Break The Line

by Allison Mullinax

  Danni wheels L.J. to the small wooden dresser and opens a drawer full of blankets. She pulls one out and drapes it over his lap. “It’s not cold, but there’s a nice breeze blowing tonight,” she says to him. “Benson, would you like to go for a stroll with us?” she asks, her eyes glazed over with tears threatening to spill onto her cheeks. She’s terrified. She always rambles when she’s unsure of any situation. The only problem is, I’m terrified too, and I don’t know what to say. I need to get out of here.

  “Yeah. I uhhh . . . just need to use the bathroom first,” I say, backing out of the room and closing the door behind me. I lean against the wall, breathing in through my nose and out my mouth. I thought he was dead. I thought we were going to a grave site, but instead…

  “Benson Howell?” a kind voice calls to me from down the hallway. A woman walks toward me, charts in her hands, and a warm smile on her face.

  “Yes, ma’am?”

  “You probably don’t remember me, but you were so kind to my son the other day after your tournament. He was so proud to have met you,” she says, looking at me expectantly. It’s then my memory flashes to the little boy on the bench, face covered in chocolate ice cream.

  “Ahh, I do remember, yes, ma’am. It was my pleasure,” I say, my voice sounding nervous and lacking the confidence it usually carries.

  “I see you found Miss Danni-Rose.” She gives the same sad smile her face held that day when I had asked about her boat.

  “I . . . yes.” I look down at the floor. “How long has he been here?” I ask, looking to anyone for an answer.

  “L.J. came to us as soon as he was released from the hospital. A disability center that houses residents, with twenty-four-hour care, is the best place for him to be,” she says, patting me on the shoulder.

  “And what exactly is . . . wrong . . . with L.J.?” I ask, unsure of the right words to use.

  “L.J. suffered extensive brain damage from the accident. He’s a quadriplegic. He’s lost almost all of his reflexes, unable to speak, or even blink. His brain function…” she trails off, shaking her head.

  “I see…”

  “Danni-Rose comes here every Sunday evening, pushes L.J. around the courtyard, talks to him, sits with him. She also gives us hell if she doesn’t think we are moving him around the room enough, or changing his bags frequently enough.” She chuckles. “We do a fine job here, but we are accustomed to our residents’ families who struggle with all of this,” she says, waving her hand above her. “I’m glad to see you here, Benson. I know that Danni-Rose will always love L.J., but we’ve all been hoping she will start to love herself again too. She blames herself, ya know?” she says.

  “Yes, ma’am, I know. She blames other people too, though,” I say. “I finally get it.”

  “Don’t let her push you away. She brought you here, didn’t she?” she says, patting me on the back before walking down the hallway. I stand there, breathing, suddenly acutely aware of how lucky I am to be able to do that on my own.

  The door to L.J.’s room opens, and Danni pushes him out into the hallway, surprised to see me standing against the wall. “I can go alone, I mean . . . I understand if you want to stay here in the room. Or if you want to—” she begins, looking toward the exit.

  “I’m not going anywhere, Danni,” I say, placing my hand over hers.

  Her hand is gripped so tightly on the wheelchair handles that her fingers are turning white. Her eyes lock onto mine. “Okay,” she says, and we walk together, with L.J., through the doors into the cool night air.

  * * * *

  Danni has been quiet most of the ride home, and I’m scared to death. I now understand why she wanted me to be here. She wanted a reason to hate me. She’s hunting down the emotion, and practically willing it into existence, beating herself up for never finding it.

  I spent the evening listening intently to her speak to L.J. We sat in the courtyard and she told him about Beau, that he was going to be ok, and that she would bring him the next time she came. She told him about running into Thomas. She told him about singing at the Crawfish Barn. I found my heart aching for her at his lack of response. No wonder I feel like a betrayal to her. She has to be the strongest person I’ve ever known, and I’m just now realizing what it would mean for a woman like her to be with a man like me.

