Blank Canvas

by Coopmans, Kathy

  We work side by side until all the dishes are dried and put away. I walk her down to her bedroom, showing her the bathroom that’s connected to it. How to adjust the showerheads and making sure I reassure it’s private and only hers.

  “Thank you for all of this. I already love it here.” She steps up to me, giving me a quick hug, and then steps back. “And don’t tell Saxon, but he’s not the better-looking brother.”

  That makes me throw back my head laughing. “It would probably crush the giant.”

  “He was nice, and thank you for not making him treat me differently.”

  “I’ll never do that to you, Amelia.” I tuck my hands into my black gym pants, hiding my growing erection.

  “I know. I trust you.”

  Her eyes dart up above the closet, and she whispers the quote I drew on the wall.

  The bluebird carries the sky on his back. -Henry David Thoreau

  Tears well up in her eyes. Not sad or remorseful ones, but the hopeful kind.

  “Good night, Bluebird.”

  It takes everything inside of me not to wrap her up in my arms, hold her tight until all her worries fade while whispering quotes into her hair. I don’t. I walk to the door backward, keeping eye contact with her the whole time. The minute I go to pull the door shut is when I realize her demons are not as buried as I thought.

  “No! Doors. Always have to have the door open!” Amelia screams.

  I nod knowing this has everything to do with the nightmare she lived night after night in her own childhood home.

  “Doors always open.” I smile gently at her before backing the rest of the way out and making my way down the hall to lock up.

  My mind doesn’t stray from the beautiful woman across the hall when I crank on my shower and step inside the confines of the dark gray tile. My head still whirling with emotions and every possible thought involving my Bluebird. My mind knows this can’t happen, but everything else in me is battling otherwise with a torrent emotion.

  She’s growing stronger and stronger by the day, yet is still so fragile. If my fingertips ever grace her milky white skin, it will be game on. That day will only come when she’s decided. My cock stirs to life as this storm of emotions overtakes me. It’s violent and consuming throughout the angry veins throbbing down my erection. It’s the type of ache that leaves no survivors behind, and there’s a lingering feeling deep down in my gut that it might be my heart that gets shattered.

  My palm wraps around the aching throb, the water the perfect lubricant as I slowly stroke from base to tip. I close my eyes and see the perfect hue of blue. Just a canvas of gorgeous and endless variety of color. My grip tightens around my aching dick while beginning to pump it faster. Everything about this is wrong. So damn wrong that when tomorrow comes and I have to face her, I’ll struggle to look her in the eyes with a clear conscience.

  I tilt my head upward, my back against the wall. My hand sliding up and down my cock in a frenzy and need for this woman who has me twisted up inside. I want her so bad that my balls burn to feel this release. She’s the first woman I want and know I can’t have. The first I need and wish I didn’t.

  “Fuck, Amelia.” I squeeze my cock, my hand moving faster, while my other hand cups my taut balls tightly, my mind spinning out of control. My head jerks up, my mouth falls open, then I release with a guttural growl. The shower washing away any evidence as I fight to catch my breath.

  Guilt makes its way through the steam, and I’ll be the damned if I’ll allow it to cut me up and strike me down.

  “Fuck it.” I clean up, grab a towel, and dry off.

  It isn’t until long after I’ve climbed into my bed unable to sleep that I make the decision that I need to come out and tell Amelia that there really is something I want. Her. And it does not come with a price.

  15

  Amelia

  My knees go weak as I gaze around the room. Never in a million years would I have expected to come here to this. I knew his home had to be nice. But this, it’s almost too much. Like everything else he’s done for me has been.

  I left the next day after my talk with Ronan. My new start fresh in my mind. I spent a few nights with Renee, allowing her to pamper me more. She took me to a spa. Spoiled me rotten with a pedicure, a haircut, lowlights, and even talked me into getting a bikini wax after I chewed both her and Zoe out for somehow sneaking not one but two bikinis into the pile of clothes from Target. Sneaky bitches. I have never felt this clean or refreshed in my entire life. But now as I stare around the room, the walls start to close in on me. Reminding me that I can’t cry for help if I have a nightmare. I refuse to put any more burden on Zeke than I already am. No matter what he tries to tell me, this has to be just as much of an adjustment for him as it is for me.

