by Laura Brown
Levi glanced around the table. More women than men here, and a Seder run by a widow with two daughters. Yes, Miriam’s cup worked for this table, and he wondered why his family hadn’t adopted the ritual. Perhaps he and Gaby could introduce it to them.
He put his phone away. Where did that thought come from? Somehow “Next year in Jerusalem” had turned into “Next year with my family.” He needed to get his head on straight and back to the name of the game here. Namely that they weren’t real.
Before he could identify why that fact settled thicker than matzah, a little boy from the kids’ table raced down the stairs to the landing and opened the door. Mouths probably moved; tradition often had songs being sung while the door opened for Elijah. Maybe for Miriam, too, he wasn’t sure. He would have to do more research later.
Only, the excited boy had an excited dog running after him, and somehow the screen door must have been ajar because the dog raced right on out into the night as if he saw Elijah coming down the driveway.
Levi didn’t think twice. He pushed his chair back and ran down the steps and out into the night, sighting the dog already two houses over and bounding around in a world more sepia than colorful due to the dwindling light. The dog proved the greyhound part of his breed, racing as if suddenly freed from his oppressors.
How very Passover of him.
Bengi left the grass, racing into the street. Headlights shone ahead, and Levi had no idea how visible the dog was at this hour. He picked up his pace, waving his hands over his head, trying to get the driver’s attention.
The dog continued forward, and Levi wanted to explain that Elijah would not be driving a red BMW. He waved more, the car heading closer, and the headlights swiped across them.
He pushed himself further, but the lights appeared to startle the dog, who turned to head between two houses. Levi got off the road when the car finally slowed, taking a chance and running for the other side of the house, hoping to catch Bengi there. Levi picked up speed, ducking under low-hanging branches and around shrubbery, turning the corner just as something gray breezed past him.
Levi dove for the dog, only, instead of a soft canine in his arms, he got a face full of grass. The ground met his chest in a hard fall, knocking the wind out of him. Son of a bitch. He pushed himself up, spat out a blade of grass, and scrambled to his feet. Bengi circled a tree up ahead, apparently for the fun of it, and Levi lunged for his collar, grasping it with dirt-roughened knuckles.
Bengi jumped up and licked Levi’s face as if to say this was fun and they could go again.
Not in this lifetime, dog.
He struggled to catch his breath while the others caught up with him, and Anne grabbed onto the dog’s collar. Happy Bengi instantly went tail between legs, and Levi guessed the scolding had already begun.
Gaby came up next to him. “Thank you,” she signed. The wind rustled her hair and the ends of her skirt, and he liked more than he should the sight of her looking at him like maybe he was her hero for the night. She pulled out her phone, thumbs tapping, then handed it to him.
Why did you do that?
He shrugged, searching for a response beyond the egotistical “because I could catch him and others couldn’t.”
I knew how important he was to Anne and wanted to do something to help.
Her eyes softened, then the flush to her cheeks drained as she pointed to his arm.
On top of the grass and dirt stains covering his chest, the stinging in his arm was more than a scrape; his arm bled through a rip in the fabric. Gaby held on to him, said something to the others, tugging him back to the house, her grip tighter than the one he had on the dog.
He could take care of a little cut himself, but he had a feeling Gaby wouldn’t let go until she helped him. And after that adrenaline rush, he could go for a little alone time with her.
…
Gaby’s hand shook as she pulled Levi into the bathroom and closed the door. She hated the sight of blood, had to close her eyes during fake surgeries on TV. She should have just pointed out the injury so he could handle it himself.
But seeing him hurt had hit a nerve. And instead of the panic of blood and the need to get away, it became the need to take care of him. No telling if she would pass out or not, but history said yes.
She steeled herself and turned to a very amused Levi standing there, crossed arms, and—oh God—a large red stain on his bicep. She swayed a little, and the grin wiped clean off his face. He reached an arm out to her, the bad one, and the blood spot came closer. She really didn’t want to find out how it felt to have heavy Passover food come back up. She inched back, leaning on the vanity counter, and gestured to his shirt. “O-D-D.”
