by A. M. Wilson
“The 2’s do. The 4’s are a little too big.” I move to hang them on the rack. Alex steps forward and catches the fabric before I can.
“We’ll get these too. In case you put on some more weight.”
My brow furrows. “Can’t we just go shopping again?”
“We could,” he replies, tucking the pairs of pants over his arm, and starts walking. “Except if you think I’m spending a second longer in a store than I have to, you better think again.” He raises the arm holding the pants. “Saves me another trip out at least for a coupla months.”
“I mean, eventually, I’d hope, I’ll stop putting on weight. What if they never fit and you’re wasting your money?”
“I’ll donate them,” he mutters, pausing in front of a rack of flowery tops. The shirt is red and black roses, but the ¾ length sleeves are white. Without asking, he grabs a small and adds it to the pile. Seemingly in his own world, he starts weaving through the clothes again. I have to quicken my pace to catch up.
“You’ll … donate?” I don’t know why I’m confused, but I am. The thought of this big, dark, motorcycle-driving beast of a man donating some size 4 women’s pants surprises me. I would have expected him to throw them in the trash.
“Yeah,” he grunts. “Find a good women’s shelter to take them to. We can go through the clothes that don’t fit you like those pants from this morning. Donate those, too.”
I bite my cheek to keep from smiling as we hit the main aisle. “That’s a good idea. I’ll try on the things I have and make a donation pile. Can I, I mean, do you have a shelter in mind? Or can I help you find one?”
He turns abruptly to me, pinning me in place with his stare. “I’d like it very much if you’d help me. We can do it together.” Snagging my hand, he starts leading me down the aisle. “But first, let’s get out of this fuckin’ store. You need anything else?”
“Um …” I blush under the florescent lights. “I could use some panties.”
Alex’s body turns into a brick wall, and I run smack into the back of him.
“You’ve got underwear. I’ve seen them.”
Oh, God. My embarrassment grows. “They’re, um, very…clinical.”
Alex spins slowly until he’s facing me. His gaze rakes my face before he directs it over my head and sighs. I can’t tell if he’s impatient or uncomfortable. Either way, I wish I’d kept my mouth shut. I could have found a way to ask Elias’s mom to get me some nicer panties.
“Look, forget I said anything. I can tell this makes you uncomfortable.”
“You deserve the nicest things. If you want silk, I’ll buy you silk. If you want panties that aren’t sterile cotton, then fuck me, I’m buying you panties.”
Once again, the words out of his mouth surprise me. “Then … I don’t understand why you seem so uncomfortable?”
His jaw clenches, and he drops his gaze to his boots.
A beat of silence passes before I press, “Alex?”
He scans the area, so I do too, but we’re completely alone. The closest person I can see is a clerk at the checkout desk about two hundred feet away.
“Your hand was on my dick earlier, and your tongue was in my mouth.”
The breath I was taking stutters painfully in my throat, making a choking noise. “What?” I gasp as I clutch at my neck.
“What I’m sayin’ is I’m a man who’s going to have a really hard time watching you pick out panties and not picturin’ you in them.”
“Oh,” I squeak.
“Yeah,” he responds, his eyes darkening as he fixates them on my face. His tongue slips out and wets his lower lip. That one slow, intoxicating movement has tingles erupting in my lower belly.
“Well, I’ll just pick some out quickly. You know, to make you less…uncomfortable. You don’t even have to see them.”
“It’s fine, Shelby. Pick out what you need. I’ll just stand a little farther back this time.”
“Okay, Alex.”
He takes my hand again and leads me to the lingerie department. He does as he said and stands a little farther away. I do as I said and pick out a few pairs as quickly as possible. It’s hard when there are so many different types and styles. I grab a couple of each, trying to ignore the nauseated flutter I get when I think about the extra risqué ones, and the times I was forced into them to play the part for the men who paid for me. I don’t grab any of those—I have no use for them, and the mere sight of them disgusts me. I wonder if I’ll always feel this way or if it’ll eventually fade with time or the right person.
