by Brisa Starr
She smiles in appreciation, and I look over to Luke, and his face looks gentle and warm.
“Oh, Ash, that is so kind of you. Thank you.” She looks at Luke and sees he’s smiling at me, and that I’m smiling back at him, and then I look back at her. A twinkle sparks in her eye, as if an idea popped into her head, and she says, “If you two will excuse me, I have some things to do.”
She pulls her phone out of her small clutch and says to Luke, “I’ll take the bus home later if you want to stick around here with Ash.”
Luke does a double-take, but then he smiles. He turns to me and says, “Great. Wanna get some lunch?”
And with that, Luke’s mom waves goodbye and walks away satisfied.
I’m speechless, so I bite my bottom lip.
“Ash? If you bite your lip any harder, it’s gonna bleed.”
“Oh!” I release my lip. “Well, um, I don’t think lunch would be a good idea.”
He cocks his head and says, “Why not?”
“Um... I don’t know. It just might be unprofessional for me to have lunch with my patient.”
“Don’t give me that crap, we’ve known each other for years. Come on, I’m taking you to lunch.” He grabs my hand and pulls me with him to the other side of the market, and I’m in a daze because... I can’t believe Luke Firestone is taking me to lunch!
My heart jumps for joy, and I go along for the ride, drowning out the resistance my brain is trying to get in. As we walk across the town square in silence, like we’re on a mission, I look down and see our hands together, and I damn near trip from the dizziness that hits my heart. We’re holding hands!
But just as we’re about to exit the farmers’ market, Luke stops dead in his tracks. I look over at him. He looks like he’s seen a ghost. His face shadows with darkness, and I look out to see what he sees, and that’s when I understand.
Whoa.
Jeremy’s parents.
“Ash, I gotta go. I’m sorry,” he says, unspoken pain alive and glowing in his eyes. He drops my hand like a dead fish, turns around, and takes off at a fast clip.
My heart drops.
But not for me.
For him.
8
Luke
Fuck.
Jeremy’s parents are right here!
The blackness crashes into my soul, and I’m overwrought with shame. My shoulders and neck tense so tight I think I’m going to snap. It’s back. Will I ever escape this darkness? Will it ever go away?
No. And it shouldn’t. I deserve this. His parents lost their son. I lost my best friend. I will never forget that. It just hurts so damn much, and being in Prescott is rubbing acid in my big, gashing wounds. I’d hoped to avoid seeing them while I’m here, but Prescott is a small town; it was bound to happen. I can’t look them in the eyes. I’ll never be able to face them.
I drop Ash’s hand and turn around, probably leaving her confused as hell, but I can’t deal with that now. I’ll apologize later.
I make tracks to my car, my heart racing. I get inside and hang my head down, taking a shaky breath. I have to get out of here. I can’t stay in this fucking town.
I rub my face with my hands, and images of my pregnant sister flash before my eyes. And now I’m wracked with guilt, too. It’s bad enough living in this darkness, bearing the remorse of Jeremy’s death, but now I have to add the guilt of my mom living alone, and my pregnant sister having taken care of my parents without me for the past ten years.
I’m craving speed more than ever. But I’m shaking so bad that, for once, I don’t think I should drive.
No. I’ll sit here while I wait to calm down.
I pull out my phone and google “skydiving in Prescott, Arizona,” and my breathing lightens a sliver. I scroll through a website, and my panicked heart rate slows down as I think about jumping out of an airplane. The comfort of adrenaline placates my tortured soul.
Skydiving is old news to me. It was one of the first things I looked into when I discovered that adrenaline rushes distract me from the pain. So, a year after Jeremy’s death, after I graduated from university, I worked toward my skydiving license. And now I’m working toward flying with a wing suit. This requires about 200 jumps of skydiving, and I can’t wait to do it.