His eyebrows lowered, and she went over the alphabet in her head, namely her frequent mistakes.
“O-F-F.”
His lips curved again, completely unfazed by the fact he was injured and bleeding and freaking her out, seeming more amused by her demand for him to strip.
Goodness, she had demanded he strip.
He slipped the buttons through the buttonholes, one by one, revealing the hard chest with a smattering of hair that continued straight into his pants, as she had seen the night before. Not an ounce of fat on him—not that she had any doubts about his athletic abilities. He’d chased a dog—a greyhound!—and won. After wine and Seder, while the rest of them were half asleep on their feet.
Levi shrugged out of one sleeve, and Gaby bit the inside of her cheek to keep from drooling—or licking him. Then the other sleeve came off, showing the wound was larger than she’d thought, and bile climbed up her throat.
She quickly turned around and collected supplies: antiseptic, cotton balls, Band-Aids. On second thought, she fumbled around in the lower cabinet for gauze but found none. The water faucet came on, and when she straightened, Levi stood at the sink, rinsing off the blood.
Gaby quickly looked away and prepped a cotton ball, hands shaking again, wondering how the hell she’d manage this. That’s it, Gabrielle, no children for you, you’ll be a lousy mother when they get hurt.
She turned to Levi drying the area around the wound, careful not to get any blood on the towel. The cut bubbled, angry red blood cells raging to spill over and cause Gaby to lose her dinner. She swallowed, hard, and took the cotton ball, dabbing at the area. The angry red cells either got absorbed by the cotton ball or retreated into the wound, which did not put pretty images in her mind. She angled herself to Levi’s hard chest and slowed her dabbing down. Much better scenery. No blood, only muscles and hair.
Levi winced, and Gaby put her focus back on the job at hand, tossing the cotton ball in the trash and then placing three Band-Aids over the wound. Once the last of the red disappeared from sight, her food finally settled back into her stomach, and she stopped having the urge to run away faster than the dog had.
Levi held his hands up, giving a weird shake, his face telling her he tried not to laugh. Well, you try doing this when you hate blood, she wanted to yell.
He finger-spelled, “F-I-N-I-S-H.”
She nodded, placing a hand on his arm, feeling that warmth and sinewy muscle, no worse for the wear even with the Band-Aids in place. “O.K.?” she tried to ask.
He gave her a thumbs-up but probably thought her silly and overdramatic. She certainly thought that of herself.
He pointed to her, signed, “O.K,” and then that finger-bouncing thing she was starting to suspect meant a question mark.
She nodded, but it felt flat and looked flat in the reflection of his eyes. His hand wrapped around her neck, not applying any pressure, but more than likely catching her pulse still going a mile a minute. Without words, he caught her, and it was her own damn fault. He could have taken care of the wound on his own.
Then his lips were on hers, and she didn’t care, couldn’t care, not with his hard chest there for her hands to discover. He
nudged her onto the counter ledge as his tongue licked at the seam of her lips. She opened for him, tasting him, and with their bodies pressed together, every last thought left her.
His hands ran up her sides, and she sucked in a breath when he connected with a bit of side boob. Levi’s hand slowly snaked around until her breast weighted his palm. She swallowed a moan, his thumb rubbing against her eager nipple, leaving no room in her body or mind for anything related to stress.
Unless she added an “ed” to stress—stressed—and flipped it—desserts. Because dessert sounded damn good with him in her mouth.
Her hands caressed his back, slipping down to the top of his pants, dipping slightly to the flesh beneath. Their kissing ratcheted up a notch, bodies molding together, and she debated pulling off her dress or stripping him out of his pants. Or both… Both sounded very good.
