by Dale Mayer
To free his inner artist.
He’d sketched like a demon today. He hadn’t expected that. He had seen something in those kids’ faces that had tore at his heart yet he’d managed to capture much of their uniqueness on paper – at least of Jon. He didn’t need someone else to tell him the images were good, he knew they were. He could see it. He’d been waiting to see Robin’s reaction to his drawings, but as she’d locked herself up inside, he doubted she’d even seen them.
He put down his beer bottle and went to stand up when he saw her.
Robin. Dressed in black, her skin whiter than usual, with shadows under her eyes and her shoulders straight. She was facing the world. She’d taken a hit, ran away, and was now back again. Interested, he sat down and waited to see what she’d do. This had been her pattern all day. He’d wondered where she’d learned to take the hit and still get back up – or was that a natural characteristic? It was something Paris had never learned. She’d taken the hit and stayed down out of striking distance.
Whereas for him, he’d taken the hit, but it had been a matter of pride to not go down. And if his legs were knocked out from under him, he’d jumped back up.
Robin strode into the room with a casual controlled air. But the furtive glances at the other occupants said much to her state of mind. The controlled mantle was in place, but it was thin. Too thin. He waited for her to see him. She was heading straight for him. Or for her spot.
She looked up, saw him, and her steps faltered.
He smiled at her. “Glad to see you’re feeling better.”
She made a small motion with her hand. “A nap helped.”
No doubt it would, but he highly doubted that she’d had one.
“Do you want this spot?” He stood up and motioned to his seat.
Her lips quirked. “Thanks, but I’ll be fine on this side.” And she slid into the seat across from him.
Chapter 10
Robin studied Sean’s face, noting the relief in his eyes. Had he been worried about her? To that extent? Surely not. He didn’t know her. Then again, he’d been with her at the hospital. Seen her reaction.
She turned her gaze to look out the window. It was overcast and growing darker by the minute. Vancouver was known for its wet gray skies. Still, the summer had been good to them and the plants did need a regular amount of rain, so it was hard to complain. Besides, it suited her mood perfectly.
So why that compulsion to come down to the restaurant? She could have stayed safely hidden away in her room.
Lost as she was, she barely registered the voices beside her. She pulled herself back to hear Sean asking for a menu for her. She shook her head. “I’m not hungry.”
He overruled her. “Bring her a bowl of soup and a salad please.”
She stared at him in bemusement. Normally she’d have been pissed. Today, that required too much energy. “That’s going to get you into trouble, you know.”
He raised his beer bottle and took a healthy swig, but he kept his eyes on her.
“What is?” he asked when he could.
“Being a protector.”
His eyebrows shot up. She wondered if he had any idea how often he reacted like that. Or if it was only with her.
“I’m hardly a protector.”
“Except that’s exactly what you are. You kept everyone away at the hospital,” she gave him a crooked smile. “Brought me home even though I was barely functioning, and then when I was safely in my room, you contacted Jenna to let her know I was in trouble.”
He put the bottle on the table a little harder than necessary. “I only did what anyone would do.”
“Really?”
The waitress returned just then to set a full bowl of some kind of cream soup in front of her and salad to the side.
Robin nodded toward the light meal in front of her. “Most people would not order me a meal.”
“Well, someone did the same for me tonight, so I’m just passing it on.”
But those eyes of his were watchful. Assessing.
“I’m fine you know.” At least she was better than she had been. “It was a tough day, but I’m feeling more in control.”
His gaze narrowed slightly but didn’t ease back. It was as if he was probing to the very depths of her. She couldn’t tear her gaze away. Somehow the tenor of the glance shifted from probing and distant to heating up, a shortening of that gaze so they were almost connected. It was…intimate.
She tried to pull her gaze away and couldn’t. He held her completely in his power.
And yet instead of being nervous or uncertain, she felt…comforted and so very aware of him.
“Definitely a protector,” she whispered, her insides tightening with a slow heat. Did he feel it? She searched his eyes, looking for an answering awareness in his gaze.
Instead, he lowered his gaze, effectively breaking the contact.
And left her feeling bereft. Shuddering from the shock to her system, she picked up her spoon and tasted her soup. Clam chowder. Delighted, she ate until there wasn’t a drop left. Feeling replete and still with a salad to round out the edges, she sat back with a happy smile.
“Thank you,” she said sincerely. “That was delicious.”
“Apparently.” He motioned to the well-cleaned out dish. “You look like you could eat a second one.”
“No,” she laughed, “I’ll be lucky if I can eat the salad.”
“Well, go for it.” He slumped back with a half smile on his face. She eyed him carefully then shrugged and lifted the first forkful of the greens. She barely held back a moan. “Even this tastes wonderful. I don’t know what happened but my taste buds seem amplified.”
“Maybe it’s all that emotional stuff.”
“Stuff?” She grinned as she popped another bite in, then mumbled, “Maybe.”
It took only a few minutes to polish the salad off as well. When it was done, she stared down at her empty plate almost in dismay. “Regardless of the reason, I’m grateful. I haven’t enjoyed a meal so much in a long time.”
