidly as her chin quivers. She goes to a file cabinet and rifles through files without a word then hands them to me after several minutes. I take a clipboard that she didn’t offer me and sit down to fill them out. When I’m done I hold up the pen. “Thanks for this.” I smile and tuck it into my purse. “Writes great.”
Farah blinks and a tear escapes. I watch without remorse as it falls down her cheek just as the swoosh of the automatic door opens. I turn to see the EMTs I contacted comet through the door. They will travel with my parents, just in case the stress causes any health problems.
I shake hands and sign their forms with my new Oregon State pen and gesture down the hall. Farah is on the phone but watches the whole time. The director of the facility meets me in the room, my parents freaking out as she helps the nurses.
“Oh, Ms. Dinah, there you are. It seems your parents weren’t aware of the move today. Is all the paperwork in order?”
I shake her hand then gesture to the EMT boys. “Yes, ma’am. I just signed everything out front. Here are our escorts, as promised.”
“Sadie, what the hell is happening?” my mom shouts.
“Who is this? What’s happening?” my dad asks. I move to where I’m in between their beds and try to hold their hands. My mom pulls away as my dad pulls me closer.
“I’m taking you to a place that’s paradise. No more Oregon rain. No more crappy food. You will love it, I swear. I meant what I said when I told you I had no idea you were here. I’m making that right,” I say firmly. My dad is trying to pull my arm off of my body, or into the bed with him, but I grasp the bedframe with my other hand and stand my ground. My mother looks like she wants to beat me with the tissue box she clutches to her chest.
“What have you done?” she asks starkly. Surely she doesn’t want to stay here with the woman that ruined our lives.
“I’ll go anywhere with you, princess.” Granted, the man trying to cop a feel had a hand in it too. I glare at him and peel his old wrinkly hands off of mine.
“I’m trying to make up for seven years of ignorance, Mama. Please let me do this for you.” Mom sits on her bed heavily, clutching that damn ratty blanket as the nurses and EMTs go over medical history, and whatever else they have to do.
Despite my dad not knowing who I am, I watch him turn his head to catch a last glimpse of Farah as we wheel him out of the facility. My jaw clenches, then I turn to see what my mom does. She turns to Farah, sticks her nose up and sniffs. I lower my head to hide the smirk.
When we get to the chartered plane I hired, I fight the grimace I want to make. It cost me a shit ton of money, but no way was I going to Batty for that. I can take care of my family. This will be worth it.
Two hours later, I’m not so sure. Despite an oxygen tank, my dad had to walk by the bar to get on the plane and has been hell bent on getting his hands on some Jack. It takes more effort than I thought was possible to keep him seated and relaxed. Finally, after almost bowling over the steward, they decide that sedating him would be best. The last thirty minutes of the flight is mercifully only filled with my mother’s protests of anything she can come up with. The sun is too bright, the engine too loud, the food stale, she’s cold, she’s hot. She’s fucking anything but grateful, that’s for damn sure.
When we touch down in Mexico, I want nothing other than to thrust these people onto the waiting staff. My accountant—newly hired—is already blowing up my phone with alarm over the charges. I turn it to silent after the fourth call as we drive to the beach.
The place is so unlike the penitentiary we just left, it has to look like heaven to my folks. The place looks like a resort, but has so much more security I know I don’t have to fear them wandering into the waves. They’re headed for better things, and that’s what’s most important to me. Who cares if they’re grateful? If anyone can give their parents the best last years, why wouldn’t they?
That’s what I keep repeating to myself, anyway. I leave them in the gentle hands of overpriced personnel with a light heart. My dad still sleeps, my mom with a room service menu in her hand as she ignores me. This is where they should have been the whole time, and I’ve made it right.
