Falling for Love

by Vicki Green

  Irish

  I’m having the best dream. Caylan is between my legs, making sweet love to me. He’s so sweet. So gentle and caring. I can almost feel his touch. Suddenly, I’m lifted and jostled as I’m carried by strong arms. I open one eye a slit and my heart begins beating faster when I look at a red haired scruff covered jaw. Caylan. He peeks down at me as he takes me downstairs. “Go back to sleep, love,” he whispers and grins. I’m barely lucid as he sets me on the seat of his truck. My eyes open but feel glassy as he leans over me, buckling my seatbelt. I close my eyes when he shuts the door and drift off again.

  My eyes open slowly. The room is dark. Where am I? I remember taking a pain pill and falling asleep in Taren’s spare bedroom. As my eyes try to adjust to the darkness, I stretch. Feelings begin to stir, remembering how worried Caylan was about me. Caylan. I let out a quiet sigh. Slowly, I sit up and look around for my crutches. I spot them leaning next to the wall beside the bed. He thinks of everything. The pain doesn’t seem as bad now as I slide my legs off the side of the bed, taking the crutches and using them as leverage to stand. Once I get situated, I hobble to the bathroom, do my business and wash my hands. I look up into the mirror and sigh. Dark bags under my eyes and my hair is all over the place. I’m still really tired too. I just wanna get back to normal. I miss working out and even though when I texted Pop and told him I’d need to be off work this week and he was so great about it, I was relieved but I need the money. Even though the money was great at the tech place, I called them anyway Monday and quit. It just wasn’t for me.

  I make my way out of the room, wondering what time it is. You’d think I’d have looked at the alarm clock but I guess I’m still feeling out of it. Caylan is sitting on the couch, the TV is on low. Looks like he’s watching a movie. He hears the floor creak and turns his head. His smile appears but then it fades. He jumps up and helps me over to the couch. I sit down hard as he takes my crutches and leans them against the end of the couch. Sitting down next to me, I’m in his arms before I can take a breath. “You look ill, Irish. What can I do?” I snuggle into his chest, his warmth enveloping me. I take a sniff. God, he smells yummy.

  “I’m okay. Those pills just really take it out of me.”

  He pushes me back but just a bit. “I’m calling your doctor tomorrow.” My eyes widen and my mouth opens. He smiles as he places his finger over my lips. I want to suck on it. But then realizing what he said, I start to pout. I hate doctors. He leans down and kisses my nose. “Baby, you need to go. I’m worried about your knee and the ER doctor did say you should have your regular doctor look at it by Friday. That’s only three days away so I want to call and get an appointment set up.” My lower lip juts out more. “How about I also make a plane reservation to take you to see my family this weekend, depending on what the doctor says?” This perks me up a little, yet, I’m also nervous to meet his family. “We’ll have a great time and I know they’ll love you. I’ll show you around where I grew up and you can relax and let your knee heal.” Hmmm, another weekend with him? Yes, his family will be there but hopefully not all the time.

  I lean up and kiss his luscious lips. “Okay,” I whisper against them.

  His smile grows then he captures my mouth in a very heated kiss. I’m kinda liking compromising. Isn’t that what couples do? If it’s always like this then I’m gonna love it.

  He gets up and heats up the leftovers from dinner for me, telling me I need to eat because I’m too skinny and because I should since I’m taking those pills. While I ate we watch the movie he had on. Once I was done, he set my plate on the coffee table and then pulls me down on the couch for a little make out session and soon he is laying behind me. I was pulled back against him and could feel every ridge of his magnificent body. His arm is thrown over me, and our hands clasped together.

  Once he took me to bed, we didn’t make love, but we didn’t need to. I felt so much of his love as I snuggled up halfway on top of him. I could listen to his light breathing all night, feel the warmth of his body, listen to his heart beat, and the feeling of security being wrapped up in his arms. But soon I fell asleep.

  “Quit apologizing, Caylan. I knew you couldn’t keep taking off work. You could drop me off at home though.”

