Butterfly Ginger

by Stephanie Fournet

  Outnumbered, Blythe gave a sigh and let Nate pull her up. She walked over to her brother, bent down, and touched her lips lightly to his forehead.

  “You need to rest, too,” she muttered. “I love you, Cal.”

  “You, too.”

  Nate suppressed a sigh. Anyone who didn’t say all those words back to Blythe Barnes was a fool — even her little brother. He shook off the thought when Blythe joined him at the den steps, and he led her towards the back of the house.

  “Since he’s staying out here, you can take the spare room. I made up the bed,” he said, half-embarrassed. “We’ve lived here for almost three years, and no one’s ever slept in it.”

  The left side of her mouth lifted up in a smile at this. “Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me.”

  He reached the spare room door and paused to let her through. Blythe’s eyes found the folded sweatpants and t-shirt he’d set aside for her earlier. “P.J.‘s too? You are so sweet.”

  “It’s nothing much, but I hope you’ll be comfortable.”

  Her smile grew, and she slipped past him into the room. Nate found himself hoping that she’d turn and give him a kiss goodnight. It would have to be her choice; he didn’t want to press his luck.

  “Thanks.” Blythe still wore her dimpled smile, but she placed her hand on the bedroom door to close it. His hopes scattered, and he stepped back into the hall.

  “Goodnight,” he said with a nod to her. He turned and started back toward the den, hiding his disappointment.

  “Goodnight…” she called after him.

  Calvin had turned off the lamp behind the couch, and only the TV screen and the fading glow of the fire lighted the room.

  “Want me to build that up again before I head to bed?” Nate asked, pointing to the Ben Franklin.

  Calvin pulled the ice pack away from his eye and looked at Nate. Even with the ice, that eye had swollen shut. Looking at it made Nate grit his teeth.

  “Sure… It’s nice.”

  Nate crossed to the wood bin he kept in the corner and drew out a few logs. He opened the glass doors of the fireplace and carefully placed each log on the flickering embers.

  “Hey, Nate…?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You know what you told me? About being beaten up at school?” Calvin asked, his voice small in the dim room.

  “Yeah… What about it?” Nate glanced over his shoulder to let Blythe’s brother know he could ask whatever he wanted, but he took his time tending to the fire to keep it casual. It was something Richland had done with him countless times. His father would keep working — raking leaves, digging a trench, or pruning a bush — and Nate would just let it spill out, whatever was bothering him. He would be able to open up that much more when Richland wasn’t focusing on him one hundred percent. Or maybe it was one hundred percent, and Richland was just good at disguising it.

  “Were you… were you scared to go back to school afterwards?” Nate could hear Calvin’s fear and the shame he felt at being afraid.

  “Yes. Absolutely. The first time, anyway,” Nate admitted, not minding the truth at all. He’d been scared shitless to go back to school after his first fight. “The first time, I was a freshman, and everybody knew my dad and I kept up the grounds to help pay for tuition. But nobody knew what Hunter Price did except me.”

  “What do you mean? What did he do?” Calvin asked, already sounding less scared. Nate turned his smile toward the building blaze.

  “His dad was a plumber, and one weekend while my dad and I worked on the grounds, I went inside to use the men’s room, and I found them fixing a backed up line. They were standing in shit up to their ankles.”

  Calvin chuckled in the darkness. “Did you rat on him or something?”

  “Hell, no. I wouldn’t have done that,” Nate said, shaking his head. “When he asked me to meet him behind the stadium after school the following Monday, I thought we’d be able to be friends… you know, kind of a blue collar brotherhood amidst all those privileged assholes.”

  Even after so many years, the bitterness of the memory tightened his jaw.

  “He punched me in the mouth before I could say ‘hello.’ The next thing I knew, I was on the ground, and he was pinning my shoulders down with his knees.” Nate’s eyes found Calvin’s. “Price had a good forty pounds on me, and he told me that if I ever said a word to anyone about what his father did for a living, I’d get a galvanized pipe to the back of my skull.”

  Calvin just blinked at him.

