by LJ Evans
You noticed my wince and we both looked down to see the bruise that was starting to form on my chest from earlier.
“Oh my God,” you said softly, placing your hand gently over the shading.
The bruise was nothing consequential. A slight discoloration really. It was nothing compared to the black and purple swollen bruises my dad used to give me. I covered your hand.
“It’s nothing.”
“I’m so sorry.” All I could do was be grateful that your humiliation had been replaced with remorse. A hundred bruises would have been worth that.
“Then stay and make it up to me, my small and mighty pixie,” I teased. I wasn’t above using your remorse. I told you, I don’t play fair…at least I didn’t used to. I’m trying a little harder now. I went to pull you against me, but to my surprise, you pushed away again.
“How did you know that’s what my brother calls me? Are you making fun of it? Did Locke tell you?” You had fire in your eyes again.
My stomach clenched tightly at the mention of Locke. Locke had been so protective of you, and all I could think was, Why would he be if he wasn’t involved with her somehow? It made me want to kill my manager and find a new one.
“Why would Locke tell me something your brother calls you? I don’t even know your brother,” I said abruptly as I tried to pull you closer. But you pushed harder, and I didn’t have a choice but to let you move away, knowing that if I didn’t, you would just push more, and maybe never come back. It was a lesson I should have learned then, but didn’t.
You moved to the edge of the bed searching for your dress. I sat up, running a hand down your back which was defined and muscled in ways someone would never know if they didn’t get to see you as I was seeing you without your clothes. I could see just how hard you worked out. It twisted me up physically and emotionally. Your strength. Your determination.
“Locke and my brother are best friends. Have been since college. They both raised me from the time I was thirteen. You’re telling me you didn’t know any of that?” You stormed.
“I swear. I didn’t. But it explains a lot,” I said, feeling the knots in my stomach ease as realization hit me that Locke was just a longtime family friend. He wasn’t your lover.
You pulled your dress over your head without your bra. You really didn’t need it anyway. You’re so small and your breasts are so tight that no one would even know you weren’t wearing one, except for the fact that your nipples were hardening as you saw me watching you. As you saw my body’s reaction to you.
You crossed your hands over your chest as if to hide your response to me. It was so fucking cute. I couldn’t help but reach out and rub my finger across the hardened nipple and couldn’t help the satisfaction at your little intake of breath.
You went to back away from my touch, but I put my other hand on your waist, catching you, pulling you closer to the bed, in between my legs. You swallowed and looked down at me. At my nakedness. I knew you could see how hard I was. How hard you made me for the second time in under an hour.
“Please stay.” I knew it still sounded much more like a demand than the request I wanted it to be.
“I…I c—” I drew your mouth down to mine before you could finish your response. I was kissing you like I was afraid I’d lose you, which I was. It was a hard kiss. Unforgiving. But when I felt your tongue flick back against mine, that was when the fight went out of you. Replaced by desire.
I pulled you onto my lap, and I knew once more that I was lost. Lost in this little piece of dreamland that I never thought I’d find and certainly didn’t deserve. I pulled the dress off of you, ripping it as I did, but not caring. I could buy you another one. I was prepared to buy you whatever you wanted as long as you never went anywhere.
This time, when I made love to you, it was with the same passion as before, but it was also with promises that I felt deep inside my soul. Promises to try to be a better man. Promises I’d only made to one woman in my life and who’d been gone a very long time.
When you cried out again in a pleasure that shook your whole body, I let go. And I felt pieces of my soul become embedded into you where I hoped you wouldn’t trample on them but would find a way to keep them forever. Fucking crazy. I know. I was fuckin’ crazy, but you’d made me that way in less than forty-eight hours.
I held you tight against me, and this time you held me back. I remember thinking that maybe you needed me as much as I needed you. It felt like you fit there perfectly, as if God had made you just for me. Like my very Catholic grandmother had always sworn I’d find someone that God had placed on this earth for me. I’m not religious. You know that, but at that moment, with you there, I understood why people took that journey.
I felt you fall asleep against me. Your whole body relaxed in a way that it rarely did. You were always on high alert, protecting yourself from the world. It made me want to kill anyone and everyone who had hurt you. Whoever had made you so protective of yourself and your soul.
I didn’t even know about your parents or your past. I just could feel the glued-together parts of you trying not to break again. I tried to stay awake so that I could make sure when you woke up, you didn’t steal away, but finally the emotions and energy of the last forty-eight hours tugged at my eyes until they closed along with yours.
♫ ♫ ♫
A phone ringing jerked me from my dream of flying with a little bird next to me. It was flying into me and fluttering at my chest. It took me a few seconds to realize that it was your hands pushing me gently as the landline rang at my bedside. I couldn’t remember the last time the house phone rang. If it ever had.
I held you tightly with one hand, still afraid that you’d disappear, and reached for the phone with my other. You didn’t resist. That made me squeeze tighter.
“What?” I hurled out, irritated at the interruption in our day.
“Seth!” It was Locke. He sounded frazzled and relieved at the same time. “Is PJ still there?”