  He won’t let me get up from the couch to walk/hobble to the door with him. He’s leaning down over me with his tight t-shirt, jeans, and tool belt. “I know but I’d rather not worry about you all day and would feel more comfortable knowing that you’re here. Indulge me, please.” He kisses me for the hundredth time but I don’t mind. I don’t want him to leave.

  “Okay. Will you hurry back? I feel kinda weird being in your place without you.” I lean up and kiss him again, my hands moving up his broad chest, around his neck and my fingers into his hair.

  “Mmmm. I’m never gonna leave if we don’t stop.” Good.

  Reluctantly, I release my hold. He’s right. The sooner he leaves the sooner he’ll return to me.

  He kisses me again and I start to giggle. But when I look at him, I see he’s serious. “Just take it easy today, okay? Rest. If I come home and find you’ve been hobbling around too much on those crutches, I’m gonna be angry.” Oh, angry sex. That might be worth the risk. “And I don’t mean for you to do it to spite me, either.” Oh, well, damn. Mind reader.

  I lean up and kiss him, wrapping my arms around his neck. “I promise,” I say against his wet lips.

  “Okay. If you need anything, call me.” He kisses me again and like me, he doesn’t seem to want to let go. I become concerned that he’ll be late for work so I end the kiss this time.

  “Go. I’ll be fine.” I give him a smile but I think it comes out more like a grimace. He kisses my nose and then I watch him walk out the door. I look around the room, hearing the front door lock click into place, and sigh out loud. What am I gonna do all day. With my banged up knee, it’s not like I can clean or do anything productive. I decide to turn on the TV and find a movie. Laying down on the couch, I pull the quilt he has laying on the back of it over me and try to get absorbed in it.

  Knock

  Knock

  Knock

  My eyes open slowly. I look at the TV screen and some other movie is playing. I must have fallen asleep. Looking over at the clock on the wall I see three hours have gone by since Caylan left for work. I must have been more tired than I thought.

  Knock

  Knock

  I sit up, rubbing my eyes, and turn towards the door. Was that a knock on his door or the TV? I turned back to the screen when it sounds again.

  Knock

  Knock

  Knock

  What the hell. Groggily, I grab my crutches and stand up. I’m wobbly as I make my way to the door. Sheesh, I feel like I could go back to sleep. I look through the peephole and see a young woman standing there. I would be scared but I think can take her so I open the door. “Yes?”

  Her eyes widen in surprise. She’s a little shorter than me. Blonde, curly hair that just reaches her shoulders. Her blue eyes are really pretty. She has a small frame. I wonder what she’s selling.

  “Oh. Uh. Is…. Is Caylan home?” Her eyes move around me but I move more into the doorway. What in the hell does she want Caylan for and how does she know his name?

  My eyebrows lower and my body tenses. “No. May I help you?”

  “Well….” I see her hand move and follow it as she lays it on a very pregnant stomach. Oh, hell no! “I just really needed to talk to him. Do you know what time he’ll be home?” Her mouth turns up into a shy smile. This is none of my business. “I really need to talk to him. As you can see.” She looks down where her hand is. What? Shit, this just turned into my business.

  “Well, he usually gets home around five. I’ll be talking to him before then. Maybe I should warn….tell him what this is about?” I want to grab her shirt, fist it in my hand, and shake her. Okay, I wouldn’t really do that to a pregnant woman. Would I?

  Her smiles leaves as well as the hand on her
stomach. “We have some very personal things to talk about.”

  My heart begins to beat wildly, my hands clenching on the handles of the crutches. “Well, I’m his….” His what? “His girlfriend so I’d be happy to give him a message,” I say through gritted teeth.

  Her face pales but then she nods her chin at me. “Very well. Just tell him that Margie stopped by and that he needs to call me. Tell him I’m pregnant with his child and we need to have a little chat about that. Have a good day.” With that, she spins around and walks down the small hallway then down the stairs of the apartment building. I feel my face heat up, my heart almost choking me.

  I slam the door shut, all of his words hitting me with force. “I’ve never had bare sex before.” I hobble over to the coffee table and grab my phone from my purse. “I’ve always used a condom.” I look in my contacts and hit call. “You’re my first.”