  “I understand now that — out of the two of us — he was more scared, but I looked over my shoulder for a good three weeks,” Nate admitted.

  “What happened after three weeks?” The eagerness in Calvin’s voice couldn’t be missed.

  “Richland taught me how to fight.” At this, he sent up yet another prayer of thanks to his father. Silence stretched between them for a long moment.

  “Would you teach me how to fight?” Calvin asked quietly. Nate blinked, stunned.

  “Yes. Of course… If you want me to,” he stammered. “But… Wouldn’t you rather ask Seth?”

  Calvin’s answer was immediate.

  “Seth’s an asshole.” Nate nearly choked on his sudden laughter. “But Blythe’s cool… and if she’s so crazy about you, you must be cool, too.”

  Nate was speechless for a moment. It was probably the nicest thing Calvin could say to him.

  “Well… Thanks, Cal,” he finally managed. “Um… do you need anything before I turn in?”

  “Got any morphine?” the kid asked, making Nate laugh again. Calvin was certainly Blythe’s brother.

  “I wish I did, man.”

  “Just kidding… Blythe gave me an Aleve. It’s helping… Goodnight, Nate.”

  “Goodnight, Calvin. Let me know if you need something.”

  “K.”

  Nate locked the back door and turned off the kitchen light. Blythe’s door was open, but the room was already dark. He slipped into the bathroom, brushed his teeth, peeled off his clothes, and drew on the drawstring shorts he wore to bed on warm nights. The house was cool, but Nate knew the thought of Blythe sleeping just down the hall would heat his blood and make him kick off the covers.

  On his way out of the bathroom, he left the vanity light on, cracking the door just a little in case Blythe or her brother needed something during the night. Then he crept into the darkened hallway and pushed open his bedroom door.

  And Nate stopped in his tracks.

  Blythe sat cross-legged in the middle of his bed, wearing his T-shirt and sweatpants. He watched a series of emotions cross her face in the span of an instant. Uncertainty. Surprise. Embarrassment. Her eyes widened at the sight of his bare chest, and she looked away, blushing.

  Nate couldn’t help his boundless smile. Even with her eyes full of doubt and her fingers knotted together in her lap, she was the most welcome sight he’d ever seen.

  It was hard, but he resisted the urge to move toward her. Nate understood that she had come in with her own agenda, so he would wait for her.

  “H-hi…” she stammered.

  “Hi.”

  “I hope you don’t mind,” she said, pointing back and forth between herself and the bed. “I just wanted to talk a little more…”

  “I think you know I don’t mind.”

  Her eyes widened a little more at the truth in his words. How could he mind? She was sitting on his bed in his pajamas. Even if she wanted nothing more than to talk until the sun came up, it would still be one of the best nights of his life.

  “Calvin was okay?” Blythe asked, nodding toward the door. She was stalling, Nate knew. Whatever she wanted to talk about, it didn’t concern her brother.

  “He’s okay… I get the feeling you know more about what happened to him, but I’m not supposed to ask.”

  “That’s pretty much it,” she conceded. Nate nodded.

  “I can live with that.”

  She bit the corner of her lip and watched him for a minute
before she scooted over to the right.

  “Would you sit down with me?” Her voice was small, as if there was a chance he’d say no.

  He answered by crossing the room and climbing onto the left side of the bed. He propped a pillow against the headboard and leaned back. Blythe was within arm’s reach, and his fingers itched to pull her to him, but he held himself still.

  “What’s on your mind?”

  She kept her eyes on his, and Nate could see her debating with herself. He knew a part of her wanted to bolt. The part of him that wanted to grab her and hold her steady was on full alert, warning him that if he didn’t catch her now, she’d slip away.

  But Nate told himself to breathe instead. And then Blythe pulled in a breath, too.

  “I know I shouldn’t be here,” she said, finally.

  “I’m glad you are.”

  She looked down at her hands and back up at him with a shyness he recognized.

  “I… Your spare room is very nice, but I don’t think I could fall asleep in there…” Her cheeks turned pink as she spoke. “Not with you in here.”