“Good. Now a good night’s sleep and you’ll be ready to face tomorrow.”
She wrinkled her face at him. “You just had to remind me, didn’t you?”
His lips twitched. “As we have a long week ahead, it helps to keep everything clear.”
She nodded. “Probably. That doesn’t make it easier to deal with.” Neither did it help her stomach digest a wonderful meal that was starting to lose its astonishing taste. Her stomach started to sour. But the truth was the truth. “And considering that, I think I’ll head to my room and try and get some rest before I have to face that mess all over again.”
She stood up. He stood up with her. “I’ll walk you back up. I’m going to my room also.”
“It’s early. There’s probably some evening session happening here with Jenna.” Not that she planned on going. She’d had as much shake up as she could handle for one day. She caught the shift in his features. She stopped to study him. “You have no intention of going, do you?”
At the slight shake of his head, she had to ask, “Why are you even here? It’s not to learn – that’s obvious.”
He nudged her gently out of the way as several people tried to walk past. Then he led her toward the bank of elevators. The same group from the restaurant was also getting on, so there was neither room to maneuver nor any privacy to speak. At the fourth floor, they got out and he walked her down to her door. There he stopped, took the card from her hand, and unlocked it. He pushed it open and motioned for her to enter.
“How did you know my room number? Earlier I mean, when you brought me back here from the hospital.” It just hit her. She hadn’t told him. So how had he known?
“My room is next door.”
*
He watched confused interest whisper across her face. She stepped back to glance down the hallway as if looking for his room. He pointed to the door slightly down from hers.
She nodded, gave him a quick smile, and cl
osed the door in his face. He heard the snick of the lock.
As a message, it was pretty clear. He walked to his room and entered. Tossing his key on the dresser, he pulled out his cell phone and called his sister.
“Hey, I’m so happy to hear from you,” Paris said. “Now spill. How’s it going?”
He brought her up to date, minimizing Robin’s afternoon.
“She’ll feel better tomorrow,” she said. “It’s hard at the time but afterwards it’s such a better place to be in.”
“As long as she can do this day after day. We have to go several more times.”
“Well, I hope she can for your sake. You need to work on your own issues.”
“What issues?” he scoffed. “I don’t have any.” At least none he planned to work on here.
“How about your inability to let anyone close?”
“What inability?” He frowned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do,” she said sadly. “You don’t trust anyone. You won’t trust anyone.”
He pulled his shirt off and tossed it over the chair. His shoulder ached from clutching the pencil today. Not that his shoulder needed a reason to scream. That was the weakest part of his body. Once an abuser knew your weakness, he had control over you. He looked at the mass of scar tissue that completely deformed the joint. And saw his father’s bloodshot eyes, that grotesque look of hatred in his eyes, and that unholy light of joy as he dug his thumbs hard into the damaged joint…and jerked the ball free…again…
“Sean, you there?”
Shaking as the memories sent a shard of pain down his shoulder and chest, sweat breaking out across his forehead, Sean cleared his throat and said, “Yeah, well. Maybe I’m just always meant to be alone.”
“No,” his sister cried. “You aren’t. None of us are meant to journey this way.”
“How do you know?” he asked in a serious tone. Holding the phone tucked between his neck and shoulder, he closed his eyes, the painful memories receding, and let his fingers massage deep into the knots, loosening the tightness of his injured joint.
While the pain eased, he considered the work he’d done today. The sketching had been intense. More than he’d thought. He’d never felt so gripped in the middle of drawing like that before.
Had never thought to experience such passion for his art.
He finished his call to Paris and hung up the phone. There was a pool in the hotel. He should go and do a few laps then sink into the hot tub. The heat would do wonders for his sore muscles. That and a good night’s sleep and his arm would be as good as new for tomorrow.
He checked the time. It was after 8pm. Would the pool be still open? He needed to find out. His physical health was one thing he couldn’t afford to let go. It only took a couple of minutes to change. He grabbed the spare towel in the bathroom, his key card, and walked out.
There were a couple of people doing laps in the pool and several more in the hot tub. Well, maybe the hot tub would be cleared by the time he finished his laps. He dropped his towel and dove into an empty lane. Doing the front crawl, he could feel his shoulder pull and pinch with every lift. He knew this routine and settled in for a long swim. He lost track of his laps, instead going by the fatigue level in his body.
When he figured he’d done enough, he pulled himself out of the water and sat at the edge for a long moment, giving his trembling muscles a moment to calm down. He took a deep breath and stood up, realizing just how tired he was. He’d overdone the swimming tonight. Instead of being strong and refreshed by morning, he was likely to be tired and sore. Not smart.
The pool had emptied and even the hot tub was down to just one person.
He slowly walked over. He was tired now, his arm sore and throbbing. At the hot tub, he dropped into the water and sank until only his head was above. And let the heat work its magic. He closed his eyes and rested.