  I pull into her driveway, and my heart is thumping in my chest. I’m anticipating the fallout. I turn the key and the sound of the engine dying is heavy in the air. I open my mouth to speak, but the words never have the chance to leave my lips.

  “I don’t know how to let go,” she says, almost a whisper.

  “I would never ask you to.”

  “Not him. I don’t know how to let go of you, Benson. I wanted to. I tried to. I took you there tonight hoping it would be easier to do it, or hoping you would make it easy for me and bolt for the door. But there you were, holding my hand, watching me stroll my brain-dead boyfriend through the grass,” she says, getting out of the truck and slamming the door. “A fisherman. How can I do that to him? I don’t want to keep falling for you, Benson.”

  I get out and lean back against the truck, her standing angry and beautiful in front of me. “You keep thinking of reasons not to, Danni. Maybe you should start thinking of all the reasons you need to. Or just stop thinking at all and focus on feeling,” I say, holding my hand to my chest. “I’m about to come over there and kiss you. You should be prepared for that. I’ll give you a second to think about if you want to kiss me back or slap me,” I say, holding three fingers in the air, counting down. Two . . . One.

  I walk over to her, her eyes never leaving mine, and I crush my mouth to her lips. She drops her purse in the dirt, wrapping her arms around my neck as I pick her up and carry her through the front door. I have to show her how much I care, how much I need to just be near her.

  Chapter Ten

  Danni-Rose

  His strong hands are grabbing firmly onto my backside, and my arms are wrapped tightly around him as he walks up my front porch steps. My tongue teases the sensitive skin on his neck, stopping at his earlobe, nibbling it between my tongue and teeth. A low moan vibrates in his throat when I kiss his jawline, feeling the stubble against my lips. I find my way to his full mouth, parting his lips with my tongue. He kicks the bottom of the screen door with his boot, and it bounces against the wall, ricocheting then slamming shut behind us.

  I can’t think about anything other than how good it feels to have his hands on me. To have him anywhere within the vicinity of me. He lowers me to the ground, never breaking our kiss, and I slide my hands up the back of his shirt. He wraps an arm around my lower back, and walks backward with me down the hallway toward my room. The backs of my knees hit the bed, and I willingly fall, pulling him down on top of me. I find the hem of his shirt, tugging it over his head, then run my hands up his toned arms. He stands up, along the edge of the bed, between my knees, and runs his hand up my stomach, pulling my shirt up with it. Bending at the waist, he places feather light kisses around my navel, up my stomach, stopping to kiss my throat.

  I can’t take my eyes off his broad shoulders climbing towards me. With a forearm under my back, he lifts me up and pulls my shirt over my arms, letting me fall back onto the bed with both his hands placed along my back. He unhooks my bra, and slides it off my shoulders.

  “Is this ok?” he asks, with his face inches from mine. I can feel the soft flow of air coming from his parted lips.

  “Mmmm,” is the only sound I can make, pulling his face to mine, kissing him.

  He stands, kicking his boots off, then raises my leg into the air, sliding my boot down my calf. He lowers himself onto his knees in front of the bed, gliding his hands up my thighs to my zipper. I raise my hips and he pulls my jeans down my legs, tossing them onto the floor. I feel his fingertips massaging my ankles while he kisses the back of my knees, up my thighs, stoppin
g at the place I’m craving his mouth most of all. I can feel his warm breath teasing me. A sound of pleasure leaves my mouth as he slides his fingers under my panty line, curling his hands around the lace and pulling them off, his mouth returning and threatening to take me over the edge. He runs his hand down the back of my leg, lifting it and placing it over his shoulder. His fingers continue down my thighs, then work their way inside of me, causing me to arch my back. My fingernails trace along the tops of his shoulders. His mouth is like heaven on the most sensitive part of my body.

  He kisses my pelvic bones and across my hips before standing, letting his eyes roam over every inch of my skin. I watch him as he unzips his jeans and pulls them down along with his boxers. I slide farther back on the bed while he crawls in between my knees. The ache I have to feel him closer is overwhelming and takes over all of my senses.