I email the skydiving company to schedule a jump. I hope they get back to me soon. Feeling a bit better, I start the car and head out on a drive, albeit a mellow one. I need to think about what Maggie is asking me to do because I have no idea if I can handle it. I love my family, but I don’t know if I can tolerate staying in Prescott longer, when all I want to do is get the hell out of here. I was already surrounded by constant memories of Jeremy… but seeing his parents took it to a catastrophic level.
Then, that image of Jeremy and me skateboarding comes back into my head. And I remember thinking about this at my dad’s funeral, and how pleasant the memory was. There I was, in the funeral parlor, surrounded by sadness from my father dying, my mother’s broken heart, my sister’s stress, and that the last time I was there was for my best friend’s funeral. When he died because of me.
And just when I didn’t think my soul could sink any lower, that memory — that good memory — drifted through my mind like clouds floating by on a mountaintop. And, for a moment, I felt peace.
I never would’ve recalled that memory had I not been at the funeral home. Here, in Prescott. Why did I think of him? Where did that memory come from?
Despite all my complaining, it dawns on me that there are other times I’ve felt the sun on my face since being here.
Specifically, when I’m around Ash. She brightens my soul. I don’t know what it is about her, apart from her being beautiful and sexy — and my wanting to pound the hell out of her — but she has this energy that is just so damn uplifting and exciting. When I’m with her, my blackness just slides away.
She makes my heart smile, and I chuckle as I think about how she stumbles over her words around me. Her sweet clumsiness makes me laugh, which is another foreign thing for me. My heart hasn’t smiled since Jeremy was alive.
Ash intrigues me. I want to know more about her. I want to be friendly with her.
No, not just friendly.
I want to taste her mouth.
That’s why I decided to take her out to lunch — to get to know her better. She put up resistance, but only until I took control and grabbed her hand. And, fuck, having her hand in mine was like shining a light onto my soul. It was like when you’re skiing fresh powder, and the sun rises above the mountain, and warm sunshine hits your face.
But then I had to bail.
I cringe.
Sorry, Ash.
If I ask her out again, she’ll probably give me more bullshit about it being “inappropriate” because she’s my physical therapist. But screw that. I need her.
Wait, what did I just say?
I need her?
I wake up way too early, and my head is pounding. I can’t sleep. I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to dull the pain. Nightmares of Jeremy and the night of the accident play in my head like movie reel, looping over and over, and it makes me dizzy. And tired.
I get out of bed and wipe the beaded sweat on my forehead. In a daze, and desperate for a distraction, I pull out my phone and check my work email. My partners in the wealth management company are fine without me in the office. That’s a relief, sort of… it would’ve made a good excuse to get back to California. My sister is right, though. I can start scheduling calls with my clients over the internet. Honestly, I’d prefer that anyway.
I go to the bathroom to brush my teeth before heading to the kitchen. I make a pot of coffee and sit down at the kitchen table to go through the rest of my emails while it brews. My mom walks in, wearing her aqua-blue robe, and says, “Hi honey, what are you doing up this early?”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
“Me either,” she says and yawns. “My excuse is staying up all night reading, what’s yours?”
“I don’t
know, weird energy,” I sigh. “I made coffee if you want some.”
She pours us each a cup and brings them to the table. She sits down and asks, “So how was your lunch with Ash?”
“I couldn’t take her. Something came up,” I say, focusing on my email. I don’t want to get into this with her. Before she can respond, I continue, “I plan on taking her out this week though.”
My mom smiles and pats my hand. “That’s nice. I like Ash.” She takes a sip of her coffee and hums in appreciation. “And what’s new with work?”
“I was just checking in, actually. Looks like some exciting news from LyfeSense, that company I’m an angel investor in. Things are progressing there,” I say and relax.
“Ooh,” she says, smiling over her mug of coffee at me. “That’s exciting.”
“It is.” I sit up straighter and continue. “They’re developing on a sensor they hope to license to Apple, which would allow all kinds of cool bio-hacking feats.” I lean forward with my elbows on the table. “It could tell you about your allergies, detect cancer, and my favorite, detect your blood alcohol level, so you don’t accidentally drink and drive.” I smile and take a sip of my coffee.