  Nate felt his lungs balloon. Even the oxygen molecules inside of him danced. A smile split his face.

  “If you’re asking to sleep with me, the answer will always be yes,” he promised, his heart jumping into a gallop.

  “Oh… um… I…” Blythe’s spine went rigid, panic unmistakable in her eyes. “I mean…”

  This time Nate caught both of her frantic hands in his and squeezed them.

  “That is, if you are asking to sleep in here with me, the answer will always be yes, Blythe,” he said, willing her to feel how welcome she was. Under any circumstances at all. There were no expectations. There was only joy.

  “I know I shouldn’t…” she said, a wrinkle of worry between her brows.

  “I think you should.” And with those words, he reached behind her and drew down the covers on her side of the bed. “Get in.”

  Blythe stared at the bedding for a moment, and then to his surprise, she scrambled under the covers and watched as he did the same. He took her hand in his before he even settled his head on the pillow, before there could be a question about whether or not they should touch. He might be able to sleep next to her without expectations, but he knew he’d never be able to lie beside her without proof that he wasn’t dreaming. Her hand in his was enough. It was more than enough.

  Nate rolled onto his side to face her, taking in the silhouette of her shape under his blankets, the spill of her gorgeous hair across his pillow, and he gave a great, contented sigh. The softness of the mattress underneath him, the crispness of the pillowcase on his cheek, the way his feet swam against the sheets just inches from her feet. Everything felt new.

  Blythe curled onto her side facing him, and she gave his hand a squeeze.

  “It’s crazy how comfortable I feel here,” she said.

  Nate shook his head.

  “It’s not crazy. If you feel comfortable here, then I’ve succeeded.”

  Blythe looked at him, and her eyes grew wistful.

  “I always felt comfortable with you,” she said, her voice softening. “If I’m being honest, nobody I’ve ever known could put me at ease like you could… And I don’t think that’s changed.”

  Nate held his breath. She wasn’t saying that he was the love of her life or that she didn’t know how to be happy without him. She wasn’t saying all the things he wanted to say to her, but what she said sounded pretty damn good.

  “For me, there are a lot of things that haven’t changed.” Nate spoke with more courage than he felt, but she was here. Now. And she’d chosen to lie next to him.

  Nate watched her swallow, and he tried to decipher what she wasn’t telling him. He wanted to believe that she felt the same; she just wouldn’t let herself say it. Still, he wouldn’t press her. He understood patience better than most men. He could wait.

  “Do you think Lila will be surprised to find your house full of people tomorrow?” she asked, changing the subject. Nate smirked.

  “If my guess is correct, she already knows. Lila doesn’t miss much,” he said, shaking his head. “She probably watched us coming and going.”

  Blythe stiffened beside him.

  “You mean… she knows I’m sleeping over?” Her eyes went wide again, and Nate couldn’t help but laugh.

  “Well, she’s probably asleep right now, but if she does know, she’s happy about it.”

  Blythe’s eyes narrowed with curiosity, but he thought his words pleased her.

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “She was the one who told me you were in town.”

  “What? No way. How did she know?” Blythe asked, smiling at the mystery.

  “She saw you at Albertson’s, and she convinced me you had moved to Lafayette because of the contents of your shopping cart,” Nate said, laughing now at the moment that had nearly sent him over the edge.

  “Are you serious?” Blythe laughed in disbelief.

  “Oh, yes, she rattled off things like kale and strawberries and Swiffer dusters and tampons…”

  “What?!” Blythe’s eyes rounded in horror, but she shook the bed with her laughter. The sight of her laughing in his bed reminded him of the first time they made love, and it was all he could do not to gather her in his arms and crush her in his embrace.

  Still, he laughed, and she laughed. And their clasped hands had a conversation all their own. One about remembering. About reunion. About relief.

  “Your laugh…” he murmured, coming down from the high of it and catching his breath.

  “What about it?” she asked, as breathless as he was. Her eyes gleamed with hysterical tears, and she dabbed them against her wrist.

  “I missed it.”

  This admission seemed to sober her a little, but she smiled and nodded.

