by Vicki Green
“Well, good morning, sweetheart. You’re here early.”
I’m disappointed that Dax isn’t here but seeing Dad’s smile, my whole attitude changes. I walk over, lean down, and kiss his cheek. “Morning!” My smile doesn’t falter as I walk over to the counter and set the sack down. “I brought you a bunch of fresh fruit.”
“Oh! Thank you,” he responds enthusiastically.
“So. What will it be? I have oranges, peaches, pears, and grapes,” I ask as I start taking them out of the sack.
“Hmmm. I think grapes would taste delicious.”
After picking up the gallon bag of washed and separated grapes, I turn around and hand them to him. Once I’ve put everything away in the small fridge, I walk over and pull up the other small chair in the room and sit down next to him. We watch TV for the better part of the morning. Later, I sat with him and watched him eat lunch, him constantly trying to get me to eat some of his. I settled for an orange, promising myself I’d bring more fruit tomorrow. Maybe I’ll even make a fruit salad. He’d like that. We chatted like nothing was wrong. Like our whole world hadn’t turned upside down. Like at some point, he won’t be here anymore and I’ll be alone. I was devastated when Mom and Bobby were killed in that horrible car accident. Dad and I have been without them for over half my life. It was almost a normal day until I kissed him goodbye to go to the lawyer’s appointment I’d been dreading.
An hour and a half later, I drove home from the lawyer’s office, numbly. Fred was cordial enough, sympathetic to a fault. He and Dad had done business for years and had become friends so he was feeling distraught. It was hard for him to go through all the paperwork with me. Power of Attorney, medical and financial. Funeral services, the vault at the mausoleum with Mom. My stomach was in knots and I felt sick. After getting home, I sat down at the kitchen table and started making a list of things I needed to do. Go to the bank and get on all of Dad’s accounts. I’m on the house deed so I don’t need to worry about that. I’ll have to speak to Dad about getting on the title of his car. I also need to talk to him about his funeral. He won’t want a fuss but I want it to be as nice as possible. He deserves that.
Suddenly, I get angry. Really angry. I throw the notepad across the room and then the pen. I don’t want to do this! Why did this have to happen? I don’t want to be an adult and have to take care of all this! My shoulders slump and I feel alone again. If I had any siblings, they would have been able to help me, but no – life had to throw curve balls at me and take the one thing away that would have helped. Covering my mouth with my hand, I gasp. Oh God! I’m so fucking selfish! Here I am only thinking of myself. Yeah, life sucks. Just like so many others in the world, Mom and Bobby were taken away before their time. And here I sit, wallowing in self-pity when they’re gone and none of what happened to them or this is their fault.
I stand, walk over and pick up the notepad and pen and place it on the table then turn off the lights as I walk to Dad’s bedroom. I know this isn’t healthy, sleeping in here, but somehow it comforts me a little. After changing into my nightgown and brushing my teeth, I crawl under the covers and pray that sleep takes me quickly.
“Shhh. I’ve got you.”
My eyes flutter around as strong arms lift me. Slowly, I open my eyes and look into the concerned browns of Dax’s. “What’s wrong?” I ask, sleep still having its hold on me. He lays me down on the mattress then pulls the covers up over me. I watch in silence as he removes his clothes down to his boxers. He walks around the bed, climbing in beside me. Pulling up the covers he doesn’t hesitate to pull me into his arms. Laying my head down onto his firm chest, I find that I’m shaking. His hand rubs up and down my arm over his waist and he runs his fingers through my hair, soothingly.
“You were having a bad dream,” he whispers so softly I could barely hear. I look up at him and realize my eyes are wet. He looks down, worry covering his gorgeous features. “You were crying, lying head down at the foot of the bed.” Because you weren’t here. Removing his fingers from my hair, he puts his arm around me, pulling me in tighter to his body. Then I feel him kiss my head. “What happened today?” You weren’t there.
Closing my eyes, I shake my head. You’re being selfish, again. “Nothing,” I whisper, my voice cracking. I feel the weight of his head lean against mine.
“You’re a terrible liar,” he says somewhat kidding.
Opening my eyes, I push my finger around the skin on his chest, giving him a shrug. “I used to be so strong. So independent. But I also used to be the child and Dad the adult. Now with everything that’s happening, I don’t know what I am anymore.”