“You okay?”
My thoughts must be written on my face because Alex goes into high alert, scanning our surroundings. Tentatively, I place my hand on his forearm. The simple touch draws his attention back to me.
“I’m fine. Just thinking is all. I’m ready to go if you are.”
He searches my eyes a moment longer. “I’m good.” Taking my hand once more, we stop by the cashier to pay and walk back to the car.
I’m suddenly overcome with exhaustion and lay my head against the cool window as Alex drives us home. The evening is approaching quickly as the daylight turns to a warm periwinkle dusk. My heavy eyelids drift closed.
“I have to run by the bar.” His voice snaps away the tiredness in an instant.
“Is something wrong?”
He glances at me out of the corner of his eye, then looks back at the road. “I forgot some paperwork there I need to work on. We just have to cut downtown. You got an extra ten minutes in you?”
I’m so wide-awake at his words I feel like I’ll never sleep again. “We can’t go downtown,” I murmur, attempting to control the shake in my voice.
“We aren’t going downtown. Passing through.”
“Please don’t take me downtown,” I plead near hysterics. I feel like the car picks up speed. “Alex …”
“You’re safe in this car with me.”
My fingers dig into the fabric covering my thighs. I tear into my legs so hard if the pants weren’t there, I’d break the skin. Alex must see it because suddenly his large hand is there, covering mine and holding it steady.
“Blossom.”
“Please, Alex.”
The car pitches to the right and halts at a curb. Before I can even turn my head, he’s there, unbuckling my belt and bracing me at my shoulders.
“You’ve been so damn brave. So brave it’s inspiring. And now I just need you to trust me once more.”
I twist my fingers tightly together. My tongue wets my parched lips. “I don’t think I can.”
“I do,” he declares with conviction. “You might not see it, because you’re livin’ it, but I do. You’ve overcome so much. And I’m not about to let anything happen to you. So help me god, I’d tear my own arm off before I let any harm come to you.”
My mind works overtime trying to control the anxiety roaring within it. The logical side of my brain knows I’m being ridiculous. It’s not like I’m getting out of the car downtown, but the other side, the irrational side, is petrified. “I’m scared.”
His brows knit together. “Of course you are, baby. I’m not saying you shouldn’t be. That doesn’t mean I’m not goin’ to push you to face that fear. Especially when I’m right by your side, keeping you out of harm’s way.” His large hands slide down my shoulders, caressing my arms on the journey to my hands. Shivers ripple down my spine at his soothing touch. “Tell me what’s going to happen to you.”
I close my eyes, willing away the invasive images of being a working girl. “Physically? Nothing. Nothing except my heart beating so hard I fear it’ll stop dead in my chest. Nothing except the fact my lungs feel like they can’t get in enough air. That even though I tell myself it’s temporary and it’ll go away when I’m not scared, it’s nothing compared to the memories I’m scared I’ll see if we drive that way. I know nothing will hurt me when I’m with you. You’ve proven that time and again. What I’m petrified of is to remember.”
Alex grunts bes
ide me, a sound of concealed pain that forces me to look at him.
He drops my hand, his left reaching up to caress the side of my face with the back of his hand. “You fucking slay me.”
Tears burn the corners of my eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“No.” He shakes his head. “No, baby. You aren’t sorry for that. Don’t ever be sorry for that. For the first time in a long fucking time, I feel like my existence isn’t a sorry waste of space. If I’ve helped you even just the teensiest fucking bit, it makes living with myself and all the bad shit I’ve done easier.”
My heart absolutely breaks for the man before me. A man who’s lived through so much pain and guilt, he can’t even see himself for what he really is. A man who’s trying his hardest to make life easier on me while at the same time giving me a safety net to heal. And it’s that realization that has me agreeing to his trip through downtown. To make what he needs to get done easier on him.
I cover his hand on my cheek with my own. “I think I’m ready now. We can go.”