  I shuffle my feet to the dresser, grab a cami and a pair of sleep shorts, and make my way into the bathroom, going through my nightly routine of washing my face, brushing my teeth, and applying moisturizer. All of this is still new to me. I’ve never felt this good about taking care of myself in a long time.

  I make sure the door is still open, climb into bed, and damn near sigh when I rest my head on the pillow, my body sinking into the soft mattress below me.

  My mind drifts back to earlier. The dinner, the talking, and how comfortable I felt around Zeke’s brother. He’s funny. A tad bit scary and yet he’s holding so much pain inside of him that it broke my heart watching him pretend to act as if nothing was wrong. Something terrible happened to Brick and Zeke. I can feel it all the way to my bones.

  The only way I can tell that he and Zeke are brothers is through their eyes. Eyes so intensely green and vibrant that they seer right through you. I swear Brick was reading my thoughts. And the questions he was asking about my family didn’t go unnoticed, either.

  I roll over, tuck my hands under the pillow, and shrug it off as a man trying to protect his brother. I would do the same thing if I had a sibling. I shudder at the thought. My inner self thanking God I didn’t. If those sick bastards had done what they did to me to my sister if I had one, I’m not sure I would be here today. I would have either killed them or myself for not having the strength to protect her.

  I close my eyes. The drain of worrying the past few days slamming me hard. I fall asleep, no nightmares of my past. It’s the man in the bedroom down the hall who enters my dreams. The dreams he’s in are the ones that frighten me the most.

  “Good morning, Doc,” I say when I hear Zeke approaching. The one thing you learn very quickly when living on the streets is to know when someone is coming up behind you. If you don’t, you’ll wind up raped or dead or beaten in an alley. I shake that thought away. Reminding myself I was strung out on drugs when that happened. Too concerned to care.

  “Amelia, you did not have to do this. It looks great. Thank you,” he says as I place the last piece of bacon on a plate and spin around to hand it to him.

  I’m struck dumb. Speechless when I half expect to come face-to-face with him dressed in clothes to go to work. I sure as hell didn’t expect to be staring at his bare chest. Oh, geez, his sweat. He smells manly and his arms are huge. Defined and capable of… I need to stop before his breakfast goes cold and I drop to a puddle of sweat on the floor myself.

  I internally sigh. My legs start wobbling. This is not the way I planned on starting out my day. I wanted to wake up, make him breakfast, and start working. I need to occupy my time.

  “I, uh…I hope you like bacon and scrambled eggs.” I force my eyes away from his muscular chest to gaze up into his eyes. The tension in this room is as heavy as this plate begins to feel in my hands. I want to drop it and reach out and touch his sweaty skin. To taste the salt mixed in. To experience something I have no right thinking about. Especially with him. Shit. Moving in here was a bad idea for a woman like me. I’ve resisted the urge to touch myself for months now. It’s going to be a losing battle to do so.

  “Here.” He takes the plate from my hands, sets it on the bar, and w
alks around me without touching to get himself a cup of coffee. I feel my face flush. My skin tingling. I need a shower or a run or something to pull me away from these foreign thoughts and feelings. Clear my head and start over. Except, I’ve done all those things already.

  I tiptoed out of my room at the crack of dawn. Checked every room except the one that was locked for a treadmill, weights. I found exactly what I was looking for in his basement. A complete gym that stole my breath right out from under me. I ran, worked out, and tried to block my wicked dream out of my mind. Hell, who needs the gym down the street he mentioned when he invited me with everything he has here?

  And now, with him practically naked, everything bounces right back to the center of my chest in a whoosh.

  “Aren’t you eating?” he asks, sits down, and digs right in.

