Head Over Wheels (Spicy Young Romance)

by January Valentine

  I found it hard to believe I was prancing around naked in the same room with this stranger who was making me feel like spending the rest of the night on the living room sofa. Better yet, I was about to throw him out of the bedroom. Wasn't that how it usually worked?

  "What's the writing mean? What language is that?" I demanded, not caring if I acted like a bitch. What the hell ...we were probably breaking up anyway, yet again. Would I become desensitized? When I looked at him, the answer pounded inside my chest. I could never feel anything but love for this man, no matter what happened.

  "It's Latin." He seemed to be wound tighter than Bill's guitar strings.

  Indigo had two levels of consciousness: hot and cold. And at that moment, he was below zero. I knew something had to be very wrong, so without the attitude, I slid off the bed and stood in front of him. That was when I noticed the pensive expression that had been chiseled into my memory from day one. My insides clenched as tight as Indigo's lips. In lamplight he looked ghostly, shadows of sadness crossing his face. I took a gulp of air, released it, and swallowed hard, waiting for the world to crash around me. This time for real, because he was sitting right in front of me, we'd just made love, and instead of climbing the walls with happiness, he seemed to be withdrawing ... wrestling with a demon. Was it me?

  His brooding gaze washed over me, dark and unnerving. He teetered at the edge of the bed, and elbows on knees, he placed his head in hands.

  "Jimmy?" I began to panic. "What's wrong?" Kneeling before him I lifted his face, cautiously peeling away his fingers, holding their coldness to my lips, clutching them to my breast. I tried to stare into his eyes, but his eyes were no longer mine. "Did I do something?"

  He barely looked at me, and I couldn't seem to drag out a reply. He just kept shaking his head. I stroked his hair, dropped a kiss on his cheek, whispering, "Baby, what's haunting you?"

  His jaw was set, but tears pooled in his eyes. I ran my hands up and down his arms, trying to warm him, bring him back to me. My stomach churned. I felt close to losing everything I'd eaten. What the fuck was going on? I ran my fingertips over the red heart on his chest, scrutinized the Byzantine cross on his arm, bearing the text: Souls In Flight, As Brothers We Fight.

  "Brothers we fight," I repeated the black ink phrase. "Is that from a fraternity?"

  He was closing his eyes to me ... or to whatever evil gripped him. He uttered an eerie, "No." His detachment was paralyzing. What was the meaning of the messages he'd permanently stamped on his body? As permanent as his misery seemed to be.

  I ran my fingers through his hair, kissed his neck, praying: Dear Lord, don't let me lose him, not now, not ever. My touch had no effect. Sitting close beside him, I ran my palm over his back. "What's this writing mean?" I whispered, my fingertips lingering on the text beneath the dragon tattoo: Fratrem meum - qui confidunt in me. Puritate et integritate vobis servabo vitam meam doctrinam.

  "Something like the Hippocratic Oath ... my version." His laugh was low and self-deprecating, pushing me to the brink of something I'd never felt before: sheer terror.

  "What's the translation?" I prodded, my words catching in my throat.

  Avoiding my eyes, in the same self-loathing tone, he replied, "For my brother – and those who put their trust in me. In purity and honesty I will guard you with my life and my knowledge."

  I lifted his chin, forcing his gaze to mine. He had the chilling look of death in his eyes.

  "I had a brother, Jewel."

  "Okay ..." I braced for the worst.

  "He died when he was just a kid."

  My hand flew to my mouth, covering the breath I sucked in. "I'm so sorry. Was it an accident?" I wondered if Indigo was somehow involved in his brother's death and couldn't forgive himself.

  "It's complicated. It's been rough for all of my family, which is part of the reason I couldn't get in touch with you after you left the Hamptons."

  He was completely blowing me away, bending my mind. What the hell was the deep dark family secret?

  "In case you wondered, you didn't meet my father that weekend, because he was locked in his den, blasting himself to hell, yet again. Just one of the reasons my mother's the resentful," he struggled with his words, "bitch that she is. It all stems from Danny's death."

  His stare was cold, hard granite.

  "Danny was your younger brother ..."