  “Yours, too.”

  It was enough. He would have never been able to predict the turn that their night had taken, but it was ending with her closer to him than he had dared to hope. Nate glanced at the clock and saw that it was past midnight. Blythe’s eyes followed his.

  “It’s late. I think I’ve kept you up long enough,” she said.

  “You won’t hear me complaining.” But even as he spoke, he began to yawn. Blythe smiled, knowingly, and Nate reached over her and turned out the lamp. He settled back on his pillow, still facing Blythe in the darkness, feeling the grip of her hand in his. She wasn’t ready to let go, and he planned to hold on all night.

  “Nate?” she whispered.

  “Yeah?”

  “Thank you for everything. For dinner. For helping me with Cal… For now.”

  Nate squeezed her hand and felt her squeeze back.

  “Thank you for coming… Thank you for staying,” he countered. He held her right hand in his left, but as he lay there, he felt her left settle over them so that she clasped his hand in both of hers.

  Any sleepiness he might have had evaporated at that moment because if she was allowed to touch with both hands, he was too. His right hand joined in, and soon fingers interlaced and thumbs courted. Then Blythe pulled her fingers free, and Nate thought that she might roll away and say goodnight, but instead, she traced her fingertips along the inside of his wrist.

  The intimate touch made his breath catch, but as her fingers drifted up his arm, he let his make the same journey along hers. Nate understood immediately that this was a silent conversation. Words spoken out loud might kill it. And whatever Blythe wanted to tell him now, she could only say it in the quiet darkness of the space they shared.

  Her light touch felt amazing. Her fingers on his arm lit up his whole body.

  When Blythe’s fingers reached his elbow, she inched closer, so he moved in as well, and when their knees touched under the covers, Nate felt her feet slide in among his. He welcomed them by taking them gently between his calves.

  She was so soft. He luxuriated in the feel of her skin as he gripped and stroked her arm. Then he slip
ped his hand into the sleeve of her T-shirt so he could feel her shoulder the way she now felt his. But he was shirtless, so when she dragged her fingers over his shoulder and down his chest, Nate moaned his pleasure, aware only of her exquisite touch and his immense arousal.

  Blythe paused then, her fingers an inch away from his right nipple, and Nate was sure that the sound from his throat had been enough to spook her, but in the next instant, she was in his arms, and he was drinking in her kiss.

  Nate rolled onto his back and pulled her on top of him so he could feel her along his body and run his hands freely down hers. Her kiss was savage, not the gentle welcoming that he’d overtaken earlier. Instead, she overtook him, demanding entrance into his mouth. He opened to her blazing, nectar-sweet tongue. Her fingers raked over his scalp, pulling him to her, and he loved it.

  When they broke the kiss, each panting for breath, he moved his mouth to her neck and tasted her there, groaning at the scent. Butterfly ginger blossoms. The fragrance drew up their summer together. And all of their summers apart.

  If he had his way, they’d never part again.

  The thought made him squeeze her tighter. Blythe’s weight on top of him left him giddy. He ran his hands over the length of her, discovering how she felt both new and familiar. Her skin was incredibly soft — just as he remembered — but it covered muscles that were now more defined, as though her years in New Orleans had taught her to be stronger. It was true. Life had demanded that she be stronger. She’d had to survive hardships that he could name. And those he couldn’t.

  With an urgency that was rooted deep in his gut, Nate longed to take care of her. Now and forever. He knew she did not need him; she’d been fine without him for years, but he wanted to be there. Nate wanted to be the one she called when her car wouldn’t start. He wanted to make her soup when she got sick. He wanted to rub her shoulders after a long day and build her a fire on a cold night.

  He wanted to take care of her, and he wanted to start now.

  Nate drew her legs between his, and in one motion, he was on top of her. Blythe gave a gasp of surprise, but when he covered her mouth with his and kissed her deeply, she kissed back. The thought struck him that her kiss had grown up. She kissed with lips, tongue, hands, hips, thighs. Her kiss was a dizzying wave of welcome that surged up and down his body.