  “Yes, I need a cab now!” I proceed to give them the address and end the call. It takes me a little bit to pack up my few belongings into my bag, angrily ripping my shirts off their hangers and don’t bother to shut the drawer of his dresser as I remove the rest of my clothes. I go back to the living room, lugging my bag over my shoulder. I get to the kitchen, open drawers until I find a pen and paper. After writing a short note and leaving it on the kitchen table, I head to the door. I get out into the hallway, but before I close the door, I look inside one last time. “I knew it was too good to be true. They really are all alike,” I whisper as I shut the door, leaving my heart that I thought I had guarded so well behind.

  Chapter Nine

  Caylan

  The day feels so long without her. “Caylan! If you don’t watch what you’re doing, I’m gonna send you home.” That’s the third time Kane’s yelled at me today. I can’t concentrate. Is this what every man goes through when they fall in love? Do they all become complete idiots? I’m feeling that way. Lunch time rolls around and Brock and I sit down on a skid of wood. I send another text to Irish and wait.

  “Damn. You’ve got it so bad, bro. Isn’t that like the twentieth time you’ve texted her? Not that I’m counting.” I look over and see his cocky grin. I’d argue but he’s right, except I think it’s been more like thirty.

  My brows lower. “I’m getting kinda worried. She hasn’t replied to any of them.” Actually, I passed worried a few hours ago.

  “Maybe she took one of her pain pills. You know how they knock her out. Quit worrying. You’ll go home and she’ll be asleep on the couch with the TV blaring.” He nudges my shoulder with his and takes a bite of his sandwich.

  Yeah, maybe he’s right but all day? I can’t seem to shake the feeling that something’s changed. Something’s not right. Maybe I’m just eager to get home to her. Is it wrong of me to hope her doctor tells her on Friday that it’s gonna take another couple of weeks for her knee to heal? I don’t want her to go back to her apartment. I guess for the first time I’m scared. I’m scared that after it’s healed she’ll leave. First, I hate where she lives. No, I’ve never been there but Brock told me it’s in a bad part of town. I’m only thinking of her safety. Second, I want her to live with me. I want to wake up every morning, holding her in my arms. I want to be able to make sweet love to her whenever I want. I love that every inch of my apartment screams of her. Her scent. Her laughter and giggles. I want to see her toothbrush next to mine and her razor on the edge of the bathtub. Oh, God! What’s wrong with me? I’ve always been a bit of a neat freak and here I am completely wanting to change my life.

  Yes. I do.

  After being yelled at again by Kane, he tells me there’s only an hour left and to get my sorry ass out of there now before I get hurt or cause someone else to get hurt. He’s probably right. I feel like a love sick fool. Worse, fear is overwhelming me and I don’t know why. Gut feeling? Brock tells me to text him when I get home as I pull my truck out of the construction site. As I’m driving I use my Bluetooth and try to call her cell phone again. No answer. I must have left a couple dozen voicemails already so I end the call. Anxiety is killing me by the time I pull up in front of my apartment building. I barely shut off the engine and pull the key out before I’m getting out of the truck. I run upstairs as if my life depends on it. Thoughts of why she hasn’t answered me all day filter through my mind. Is she hurt? Did she fall asleep in the bathtub and drown? Did she fall and wasn’t able to get to her phone? Did she become ill?

  I’m sweating by the time I reach the door, fumbling with my keys. Finally, I slide the key into the lock and open the door. I stand there, out of breath, and look around the living room. Nothing is out of place. Everything is neat and tidy. I walk quickly down the hall and into my bedroom. The bed is still neatly made. My eyes widen as they move over to the dresser. The drawer that held her clothes is open. I move slowly, my heart beating frantically in fear. As I get closer I see it’s empty. “No,” I whisper. I quickly turn and walk into the closet. All the hangers that once contained her clothes are empty. “No.” My voice becomes louder. I turn around and jog out of the closet and round the corner into the bathroom, flipping on the light. Her toothbrush is gone. I fall to my knees and open the cabinet that held the few items she had here. Empty.

  “No!”

