Enshrine

by Chelle Bliss

  10

  Come to Jesus

  We all have a moment, the one where we face whatever is in front of us and either have to push through or give up.

  I’m there—facing my mortality and coming to terms with my possible death.

  I haven’t moved from the kitchen floor. Sitting here for hours, I’ve listened to the tiny noises in my apartment as the world continues outside. All I can think about is the cancer growing inside of me, the treatment that’s killing me, and how I won’t be around ten years from now if I don’t fight.

  I’m not ready. For what, I don’t know, but I’m not ready for any of it. No matter how much I want to escape reality, I have to pull up my big-girl undies and face my future with determination.

  The tears I cried earlier have dried on my face, my nose is a lost cause, and I know my eyelids are swollen. There’s not a time in my life I remember being such a mess. I’m that girl—the one with the perfect hair, impeccable makeup, and the outfit every girl wanted. As I sit on the kitchen floor, I know I’m not her anymore. Not that it matters. Crying has matted my hair to my cheeks, my face is splotchy, and I’m half dressed in day-old clothes, but none of it matters.

  “Callie,” Bruno’s voice carries through the door and breaks into my thoughts.

  I close my eyes and wonder if he’ll go away, but I know he won’t. He’s proven to be that guy. Y’know, the one who bugs the crap out of you until you relent.

  “What?”

  “Can I come in?”

  That statement’s laughable. He’s entered my apartment more than once already without my permission, so why ask for it now? “Yeah.”

  I have a clear sight line to the doorway and watch carefully. Would he pick the lock, knock it down, or wait for me to get up.

  Something clicks before he turns the door handle and walks in. Shoving what looks like a key into his pocket, he smiles.

  “Do you have a key?” I ask and gape at the lump in his pocket.

  He laughs. “I took your keys earlier.”

  He took my keys. “What?” Took. My. Keys.

  “It’s not like you needed them, and it’s not like I did either, but I figured it was better than knocking the fucking door down again.”

  He’s standing over me, smiling and proud. I want to be mad at him, but he has a point. He could just knock my door down or use his super criminal skills to pick my lock, but instead, he took my keys. “You can leave them when you go,” I tell him and try to sit up.

  “How ya feeling?”

  “Fine,” I lie.

  “You look like shit.”

  I glare at him because I already know that, but I don’t need a reminder. “Thanks.”

  Like an overgrown kid and not “The Butcher,” he sits down in front of me on the floor. “I want you to listen to me.” I keep glaring, but I don’t speak. “I need you to.” He pauses and glares back. “Nod if you understand.”

  I nod.

  “I know you want to be alone. You’ve made it very clear, in fact.”

  Nod.

  “But I can’t allow it.”

  I snarl, and I don’t nod as he continues.

  “You’re too weak right now and you need help.”

  I put my hand up, hoping to silence him, but he pushes it back down.

  Fucker.

  “I know you’re going to say you aren’t weak. That you can handle this shit.” He waves his hand back and forth between us. “But you can’t.”

  I slap away his hand and try to control my anger. “I’m not a child. I’ve survived this long on my own, Bruno. I know I’m sick. People go through this—” I wave my hand the same way he did “—every day alone and they survive.”

  He pushes his fingers into his eyes and hangs his head before looking at me with more fire than I’ve seen before. Darkness settles inside him, and not just the color, but also a feeling hits me in the chest as he looks at me. “But you don’t have to. Lee tried. Tried like hell to do it by herself. She pushed everyone away. But I stood by her side, cheering her on, and helped her through the entire thing. I’m going to do the same for you.”

  My head tilts, and I study him and the curiosity that is Bruno. “Why?” It’s a legitimate question. I mean, two weeks ago, we didn’t know each other. Not really. I mean, we flirted. The usual eye lock across the room while checking each other out. Yeah, things have changed since then. I know how Bruno tastes and what he sounds like when he comes, but that doesn’t make us BFFs.

  He places his elbow against his knees and rests his cheek on his fist, looking completely adorable and not one bit scary. “Have you ever done something completely selfless?”

  I think about the question and am a little ashamed at my answer. “I don’t know.”

  Reaching out, he touches my cheek, sliding his fingertip across my jaw before settling on my chin. “Huh,” he mutters.