  “I already did,” I half lie. I picked at the bacon, drank some coffee, and with my stomach flopping all over the place, I don’t think I could keep anything down if I tried.

  “Well, that sucks. I have to be at the hospital in a few hours. I’m not sure when I’ll be home. That’s the thing about working in the ER. It could be when the shifts change, or I could spend days there. I should have talked this out with you last night. I’m sorry.” He keeps his eyes cast down while he eats, which I find strange. Usually, his eyes make contact with me at all times. In fact, they light me up when he does. I’m so confused about everything right now.

  “It’s okay, Zeke. I shouldn’t have shown up here unannounced. You could have been doing all sorts of things or had a woman here. Hell, I don’t know. Do you want to get me started on this charity ball?” I’m rambling, becoming angry. My tone comes out harsh.

  “If that’s what you want.” Again, another short reply from him.

  Something is definitely bothering him. The man I’ve grown to care for as a friend has vanished, leaving behind a shell of a person.

  “It is,” I partially lie again and turn my head away from him.

  I really do want him to show me. However, I would love to talk to him, too. A friendly chat about basketball, some of his favorite hobbies, or even a few gory stories from the ER like he used to tell me in rehab.

  Tears well up in my eyes as he finishes in silence. I stand there struck mute in my jeans, white shirt, and flip-flops. Stupidly. The silence is a deafening ringing in my ears.

  “Give me ten minutes.” He stands, takes his plate to the sink, and pours more coffee. Then walks away without a second glance. What the hell just happened?

  My fingers begin to tremble, the uneasy urge to feel something other than pain slowly yet rapidly flooding in. My head trying to tell me I need a high. I drum my fingers on the counter searching for something to do. Anything to take my thoughts away from drugs. Dishes. I stand and begin to fill the sink with hot soapy water. My skin stings when I sink them in. The slight pain is a welcome as I clean away any remnants of the disastrous breakfast and dark thoughts.

  Zeke waltzes back with his shield of armor firmly in place. He’s still shirtless but carrying two MacBooks this time. He sets up at the bar flipping both lids of the Macs open, while I stand and stare feeling lost, just like I used to in the alleyways. But this time with no high or escape. I need Ronan and a safe place. Not his cold shoulder when I have no idea where I’ve overstepped or what I could have done.

  “Amelia.” His voice is far off and distant. “Amelia.”

  I have to run. I’ve done something to disgust him.

  “Hey.” I feel the warmth of his palm on the top of my shoulder. His touch zaps right to my racing heart. “Are you okay?”

  “This isn’t a good idea. I should leave.” The words spill from my mouth with panic setting in hard and fast in my chest. They sting, burn, and I feel awful. Sick to my stomach.

  “Come. Sit down.” Zeke guides me to the barstool. My body goes easily. I’m numb.

  “Are you okay?” I look up, and he’s staring at me. Intensely. Studying and trying to analyze. I don’t care for it at all. It makes me feel naked and vulnerable.

  “Amelia?”

  I look down at my fingers tangling together. I feel like a petulant child who is about to be punished for something she didn’t do. It scares me to death, because that’s exactly what I am compared to him. A kid who doesn’t know a damn thing. A woman who thought she would be able to take care of herself, yet here I am on day one, falling apart for God only knows what or why. “You’re mad at me. I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’m sorry for. I shouldn’t have come here.”

  “I’m not mad at you, Amelia.”

  “You haven’t even looked at me. You’re giving me the cold shoulder and acting like it’s a chore to show me how to do my job.”

  Ronan would be one proud man right now with me talking shit out even if it’s awkward as hell. I steady myself for his next words of telling me to get the hell out.

  “You are wrong.”

  I shake my head no still staring at my fingers. I shouldn’t have left. I’m far from ready to be on the outside. I may never be ready.

  “You are wrong,” he repeats. “Amelia, please look at me.”

  “I’m not sure if I can. It hurts too much to know I’ve already pissed you off.”