His eyes hold mine as he pulls our joined hands to his lips and presses a chaste kiss against the back of my hand. “Okay, blossom. We’ll make it quick.”
Alex waits until I’m buckled once again before smoothly guiding us back onto the road. Within minutes, we’re entering the narrow streets lined with cars and tall buildings, and as I feared, my anxiety ratchets up. Even with the windows closed, I swear I can smell the dirty air surrounding us. The drive won’t take more than ten minutes, yet I feel like an eternity is passing. The memories are there, just beyond my acceptance as I try to keep them at bay. I strain to hear the lyrics of the song on the radio or the sound of Alex breathing. Anything to keep my focus off reliving those horrible times.
As we near our turn to get back onto the highway headed north, I turn my focus outside, where people hustle in all directions on the busy sidewalks.
“We’re almost done. You’re doing great, Shel,” Alex soothes as he drives along at a slow pace. Traffic is starting to pick up now that it’s later in the day.
“Oh, my God.” My next breath catches in my throat.
Alex’s hand drops to my knee. I jump at his touch and pound my fist against the passenger window. “You have to stop!” I screech at an unfathomable decibel. “Please stop the car!”
“What is it?” he barks, probably more in relation to my alarm than his own temper. I hit the window again, half crazed with a desperation to get out of the car.
“It’s Clarissa. One—she’s one of my friends. I have to help her!” I’d recognize her anywhere, having spent nearly two years with her, but it’s the cherry red platform stilettos that caught my attention. Her signature color to go with her straight red hair and bright red lipstick, a persona created by the boss.
I barely register the car slow to a stop through my hysteria. “Shh. Shh, you have to calm down. Talk to me. Who is she?”
The dam breaks, and tears flood my cheeks as I turn to look at him. “She was there with me. One of my friends. I, oh God, I left them all behind.” The car starts moving again, but I don’t have the energy to fight. Reality crashes down on me. For the first time since I woke up with Sin and Elias, I remember the others. It hits me with the force of a tsunami that they’re all still stuck in the place I’ve been moving on from, and I haven’t done anything to help them. That the nightmare I was lucky enough to leave is still very much a reality for these girls I care about.
Through my sobs, I hear Alex speaking to someone on his phone, but I don’t have the energy to care much who it is. My mind keeps replaying my last memory of Clarissa, lying on that mattress smoking a cigarette, to seeing her now hustling down an alley.
“Please stop, why are we moving?” I unbuckle my belt and kneel in my seat to watch the city begin to fade behind us. We’re moving down the highway and away from where I last saw her.
“Dammit, put your seat belt on. We’re driving down the highway.”
“You have to stop!” I cry, ignoring him.
“You’ll be no use to your friends if we get into an accident,” he growls, glancing behind us to switch lanes.
I swipe angrily at my face and face him. “We need to help her.”
“Baby, we will,” Alex replies in a gentled voice. I can see the concern crinkled in the corners of his eyes. “Just not like this.”
Forcing a deep breath, I retake my seat and buckle up. The belt clicks, and Alex mutters, “Thank Christ.”
“What do we do?”
He sighs. “I don’t know.” He cuts me a sharp glance. “Yet. What I do know is she wasn’t alone down there, and I can’t just pull over and grab her off the streets. For one, you’re with me, and I won’t compromise your safety like that. Someone could see you. For all they know, you’re dead like they intended. I’d like it to stay that way. Forever, if possible.” He gives me a sad, furrowed look.
I scrub my eyes tiredly with the back of my hand. “And for two?”
“We need a plan.” The car slows and stops. When I look up, I realize we’re outside his apartment.
“I thought we were swinging by Sinclair’s?”
He stares out the windshield, his hand on the ignition. “I thought it’d be best to bring you home. I pushed too hard, and something happened you weren’t ready for. I take full responsibility for that.”
I bite my bottom lip at his thoughtfulness. “You didn’t know …”
Alex turns the car off. “I should have.”