  “So you’re just being kind? Like someone is to a puppy they find on the side of the road. Y’know, they bring it to the pound so it’ll be saved and they feel better about themselves.”

  “Well—”

  “But what they don’t know is that after they leave and no one wants the mutt, they put it down.” I purse my lips and feel mighty proud of myself. I mean, even he can understand that.

  His back straightens and scary Bruno returns. “Stop talking.”

  “You still haven’t answered why. I mean, if you need a charity case, you can—”

  His hand covers my mouth, and he shakes his head. “Cal, you’re not charity. I’ve been inside you.” His face is dead serious, and my breath hitches at the memory.

  “It’s just pussy,” I mumble against his hand.

  Warning. Angry Bruno emerges. “Is that what you think of me?”

  “What?” I ask after his hand drops away from my face.

  “That I just walk around fucking everything? That I would do this for just anyone?”

  I bite my lip and swallow, but I continue anyway. “I’m sure you’ve fucked your share.”

  “I have.”

  I give him my best “I told you so” face.

  He sucks in a breath, his chest growing larger with each second. It kind of reminds me of the Hulk as he expands before his shirt shreds and falls to the ground. His eyes narrow into tiny slits and completely focus on me. “You think I fucked you for another piece of ass?”

  “Um, yeah.”

  “So I’m going to fuck a sick chick with cancer because…?”

  I wince and know I sound childish. “Easy pickings.” I shrug. Again, I’m being an asshole, and I know it.

  “Really? I don’t need to prey on the weak, Cal.”

  I kind of like when he calls me Cal. My belly does a tiny somersault just hearing it. “Sorry.”

  His hand moves slowly down his face; it’s apparent he’s frustrated with me. “I know you think I’m an asshole, and honestly, I can fuck any girl I want, but here I am with you.”

  “I just don’t get it,” I admit because it perplexes me.

  “You don’t have to.” He places his lips on my forehead, and it feels so amazing that I close my eyes and drop the attitude. “How long have you been sitting here?”

  Leaning forward, I rest my face in his neck and bury myself in his scent. “Since you left.” I close my eyes and smell him. I know I have to smell bad, but him, he smells heavenly. I can get lost in his scent. The manliness mixed with something I can’t put my finger on, but I know I want more.

  “Jesus, woman. You can’t do that.”

  “Don’t tell me what to do.” My lips touch his skin as I speak.

  “You need a shower.”

  My fingers rest against his chest, and I resist the urge to grope him sexually. If I felt better, I would take the opportunity to cop a feel and get lost in him. “I need a lot of things. Can you get me a new body to start?”

  “Your body is perfect.”

  “Cancer,” I remind him, finally lifting my head and leaning back against the cabine
ts. Clearly, it isn’t as perfect as it seems on the outside.

  He rears up on his knees and studies me. “Can you walk?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t tried.”

  He holds his hands out to me after he climbs to his feet. “Let’s try.”

  I glance up at him, watching him watch me. I really don’t know how I’ll get off the floor without him, so I slide my hands in his and let him haul me to my feet. Although my legs feel weak, I don’t feel as sick as I did when I first got home after chemo.

  “Good.” He wraps an arm around my back and holds me upright. I smile at him, truly happy to be standing, even with his help. “Let’s take a few steps. Test your legs a bit.”

  I nod and take a step forward, feeling my knees shake when I try to put weight on them. “I feel better.”

  He grips my side tighter because he knows I’m lying and moves forward. “How about a bath?”

  The thought of relaxing in a bubble bath makes me want to cry happy tears. “Yes.”

  “Together.”

  I stop moving and narrow my eyes at him. He can’t be serious. “Bruno, we’re not having sex.”

  “I’m not an idiot. But there’s no way I’m leaving you alone. So I can either get in with you or watch. Which one do you prefer?”

  “Together?” I blurt out, freaked out by the idea.

  He starts moving again, ushering me toward the master bathroom. “Yeah.”

  “I know many people won’t say it to you, but you know you’re an asshole, right?”

  “I do.” He kisses the top of my head and laughs.

  After he starts the water, he strips with no shame or care in the world. “Do you want me to help you?” he asks, kicking his pants to the side and tucking them underneath the vanity. Naked as a jaybird, he stands there with his hands on his hips as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

  “You mean with all this?” I ask, touching the bottom of my baggy T-shirt and tease him to ease my anxiety. I’ve always called it my lucky shirt, but really, it’s a ratty old college T-shirt. I stole it from a jock I had a one-night stand with and never bothered to return it. “I think I got it.”

