by LJ Evans
“Squeeze my boobs?” I helped him out.
He nodded, but I swear he flushed in the stupid cave lights.
He pushed the pack, I smooshed by boobs as best I could from the angle I was at, and eventually, I felt my body inch to the side. With that, I could slide my shoulders from the backpack and then ease forward, dragging the pack behind me.
I made it through the crevice to the other side, and there was Derek, grinning in the stupid weird glow of our lights. He pulled me to him and hugged me, but I smacked him in the chest. “Just fatty tissue, huh?”
I tried to pull away, but he pulled me tighter, wrapping a muscled arm around my shoulders, tugging me close so he could whisper in my ear, “I can massage them later for you.”
And I was a puddle of goo again.
Owen came through the crevice behind me. “I guess we have to recalibrate our tunnel runs for our new proportions.” He was chuckling. I glared at Owen as both he and Derek rumbled with laughter again. Mitch and Lonnie, who’d gone ahead, finally came back to us.
“What’s the hold up?” they asked.
“Phillips got stuck,” Derek said with his happy grin. I hit him again. “What? You did.”
“You guys have no sense of privacy.”
“Awww. Did you really get stuck? Or did you have to take a piss?” Lonnie asked with a smile.
I know I turned a million shades of pink, but at least the lighting was poor, and I was pretty sure I could play it off. “No, dummy, I got my pack stuck.”
“And that’s not all,” Derek laughed.
“You are so dead, mister,” I mumbled and tried to huff my way over to Mitch, but he grabbed my wrist and held me back.
The boys were laughing and moving off toward the other side of the little opening. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Derek asked, and this time his voice was quiet and concerned, and his eyes looked stormy black in the half-light.
“Yes. Sore. But fine.”
“You sure?”
“Yes, moron, let’s go.” I let him lead me, hand still grasped around my wrist, through the rest of the caverns. He stayed closer to me now, wouldn’t leave me as far back as he had in the past. That was fine, even though I didn’t get stuck again.
It was late afternoon by the time we emerged on the other side, the hazy sunshine making me squint. I was filthy, but happy and tired. Probably more tired than I’d been in ages. I hadn’t had much sleep the last couple nights, and then the climbing, hiking, and crawling on top of it.
We took a selfie at the exit. Dirty and happy. I posted it on Instagram and then sent it to Mama and Cam just so they would believe me.
We made our way down to the park’s restrooms, hosed off outside, and then went in. I showered, and was out in my t-shirt and shorts again, in no time. I made my way over to the motor home that the boys liked to call their tour bus.
“Anybody home?” I called out.
I was pulled farther into the bus, toward the little back bedroom, by a hand that I was coming to know as well as my own. Then I was being kissed. Hard, passionately. His hand, when it touched my breast, was gentle, but it still hurt. My boobs were really sore. My breath hitched of its own accord, and Derek pulled back.
“You really aren’t okay?” Concern glittered in his stormy gray eyes.
“I’m just tender. No biggie,” I said with a shrug. “They’ll be fine by tomorrow.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
He didn’t look like he believed me.
“When are we heading out?” I asked.
He gave me a puzzled look, and then realization dawned on his face, which made me nervous again. “Shit, we made reservations to spend the night here.”
“Here? As in, at the caverns, here?”
“Yes. In the bus, here.”
I stared at him.
“You want me to spend the night here in the bus with you and your three overgrown teenage boys?”
“Wow, that sounds really bad when you put it that way,” he said.
“You’re awful.”
“We have the big bed to ourselves.” He waggled his eyebrows at me and pulled me down so that I was sitting on his lap on said big bed, which was really the size of maybe a full mattress. I’d hardly call it big.
“You’re gross,” I responded.
“You don’t really think that,” he said as he proceeded to kiss my neck that was exposed by my messy bun.