  He snatched his wallet from the nightstand and flipped it open. Inside was a photo of an adorable little boy sitting on a flight of wide concrete steps. He was plastered to the side of Indigo, who appeared to be a teen. Indigo's arm was draped protectively around the grinning boy with a missing front tooth.

  I held his wallet, staring at the photo, my heart breaking. "What happened to him?"

  Indigo was turning on me, shrinking away as though I was an invasion of privacy, and not the woman he'd just held in his arms. My stomach knotted, and I had to steady myself. Once more I knelt before him, taking his face in my hands. "Baby, you've got to talk about it. Unload or it will eat at you for the rest of your life."

  He drew a deep breath, and I watched the muscles in his face strain as he worked his jaw. "Danny contracted childhood leukemia. He passed away shortly after that photo was taken." He closed his eyes tightly, as if darkness would erase the memory.

  "Talk to me." I grabbed his shoulders and shook him as though trying to bring the dead back to life, streaming tears reaching my chest.

  When his eyes finally opened, I knew he was unreachable. "My parents were absent more than they were home when we were kids – and of course they weren't around that day." He muttered in broken phrases. "They never had the best marriage. My mother was modeling in Europe, on a trip she said couldn't be postponed, and my dad, well, he fixed a lot of brains in his day, but couldn't do anything for my brother, so he withdrew into himself. I was the closest thing Danny had to a parent. We did everything together ... I did everything for him. I promised him I was going to be a doctor, and if he'd hang in there, I'd make him well. I swore I could help him ... I promised ... and he believed me. I believed me." He touched the place on his chest where the tattoo rested beneath his heart. His eyes sought peace, my understanding, escape from the self-inflicted punishment that was destroying him. His eyes said so many things, I feared he’d explode at any moment as life came rushing back into him.

  "This is for Danny?" I pressed my lips to the heart on his chest.

  "Everything is for Danny. I'd give up my life to bring him back. To keep my promise."

  I pulled him to the floor beside me, and there we sat, two naked souls. In sobs, his secrets spilled onto my lap, along with warm tears.

  "Danny died in my arms, Jewel. There was nothing I could do. Afterward, my parents really hated each other, each blaming the other for Danny's illness, for not being there when ..."

  "Oh baby, I'm so sorry." If my arms, my love, could have eased his pain, he would have looked into my eyes with peace, not the darkness that chilled my soul. He was suffering so badly, I wondered if anything in the world could ever help him.

  "After you left the Hamptons that day, my parents had a blowout. Nothing unusual. My father took off and didn't return that night. Again, not unusual." Working his jaw, he spoke with bitterness. "We called the police two days later, and eventually found him slumped across Danny's grave. He'd been lying there for over forty-eight hours and was in such bad shape, we called an ambulance to take him to the hospital, where they dried him out." His cheeks were as red as the rim around his eyes, the circles beneath them scary purple.

  While he bared his soul, a fist squeezed my heart. We stood at the edge of a rocky ledge and I couldn't let him fall. I couldn't fall. But were there any words of consolation for someone whose life had been shattered? How could I help him pick up the pieces?

  "How is your dad now?" I asked, my voice cautious.

  "He's been sober a couple of weeks. A landmark record for him. We've been walking on eggshells, hoping to keep it that way." When he sh
uddered, my arms wrapped him tighter. Once he began talking, it seemed his story was as endless as his pain. "He stopped practicing medicine after Danny's death. Accepted an appointment as CEO of a drug company. A position he's barely holding onto."

  "That's promising, baby. It's a start." I tried my best to soothe him. "Healing has to start somewhere. Maybe with your dad ..."

  His life was being torn apart, and mine hung in the balance. The storm raged beyond the windows as Indigo walked through his nightmare. His laugh was frightfully sardonic, chilling me to the bone. "After Danny died, my mother attempted suicide. I found her lying in a pool of blood, her fingers wrapped so tightly around a knife, I had to pry them loose."

  Stunned, shocked, horrified, I had no idea what to say other than, "I love you, Jimmy." My voice was light as a feather, my lips pressed to his ear. "I'll do anything, baby. Anything to help you. Just tell me what to do."

  "Danny was the only one who ever called me Jimmy. Until you." When he looked at me, his eyes were deep, once again mine.