“That’s amazing,” she says. “Technology these days. It’s fascinating what it can do.”
“It’s game-changing stuff, Mom. I’m excited to be on the ground level funding this.”
“I know, honey. I know how important this is,” she says and smiles. “Well, I’m going upstairs to get ready.” She stands up, and taking her coffee, leaves the kitchen.
I finish reading the email from LyfeSense, and the founder is updating investors on the latest developments with miniaturizing their patented sensor technology. They’ve hit some major milestones, and I’m delighted to see they’re looking at launching a beta release within six months.
This lifts my spirits. It’s things like this that make me excited to wake up instead of wanting to stay in bed all day. Feeling better, I fire off some emails to schedule tele-appointments with my clients, and I make some trades in my brokerage account. Then, I look at my schedule for the rest of today. As I expected, it’s empty. That would’ve gotten me down before, but then I think about Ash.
It’s been two days since my last physical therapy session. I’m going crazy… I want to see her again. I owe her a lunch, anyway.
I think about when I grabbed her hand at the farmers’ market. An instant possessiveness took over me, and I didn’t want to let her go. I wanted to own her. And have her. I wanted to kiss her full, peachy lips and see if her hair feels as silky soft as it looks. I wanted to keep smelling her lavender scent.
I just want to be near her.
I stand up and notice my groin injury is much better, too. Thank god. That means I can start exercising. But I’m still going to the clinic to see Ash, today.
I shower, and ignoring a shave, I throw on a pair of gray Quicksilver shorts over my boxers and grab a navy blue T-shirt. I slip on my flip-flops and grab my phone and wallet before leaving the house.
“I’m heading out,” I call to my mom. I get into my Range Rover and head to the clinic. I walk in without an appointment, but I saw Ash’s red Volvo outside, so I know she’s here. I go up to the receptionist desk, and Tracy, one of the therapists who also works the desk, smiles up at me.
“Hi, Luke! Do you have an appointment today?” She sounds chipper, like she’s already had three cups of coffee. But today, her zeal doesn’t grate on my nerves. I’m too excited to see Ash.
“No, but I wanted to come in for an extra visit.”
“Oh,” she says, concerned. “Is everything alright?”
I’m not sure what to say. I feel better, and I’m really only here to see Ash. “Yeah, I’m fine, but I want to have that laser treatment again. That was helpful the other day.”
“Great, let me look at the schedule.” She looks down at her computer, and my phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out and see my sister has sent me a text message.
Maggie: Hi. I don’t want to do this over text, but I rarely see you because I can’t get to Mom’s. I’m on bed rest, remember? So, would you please come over today and we can pick up where we left off the other day?
Shit. I’m not ready to have this conversation.
Me: Hey, Mags. I’m at physical therapy. Talk to you later.
I put the phone in airplane mode and slide it into my pocket.
“OK, Luke,” Tracy says, “you can see Kurt in 15 minutes.”
My heart drops to my heels.
“Oh. I was hoping to see Ash,” I said.
“Ash won’t be available for another hour.”
“Fine. I’ll wait.”
“Um, OK. Sure. Have a seat.”
I turn around and find a seat. The clinic has a Southwestern decor, with turquoise and copper accents on the chair cushions, and the floor is covered in Mexican Saltillo tile. I don’t think they ever have more than a few patients at a time, as the waiting room only has eight chairs.
Instead of my usual distraction — playing NBA Live on my phone — I put in my ear buds and listen to music with my eyes closed. I have a special playlist I created for when I’m somewhere I can’t escape, and I need to lower my intensity and chill. Times like this, waiting in a doctor’s office. In public.
The second I close my eyes, my first thought is of Ash. Her beautiful, smiling face appears before my closed eyes. And I think about her tight, luscious body when she wore that pink dress to the funeral. I relax, and the tightness in my shoulders softens. But then a new tension surfaces. But this one isn’t bad, it’s welcome. The primal tension of wanting something.