Chapter 17
SUNDAY
To say I was excited to get this day over with was an understatement. My shrink is worried I’m seeing more than what’s actually there between Batty and I, but this has to be good, right? At this point in my life so many things are up in the air, and I’m not sure I want this to be more than it is. But aren’t relationships ever evolving? Don’t they have to move to get anywhere? We’ve been in this routine of coping with the little bodies we see deteriorate every week by proving that we’re alive with each other. With our bodies. Now that things are progressing to hours upon hours of kissing and dates, there has to be a melding of feeling and feeling.
For me, I know it’s all an evolution, but to think that is terrifying. Who knows what that hot piece of sometimes masked beefcake thinks? As I sit with Mara, I know that I can only move forward.
“How are you, honey?” I ask. She looks pretty with a flowery scarf covering her bald head.
“It’s whatever. Still here, that’s what matters, right?” she asks. I shrug.
“Have they found a match yet?”
“Nope. Still waiting for the magical donor.” I sigh. One of the first things that came to my attention was that most of these kids wait for a bone marrow transplant match, and my blood was in the system. I feel helpless knowing that I can’t save her myself.
“There’s still time.”
“Not much. I’m running out, Robin. Tell me about your date.” She smiles, and as I tell her about the next date, the only thing I think that can bring a smile to this fragile teen’s cheeks is I don’t regret anything. I give her a night under the stars I can only hope will come true.
~
“So tell me.”
I take my mask off, scrub my hair and stall. “What do you mean?” Batty raises his eyebrows as he shifts gears and the engine roars.
“What’s the next date, babe?”
“How do you know it was with you? It could have been this guy I met at a drive-thru. He was at the—” I squeal as Batty digs his fingers fast into my ribs and tickles me expertly. Who knew I was ticklish? No one but him, that’s who. “I could be a playa. You could be just one of many.”
“Spill it, Sadie,” he orders.
I sigh happily. “Fine. But I’m not telling you how it plays out.”
“How will I know what happens?”
“You won’t. You’ll have to see what happens and hope I’m not a liar.” I’m nervous about this part. I kept the tale to Mara PG-13, but God I miss this man in my bed. I don’t know if I can wait another week to have him inside of me.
When we get to my house, Batty pulls another shirt from his trunk and I leave him downstairs to pull on a grey razor back tank that shows my black bra straps, braiding my hair over my shoulder as I go back down the stairs. My biker boots clomp with each step, sounding less than graceful.
I lead the way into the kitchen and pull out a bottle of wine. When I give it to Batty, he lifts an eyebrow, but twists the opener silently and uncorks the bottle. I pull skillets out and swallow nervously as I feel my hair being swept aside. My eyes close when warm lips skim the sensitive skin between shoulder and neck. Batty’s hands skim my waist before his presence leaves from behind me.
Batty leans a hip on the counter by the stove where I’m setting up. His hand reaches for a tendril of hair that didn’t get braided, and I freeze when he rubs it b
etween his fingers. “Your hair is so soft,” he says quietly, almost to himself. I don’t say anything, but pour oil into the pan, and his fingers slip free. “Are you cooking me dinner, Sadie?” Batty asks with a smile.
I look into eyes that are so bright, they sparkle. He looks laidback, the most relaxed I’ve seen him and that’s including after I’ve blown his mind. I want to watch him forever. I want to grab my phone and take a picture but I know that that wouldn’t be enough. A snapshot can’t possibly capture the twitch of his mouth like he’s trying not to laugh, or the way his tongue glides over the inside of his teeth.
Finnigan Brennick is all man. Beautiful inside and out. He’s a man that deserves someone so much better than me, but I’m a selfish bitch.
“No, I ran out of Scentsy so I’m going old school,” I reply with my eyes on his, my breath suspended. His eyes shine, the lines around his mouth deepen, his nose flares the slightest bit as his chest rises with a breath. Then. There it is. His head tilts back, his Adam’s apple bobs and the sound makes my own extinct smile break free. His laugh is husky, masculine in a way that only he can make it, and rare enough that when he lowers his head, those steel grey eyes show slight surprise.
