by Vicki Green
“They said we could bring things from home to put in your room, and I can bring food and can even cook you some meals,” I add quickly. I can’t imagine learning you have something that will cause you to lose your memory and eventually kill you.
His eyes widen. “Well, I hope once the physical therapy is done, I can go home. I’m not sure how long that will take so it would be nice to have some of my pictures here.” I smile, relieved that he’d want to come home.
“Maybe I can bring up your recliner too. You’d be more comfortable watching TV from it then this thing or that bed. And I’ll pack you a bag of your pajamas and clothes. Let’s make a list of what food you’d like me to bring and I’ll cook you dinner tonight and bring it up.” His brows raise. He’s not much of a cook, except on the grill. So, he loves when I’m here and can cook for him. Suddenly, his mood changes, and his frown appears again.
“Your birthday. I missed it.”
I stand and walk to his side and pick up his hand. “It was just yesterday. You’re more important.” He smiles but it’s sad.
“And what’s going to happen with your work? You can’t stay here for too long. You’ll lose your job that you worked so hard for.”
“I’ve been thinking…” I really hadn’t until this very moment. “I took a leave of absence but I think I’ll go over and talk to Hope Memorial about seeing if I can transfer. I really like it there and I want to stay close to home.” He doesn’t look like he believes me. “Really, Dad, I want to do this. I’ve been homesick anyway. And I tell you what. I’ll bring some strawberry shortcake tonight with dinner and we’ll celebrate my birthday. Just you and me.” He perks up.
“In my closet is your present. Top shelf. Will you bring it?” I nod excitedly.
So that’s how my day started. Once I left Dad, I went to the grocery store, picking up fruits, snacks, soda, and assorted things Dad likes that he can have there. Then I got steaks, potatoes, everything to make a salad, fresh strawberries, whipped cream, and those little sponge cakes. After getting everything home, I put everything away and walk to his room. Memories wash over me as I pick up various framed pictures adorning his desk, nightstands, and shelves on the wall. Walking into his closet, I grab his duffle bag, lay it on his bed, and begin folding some of his clothes. I also fill it with his boxers, socks, pajamas. I go into his bathroom and pack his shaving kit with all his bathroom needs. I wrap all the framed pictures in newspapers I found in the garage. He’s always hoarded old newspapers, for what I’ll never know. I walk back into the closet and pick up the neatly wrapped package, from the top shelf, smiling as I place it into the bag. The last thing I put in there is his phone charger. Once done, I take the bag and put it in my car then proceed to make dinner. Tomorrow, I’ll go over to the hospital and talk to them to see if I can get a transfer there. If they don’t take me, then I’ll find a job somewhere in town. It won’t be ideal but I’ll need money. Brooke will be so upset. I hope under the circumstances she’ll understand. I’ll have to find a company that will pack up and move all my belongings from my apartment too. I also need to contact Fred Burrows. He’s been Dad’s lawyer for as long as I can remember. I need to see if Dad will sign power of attorney over to me. I need to be on his bank accounts as I’m sure his medical bills will begin rolling in soon. So much to do and all I want to do is be with Dad.
It’s around five o’clock when I finally get dinner cooked and packed up. It may take me a couple of trips to get everything to his room. Tomorrow, I’ll see if I can get Brooke’s dad to come over and help me with Dad’s recliner. Ugh, so much to do!
I walk into St. Mary’s loaded with sacks containing dinner and various foods to put away. It’s a short walk to his hall then down to his room. I actually love this place, so far. It’s clean and the staff seems so nice and caring. I don’t think Dad could be in a better place. When I enter his room, I stop abruptly at the sight, my mouth opens, and I drop one of the sacks. Standing on the other side of his bed, his hands holding Dad’s left leg up in the air, is none other than the mystery man himself. What the fuck? He carefully lowers Dad’s leg onto the mattress and jogs over, my eyes following as he squats down before me, picking up various foods that had emerged from the sack and places them back inside.
“Saige? Are you okay?” Dad asks. My eyes move to him as I close my mouth. “This is Brice Stevens. He’s my physical therapist.” Wait! What?
Brice Stevens. I now know a name.
