Rescued by Love

by Jules Dixon

  “Fuck!” Our eyes connected as we screamed the word at each other.

  His pace was desperate and reckless and so fantastic. I lost my breath as I released my body over to him and the hunger in his eyes. Digging his fingers into my hips, he guided me to him and him into me, building the release with every intense drive of his hips.

  “Aurora.” His thumb traced circles over my clit and fireworks zinged through my core at his torturous attention.

  Staring into his eyes, every moment of connection drew us closer together. The fuse lit and my body ascended into a release that exploded fireworks in between, through, and within us. I moaned his name while every muscle of my body pulsed around him. He collapsed on top of me and dropped his lips to press to mine, meeting me with an orgasm that had him shaking long after his cock stopped pulsing his release into the condom.

  As we lay there, his body trembled in a different way. I wrapped my arms around him and held him. “Hey, what’s wrong?” I rubbed his back, and for having exploded like Mt. Vesuvius, every muscle was too tense under my touch.

  “That was… Shit, hearing you scream my name is better than any crowd that ever cheered me on when I was pitching baseball.”

  We were still intimately united, and at that moment, as scary as it was to understand, I realized he was inside me and there was no escaping in so many ways he always would be.

  He kissed my cheek. “I never knew I wasn’t living until you. Sometimes it’s a frustrated and irritated alive, but I wouldn’t trade any moment. You might be a part of me I need more than anything in my life.”

  “All of that sounds like something to be happy about. So why are you upset?”

  Rising to his forearms, his eyes shined glassy, reflecting the fading light of the day coming in the window. “When I say I’m not good enough for you, it’s true. I’m sorry, Rory.” He held the condom while he pulled out and walked into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

  I knocked on the bathroom door. “Drexel? Dammit Drexel, tell me why you think you’re not good enough because I don’t think that. We need to talk about this.”

  I rushed around the room, jumping into my clothes. My heart seized in my chest when he wasn’t in the living room. I ran to the window and his car was gone. He’d run from me again and I was both pissed and petrified. I snatched my phone from the kitchen table. His phone rolled to voice mail. Pacing the floor, I tried again and again, but every time there was no answer.

  An hour later, the last time his voice mail clicked on, I’d examined what he revealed to me over the last two days and a different perspective settled in. He wasn’t running from me, he was running from himself. Drex didn’t understand someone could want to be with him, want to take care of him and trust him, because he didn’t trust himself and he’d learned he couldn’t trust others, either. He was afraid to speak his feelings because he’d learned that no matter what he had to face in the world he’d do it alone and whatever he was feeling wasn’t worth mentioning. But now, whatever he was feeling, I wanted to face it with him. I wanted to hear what was making him sad, upset, happy, excited. Everything.

  I sighed when the message beeped. “Drexel, just tell me what’s wrong so we can face it together. Please, call me back. I lo—”

  It was time to tell him the truth. Time to be honest, with him and myself. Time to be the adult I was ready to be and face our future head-on. This moment had years of heart-pounding, want-filled, and incredibly meaningful build-up behind it. Starting when I was fifteen and he was eighteen, we’d made out in the gazebo while watching fireworks. The skies weren’t the only thing that sizzled that night.

  And then there was a Christmas party here that ended with us in the kitchen pantry, lights off, but there were sparks flying that lit up the small space. Then the night of Jude’s birthday party in October, after playfully cleaning up the kitchen together, he’d driven me home but we’d screamed at each other about something neither of us would even remember. After we both stopped our childish outbursts, we’d tangled tongues in his vehicle, then up against it, then up against the garage, then outside of my apartment door, but after I opened the door, he said a panicked “good-bye” and left. And then there was Jude and Presley’s wedding in December.

  And tonight.

  Every kiss. Deep. Frantic. Impassioned. But most of all, the emotion of love behind every moment. Scared as I was, I knew what I was really feeling. With his past, there was no way in hell he wasn’t scared, too.