Afterwards, he’d blame his fatigue for not noticing the odd silence. When he did finally realize the atmosphere around him was pregnant with something unusual, he sat up on the bench under the water to look around.
The shocked gasp had him turning his head. And he gazed directly into Robin’s horrified face.
While she stared at his damaged shoulder, he couldn’t help but stare at her damaged face.
Chapter 11
Robin had seen one person swimming when she’d entered the pool area. But after realizing that the hot tub was empty, she’d made the decision to stay. She really wanted to soak. Her insides felt wrung out. Her muscles were achy, and the injured side of her face throbbed from clenching her jaw. The stress was killing her, even now that it had slid down to manageable levels. She could have tried to go to sleep, but just the thought had sent her nerves tightening. She was afraid the nightmares would return.
After lowering herself into the warm water and feeling her muscles soften and relax, she knew she’d done the right thing. She sank completely under the water, letting the heat soak into the muscles and skin of her face and head. Alone, she could relax and not worry about prying eyes.
Until Sean had arrived.
Why him?
Why now?
But as always, there was no answer. She could only stare at him in shock. Dear God. She’d seen the small scars on his hand, his fingers, his neck. The tiny portion that showed under his shirt.
There was no way she could have guessed at the rest.
No one could have.
His right shoulder was shiny and rippled with the mixed of damaged and healed tissue trying to live peacefully together. There had to be some injury to the actual joint from the grotesque look of the pitted muscles. Her heart softened, ached. Damn. What he must have gone through…
Her gaze wandered his wide chest, seeing the small burn-like scars, cuts that had been too big or too deep to heal without proper care. So many of them. She knew his back was likely worse.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
He jerked slightly, then sat up and glared at her, giving her a clearer view of his chest.
And she knew.
“You said you were abused as a child.” She shook her head. “That’s a lie.” There was no other way to say it. But she tried. In fact, the words spurted out on their volition. “You look like you were tortured on a daily basis for years.”
“Apparently,” he said carelessly, the tone of his voice mocking. Distant. And she understood.
She couldn’t help it – tears burned the back of her eyes. She blinked them back furiously, then realizing that wasn’t going to be enough, she dipped her hands in the water and gently bathed her face, trying to hold her emotions back. It was the last thing he’d want. That she understood. Sympathy was one thing. Pity – quite another.
When she could, she straightened and looked over at him again. He’d leaned his head back and closed his eyes, letting the bubbles come up to cover the rest of him. It didn’t matter. She’d seen enough of his body to know he must have had a horrible childhood. And he’d survived. Thrived even. But now she understood the mocking cynical edge to his voice, that glare in his eyes, that hidden sense of having seen the worst people could offer. That power of no longer giving a damn.
Feeling the pain welling up again, she sank below the water, reveling as the warmth closed over her face. Soothing her stinging eyes.
When she surfaced again, she settled back down against the back of the hot tub and wondered at him being able to go to the children’s hospital so easily. She snuck another glance over at him. Lord, she ached as she looked at him. And she thought she had it bad.
Talk about a reality check.
*
He hated the shocked look on her face. He thought he was immune to seeing that. Especially on a woman. Hence keeping relationships at a distance. He’d had enough one-night stands to know he needed to cover up in the morning before the women saw the details in daylight. Most weren’t likely to care as it was always dark and they’d been there for their own needs
. There’d been no emotion involved. But he’d seen enough revulsion on some faces to keep that sense of distance.
Screw them all.
As he lay there relaxed, letting his body soak up the warmth, he let his mind dwell on what he’d seen of her face. Compared to his shoulder, he didn’t think it was bad. Still, for a woman, it was a part of her body that was so very visible. The scars, the twist to the corner of her eye, the sunken cheek where the muscle underneath had been damaged would be hard to hide.
He could see work had been done. And more was needed. He didn’t know if she was in between surgeries or they’d done what they could. At least for now. She hadn’t clarified that point.
The look of his shoulder was nothing. It was functional and that’s what mattered. He no longer cared what anyone thought. At least he tried not to. In the summer, at the beach, he covered up for other people’s sake. To avoid making them uncomfortable. To avoid the inevitable questions.
Especially for Paris. The sight of his back, his body, never failed to bring tears to her eyes.
He’d do anything to avoid hurting her.
He opened his eyes to study Robin, watching as her face broke through the water, her hair streaming behind her. From his position, he could see the hairline behind her cheek was further back, her ear disfigured, and the cheekbone covered with bright shiny skin. She was still healing.
He could only imagine the trauma Robin had already gone through.
His gaze wandered downward to the pink angry streak down her neck and realized as he studied her shoulders – she was likely as badly scarred as he was. She wore a modest one-piece bathing suit. It couldn’t begin to cover her injuries. He doubted she went swimming in public. It said much about her day that she was here at all.
He didn’t give a damn about his scars.
And she likely cared too much.
He’d been like this since forever. And knew that it was the price of survival. Besides, what was the alternative? He suspected from the look of the scar tissue on her face that this was a fairly recent development in her life. “Have you ever been married? Engaged?”