With that parting thought, he exits and walks to my door. I slide out and follow him up the stairwell to his apartment. I immediately kick off my shoes and wander into the kitchen as Alex yanks off his leather jacket. My mind is blank as I make quick work of putting together a turkey club sandwich. I have the first bite in my mouth when I look up at Alex. “Do you want one?” I ask around a mouthful.
He leans against the closed door with his colorful arms crossing his chest. There’s a small sparkle in his eyes, a contrast to the look from moments ago in the car.
Not understanding his behavior, I take a second bite, and ask, “What?”
His lips twist into an amused smirk. “Blossom,” he says.
I wipe the sides of my mouth self-consciously. “What is it?” I ask, slower this time.
Alex looks to his feet while shaking his head. He pushes off from the door, stalks across the open-plan room and into the kitchen. His large arm circles my head, and I feel his lips against the crown.
“I’m so fuckin’ proud of you,” he murmurs there before letting go. Without another word, he walks to his room.
“What is happening?” I shout after him, more confused than I’ve felt in a long time.
With nothing on but a pair of low riding gray sweats, Alex reenters the room tugging on a fresh black T-shirt. “You made yourself a sandwich.”
Said sandwich gets paused midair on the way to my mouth while my mind works over what he said. “Am I missing something?”
He chuckles. “Yeah. What you’re missin’ is you’re getting comfortable with me. Sorry to point it out, but you makin’ yourself something to eat without even asking or waitin’ for me to feed you is a huge deal.”
I roll my eyes and can’t stop the grin from spreading across my face. I tear off another bite while feeling his praise warm me from the inside. “Do you want one? I think I’m going to lie down after this.” I finish my last bite and wipe the crumbs into the sink.
“I’ll make something later. Go on to bed, blossom. I’ll catch up in a bit.”
“Okay,” I answer and start to pack up the ingredients, but Alex stops me.
“I got it,” he says gently while plucking the jar of mayonnaise from my hands. His gaze roams my face. The look in his eyes sends warmth rushing through me, a feeling so brand new, yet I’m already beginning to love it.
“Thanks.” I grin and walk to his room.
After changing into one of his tees, I remove my sweats since I wore them all day and crawl beneath his sheets. A
s my head hits his pillow, I feel the conflict inside swirling. Seeing Clarissa and not knowing how to help those girls is one of the hardest things I need to face. The physical trauma I went through, the withdrawals, the healing, was hard as hell to overcome. And I know I owe most of my progress to Alex and Elias. The part that upsets me most is not knowing if I ever will be able to help them. And how will I move on with my life if I can’t?
I take a deep breath, feeling the tiredness deep in my bones. His woodsy scent of pine and soap calms the last remnants of anxiety from the day, and I’m able to drift off easily to sleep.
Chapter Thirteen
Sin
The warmth in my chest dissipates the moment the door to my bedroom shuts, an arctic chill taking its place. Shelby’s freak-out in the car returns to my mind with a vengeance. The images are so strong that I find myself settling on the couch with my head braced in my hands. What the fuck am I going to do?
And what the fuck am I doing here?
A shift in our tumultuous … relationship? Is that what this is? Whatever the fuck it’s called doesn’t matter. It’s a man helping a woman. A shy, gorgeous, spirited, healing, tempting woman. But even as hardheaded as I am, I can’t deny the fact that something is happening between us.
Something I’m not even sure I want.
A sweet little thing like her could never want an asshole like me. That’s a damn fact. Add into the mix that I’m a scary as hell brute of a man. She deserves better. She needs more. She needs flowers and dates and fuckin’ wooing. She needs a man who’s capable of locking down his temper. A man who uses pretty words and soft tones. A man who knows he’s damn lucky to have her affection and stands at her side with pride. Someone who knows the horrors she’s seen, embraces all sides of her, and says and does the right things to help her heal.
That man sure as hell isn’t me.
I’m frightening.
Tough.