  "Oh baby. I'm sorry. And now I have my whole family calling you Jimmy. It's like an invasion ..."

  "No." He put a finger to my lips. "It's okay." His throat sounded as raw as his emotions. "Danny was the most important part of my life. I loved him more than anything. After I lost him, I couldn't get close to anyone. I didn't want to. I buried myself in medical books. Then you came into my life. It was difficult to take the risk of loving you ... losing you."

  The wheels in my head turned, and I realized why he'd been teetering on a seesaw. "You haven't managed to scare me away yet." I tried to put a smile on his face, but it wasn't working. "Danny wouldn't want you to suffer this way." I smoothed furrows from his forehead. "Or your parents." I began to understand his mother's behavior, although I could never accept it. "You can't blame yourself for anything. You were a kid, Jimmy, taking on all of the responsibility."

  "I hear what you're saying, but," he frowned, "this is why I want to be the best doctor ... I have to be. If I can help just one child, save one life ..."

  "You will, honey. With your dedication, you'll heal the world." My lips quivered as I kissed him softly. "You're like ice. Let's get you into bed."

  I snuggled against him, pulling the covers around us. As his body relaxed, he sighed. "I'm sorry to unload on you, Jewel. I came up here with you to straighten things out between us, not make them worse. The last thing I wanted to do was involve you in my shit."

  "I meant what I said. I'm here for you, whenever you need me, no matter what, I love you, Jimmy. I'll never let you down."

  "What would I do without you ..." His arms were around me, and he was holding on for dear life.

  "That's one thing you never have to worry about."

  "I'll get through this ..."

  "We'll get through this."

  I hugged him so tight I felt the beat of his heart. After whispering, "Good night," we didn't speak again. I couldn't fall asleep. His anguish preyed on my mind. I imagined how horrible it must have been for him, then realized there was no way I could imagine how he felt. I heard his even breathing, pressed the side of my face to his back, and eventually drifted off to sleep.

  I sensed I hadn't been out long when the sounds pulled me from my state of nothingness. I groaned, my lids fluttering. "Dios mío, not again."

  The storm had finally worn itself out, rendering the bedroom pitch black. I tried to focus through darkness, but saw nothing other than coiling shadows created by my eyes. I listened intently, realizing the thud that had awakened me hadn't crept in through a window.

  I leaned over Indigo. His breath was peaceful. I was tempted to wake him, but he slept so soundly, I didn't have the heart to. Thankful he'd shared his grief, hopeful he'd be healing, I snuggled against him, trying to relax, but the muscles in my arms and legs felt like high tension wires, ready to spasm in five-second intervals. Deep breathing, I willed myself to unwind, bring my mind to another place: the shower, Indigo's arms ...

  Voices on the other side of the wall startled me, driving me into a state of irritated consciousness.

  "Hop aboard, sugar baby." It was Derek, and he was slurring. I heard another thud, this time softer. What the hell were they doing? Moving furniture around? Was it a flat palm on the mattress? The thudding then turned into a definite skin on skin crack. Yvonne's butt?

  I felt the vibration of bass and drums, and the pictures shuddered on the wall. I heard the thumping intensify, then Yvonne's voice, loud and comical. "Hold on, big man, this is gonna be one hell of a fucking bumpy ride."

  Kick his ass, girl, I giggled into my hand. Then I felt guilty for finding humor in anything after the things Indigo had revealed. My grandmother's face flashed across my mind. She found humor in almost anything. I recalled her saying, "There's a bright spot in every dark room; it's an angel laughing its wings off at our humanness." And when my grandfather fell gravely ill, she swore it was an angel's laughter that cured his pneumonia, even though I knew the wavering light high on the wall came from the table lamp.

  "Grandma," gripping my cross I whispered, "I hope your eyes were closed tonight, and you weren't listening." My cheeks flushed. Then it hit me: If anyone understood passion, it would have been my grandmother.

  MORNING… AFTER THE STORM

  Indigo's lips on my shoulder, his warm palm circling my butt, awakened me from the sleep of the dead. I uncurled my legs and stretched my sore muscles, shielding my eyes from sunshine filling the room. I lifted my head and squinted, seeing only the side of his face as he lay behind me, propped on an elbow.