Bengi barked in the hall, and she pulled back, chastised by a damn dog. Levi’s eyes were glazed, and she nearly kissed him again—until she noticed the angry red splotches already collecting against the Band-Aids.
And just like that, her libido descended to the negatives.
She pointed to the door, and he nodded, only he pressed closer to her, pointing toward her room. She shook her head. They were definitely not continuing this with the house full of her relatives and family friends. Then he picked up his shirt with the torn and bloody sleeve.
Gaby tried hard not to gag. Levi reached behind him, pulling out his phone from his back pocket, stretching his muscles and making her momentarily forget her unhappy stomach.
You don’t like blood.
She used his phone to type her response.
Nope. And it doesn’t like me. So don’t bleed again. Got it?
He laughed and nodded. Then he gave her a quick kiss before opening the door and heading for her room. Gaby turned to her reflection in the mirror, and “frazzled” was putting it lightly. She tossed some water onto her face and finger-combed her hair, but she could do nothing about the flush making it look like she had put on too much blush.
She adjusted her dress, fixing the crisscrossing fabric to appropriately cover her breasts, lamenting how she flushed right down to her cleavage, and unless she changed or grabbed a scarf, there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it. She fluffed her hair in an attempt to minimize the obvious.
Back at the table, her mother caught her eye. “Levi okay?”
Gaby nodded and collected her cloth napkin while she sat. “Yes, the cut wasn’t as bad as I thought.”
“Everything’s as bad as you thought if it was blood,” Izzy muttered.
Gaby glared. “He’s my g—got hurt. It was the least I could do.” Goodness, she nearly said guest. Levi wasn’t just any guest; he was her fake boyfriend. A notion she clearly needed to be reminded of, at least until she understood what secret he hid.
…
Levi adjusted his shirt, grateful he had packed an extra dress shirt just in case. Though his “in case” had been for stains, not chasing a dog and ripping a shirt then bleeding on it.
At least it gave him those few minutes with Gaby in the bathroom. His blood heated all over again at the memory of her in his hand, the way her top gaped and how she moved against him. Regardless of her insecurities, a vibrant woman existed inside. He needed to bring that woman out and set her free.
The question remained in the “how.” Because all he could think of was kissing her until she lost restraint.
He quickly finished buttoning his shirt and headed for the door. He needed to get back to his mission here, which was pretending to be the doting boyfriend.
Outside Gaby’s room, he came to an abrupt halt. Waiting for him, arms crossed, was Isabel.
Fuck.
Her hands moved in that slow and choppy beginner ASL way, and he swallowed the lump in his throat. This conversation needed to happen, but the fact that she’d initiated it meant he might as well have an “unavailable and shouldn’t be here sign” on his forehead.
“Thought…you…engaged.”
This looked bad. Very bad. And his hands were tied, and bound, and gagged, cutting off all forms of communication. There wasn’t a thing he could sign or type that wouldn’t out one of his secrets: Monica’s or Gaby’s.
He scrambled for his phone, leaving his teacher persona aside. This wasn’t the time for an ASL lesson, not with her vocabulary, not when he risked her misunderstanding.
Levi: It’s not what you think. I can’t explain fully. Not yet, not now, but I’m not here to hurt your sister.
He was the fake date, after all. How could he hurt Gaby? Yet that settled heavier in his stomach than matzah on day seven.
A scowl crossed Isabel’s face as she typed, and he braced himself for the next impact.
Isabel: I don’t trust you. And this all feels very fishy.
As it should.
Levi: I know how it looks. Give me a week, and it’ll all make sense.
Isabel: And if it doesn’t?
He ground his teeth together, hating the depth he stooped to but knowing he needed every trick he had up his sleeve.
Levi: Extra credit for giving me the benefit of the doubt.
She studied him after reading, eyes narrowed, and he held his breath, knowing two secrets were on the line. Finally, she lowered her head and typed.
Isabel: You must believe yourself to offer that. One week. Then I want answers. Answers that don’t make me want to protect my sister. And all bets are off if you hurt her before then.