“Eau de garlic. I like it.” Batty puts a big hand on my head and brings his lips to my temple. The almost absent gesture turns to something else when he doesn’t release my head. When he doesn’t move his lips. “I like you, Sadie,” he whispers before taking a deep breath with his nose in my hair before walking past me to open the refrigerator. “Is there something I can help with?”
I swallow thickly and have to clear my throat before anything will come out of my mouth. “You can make the salad if you want.” I get the cutting board for him and Batty takes a seat at the island so that we’re facing each other as I cook.
“I could have sworn you didn’t cook. Last time I looked in your fridge, you had bottled water and condiments in there,” Batty says as he chops olives for a Caesar salad. I smirk and stir spinach around in the pan.
“I don’t. I Google,” I say as I move around the kitchen to grab the premeasured ingredients for the recipe I prepared that morning, and dump them into a bowl to mix.
“Google, huh? I feel kind of special that you went to the trouble. Wait, this isn’t you trying to get in my pants, is it?” he asks with a grin. I just push his wine glass toward him with a cheeky smile and am rewarded with the music of his mirth again.
“I got my parents settled this week.”
“That’s great. Did they like the place you picked out?” I shrug.
“I have no idea. It’s a great place in Cabo San Lucas, right on the beach. My dad tried to get me into bed or liquor cabinets the whole time, and my mom was just freaked. I hope they adjust alright.” I take a sip of wine.
“How did you get them from Oregon?”
“We walked.”
“Sadie.”
“I chartered a plane,” I admit. A muscle jumps in Batty’s cheek when he clenches his jaw.
“Why didn’t you ask me? I would have given you mine.”
“Because I didn’t need you to give me your plane. I can take care of my parents.”
“I know you can. But if there are resources and connections you can utilize, why not take them?” I know he’s annoyed because his grammar is getting precise. This is not how I want this night to go.
I put down the spatula and put both of my palms on the marble counter top. “I needed to do this myself. After seven years of ignorance, I had to do this myself, my way. I didn’t want connections or resources. I made the reservations and paid with my debit card. And you know what? It felt really good.”
Batty sighs and fluffs the salad in the bowl to coat the lettuce with dressing. “Alright, baby. I hear you.” I pull the cork on the wine and add it to the pan. “Hey, don’t put all of it in there. You aren’t the only one hoping to get lucky tonight.”
I laugh, because the man doesn’t have to try. He just has to breathe for me to want him. “There’s another bottle in the wine cooler over there,” I tell him, pointing with my spatula to the glass door under the counter.
“Perfect.”
After the garlic bread is done, I plate the pasta and we take everything out to the deck without a word. The shrimp are rubbery, and the pasta a little more al dente than I intended, but Batty asks for seconds, anyway. I don’t make excuses for my meal. I don’t tell him that it’s the first time I’ve ever turned on my stove or used these plates. I don’t say a word and he eats seconds. It causes a tightening in my chest that has only ever happened at the hospital when a sick kid tells me they’re wildest dream.
I put my hand there, over my heart and press down with fingertips that are slightly chilled from the wind. Batty wipes his mouth and smiles, with a small speck of spinach in his teeth and I move without thinking, my fingers wrap around his chin and move the speck away.
I blink slowly, like I’ve been in slow motion and things go back to regular speed that looks too fast all of a sudden. I stand and chug the rest of my wine. “Let’s go.” I hold my hand out and it’s Batty’s turn to do the slow blink as he looks up at me from his lounge chair. He puts his hand in mine and I pull him to the stairs leading to the beach.
As we take our shoes off, Batty holds my eyes then moves them to the waves illuminated by the lights on my porch. I can see the question on his face, but I ask him first, “Have you ever been skinny dipping, Finnigan Brennick?”
His eyebrows rise high on his forehead. “Despite popular opinion, I wasn’t born a thirty-one year old music mogul.”
“Yeah? Well, that’s a relief then.” I back up and pull him with me into the cold sand. “Now get naked.”
“That’s something you don’t ever have to tell me twice, darlin’. But are you sure about doing this in March? We can get naked and take a shower, say we went into the ocean.”