Wanting a woman. Ash.
What does that mean for me? Is it just the chase? It can’t be that I only want to bang her. There must be something more. I crave her presence, like an addict, desperate to soothe my soul. I long for that breath of emotional relief that comes from being near her. What is it about her? Why does she make me feel better than I have in ten years?
These questions also drag uncertainty through my mind, and my neck tenses again. Because I’m leaving Prescott, which means I’m leaving Ash.
A big part of me doesn’t want to be here. More like, a part of me can’t be here. But here I am, in a city that shreds my soul. Yet, I’m having moments where I have the most peace I’ve felt in ten years, despite being in this town. What the fuck is that about?
Before I can analyze that thought, picking it apart like I do stocks and finances, someone taps my shoulder, and I jerk back in my chair. My eyes fly open, and there’s Ash, standing right in front of me, as though my fantasy vision had come to life.
My heart rate speeds up with desire for her, and the close proximity sends her lavender scent straight to my nose. I have to know — is that her natural smell? Is it her shampoo? Is it her perfume? Does her stomach smell like that? Her breasts? Other places?
She’s talking, but I can’t hear her words.
“What?” I ask. Oh, I have my noise-canceling ear buds in. I hold up my finger for her to wait a second, and I pull them out and chuckle.
“I’m sorry, I was lost in thought.” I look her up and down. Her expression softens under my gaze, and that pleases me. My cock starts to stir, too, which I wasn’t expecting. Though I shouldn’t be surprised, as I’ve imagined her nude many times since the last time I saw her. Now that she’s standing here, real, soft, in the flesh, it’s no wonder that my cock wants to lock on target.
“Are you ready for therapy?” she asks.
“Yes, I’m ready for you,” I say, and as I’m saying it, I realize my words have a double meaning. I wonder if she picks up on it. I’m already feeling much better just with her standing next to me.
She steps back and looks away, like she’s trying to ignore my innuendo. If she didn’t get it from my words, then she did from my eyes.
She turns around, and I follow her to the door leading us into the therapy part of the clinic. She reaches for the handle and pushes down o
n it, but it doesn’t budge. She pushes and pulls on it again. She can’t open it.
“What is going on here?” she mumbles and shifts her weight. She tries again, and still nothing. She calls over to Tracy, “Hey, the door is locked.”
Click-click.
Clank-clank.
She keeps trying to open the door, pushing and pulling on the handle. Then she bangs on the handle, using more force. Ash looks over her shoulder at me and tries to cover her frustration with a polite smile and shrug. “Sorry, the door must be locked.”
Tracy peeks her head out from the receptionist window and into our side of the room. “Ash, it’s unlocked. Always is, hon.”
Ash huffs and gives the door another try, and it opens. “Oh. Thanks,” she mutters, and a nervous giggle escapes her lips. I’m enthralled with this woman.
“Seems like I’m all thumbs today.”
She shrugs.
I’m amused.
I chuckle softly and follow her into the exam room. I sit on the table, knowing the routine. She sits on the rolling stool, knowing the routine as well.
“I didn’t expect you for at least a couple more days. Is everything OK? Are you having any pain?”
I can’t tell her the truth about why I’m here. That I must have her near me, that she calms my battered soul. So I tell her a version of the truth.
“Well, as you know, I’m eager to finish healing. I’d like to leave and go back home soon.” As I say that, I could swear I see a small shift in her expression, from pleasure to disappointment. As though she’s displeased that I’m eager to leave. I tuck that away to think about later.
“But, more importantly,” I say, smiling at her, trying to get the sparkle back in her eyes, “I’m eager to regain the full use of my leg, so I can exercise and take advantage of the beautiful scenery around Prescott.”
“Well, I can appreciate that.” A small twinkle shines, and her eyes meet mine.