I got another good look at the eagle on his neck this way, and this time I got to run a finger along it. Spontaneously, I leaned in to kiss the tattoo. It wasn’t something I would normally do, but it just felt right. To touch this beautiful mark on this beautiful man.
He pulled my fingers to his lips and kissed them, our eyes meeting, and I doubted I’d ever be able to fully meet the desire that I saw there. I was terribly afraid I’d disappoint him.
The door of the bus crashed open, the boys wrestling and shoving at each other as they entered. It was nonstop guy energy with them.
“Knock, knock, lovebirds. Better put your clothes back on,” Lonnie teased. He could clearly see us down the narrow hall, and it was quite obvious that we had clothes on but—you know—guy humor.
Derek sighed. “Someday, I’ll have you to myself when I’m not exhausted beyond belief.”
This time I knew it was a promise. I shivered.
He pulled me with him toward the kitchen.
That night, we barbecued hamburgers outside, ate s’mores, and the boys brought out their guitars and instruments to sing to the stars that were glittering down on us. People from other campsites were drawn by the music, and the guys put on an impromptu show. They didn’t just sing their own songs, they took requests, and almost always could play what was asked.
The guys pulled out a whole crate of instruments from the bus and let the kids from other campsites play. Derek moved through them, showing them how to play and keep beat. He was incredibly patient with all of them. It made my heart pitter in a different way than I had become accustomed to it beating around him, because it was yet another unexpected action from this sexy man.
After the kids had all picked something and knew how to use it, Derek chose his harmonica and started in on some old-time camp songs, ones that I’m sure Cam and Jake knew from all their time out at the campsites and bonfires, but that I only vaguely recollected. I watched as everyone came to life with their music, enthralled by the deep voice of the man that I was coming to adore more than I knew was smart.
I had to remind myself it was just three weeks. No matter what Derek said about sex not just being sex for him. Because at the end of three weeks, I had a life and a family to return to that no amount of sex or lightheartedness would let me leave.
I leaned back and watched the stars move. No moon tonight. Just stars. In the distance, bats screeched. It didn’t even freak me out. Echolocation seemed like a good thing to me now.
I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, Derek was waking me with a stroke of his calloused fingers on my cheek. I smiled up at him. I was tired and sleepy, but also happy. Happiness was what the three weeks were about, I reminded myself. Happiness, along with relief. Escape.
“Let’s hit the sack,” he said with a devilish smile.
I just nodded and let him draw me into the bus. We took the “big” bed, but I slept in my leggings and t-shirt. Derek still stripped down to his underwear, and he still pulled me close with my back up against his chest like he didn’t want to let me fly away. Which was fine by me. I didn’t want to go anywhere.
And I fell asleep happy.
♫ ♫ ♫
Somebody was snoring. I’m not sure I really ever fell deeply asleep knowing I was in the same vehicle with a group of overgrown adolescents. Thank God the snoring didn’t come from Derek, otherwise I might have had to disown him.
As I came fully awake, Ed’s song, “Kiss Me,” that I knew almost as well as
the lines of Pride and Prejudice, filtered through my brain. I could hear Ed’s crooning, “Settle down with me… Your heart’s against my chest, your lips pressed to my neck. I’m falling for your eyes, but they don’t know me yet.”
I wasn’t sure if Derek knew me yet. I wasn’t sure I knew him… But I felt like he knew me better in a handful of days than Hayden had known me after four years. That was something I hadn’t expected.
It was early, but misty morning light was streaming in the motor home windows that nobody had bothered to shut the night before because these overgrown toddlers were so completely lacking in any need for privacy.
Derek’s hand was laying on my chest, and I finally got a chance to look at the words tattooed on his wrist. It read, “To err is human,” and when I carefully turned it to read the other side, I expected to see the normal, “To forgive, divine.” That was the famous Alexander Pope quote, after all. But instead, it read, “To forgive, sanity.” To err is human; to forgive, sanity.