  “Drexel Mason, I love you. I’ve loved you since that gentle and magical first kiss when we started our own exploding fireworks six years ago, and every kiss since only cemented how much you mean to me. I’m scared, too, but that’s what love is. It’s scary and as much as you know it could rip you apart, it can also put you back together. You said I might be a part of you, but Drexel, you’ve always been a part of me. Remember I love you and that’s what’s important.” I swallowed. “At least to me it is. Call me and let’s talk, please.”

  I walked into the bathroom to wash my face and a white powder covered the front couple inches of counter. I ran my fingers through it, rubbing them together. The texture wasn’t talcum powder-like. It was smooth and fluffy.

  And I don’t use talcum powder.

  I brought it to my nose, a quick sniff to see if I knew what it was. I sneezed and coughed. It didn’t have that baby powder smell, but it also didn’t smell like anything I knew of, sweet and kind of perfume-like, but then again, not. The inside of my nose started to burn. I blew my nose and it tingled. Stung.

  On the way to my parents’ home, I blinked as my eyes watered from the stinging sensation.

  “Rory, where’s Drexel?” Dad asked.

  “He wasn’t feeling”—I sneezed—“well. He left.”

  “That Thai Revenge sounds horrible,” my mother mumbled as she pulled the food from the oven.

  I began giggling. The words “Thai Revenge” sounded amusing coming from her.

  “He sure has been sick a lot, missed plenty of days of work last month. Still one of the best we have though. Well, we can still eat as a family.” Dad grabbed the pan of cheese and chicken enchiladas and carried it to the kitchen table while I continued snickering. He greeted Marc warmly and I heard him ask about Marc’s performance in the school play.

  “Are you okay?” Mom asked.

  I rubbed my hand on my chest as my heart pounded a pace like I was running without moving.

  What was that powder?

  “Actually, Mom, um, I’m not feeling well. I think what Drexel has is contagious and not a case of food poisoning. I was with him for a test-drive Monday and I don’t think he was feeling well then, either.”

  She touched my head. “Oh dear, Aurora, you’re flushed and your eyes are glassy. You want to stay in your old bedroom tonight?”

  “I’ll go back to the apartment and get some sleep. I’m sure it’s something short-lived.”

  I hope, at least.

  Mom pulled me into a hug and rubbed my back. “I’ll set some stomach meds outside of your place, honey.”

  “Thanks.” I took the back way from the kitchen. I couldn’t risk my dad realizing whatever was happening to me when I wasn’t totally positive either. But I had an idea.

  One time in Drexel’s car I saw a similar powder dusting his steering wheel. I uttered a flippant comment about how he treated his $50,000 vehicle and reached to brush the dust off. He grabbed my hand and shoved it back at me, then growled for me to mind my own business. After driving me home, he tried to apologize, but of course did it in a Drexel kind of way and we got into a screaming match ending with us squirming up against my apartment door and finally with his balls in a twist when he ran from me. And at the wedding after he got back from the bathroom, I saw a white dusting under his nose. I thought the sparkle was glitter, but now I imagined it wasn’t. And then there was Jake’s nickname—White Mountain.

  Back in my apartment, my eyes darted around the living room. I grabb
ed my phone from the coffee table.

  No messages. Why the hell aren’t you returning my call? I bet you’re out with another girl already. At some bar, boozing it up and hitting on every girl in the place. Forgetting about what happened … and me.

  I backed against a wall as ridiculous thoughts thrashed around in my brain. My skin crawled, foreign on my body and tingling like Pop Rocks were under the surface. I stared down at my phone and tapped the contacts, pulling up Avery’s phone number.

  “Hi Rory!”

  “Avery?”

  “Yeah. How are you?”

  “Not good. Are you busy?”

  “Bryson and I are finishing dinner. What’s up?”

  “I … I think I accidentally ingested a drug.”

  “Do we need to call 911?”

  “I just need someone here with me and I don’t want it to be my parents. The code to the gate is 1231.”

  “Address?”

  I rattled it off and she repeated it to Bryson. I heard him ask for the check and chairs sliding across a tile floor.

  “We’ll be right there.”