“Oh come on, sweetheart.” I throw my bra at him. “Are you going to make a liar out of me?” My pants are next, then I’m jogging into the surf. I get up to my knees before I’m swept off of my feet and into warm arms. I shriek loudly as my hands go flying. Batty loses his footing and we both go down in a heap into water shockingly cold.
I sit up, sputtering as another wave comes over my head before receding just as fast. I look around me, my hair clinging to me like a spider web, and finally spot Batty to my right. I climb to my feet and grab for his bicep. “I’ll save you, Batman! I’ve got you.” I tug and giggle. “I won’t let you drown. Say something, my hero!”
I gasp for breath in between laughs as Batty gets knocked down again and again by small waves. I know he does it on purpose. “I need mouth to mouth. I don’t think I’m breathing,” he says with a tug to my hand. I laugh loudly, barely able to see anything but a silhouette in the dark as he faces the sea, but I lean down as he sits up and I make contact with his eyes first. When I try again, I get his chin. I can feel his laughter on my cheeks and fall to my knees carefully.
With a swipe of my tongue, I ask, “Are you breathing now?”
“It’s fucking cold as balls out here, woman. We’ve dipped, I’m calling it.”
The man that kept getting knocked into the ocean by small waves is suddenly throwing me over his shoulder as he runs back to my house. The wine makes me dizzy and I yell for him to put me down. Batty slaps my ass and squeezes as he takes the stairs, so I slap his back since it’s right there.
My hair tries to wrap around Batty’s knees as he jogs up the stairs and into my bathroom, so I raise my head as much as possible. When he puts me back on my feet, I’m in the large glass shower stall and pushed up against the wall before the blood can flow back out of my head. Batty covers my chilled skin with his as he twists his hand on the knob. In seconds, steam fills the room, water raining down on us from the ceiling as he takes my mouth.
One hand holds my jaw from beneath while the other grabs a thigh. I wrap a calf around his ass and use it to pull him into me. I grip his shoulders as my head
spins. I can feel his erection on my stomach and push my hips into him.
“Second date,” Batty whispers against my lips. “Usually that’s second base, but I’m hoping for third.” Third base? I suck at baseball euphemisms but I’m thinking that doesn’t end with him fucking me. I’m about to protest when he sinks to his knees. I groan in understanding.
I rake my fingers in his hair as he palms my breasts, tweaking my nipples with just the right amount of pain to mix with the pleasure. “I don’t want you to think I’m easy. If I let you get to third will you ever respect me?” I pant.
Batty presses his mouth to my stomach as he chuckles, before tonguing my belly button. He circles it lightly while I melt into the tiles at my back, then plunges in and I can practically feel the motion hit my core. “You have it, baby. Don’t ever doubt that.”
He moves down and sucks the tender skin between hip and pelvic bone. I shudder. I watch Batty look up at me, those grey eyes the color of steel as he lightly rubs his chin closer to where I need him to be. “Your sounds are my favorite music, Sadie. Play me a song.”
When he opens his mouth over my lips and sucks, I gasp and widen my legs. His hands move up the insides of my legs, until he’s gripping the inside of my thighs. I can feel ever fingertip as they grip me. I feel like it’s the only thing keeping me standing. When he parts my folds and latches his mouth on my clit, I cry out. The sound carries with the acoustics of the room and Batty hums appreciatively.
I push harder into his mouth, so that my hips and lower back are off of the wall. Batty adds a finger, then two, and I know I’m close, but almost know it won’t happen for me like this. Batty knows it too, he’s just drawing it out. Then he curls his fingers and moves his hand rapidly over some magical place that’s like my hidden pot of gold. I shriek, my body exploding apart, my hair standing up, my skin covered in goose bumps. My whole body spasms, my toes curl and I collapse, shattered. Batty follows me down, licking and sucking the inside of my thighs as I lay under the water.
Forgetting Popper (Los Rancheros #3) Page 11