The fact that Derek—laughing, happy Derek—had to have the reminder of forgiveness being the road to sanity tattooed on his wrist made my walls and heart crumble another piece more. It told me something about that serious side of him that peeked out randomly, like a weed forcing itself into the rose garden.
I was desperate now to see the other wrist. I twisted, not even thinking about waking him up; the other wrist was on the pillow behind me. The words were tiny and double-wrapped like a double-corded leather band. It read, “Humanity is a collage of mistakes made beautiful.”
They were the words from his song, “Humanity.” It was the song that had snagged at my heart at the fundraiser, and then, again, the night before last at The Criterion. The song was about how we were all interdependent, and how we needed each other not just to survive, but to grow and love and be forgiven for our mistakes. Who was Derek asking forgiveness from? Or what was he trying to forgive? I didn’t know in that moment. I wasn’t sure I could bear to know.
“Question number eight, Little Bird?” he said huskily. His sleep-filled voice tickled my ear and melted me as he always did with a simple touch or word. Words. I loved words as much as I hated mornings.
I turned so that I was looking at him.
“I’m not sure which one to ask,” I whispered as the boys snored in the background.
“You’re wondering about the tats.”
“Yes.”
“And now you wonder what’s burning up my soul? What acts of horrors I’m asking for forgiveness for or trying to forgive?”
“Am I that easy to read?”
He grinned at me, lazy. “Yes and no. That was question nine.”
“What? No. I didn’t even ask eight.”
“Am I that easy to read? I believe that’s a question.”
I put my fingers up. “You got this many then. Phillips? What’s the hold up? Are you sure you’re okay? Maybe something about, are you sore? That would be seven, eight, nine, and maybe even ten if we are counting those kinds of questions.”
He chuckled quietly. “I only have ten more, then?”
“Nine now.”
He kissed me, tugging at my bottom lip and invading my mouth with his tongue in a way that made me groan quietly. His hand wandered up my t-shirt to where I was still wearing my sports bra. I was in a motor home full of maledict boys and wasn’t going to be flitzing about without a bra.
I drew back and watched him as he watched my lips.
“How many guys have you slept with, Little Bird?”
He was avoiding talk about the tattoos, but I let it go, unsure if I could take what he had to say with my own wounds barely scabbed over most days.
Plus, hadn’t I known that particular question was going to come out of his lack-of-privacy-loving lips as soon as he started talking erotica and oral sex with me? And yet, I wasn’t sure I could answer him. Embarrassed. Not embarrassed. I didn’t know what to feel.
“Do you mean like we’ve been sleeping together, or do you mean had sex with?”
“That’s your ten.” He grinned at me, and I eye-rolled him, which earned me a quick kiss. “You know what I mean,” he told me. “Full on naked, body part inside body part sex.”
I couldn’t help the blush, and I put my fingers up like I was counting to give myself time. Like it was hard to think about the right number. I could see his eyes get dark and stormy over the tips of my fingers, like he wasn’t happy. Finally, I showed him one finger. He looked down at it for a second before realization kicked in. He reached over and bit my finger, keeping it in his mouth and turning my whole body to a quivering mush pot.
“You are going to be the death of me,” he said, like he had so many times already. But he said it with a huge smile.
Then he kissed me again. Hard, demanding, like he wasn’t going to stop, ever. And I kissed him back. Hard, demanding, like I’d always wanted to kiss a boy. With feelings blossoming deep inside me as the walls crumbled and Good Girl Mia hid behind the curtains.
He rested his forehead on mine. “It’s good that I’ll only have to kill one man. I might have been labeled a serial killer if your fingers had kept going.”
I laughed. A light laugh. Like my heart was actually light. Just as that thought hit me, the thought of being light and happy, the guilt came rolling back over me. Because that was my life. I couldn’t escape the guilt for long. It always hit me hardest when I’d been avoiding it the most.
I rotated in Derek’s arms so I wouldn’t be tempted to kiss him any more and looked up at the ceiling of the motor home. Derek let me, but I could feel him watching me as well.