  "It's finally morning?" I groaned, pulling my arm from beneath me, shaking out pins and needles, then rolled onto my back.

  "Yep. You okay?" He untangled strands of my hair that had wound around my neck while I slept.

  "Yeah. How about you?" My words tight, I ran a finger along his jaw line, hoping our issues had dissolved with the night; hoping my breath wasn't dreadful.

  “I’m good, babe.” He dropped a kiss on my forehead. “Thanks to you. Getting things off my chest was the best thing that could have happened. I honestly feel better ... optimistic. Having you makes all the difference in the world.” To my relief, he looked down at me, smiling as though the anguish of last night hadn’t occurred. Was he burying it, or was it really over? “How’d you sleep?” He tweaked my nose, then kissed it. "My little angel."

  I threw my arms around his neck, sank my lips into his smooth skin. He sighed into my hair, held me tight, and when I felt his erection, I knew everything was fine. I came up for air. "How much did I sleep is more like it." I giggled. "Yvonne and Derek were going at it last night. They were so loud, they woke me ... scared the living shit out of me."

  Indigo's eyes widened. "Arguing?"

  I lifted a brow. "If that was arguing, we should try it. They were pounding the walls."

  He chuckled. "So you didn't get enough last night?" His fingertips dug into my ribs. I started laughing, and then we were rolling across the bed, and the next thing I knew we were making love on hands and knees on the floor. Afterward, Indigo lay on his side, leaning on an elbow, stroking my hair, gazing down at me as my breathing normalized. He ran a fingertip around my ear, tucking my hair behind it. "Yesterday was one fucked up day, huh? Are you sure you're good with everything?"

  My fingers tiptoed across his chest. "I'm fine if you're fine, which I kind of just got the feeling you are. And what a feeling it was ..." I slid my knee up the inside of his thigh, ran a finger over his lips. "Hey, you never curse. You're starting to sound like me."

  He was playing with my hair, lifting strands, threading them through his fingers. "Is that a compliment?" His voice was easy. The way he looked at me, how his fingers traced my face, the outline of my breasts, told me I had become as big a part of his life as his family, his career.

  “I don’t know, but if you start cursing in Spanish ... we’re in trouble.” I plucked his chin.

  I'd never felt so secure. I heaved a sigh, m
y spirit so airy, I felt like it could float across the room, out the window, into the wilderness and never stop climbing. I was giddy, high on love. "Stick with me baby. I'll teach you all there is to know about four letter words."

  Indigo chuckled softly, then buried his face in my hair. "I'm stuck. So what do we do now?"

  "Shower ..."

  WILDERNESS HIKE

  Everyone congregated in the kitchen. Pete had made coffee and set out cups and plates. We sat at the butcher block counter, plastering bagels with cream cheese and jelly, recounting the night before.

  "Kit Kat," Pete said, slapping his palm on the countertop. Shaking his head, he guffawed, repeating, "No way were those wolves. You may have been sleeping with one," he smirked at Indigo, who looked uncomfortable, then his gaze traveled a full circle, landing back on mine. "I doubt any wolves hang out in the driveway, Jewel. Not as pets or houseguests," he chuckled, "what you must have seen were the walkway reflectors."

  Taking my hand, he pulled me to the window which was directly beneath the bedroom where Indigo and I had slept ... made love. The rapture of the prior night still filled me. I looked around the room at my friends, at Indigo ... My life was perfect.

  I stared up at Pete, relief spewing through my lips. "Your reflectors almost gave me a freaking heart attack. I can deal with anything in the city, Pete. You know I'm not a wuss, but creepy woodlands are not my thing."

  "That's alright, Kit Kat. We can't all be up for a promotion." He ruffled my hair. I swatted his arm. He grabbed a bagel and threw it at me. I picked up the cream cheese, and the food fight was on until Emma stood between us, yelling, "Hope you two have fun cleaning the mess while the rest of us are relaxing."

  "Wait ..." I stood in the middle of the kitchen, a wet sponge about to be launched from my fingers, "you're up for a promotion?"

  "I'm losin' the blues, baby." Smug, he lifted his chin.

  I dropped the sponge and threw my arms around him. "When did this happen? Why didn't you tell me, Pete?"