Suddenly, I’m moved over as he turns onto his side. He reaches out and cups my face as seriousness replaces the worry. “You’re still a strong, vibrant woman, Saige.” His eyes search mine. “You’re just feeling what anyone would in this situation.”
I swallow hard, feeling the intensity of his glare. “What’s that?” What am I feeling? I feel numb. Alone. Forgotten. Heartbreak. Remorse. So many things, up then down and then up again. I feel – lost.
He begins to rub across my cheek with his thumb, tenderly. “Scared. Alone. Like your whole world is changing and you can’t stop it.” My brows lower and I feel a single tear slide from my eye and down to my cheek where his thumb is. “Like you want to take away what’s going to happen to him, save him,” he whispers. “But around him you stay strong when inside you’re falling apart.” I nod, shakily. His mouth turns into a sad smile. “It’s okay to feel this way, Saige. It’s even okay to fall apart.” More tears leave my eyes. “You’re a young woman whose life changed abruptly and now has to become the adult so quickly.” It’s like he knows exactly how I’m feeling when sometimes I don’t even know myself. As my chin begins to quiver and I feel the dam is about to break, he pulls me into his arms. I try to hold back, try to stay strong, but my tears won’t stop. He looks at me and then suddenly, pulls me so close that I let go into his chest. “It’s okay to cry when you’re alone. It’s okay to fall apart with me.” He keeps whispering soothingly into my ear, making me cry harder. I feel him kiss the side of my face, feeling the warmth of his breath on my wet skin. “Crying cleanses the soul.” He rubs my back as I sob into his chest, his skin wet from my tears. “Just remember – you’re not alone,” he whispers.
I have no idea of time, how long we lay there, and him letting me cry out everything in his strong arms. He makes me feel loved, cherished, and not alone. Again. My eyes are heavy and feel swollen from all the wetness. I’m about to fall asleep when my stomach makes the loudest grumbling noise. He pushes me back, giving me a stern look.
“What did you eat today?” he asks, almost in a growl. I look away, not able to meet his eyes. His hand grabs my chin and forces me to look at him. “Did you eat – anything?”
His skin is soft against mine and being so close to him makes me want to repeat the other night. How can I think about sex at a time like this with my world crumbling around me? Because he takes you away from everything. You get lost in him, his touch, his taste, his smell, and if only for a little while, you forget. You live a normal life, even if for a moment. His thumb rubs across my lower lip, making me focus back into his eyes. The features on his face have softened. “Have you eaten? Answer me, please.”
I swallow hard, almost afraid to say. “An orange?” I whisper.
I startle when he turns around abruptly, pushing the covers off with a force, and jumps from the bed. Pulling the covers up under my neck, I watch his sleek form pull on his jeans, grabbing a t-shirt and how the muscles in his arms and chest ripple and flex as he pulls it over his head and down his firm body. Looking like that has to be some kind of sin. Or maybe he’s just sin himself. When he turns and looks at me with sternness on his facial features, his eyes glaring at me, I shrink into the mattress. That bad-boy exterior shining through in full force. I feel the need to swallow my fear, but my mouth is suddenly dry. He walks around the bed, my eyes following his movements,
then looks down at me. I open my mouth to speak, to plead my case, when he grabs the covers and pulls them free from my tight grasp. In one swift motion, he slides his hands underneath me and lifts me into his arms.
“Oh!” I squeak, surprised at his actions making my heart race.
My mind takes off in a flurry in seconds.
What is he doing?
I don’t really know this man.
Is this where he kills me, after squirming his way into my life, acting like he’s tough one minute, sweet and caring the next?
Was it all a ploy to get into my house so he can rape and pillage?
Oh, my God! I’ve watched too many horror movies.
He starts walking out of the room with me in tow. “What are you doing?” I whisper, my arms around him holding on for dear life and looking into his blazing eyes, almost afraid of what he’ll tell me. He doesn’t speak a word as he carries me down the hall and through the family room. I study the hard features on his face, his. He’s every woman’s dream. Firm square jaw, which has a slight tick to it right now, like he’s clenching his teeth and trying his hardest not to let loose on me, which is exactly what he wants to do. He’s trying to be nice, in his own way. His eyes are not just the honey browns I’ve started to be accustom to but darkened to almost black. He takes me into the kitchen, setting me down roughly onto a chair. Is this where he finds a sharp knife and disembowels me, limb from limb? My heart lodges in the base of my throat, beating so fast I feel it may choke me. Every horror film I’ve watched in my youth starts filtering through my mind.