I couldn’t help feeling pleased by this. Especially now that I knew Locke wasn’t sleeping with you. I knew I could torture him just a little. “She is.”
He let out an exasperated breath that told me he wasn’t happy with me or my snarky response. “I need to talk with her. Put her on the phone.”
“Why?” I couldn’t resist the protectiveness that had already filled me when I had filled you. I know you call it possessiveness. Jesus, it is a little of that too, but at that time, it just felt like I was protecting you. From him. From him saying something about my bullshit life that I hadn’t been able to share with you yet and that would scare you away.
“Seth, so help me God…” I could tell that Locke was trying to get hold of himself. “Look, tell her it’s about Liv.”
I didn’t know who Liv was then. I just knew it wasn’t about me, so I gave you the phone. “It’s Locke. Says it’s something about Liv?”
You bolted up and grabbed the phone. All of your alertness and tension came back. I wanted to punish Locke for ruining your peace.
“Locke?” Your worry was etched in your voice and your face as you pulled away from me. Suddenly, I was worried too.
I could still hear Locke, which made me realize that you had heard our conversation as well.
“Where’s your phone? We’ve been calling you for hours.”
“It’s…” You turned all the shades of red that drew my hand to your silky cheeks. You pushed me away, moving to the edge of the bed. “The battery is dead,” you lied as you searched the ground for your clothes. You’re such an awful liar. “What’s wrong?”
I couldn’t hear Locke’s response anymore, but I could see how his words stilled your hands, and I could see your beautiful, muscled back go taut.
“I’m on my way, tell Justice I’m on my way.” You hung up and tossed the phone on the bed, frantically looking for clothes.
Swiftly, I rose and pulled on my jeans. “What’s wrong?” I asked.
“It’s not your fault,” I said, wanting to take the blame. It was my fault. I hadn’t been able to resist. I hadn’t stopped myself. Impulsive, selfish, asshole.
I pulled on my t-shirt and helped you find your underwear and sandals. When you pulled on your dress, we both realized it was torn down the seam. You just stared at it for a moment as if it was punishment or payment. I do know you. You always seem to take the pain and turn it into self-inflicted wounds.
“I can get you a shirt to put on over it.”
“No…it’s okay. I have some clothes in my car.”
You were out of my room so fast that I almost had to jog to keep up. You were frantic. There was alarm in your voice. This was more than self-condemnation, this was clearly someone you cared deeply about. I hadn’t cared deeply for anyone in so long that I almost forgot what it felt like when they hurt. The last people I’d given a shit about were my grandparents, and they’d been gone two years now.
You pulled your bag from the counter and were searching for your keys as you headed to the door. I barely had time to catch you and take the keys away.
“You can’t drive like this. Let me take you.”
“No. Locke will be there.”
“So.”
“He’ll kill you.”
I couldn’t resist the chuckle. “He can try.” But that didn’t seem to help you. “We’ll be at the hospital. With witnesses.”
I paused to slip on my shoes, and you quickly took your keys back and were out the door in a flash.
Thank God I always fling my keys and wallet on the table by the door because I could snag them and follow you before you got too far. There was no way in hell I was letting you drive. I would have manhandled you into my car in the ripped dress if I had to, but I wasn’t letting you drive any car in the state you were in. I couldn’t. You were already wrapped around my soul. How did you do that?
You were at your car by the time I locked up. You grabbed a duffle from the passenger seat and shuffled through it.
I stepped forward and grabbed the whole duffle from you before walking off toward the garage. “Seth!” you yelled in frustration from behind me. I didn’t care. You wouldn’t go anywhere without something to cover that dress.
“Don’t argue with me. You’re not driving this upset,” I told you. There was no plea. It was a statement I intended to follow through on. Besides, what I know you think about my demands now, I wasn’t doing it to be a controlling pig. I was doing it because I was scared to death you’d drive like that and crash. That you’d leave my life as everyone else had done… some in very brutal ways.
I tossed your duffle on the floor by the passenger seat and backed my Porsche out of the garage. For a moment, I did almost lose it and laugh at you because you were standing there with your hands on your hips, eyes flashing, all fiery Tinker Bell at her worst.
I barely held back my grin as I knew that irritating you wasn’t going to help. I just leaned over and pushed open the passenger door. You hesitated and then stomped your way over, flinging your tiny frame into the seat before slamming the door in a way that made me cringe inwardly for my speakers, but also made me want to smile again with relief.
“What hospital?”
As soon as you told me, I tore out of the driveway knowing that even if I drove like a madman, we were a good thirty minutes from the hospital in normal L.A. traffic. In L.A. you’re pretty much thirty minutes from anything.
You dug in your bag and pulled out an oversized t-shirt that slipped tantalizingly from your shoulder as soon as you pulled it on, then you proceeded to pull on a bra and a tank underneath it. I was so damn fascinated that I almost swerved into the oncoming traffic.
You grabbed the dash, “Jesus. Watch the road!”
“You’re making it really difficult.”
“You didn’t have to come.”