  “I live in an apartment above the garage. There are stairs on the back side near the pool fence.”

  “Okay, stay calm.”

  “I’m trying to but it looks like the walls are going to fall in on me.”

  “Bryson says we’re five minutes away. We’re getting in his truck. I promise, we’ll be right there.”

  “Okay.” I blew out a long breath. “I’m fine.”

  I’m definitely not fine.

  I sat with the phone in my hands watching the minutes tick away. Time seemed to slow with every minute.

  Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. She said five minutes. Seven. Where the hell are they?

  The door opened and I shrieked.

  Bryson stuck his head inside. “Rory?”

  “Over here.” I waved from where I sat slumped against the far wall.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Does Drexel do drugs?” I whimpered. My heart thudded against my chest wall like a drum band had started playing in there.

  “Why?”

  “White powder?”

  He nodded. “Cocaine.”

  Avery gasped.

  “He must have spilled some on the counter in my bathroom. I didn’t know what it was, and in the ultimate stupid move, I sniffed it to find out.”

  He squatted in front of me. “Have you ever done drugs before?”

  “A little pot once—actually, twice—but nothing like this.”

  Bryson gave me a visual once-over. “In about an hour, maybe two, the effects will fade from your system.” He stood and turned to Avery. “Please sit with her and if she starts to have any signs of anaphylactic shock, come get me. I need to make a couple of phone calls.” He stepped into the hallway and closed the door.

  Avery sat in front of me on her knees. She tucked her curls of hair behind her ears. “I swear, I didn’t know about the cocaine, Rory. From working with him, I knew he had a prescription drug addiction, but I swear, I didn’t know about this.”

  “Not your fault, Avery.”

  “Have you been seeing him?”

  I giggled. “More of him than I ever have.”

  Her forehead wrinkled as she asked, “What’s that mean?”

  I explained what had happened over the last few days.

  She bit her lip. “And now that you know this new information?”

  “Doesn’t change how I feel about him, just explains a whole lot.”

  Avery stilled, then glanced over her shoulder. “Is something buzzing?”

  I rolled my eyes. “I thought I was the only one hallucinating.”

  “I’m not hallucinating. There’s definitely something buzzing in your bedroom. Is your alarm clock going off?”

  I shook my head.

  Turned it off this morning.

  Bryson joined us. Staring up at him, he looked like a giant from my spot on the floor.

  Wow, drugs.

  “Bry, do you hear that?” Avery asked.

  “Yeah. Do you have a hair dryer plugged in, Rory?”

  “No.”

  “Can I go find out what it is?”

  “I don’t care!” I snapped, then rubbed my face in my hands. “What the hell is this stuff? Sorry, Bryson, I can’t seem to decide if I’m really happy or really bitchy.” I leaned back against the wall and closed my eyes. The room spun on fast forward, but I was alive.

  Bryson walked away and we heard him chuckle from the bedroom.

  “Everything okay in there?” Avery called out when the buzzing stopped.

  “I found the buzzing. I’ll be right back.” When he returned, he squatted down to my level and his blue eyes reminded me of someone else’s. I closed my eyes to stop my heart from pounding faster. “Rory, did you put your vibrator into a time-out in the corner today?”

  My eyes shot open to find Bryson smiling. “Technically, Drexel did.”

  Bryson burst out laughing and I chuckled though a pursed mouth.

  Holding out his hands, Bryson helped Avery and me up from the floor and to the sofa. They kept me in conversation while my brain rolled in and out of thoughts faster than I’d ever experienced.

  Hot sex. Drugs. Just need him to sing some rock ‘n’ roll and I’ll be a Drexel groupie.

  There was a tap on the door before Ollie pushed into the room. Chloe and Holt trailed in behind him.

  “Did he force you to do this?” Oliver demanded the answer and in my elevated state his white Mohawked hair made him look slightly evil.

  And not lick-worthy … at all.

  I shook my head, mainly to bring me out of the daze, but Oliver took it as a negative sign.

  “Did he offer it to you?”