Brice stands, with a huge smile on his gorgeous face, such a contradiction to last night. I watch in amazement as he sets the sack on the counter and then reaches for the sacks in my hand. I pull them into me, telling him that I’ve got it and give him a stern look. “Nice to meet you – Saige.” He winks. Anger flows through my veins. He’s acting like he’s never met me before, that he hasn’t seen me naked or slept in my bed last night. Or saw me naked!
“I’m not so sure it’s nice to meet you – Brice,” I whisper through gritted teeth.
He laughs and walks back over to the other side of Dad’s bed and picks up his leg, like none of this is a big deal. I might hate him. This feels like all kinds of deceit and weird.
“Something sure smells good,” Brice remarks as he bends Dad’s leg slowly then straightens it.
Dad looks up at him, filled with admiration, like he’s the best person in the world. “Saige cooked me dinner for her birthday. Smells like steaks.” He smiles at Brice. Dad turns his head and looks at me. “Is there enough in there for Brice?” Oh, hell to the no!
I put on a fake, sickly sweet smile. “Sorry. I only brought enough for us.”
“I can share mine. I don’t mind,” is Dad’s reply. Oh, Dad. Please don’t fall into his trap. But I think it’s too late.
“Nah, you all enjoy a great dinner. I’ve got plans anyway. But thank you for the offer.” My eyes snap to Brice’s and he’s smiling at me. I think that’s the most he’s said since I met him last night.
Turning around quickly, not able to look him in the eyes any longer, I walk over to the counter and start unloading the sacks. Once I’ve gotten all his food put away in the small fridge and cupboards and dinner ready, Brice is done with Dad’s therapy. After setting Dad’s plate of food and his drink on the hospital-like table over his bed, I lean back against the counter and cross my arms over my chest. “Pretty quick therapy session,” I state. I look at Dad, enjoying his meal, making sure he’s not paying attention, and then back up into the blazing eyes of Brice. If that’s his real name. “You don’t look so tough now in those scrubs,” I say sarcastically. He pats Dad on his shoulder then walks around his bed, grabbing my hand and pulling me out of the room. I gasp as he leads me down the hallway, stopping at a door. Once he opens it, he pulls me inside, and I feel my back hit a metal shelf as his mouth covers mine. His strong hands hold onto my upper arms, my hands in between us. I start pushing against his firm chest, anger boiling, erupting. My hands form into fists, and I start hitting him everywhere I can reach. Then he deepens his kiss, his tongue entering my mouth. The strength in my arms deflate – my arms and legs turn to jelly. My entire body softens, melts in his arms. The sparks I felt last night, the ones I’ve dreamt of feeling from a man as long as I can remember, return with a vengeance. I close my eyes as he releases my arms, and I slide them up and around his neck. “Brice,” his name escapes me in a moan.
“”Dax,” he whispers against my lips.
His arms move behind me, holding me tight as he pulls me closer. “Huh?” I reply, almost incoherently while he kisses across my jaw and my head lulls back against the hard shelf as he continues down my neck. God, what is he doing to me?
“Name’s Dax.” I’ll call him anything as long as he continues what he’s doing.
Suddenly, he’s gone. Opening my eyes, I gather myself. He’s standing in the now open doorway, his hand on the doorknob.
“I’d been in there doing his therapy for an hour.” My brows lower as anger returns. “Thanks for that. I�
�ve been wanting to fucking kiss you since you stepped into your dad’s room.” He winks and closes the door leaving me reeling. From the kiss, the anger, or maybe both. He’s infuriating. I stand here stunned, my body still tingling from his touch. My lips still warmed from his.
Who the fuck is he?
9
Once I got back to Dad’s room, I couldn’t speak or eat, still in shock from the make out session in the storage closet. I was thankful that Dad did most of the talking and eating. He continues talking as I keep poking at my barely touched food. “And I want you to get ahold of Fred and have him draw up a power of attorney document.” His last words make me focus in on him again. “I’m not stupid, Saige. I know what dementia is and what will happen.” Sadness washes over me instantly. “I want everything in order while I’m still of sound mind.” My bottom lip quivers. This is the first time we’ve spoken of this dreaded situation. I can’t fathom that he knows what will happen and is talking about it as if it’s an everyday occurrence. Well, I guess it is for so many people, but not to us. “Sweetheart, I know this is hard on you.” He sits up more in his bed with seriousness covers his face. “I want to make sure everything is taken care of. This is hard enough for you without having to worry about every little detail.” Every detail. He means… I try to swallow the lump in my throat with no success.