“I’d like to have seen you do that while driving,” I said, purposely trying to lighten the mood. Trying to get you to release even a tiny bit of that tension that was filling you.
“I always hate girls who change in their car as if no one will notice. Now I am doing the same thing.”
I had always hated it too, but wow was I rethinking it. You looked good changing in my car. Too bad you were putting on clothes instead of taking them off.
“Extenuating circumstances.”
“Which I wouldn’t have been in if I hadn’t…” You trailed off, looking away, but I could see the color hit your cheeks even though you tried to hide it.
I couldn’t help but run a finger over your beautiful face again. It was intoxicating. Your skin. Your eyes finally met mine for the first time in a while, and I saw just how worried you were. The fear that was in them.
“Who’s Liv?” I asked.
“Justice’s…my brother’s wife,” you choked out. Then I understood. You weren’t just afraid for Liv but also for your brother if he lost his wife and baby.
“It’ll be okay,” I said, unable to hide my own emotion, resting my hand at the nape of your neck.
“You can’t know that.” You closed your eyes and a tear rolled down your beautiful cheek. It made me want to pull the car over and pull you into my lap, but I knew that wasn’t what you really needed. What you really needed was for me to focus and just fuckin’ drive. So, I pulled my hand back to the steering wheel, lowered the gear, and passed an ancient auntie on the wrong side.
You didn’t complain this time. Instead, you dug back in your duffle for some yoga pants that you slid into while I desperately tried to keep my eyes on the road.
You slid your feet into a pair of flip-flops and then pulled down the visor. Your hair, with all those gorgeous curls that I’d just been tangling my fingers in, was bouncing around your face in an unruly, lovely mess.
“God. Everyone’s going to know,” you said in a voice that was both frustrated and a little freaked out. You whipped the curls up into a messy bun, wrapping a hair band around the volume in a way I knew wouldn’t hold it up for long. Which was just fine with me. I’d be able to weave my hand through it again when it fell down.
“Know what?” I asked, trying not to smile as I played dumb.
“What I…what we’ve…” You looked out the window as you flipped the visor back up. I loved that you didn’t stress about your not-perfect makeup and that you weren’t whipping out a can of hair spray and pulling on stilettos. I loved that you were just being you in a t-shirt and yoga pants. Do you see how many times I wrote love in that paragraph?
I just shrugged. “They have a lot of other things on their mind at the moment.”
You shook your head. “No. I’ve never been able to hide anything from any of them.”
But I could tell that my words had reminded you of why we were racing toward the hospital in the first place. I silently cursed myself for bringing back the worry that I wanted to take away.
“Why did your brother raise you?” I asked in an attempt to shift your focus.
“My parents died in a plane crash when I was thirteen.” You said it matter-of-factly. Like it was just part of someone else’s history. But I knew then, just as I know now, from personal experience, that with the loss of a parent, it isn’t ever that straightforward. That it leaves wounds. Especially on a teenage girl. You can’t beat yourself up for those wounds, Bella. For how you tried to fix them. It’s just fuckin’ life, and life ain’t fair. Never has been.
“That sucks,” I said, trying to focus your thoughts on anything besides Liv and Justice at the hospital.
You shrugged it off. Like I try to shrug things off. My mom. My shit-for-brains dad. My grandparents. Cam. “It sucked more for Justice. He had to drop out of medical school and get a job so the
social services people would let me live with him.”
“You didn’t have any other relatives?”
You shook your head. “No. My grandparents on my mom’s side were both older by the time they had my mom. And on my dad’s side it was just his mom, and she died of breast cancer…” You paused. “Justice wouldn’t have let anyone else take me in anyway.”
“And Locke?”
“Locke was his college roommate. Didn’t even blink an eye at having me move into Justice’s room while Justice slept on the couch until they could afford a bigger place.”
I could easily imagine that for two young men in their twenties, taking in a teenage girl didn’t happen without a blink. I could imagine there’d been a lot of discussions about it. Anger too, but it’s obvious they never made you feel that way. I found myself warming to your brother that I’d never met and even to Locke whom I’d wanted to kill just a few hours ago. They’d taken care of you. Like family should. Like my parents had never been able to do for me.
We rode in silence. You thinking about your family. Me thinking of my asshole dad.
“How long have your brother and Liv been together?” I asked.
“About five years. They’ve been married three. This is their first baby.” Your voice caught on your last words.
My chest tightened at your pain, and I pushed down on the accelerator once more.
Your phone rang. You looked down at it in surprise before answering it. “Claire?”
“PJ! Thank God!” The voice on the other end said. I wondered if you knew that you were on speaker. “We’ve been trying to get you for hours. I almost called the cops!”
“We’re on the way to see Liv now.”
“We…” The voice on the other end trailed off and then started laughing. “Ooohhh. You little hussy!”
At first, I wanted to slam the phone out of your hand, but when you smiled and blushed, I could tell that whoever Claire was, she hadn’t upset you. That she was teasing you.
“Claire, you do remember that my phone only works on speaker, right?” There was a warning in your voice.
“That’s right! Seth Carmen you’re my new hero!” Claire called out.