  “No.”

  “Did you know what it was when you inhaled it?”

  “No.”

  Ollie sat in front of me on the coffee table. “I’m gonna kill him, Rory.”

  “Please, don’t. I don’t think I could forgive you.”

  Oliver grinned. “Because?”

  “I really like him. Like really, really like him.”

  “Rory,”—he grabbed my hands—“then you need to know something.” Oliver looked behind the sofa. “Guys, it’s time to do something about this. Bryson, search the apartment for any stashes he might have hidden. Holt, call Rahl and let him know we need to move on the plans tonight.”

  Bryson started on some bizarre treasure hunt through the apartment and Holt excused himself to the walkway.

  What if Bry looks in…? What’s it matter? He’s already seen my vibrator.

  I acted like I had concerns about them searching my apartment, even if I didn’t care. “Drex’s only been in here one other time, to drop me off after Jude and Presley’s wedding.”

  Oliver rested his hands on my knees. “Actually, that’s not true.”

  “Don’t tell me he’s been sneaking in here and Edward Cullen’ing me?”

  My girlfriends snickered with amusement.

  Ollie smirked. “No. Well, not as far as I know.”

  Avery scooted down the sofa and Oliver moved to sit next to me.

  “Rory, the night you had your accident, did you get a text from him to see if you were here?”

  “Yeah, but I was with Avery and Chloe.” My heart slowed from its marching-band pace and a twinge of nausea rolled through me.

  “Drexel was here waiting for you.”

  “What?”

  “He had his coworker, Sam, drop him off here so your dad wouldn’t see his car. He was going to surprise you. He’d gone without using for two weeks and was doing really well. I suspect he wanted to talk about starting a relationship, or whatever Drexel’s idea of a relationship is, but then the accident happened.”

  I wrapped my arms around myself as I realized the extent of Drexel’s pain. “And then he relapsed into using again?”

  “I heard from Rahl about the accident and texted Drex with the news as kin
d of a heads-up for the Auto Mall. I didn’t know he was here waiting for you. He didn’t call anyone to pick him up. He stayed here, binging on whatever he foolishly brought with him in his overnight bag. After being clean for so long, he shouldn’t have had anything with him.”

  My hand covered my mouth and my eyes watered with the vision of him trying to stem his pain or even hurt himself.

  Oliver’s arm draped my shoulder and I leaned into him. “When he’d been missing for two days and Presley couldn’t get ahold of him, she talked to Jude and he called Rahl. We tracked his phone. We … um, kind of circumvented the gate and security system while your family was at the hospital with you, and found him coked out of his mind sitting here on the sofa. I think we’ve all been kicking ourselves ever since. We should’ve helped him right then, but I don’t think he was ready.”

  “What makes you think he’s ready now?”

  “I don’t. I’m just hoping he really, really likes you too, and that will be enough inspiration to get his shit together.”

  Holt stepped back into the room and nodded a confirmation at Ollie.

  “Ollie!” Bryson held up a small container from one of the kitchen drawers.

  “Is that…?” I squinted at what Bryson held up.

  Oliver examined the clear vial of powder. “Yep.”

  “Keep that far from Chloe and our baby.” Holt guided Chloe toward him and she let him close her in his protective arms.

  “And me. That shit is seriously scary.” I rolled my eyes and the motion increased my nausea.

  There was a tap on the door. “Rory.” Mom’s voice sobered me slightly.

  I stood and took a deep breath before opening it.

  “Honey, do you have friends over?”

  “Yes, Mom. I’m feeling better and we decided to … to … have a movie night.”

  “Oh, okay. Here are some meds in case the”—she lowered her voice—“you-know-what comes back.”

  “Thank you. Love you.”

  “Love you. I’d love to meet your friends sometime, too.” She craned her neck to look through the small crack in the door.

  “Soon, Mom.”

  “Okay, good night.”

  “Good night.”

  Bryson completed a search of every inch of the apartment and didn’t find any other traces. Using cleaning gloves, he scrubbed the floor and the counter in the bathroom.