  He hooks his arms underneath mine, his hands resting at the back of my neck. He smooths his lips over my mouth, and presses his forehead against mine, pushing himself into me. My hips raise to meet him, wanting everything. A raspy moan comes from his mouth, and the muscles in his jaw clench. The pleasure I feel from making him feel this way is like nothing I’ve ever experienced before, like my body was made for his.

  He takes his time, working painfully slow, leaving me practically begging for him to go just a little harder. My fingertips dig into the tight muscles of his back as soon as he begins to quicken his pace. My thighs tighten around his hips and I feel my body craving the release he’s bringing me, building until my entire world explodes.

  “Look at me, baby,” he says, prompting my eyes to open. His face is filled with pleasure, and with the hint of something else I can’t quite place, I take him over the edge with me.

  Moments pass, and he falls beside me, pulling me into his chest. His fingertips lightly graze the damp skin between my hips and lower back, and our breaths grow shallow. My face nuzzles into his chest, feeling sated and completely satisfied.

  “You’re amazing,” he says, kissing my temple.

  “Not so bad yourself,” I say, and I feel laughter shake his chest.

  “I don’t mean just this, I mean you. I’ve never known anyone like you, Danni,” he confesses, and it causes my heartbeat to intensify. “I don’t want to stop knowing you either, I don’t think I can.” I don’t say anything back; I just lie there feeling content in his arms. I rise up and kiss his lips and he pulls me on top of him. My thighs are on either side of his waist, and his hand grabs onto the back of my neck, holding me in place against his mouth. His other hand finds my lower back and he applies light pressure with his fingertips, gently massaging.

  He sits up, forcing my legs to wrap around his waist and he slides his hands up my back, our faces so close to one another. He rubs his nose against mine as his hands work their way into my hair. “I’m thirsty,” he says seductively, gliding his tongue against mine, kissing me in a way that makes my body feel like it has been set on fire. I lean my head to the side while he kisses his way down my throat to my collar bone. “Why are you so beautiful?” His breath is warm, making his way up my chin and settling back on my mouth. I smile against his lips, unable to help the feeling that is taking over.

  The sound of footsteps on the porch breaks our spell, and our eyes widen at each other.

  “Shit, who are you expecting?” he says, and I scramble off him, leaving him sitting Indian Style on the bed. I laugh and throw his black T-shirt at him.

  “No one,” I say, hopping on one foot trying to slide my leg back into my jeans. He throws my bra at me, and I catch it with one hand, giggling.

  “God you’re sexy,” he says, leaping off the bed and slapping my ass. I kick his jeans over to him, and he pulls them up quickly. I start to walk out of the room, smoothing my hands down my shirt, but he grabs me by my upper arms and pulls my back up against his chest, kissing the top of my head before he releases me.

  “It’s probably Liza, so get ready for her to give you a hard time,” I say with a playful warning.

  “I already had myself a hard time,” he says, and grins at me when I swat at his arm. I throw him a wink, and then walk out into the hallway, my heart still fluttering in my chest.

  And then . . . ice runs cold down my spine at the site of L.J.’s brother standing on the other side of my screen door. His brown hair is tucked under a baseball cap, and the scowl on his face reminds me so much of L.J. when he was angry that it stops me in my tracks.

  “Jack? What are you—” but I’m cut short.

  “That a fishin’ truck, Danni-Rose?” he asks, with his forehead creased and lips drawn in tight. My lungs contract inside my body, and I feel like I’m suddenly suffocating.

  “Jackson, what are you doing here? When did you get back into town?” I say, looking over my shoulder toward my bedroom.

  “I went to see my brother, thought I might run into you while I was there seeing as it’s Sunday and all. Nurse said I just missed you . . . and some guy you brought along with you.” He peers over my shoulder, anticipating who might come down the hallway. “When I asked them who it was, I didn’t believe them. Had to see for myself. Imagine my surprise when I saw the Classic champion’s name listed as a visitor to my brother’s room.” I notice the slight sway from side to side in Jackson’s stance, and I know immediately he’s been drinking.