  “I’m going to touch you,” he warns.

  In a flash, his hand is cupping my cheek gently, raising my face up to his. His touch soft, comforting with no threat. No force to make me do something I don’t want to do. My skin sizzles and tingles with the same connection I felt when he touched my shoulder. The pad of his thumb starts running back and forth across my cheeks.

  “You. Are. Wrong.” He speaks each word with determination with a slight pause between each. “I am not mad at you, Amelia.”

  “But you—”

  He cuts me off, not apologizing for it.

  “I want you.”

  Those new three words he speaks leave me speechless and struggling to fill my lungs with oxygen. What? He wants me?

  “It was never my intention to tell you how I feel when I extended this invite to you, but there’s something about you, Amelia, that consumes my every thought, and seeing you last night here in my house with a genuine smile on your face changed the game for me. I’m being honest with you here. I thought maybe if I kept my distance from you this morning that it would extinguish some of those thoughts and feelings. It wasn’t to hurt you. Amelia, you have no idea how much I’d sacrifice to keep you safe.”

  My heart bursts at his admission, heating my body from head to toe. I’ve never felt this in my entire life. It’s impossible to describe, because it’s everything a woman like me has ever wanted. My body, mind, and soul reel in confusion, and I answer him the only way my heart tells me to. I lean forward slowly with precise movement until our lips connect. His entire body stills. His caressing across my skin stops. I kiss him quickly then pull back, startled from my reaction.

  “I have no idea what’s happening here, Zeke. The one thing I do know is that I’ve been alone for so long with my own tortured thoughts that talking, communicating, and speaking my mind has become important to me. It’s a necessity I don’t want to live without to be able to express myself. Please don’t hide anything from me. Even if it’s something that will hurt.” I nuzzle into his touch. His palms still holding my face. I could stay this way all day with him touching me like this. My body is welcoming a man’s touch instead of those disgusting feelings I always had when being touched before. They were never gentle, never welcomed, but his hands...they are wanted in more ways than I can understand. “We talk about everything, Zeke. No avoiding stuff.”

  “That I can do, Amelia.” I want more than anything for him to lean forward to finish his words with a kiss. My first real one. Instead, his green eyes pool with determination, making me even fonder of him. This man is a sinkhole, because all he makes me do is fall harder for him as a friend and possibly even more. His simple actions are making me believe in the good of the world once again. He cares. It’s simple, the way
a budding relationship should be. In this moment, I realize that Zeke may want me, but he’s not out to hurt me. I’ve never been surer of anything in all my life.

  “Work,” I struggle to get out. “Tell me all about my new job.”

  We spend a good thirty minutes on how to use a Mac. Everything is backward to me. Zeke passes me a notepad to jot down usernames and passwords. I have the email down, the contacts noted that need to be made, and the numerous caterers and everything else that needs to be done. He was right; there’s so much work to be done, and even though he hasn’t mentioned the charity, this is all going toward it. It’s clear he’s passionate about it. I’m learning quickly that when Zeke cares, he pours his whole heart into it.

  “The charity?” I ask.

  Zeke stills then rubs his hands down the scruff on his face. I can’t help but notice how his chest flexes along with his abs. It causes an unfamiliar ache between my legs. One I want to be there on my own. Not one that’s caused by the influence of drugs or a craving to erase my pain. It’s there, because I want it to be.

  “The Lost Angels.” He pauses hinting how hard it is for him to talk about it. “It’s a charity that helps young women in California.”

  “Okay.” I swallow, wanting to know more but not daring to ask.

  I’m not sure if he thinks this is going to affect me, or if there’s another lingering reason for his hesitancy to open up.

  “They provide safe shelter, counseling, and a new start for women. It’s a newer organization that I want to get up and running nationwide. It’s my goal to have a safe place for advice to young teens and women to go to before it’s too late.” He what? If this isn’t some kind of sign that the two of us weren’t destined to meet, then I don’t know what other sign there could be.