I stand and lean over him, putting my arms around him as best as I can. I feel his arm move around me as I lay my head down on his shoulder and silently cry. He pats my back.
“The worse part of all this,” he chokes. “Is that you have to go through it alone. At some point, I won’t even be able to comfort you.”
He’s going through this but is worried about me. That makes me cry harder.
Once I’ve calmed down, as much as I’m able, I sit down and we talk about everything. He even had me get out a notebook from the desk and make a list of everything I need to do. Quietly, I add job and moving to the list.
It’s around nine by the time I leave. Dad had a good day and for that I’m truly thankful. I’m exhausted as I walk to my car. I recount the day as I drive home: Dad being so alert, eating well, the realization the mystery man remains a mystery and is Dad’s physical therapist. Then the shock of being pulled into the storage closet, the sensations I felt. I’ve only dreamt of one day finding a man who gave me that spark and that heated desire, only to meet the one I feel I can’t have. There’s something about him I can’t put my finger on. I’ve not ever considered or even looked at a guy with a bad-boy exterior before. The kind that screams “Don’t go there!” But when I saw him today, my heart stopped. Such a contradiction to what he was like last night. I’m totally confused yet intrigued even more.
I arrive home, dragging myself into the house and straight to Dad’s bedroom. I don’t even bother with the covers, just climb onto his bed and lay down, more than exhausted mentally and physically. I should be doing – something. But it’s too late to do much now. I’ll get up in the morning and start on the list, I promise myself. Closing my eyes, I plead sleep to take me.
This dream of being in a frozen tundra is making me feel like I’m shaking. Why is it snowing in my dream? I want to be warm, nestled in bed, yet I’m as cold as ice. I need a coat or a fire. Suddenly, I start to feel warmth around me. Did my dream give me a coat? Strangest dream ever. No, not unless the coat has arms and legs. I open my eyes slowly, still in my dream-like state as strong arms wrap around me, a leg covering mine, and I’m underneath the covers. Shakily, I turn my head. Dax. How did he get in here? I open my mouth to speak but warm fingers press against my lips.
“Shhhh. You left the garage door open,” he whispers as if reading my thoughts.
Confusion sets in but I’m so cold and tired that I don’t question it. His warmth envelopes me. The feel of his hand brushing my hair back from my face spools more warmth through me, but in a different way. I’ve never felt so alone since this all began, having no one around to comfort me, ease the pain for even a little bit. I’ve not asked for it, always being the strong woman I’d become. What I wouldn’t give for just a little now, something to take away all the fear of the unknown and what’s yet to come, even for a few moments.
I close my eyes, letting this dream continue, hoping it will take it all away. His hand moves away from my hair, his knuckles brushing lightly down my cheek, jaw, then he rubs down my arm. I shiver, not from the cold but from his gentle touch. His warm lips kiss my shoulder then over to my neck as his hand slides over and covers my naked breast. When did I get out of my clothes? I don’t want to think, only feel. I’m tired of thinking, of being the strong one. Let me just feel for however long this dream lasts.
Everything becomes all too real as he tweaks my already hard and taut nipple then his warm lips replace his magical fingers, sucking, nipping with his teeth. He pushes my legs apart as his arm pulls out from behind me and gently pushes me onto my back. My eyes open slightly in time to look into his, looking up at me, through long dark eye lashes. Darkness fills them. The look on his stunning face causes my heart to begin to beat wildly. Lust. Longing. Desire. All those emotions and more are swimming in his eyes, the same I’m feeling. Desire pools between my legs, my body aching for his. This isn’t right. I shouldn’t let him. But I want him so badly. No. I need him desperately. Just this once. Just for a small moment in time so I can forget all the bad.