  I begin to stand, pushing against the counter as I rise. Turning, I race from the room and down the hall. I run past the couch and into the kitchen. Everything is as clean as I left it this morning. I scan around the room, the breakfast bar, then freeze as I see a piece of the note paper from my yellow sticky pad resting on the kitchen table. I just stand here, afraid to move forward. I wipe my forehead with my hand, suddenly feeling sweaty and sick to my stomach. What could have happened? Unable to clear my confusion, I walk over to the table, gripping it tightly, and look down.

  Have a happy life. Don’t try to get in touch with me.

  Irish

  No! No! No! What the hell? I pick up the note and back up until my legs hit a chair. I grab it, pulling it out until I sit down in a daze. Confusion clouds my mind, my thinking. I start playing back this morning, yesterday, coming up with nothing that would cause this. How can a matter of several hours apart make her want to leave? Could she have gotten a call from a family member? Her mother? Maybe one of her siblings? Why then would she not want me to get in touch with her? I feel like I’m in a different life and about to lose my mind when my phone begins vibrating in my pocket. Quickly I set the note down on the breakfast bar and fumble to get my phone from my front pocket. Without looking to see who it is, I answer hopeful.

  “Irish? Are you okay?” My breathing is labored in anticipation.

  “Caylan.” Brock’s voice sounds in my ear. Not who I expected.

  “Brock. I have to go. I can’t find Irish and I’m worried. I don’t know….”

  “She’s here.”

  She’s at Brock’s house? Why would she be there? Oh! Maybe Taren needed her. She’s been so ill so maybe Irish went there to be with her, help her out. But wait. I look down at the note. “Don’t try to get in touch with me.” If she just went over to help Taren, why wouldn’t she want me to get in touch with her? And why is she telling me to have a happy life? Seems so final. Gone forever. My head begins to pound. There has to be a logical explanation.

  “Thank fuck. I thought something had happened and I was about to lose my mind. Is Taren okay? Did she go over to help her?”

  His silence is making my heart feel like it could strangle me. My head starts hurting even worse. Fear takes a hold of me. I’m starting to feel like this is a nightmare come to life.

  “Caylan. Look, man. I need you to take a few deep breaths and hear me out. I need you to relax, okay? Can you do that?”

  I’m nodding like he can see me. “O-kay,” I say slowly.

  “I mean it, man. I really need you to try to stay calm. Getting all worked up is not going to help Irish or this whole messed up situation.” Messed up situation?

  “Brock. You’re starting to freak me out. Just say it. Tell me what t
he fuck is going on.” I almost growl at him, but I know that isn’t going to help anything. “I need to know before I go crazy.”

  I hear a deep and loud sigh. “Some crazy girl came to your apartment today. A – Margie?” I start scouring names and faces of the many women I’ve been with as he continues speaking. “She…. Uh….” I’m coming up empty, my head filled with so many nameless faces. “I just gotta come out with it. There’s no good way to say this. She’s pregnant and says you’re the father.” What? Wait! What? “I know you’ve told me you’ve always been careful but she’s very pregnant and…. Well…. I dunno, man. She says the baby is yours.”

  “Wait! What did you say? Pregnant? I’m the father? No. That can’t be right, I….”

  “Look, I know but this is what she told Irish.” Irish. Oh, shit! No! “She’s pretty upset. Says she doesn’t ever want to see you again or even hear your name. She’s saying things like ‘I knew you were all alike.’ She even punched me hard when I got home and she likes me.”

  My heart went from feeling like it’s pounding against my chest to being stuck at the base of my throat. My mouth is dry and I feel like I can’t form a coherent word. My entire body’s sweating yet I feel like I’m freezing. Is this what it feels like to have a heart attack? I stand on shaky legs and stumble over to the breakfast bar, pressing my free hand against the counter. “Brock. I don’t…. I’m trying to remember but….”

  “Look. You need to calm down and try to figure out who this Margie girl is and get in touch with her, see what she has to say. I gotta tell you, Irish is devastated and won’t even talk to me. She’s holed up in our spare bedroom and won’t come out.”