“Question number twelve, moron?” I asked him as I felt his gaze along my face.
“I’m not sure which one to ask,” he teased, lightly prodding me back out from wherever I’d gone.
I wanted to grin again, but I was still overwhelmed with the guilt. Trying to battle it aside, but I couldn’t. Because I knew that if my stupid body hadn’t failed, Jake and Cam could still be like this. Arm in arm. Flirting. Kissing. Teasing. That Jake would be living out his dreams. It wasn’t fair that he was gone and I was here running around the country avoiding my reality.
Derek seemed to sense the shift in me, like he had so easily been able to do since first meeting me. “Johnny Cash may have had addiction issues, but he was also a pretty smart man.”
“Yeah?” I said without turning to look at him while I tried to calm the remorse and panic in my heart.
“One of my all-time favorites of his goes something like this, ‘Close the door on the past. You don't try to forget the mistakes, but you don't dwell on them either. You don't let them have any of your energy, or any of your time, or any of your space.’ Seems like you give your past doors and mistakes way too much time and energy and space.”
“You don’t know me at all.”
“Really? That’s your comeback?”
“Is that thirteen?”
He started tickling me in the ribs. I am very ticklish. So I was instantly kicking, and laughing, and trying hard not to scream in the middle of a motor home with three other boys trying to sleep, but he was relentless. I couldn’t help but squeal.
“Kiddies. You’ve woken us all up with your shenanigans,” Lonnie said from the makeshift doorway in the motor home.
Derek looked over me to him with a smirk. “Payback for your waking us up with your lumberjack snore.”
I laughed because Derek had picked up on my nickname for Lonnie the day before. Lonnie would always be a lumberjack to me. Lonnie, ever the guy, burped and then farted in the doorway.
“Classy, man, classy.” Derek shook his head. “Ladies present, jackass.”
“Nah, Phillips is just one of the boys now,” he said and continued to burp his way down the hall.
Derek rested his head on my chest.
“I apologize deeply for his grossness,” he said into my boobs which, I realized, were still a little sore from their escapa
des yesterday. Too bad it hadn’t been from all-night sex. Wait. Had I just thought that? Where was my Good Girl Mia filter?
She’d come and gone this morning. I kind of liked her gone.
The Find
FIREFLY
“Teach my skin those new tricks. Warm me up with your lips.”
-Ed Sheeran
We were on the road after a chaotic morning in which the boys each took turns ribbing each other as if it was a celebrity roast. It was an almost eight-hour journey to Denver, but the band seemed ready to do it in one day so that they would have most of the next day to relax. It made me wonder if Derek had pushed this agenda.
The thought of Derek having almost a whole day to relax made my stomach flop in anticipation, the kind of stomach flop that comes before a roller coaster ride. Excited and yet full of dread at the same time. Fear and desire rolled into one.
True to his word, Derek took his turn behind the wheel. I went back to reading Pride and Prejudice because I wanted to avoid the last seven questions. He let me because I think he was avoiding them now, too.
We’d passed Freedom and turned onto US-64 when a repeated sound made my heart twirl for a different reason. I stopped reading and put my head toward the glove box. There it was again. A soft mewing.
“Oh my God, pull over!” I shouted, panicked.
“What?” he asked with concern but was quickly doing what I asked.
I jumped out of the car, slammed open the hood, and stared into the engine compartment with horror. Derek joined me.
“Shit!” he said and ran back to the trunk.
I was already pulling the little body out from where it shivered, hiding. A tiny little kitten, barely old enough to have its eyes open. A little orange-and-white striped tabby that reminded me of my old stuffed animal that Jake had given me. Except this one was covered in blood from where only part of a tail remained. I was instantly crying and holding it to me as it mewed pitifully.
Derek was back with a t-shirt. “Here, wrap it in this. Try to put pressure on the tail.”