He settles in between my legs. The feel of his strength overwhelms me. I stiffen as I feel his hardened length rub against my core. He leans down, the warmth of his breath brushes my ear. “Let me take you away, Saige.” I shiver at his words. “Let me help you forget. You’re not alone.” I relax instantly, wanting this so badly. Wanting him. He doesn’t hesitate to push inside me, all in one swift movement. He’s large, stretching me until I feel I might break. “You need to relax,” he whispers. Again, just from the sound of his deep, rugged voice, I relax. He pushes in more, filling me until I’m full of him. He stills, allowing my body to accommodate his massiveness, his arms shaking from holding himself above me, and I’m sure the intenseness of waiting to move.
Opening my legs wider, I struggle to pull them up, the covers hindering my movements. I want to wrap them around him, feel his fine bare ass with my feet. “Patience,” he whispers, stopping me. He strains, holding himself up with one arm as he pushes the covers down. I follow his eyes down to where we’re joined as he pulls out until only his tip is inside me then pushes back into me. I could feel how big his girth is when he stretched me but looking at it I’m amazed he could fit it all the way inside me. That right there is every woman’s dream. “Do you see how well we fit together?” My eyes snap up to his. He was watching me watch his movements. “Do you see how we’re made for each other?”
I can only grunt as he starts moving faster. My hips buck, meeting his every move. When he leans down and takes my nipple into his mouth, I arch my back, pushing it harder against his lips, eliciting a moan from him. Then those butterflies you get in the pit of your stomach? You know, the ones that start building in intensity until you feel like you’re going to explode or scream or both? They had already begun as soon as he was inside me but now – as soon as I felt his fingers on my aching clit, rubbing hard and pressing down then rubbing hard again, over and over, the butterflies took flight and then an explosion of tingles from the tips of my fingers and toes moved through me at lightning speed. I’d only heard about flashes of light or fireworks from reading romance books when having an orgasm. I thought they were crazy. Nothing like that happens in real life. I mean, that’s fiction, right? God, was I wrong. I was so very, very wrong. My eyes are open. I can barely see through the haze and flashes of lights. As he continues to move and rub my clit, the orgasm lingers longer and longer.
“You’re so fucking sexy,” he whispers. I can actually feel him growing inside me as he continues his movements.
Then the most beautiful thing I’ve ever witnessed happens as the cloudiness begins to dissipate. Beads of swea
t cover his arms and chest. He arches his back but looks down into my eyes. His brows lower and his face contorts as if he’s in pain. “Mia!” he screams as his arms start shaking, his body shuddering with his release. I feel his cum purge into me, not in spurts but in streams. Is he not wearing a condom? I hadn’t even noticed. He felt so incredible. He lays down beside me quickly, careful not to land on me. His arm is bent over me, his hand in between my breasts. I’m still trying to catch my breath when he turns his head and stares at me. His eyes are glossed over, a smile on his gorgeous mouth. “It was more than I ever imagined it would be,” he whispers.
Hmm? But we’ve only known each other for two days? He makes it sound like he’s been imagining this for years. Mysterious. Strange. Yet endearing.
I look at him, fully sated yet wanting more. Another contradiction. I’m beyond exhausted. As if he senses this, I watch him climb from the bed, walk into the bathroom and soon returns. He lowers the covers from my body and nudges my legs open. I let out a sigh as he cleans me with a warm cloth. He’s nothing like the bad-boy personas I’ve read about or seen in movies. I know they’re fiction but they seemed so real. My eyes are fixated on him as he returns to the bathroom then climbs back into bed, sliding under the covers. He pushes an arm behind me then pulls me over onto my side, my head laying on his broad chest as if it should be there. His arm tightens around me as he kisses the top of my head. “Sleep now,” he whispers.
I look up at him, sleepily. “What does Mia mean?” He said it instead of my name, in such reverence as he released. It was – beautiful.
He looks down at me. His brows furrowed with such seriousness covering his features. “It means – mine.” Strange. But it almost feels good that he feels I’m his. I must be more tired than I realize. “Now to go to sleep.” He kisses my forehead, and I lay my head back onto his warm chest. “Mia,” he whispers as I close my eyes. “Mia per sempre.”