  “Jackson, let me explain—” I say, but he holds his hand up.

  “Danni, it ain’t none of my business who you’re sleepin’ around town with. But my brother is my business. He’s not a goddamn side show. A fucking fisherman? You keep him the hell away from L.J. You understand me, Danni?” he says, spitting the words at me like venom.

  “It’s not like that,” I say, walking toward the door.

  “It sure as shit looks like it. Liza know about this?” He bangs his fist against the screen door, provoking a startled yelp to leave my lips. In an instant, Benson is walking down the hallway, fully dressed, and standing beside me.

  “You ok?” he asks me, then looks over to Jackson.

  “Well, well, well, look what the slut dragged in,” Jackson says, and I can’t help but notice the slur in his words. He grins at Benson in a way that sends a grimace skirting across my face.

  “What did you say?” Benson asks, taking a step forward. I grab his hand and stop him from walking to the door.

  “You know what this week is, Danni?” he asks, and I can only stare back at him. “Sure you do, birthday girl…” he says, walking backward off the steps.

  “Jackson, wait!” I call, opening the screen door, the sticky night air clinging to my skin. “I would never disrespect L.J. like that. I only wanted to see . . . I needed to know . . . I don’t know, please just listen,” I say, running after him and grabbing his arm to stop him. The thought of hurting anyone in L.J.’s family sends a wave of grief soaring through my body. Jackson might only come around every now and then, but he’s still L.J.’s brother. I can feel the tears pooling in my eyes.

  “Nice truck, asshole,” Jackson says behind me. I look back to Benson walking out onto the porch, looking down and finding a place to sit on the steps. He props his elbows on his knees and rests his chin on his hands. He isn’t overstepping, but he isn’t going to let Jackson get away with insulting me either. He nods his head at Jackson in response.

  Jackson bends down, picking up a baseball-sized rock laying in my dirt driveway. He runs his fingertips over the jagged edges, then looks at Benson with a murderous glare. He tosses it up in the air a few inches and catches it in his palm. He stretches his arm behind his head and sends the rock flying into the air, colliding with Benson’s truck window. The sound of glass shattering in the night causes me to cover my ears. “Jackson! Stop.” Benson only sits there, shaking his head.

  “Here’s the thing, Danni, I don’t want to stop. Once upon a time you would have helped me reduce this fishing truck to a heap of d
ented metal. You know what they did to L.J. You saw it happen. You hate fishermen. Now you’re fucking them?” And at that Benson is on his feet, walking toward Jackson.

  “Look, man, you can take your anger out on that truck all you want. I get it. But not her. Understand?” Jackson bends down and picks up another rock, this time hurling it toward Benson. He watches as it soars past him into the soybean field, Jackson’s drunken aim not able to land his intended target.

  “Come on, man. You don’t want to do this,” Benson says, rubbing his hand over his hair.

  “Jackson just stop it, please just listen to me,” I say, pleading.

  “You bitch. You and this piece of shit stay away from my brother. I’ll have you arrested if you come anywhere near him ever again,” he says, and it feels like my heart is breaking.

  “Jackson, please. I love L.J. Don’t do this,” I beg, reaching my hand out to him. He slaps it away, and my body spins sideways from the impact.

  Before I have a chance to stop it from happening, Benson is charging toward Jackson. He grabs him by the shirt collar, and slams his back up against the truck. “I told you, you don’t want to do this.”

  Jackson pulls his head back and slams his forehead into Benson’s nose, causing a sickening crack. Benson pulls his fist back and connects it directly with Jackson’s jaw, and I watch as his knees buckle. Jackson’s back is in the dirt and Benson is on top of him, landing another blow before I can get over there.

  “Benson! Get off him!” I shout, grabbing his forearm when it rears back, ready for another punch. He stops, looking down at Jackson who is covering his face. Standing, his breath is heavy in his chest. “Why did you do that!” I say, falling to my knees beside Jackson.