  “No.” He places his hands on mine and stops me. “Let me.”

  “You’re still not getting laid.”

  He starts to lift my shirt and ignores my comment completely. “I’ve decided something.”

  “What?” I ask once the shirt’s clear from my face.

  “I like when you have an attitude.”

  I let out a little laugh. “You’d have one too if someone broke in to your house and wouldn’t leave.”

  “Cal.” He stands me up, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling my panties to the floor. “Is that what you think?”

  I feel dirty. Here he’s helping me, being sweet, and I put on my bitch mask and toss out comments as if he doesn’t have feelings. “No,” I admit, completely ashamed. “Well, maybe at first. But you’re growing on me.” I smile down at him, resting my hands on his shoulders as I step out of my underwear.

  He grunts and lifts me into his arms, bringing me with him to the tub. Even though part of me wants to protest, I relax against him and enjoy his warmth and strength. Slowly, he lowers us into the water, paying careful attention not to fall in the process, for which I’m thankful.

  “Is it too hot?” he asks when I hiss as my ass hits the hot water.

  “No. It’s good. Just need to get used to it.”

  He rests my bottom against his legs, gently splashing the hot water against my skin. “Better?”

  “Much.” I smile softly and melt against him, feeling completely at peace.

  “In ya go.” He adjusts me, sliding me between his legs before pulling me back against him.

  I sag into him, letting the water caress my skin and enjoying the feel of his hard body behind me. Another time in my life and I wouldn’t have been able to keep my hands off him, but now, I’m too sick to think of anything more than comfort.

  We sit like this for a while. I rest against him as he splashes water on my skin, dragging his hands down my arms. The water drips from the faucet and the echo is loud and oddly soothing.

  He cages me in with his legs and I place my arms against his knees and relax. “When’s your next round of chemo?”

  “You want to chaperone?” I know it sounds cold and bitchy, but really, it’s the last thing I want to think about.

  “I’m taking you,” he growls, his lips touching my shoulder as he speaks, his words crashing over me. I find I’m oddly content about it.

  “You still haven’t answered why, Bruno.”

  His arms tighten around my body, just under my chest. His mouth is against my ear as he speaks. “You’re not afraid of me.”

  I shiver in his arms as his voice skids across my skin. “It’s that simple?” I really am scared of him, but not for the same reasons I used to be.

  “No, but it’s a start.”

  “I know who you are and what you do.”

  “No. You don’t.”

  I turn slightly, my lips almost brushing against his mouth when I do. “But I do.” I look into his eyes and see the pain behind them even though he tries to hide it.

  “You don’t. You think you know everything about me, but you don’t, Cal.”

  “I do,” I argue, maintaining eye contact. I still haven’t been able to get the conversation he had with Lee out of my head.

  His hand finds its way to my cheek, and he cradles my face gently. “You don’t.”

  I can see he isn’t going to relent. “They call you ‘The Butcher,’ Bruno. I think it’s pretty clear.”

  His eyes flash, the darkness quickly vanishing before his cheeks almost touch the corners of his eyes. His body begins to shake and then his laughter grows. “Everyone calls me ‘The Butcher’? Really? I thought it was just the people in my circle and not the general pop like yourself.”

  I nod and my stomach begins to flop. “Yeah. Everyone does.”

  “That is,” he laughs louder, still holding my face, “the funniest thing I’ve ever heard.”

  My eyes widen and I’m caught off guard when his words trail off. “You didn’t know?” I whisper and suddenly feel horrible for breaking the news to him.

  He stops laughing long enough to speak, but the smile on his face is the biggest I’ve ever seen and it’s beautiful. “No one has ever had the balls to tell me, either. Only my friends call me that.”

  I would feel guiltier if he weren’t laughing his ass off, so I start laughing too. “I can’t believe you didn’t know.”

  “I like it,” he admits and brushes his thumb across my bottom lip, his eyes following the path.

  I laugh; partly out of nervousness that he’s touching me, and partly that he likes the nickname that makes people shake when he walks by. “If people saw you right now, you’d lose all credibility.”

  His eyebrows rise and his head jerks back slightly. “I would?”