By the time he glanced up, she’d left him alone in the hall. He shoved his phone into his pocket. It wasn’t ideal, not even close, but with any luck, it gave him the small window he needed to get things squared away with Monica.
As for Gaby, he hadn’t a clue what to do about her. Protecting her from any of his other complications took priority. And yet that protection wanted to filter out and cover more areas.
He shook his head, reminded himself he played a fake date. He had a week to figure out how to handle Isabel.
Chapter Fifteen
The fourth cup of wine poured, Gaby settled into her seat, wondering what kept Levi. Surely he had something to change into? Around the table, voices rang out in song, the loudest from the kids as everyone participated in Had Gadya. Only instead of singing, “Then came the dog who bit the cat, that ate the goat,” her aunt had loudly changed the words to, “Then came the dog who bit the guest, then ate the turkey,” earning hysterical approval of the kids and most of the adults.
Her mother dabbed a napkin at the corner of her eyes, and the lyrics started to blend as the laughter messed up pacing and words, but no one cared. Merriment was all that mattered.
Gaby collected her phone and set up a quick explanation, grateful she had the foresight to do so when Levi returned during a very loud final verse.
Am I famous now?
She checked his face for concern but found none, only that tempting little crinkle at the corner of his eyes.
Not you, the dog. I think people are going to be upset if he doesn’t get into any trouble next year.
Levi typed as her younger cousins requested an encore.
I’m not sure there’s topping eating a frozen turkey. Wouldn’t want him getting into the chocolate, but we’ve got a year to come up with something.
Gaby stumbled over the last words. A year to come up with something. Somewhere between driving here and the turkey and Levi getting hurt, things were shifting, and she wasn’t quite sure how or why.
Levi grabbed the phone.
You know what, forget that last part, although I can always text you some ideas.
She nodded, and maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the night and the blood and those mind-melting kisses, but she collected the phone and responded.
You are always welcome.
He read her word
s then lingered on her face. Her heart kicked against her rib cage as if they were back in that bathroom and his lips were there for the taking.
“Next year in Jerusalem!” her mother’s voice rang out.
“Why do we always say that? We’re not traveling, not now, I’m getting too old,” Aunt Faith said.
“Oh, hush, stop bringing us down. Gaby, help with the dessert.”
She knew she needed to move, but those sea-blue eyes needed more of her attention, and she could lean in, since he was her date for the evening, and—
“Gabrielle? Have we lost you?”
“Yup, we’ve lost her.”
She blinked, breaking the spell, and then faced her mother, ignoring her sister. “Let me help.” She didn’t dare look at Levi again, not after that. But something told her things weren’t finished yet, not even close.
She needed more wine.
…
After dessert, the guests began filtering out, until only those that stayed the night remained: Anne, Isabel, Faith, Gaby, and Levi. They all lounged in the living room, and he investigated his phone now that Isabel had stopped asking him for words. She hadn’t mentioned a thing about Monica, or even attempted to do so, and he began to relax. One small crisis avoided. Faith stood and said something, gesturing for Levi to join her. He had no clue what was going on, and Gaby and Isabel were chatting, so neither helped with communication. He followed Faith into the kitchen, setting his phone up along the way so they could type.
What’s up?
He handed the phone to her.
I said we needed more dessert, but who can eat more after all that heavy Passover food? Oy. No, I wanted a moment of your time. I’ve watched you with my niece, and a few things need to be said. Or typed, as the case may be.
A vein pulsed in his neck, but he played it cool and gestured for her to continue.
First, you know about her ex, Tom, right?
So that was the asshole’s name. Levi nodded.
I never liked the man. Not that he didn’t have good parts. Anne focused on the good. I focused on what he did to Gaby, swallowed her light. He wanted to make her into the vision he saw rather than find her natural beauty. She’s free now, but his controlling nature will leave scars.