The stupid girl standing there, waiting, and watching the windows.
The complete dummy who calls out, “Who’s there?” Like they’re gonna answer her.
The idiot who’s alone in the house and hears a noise upstairs and instead of running out of the house for help, walks slowly up the steps.
And here I sit, watching him opening drawers. I purse my lips, ready to scream and run, when he opens the one containing our sharp knives, my body stiffens, and I prepare to bolt. But instead of him turning around to come after me, he walks to the refrigerator, opens it and starts rummaging around. Huh. He pulls out a package of steaks and corn on the cob, turning around to me with full arms. His face has softened, a little, and a small smile graces those lips I’d earlier wanted to kiss so badly.
I look at the clock on the oven and frown. “It’s two in the morning,” I say, like anything about us and this situation makes any sense.
“I don’t care. It’s only a number. You’re hungry and I could eat,” he grumbles as he sets everything down on the counter and starts to prepare the food.
I offer to help but am denied so I sit there and watch his fine body move as he cooks. Instead of cooking the steaks on the grill, he saturates them with a bottle of Italian dressing from my fridge, puts them into a skillet and places the corn into a large pot of boiling water. He moves around my kitchen as if he’s lived here for years. I’m mesmerized by his movements. The way his muscles flex in his strong arms, back, and legs. He must work out by the looks of his slim waist, large biceps, and thighs. He looks as if he could crush me instantly in a strong hold or even worse – shatter my heart in a million pieces. I’m not sure which is worse. I feel like my heart is so weak right now anyway with everything I have going on. As I watch him, I start thinking of my heart. Is it wrong to find a stranger so deadly attractive? Let him take me to bed and have sex not knowing a thing about him except that he’s Dad’s therapist and goes away for “business”? What does he do during that time? Why couldn’t he tell me what kind of business? Is it because he has secrets that I’m not allowed to be privy to? And why is that? Is he doing something illegal so in a way he’s protecting me? If so, should I really be involved with him in any way? My temples begin to ache with all the unknown and insecurities.
“You’re shaking.”
I look up as he sits down, not realizing I’d been so lost in my thoughts I hadn’t seen him set down a plate of food in front of me. The aroma of deliciousness fills the air, and my stomach growls. I look up at him, sitting there with a fork and knife in each hand but not making a move to eat. “Do I need to cut up your food and feed you?” His right brow raises and a playful smirk sets on his mouth. God, he’s so sexy. I think I might be delirious. I look down at my plate, my mouth watering. He’s right. My body is shaking from lack of food. I pick up the knife and fork, cutting into the steak, and close my eyes as I place it into my mouth. Tastes explode as I chew. This has to be the best steak I’ve ever eaten. “Glad you like it.”
I look at up at him, my fork raised with another delicious bite. “Wha – What?”
He chuckles as he cuts another piece from his steak, the sound moving straight down between my legs. He continues to cut and eat, all the while a smile on his lips. “You moaned,” he says as he puts another bite in his mouth, shrugging, like that’s a normal thing for anyone to do while eating. He looks at me, his eyes a lighter brown, full of playfulness. I moaned out loud? I’m mortified. I watch him lift his corn on the cob, the butter dripping from it as he brings it to his mouth. His lips form around it as his teeth dig into it. His eyes shift to mine as he chews, his lips coated with butter. That had to be the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. Not that I’ve seen that many things but even in my imagination, never did I visualize something so erotic about a sexy man taking a bite of corn. “It wasn’t like the moans I heard when we were together the other night.” My brows lift as I take in what he’s saying. Tilting his head, he appears to be thinking then smiles. “It was more like food sex noises.” I blink rapidly. “You know like food porn.” He chuckles as he takes another bite, and I’m once again hypnotized by him. I relax, watching his mouth as he chews, a hint of the melted butter on his chin. “Saige.”
“Huh?” I ask dreamily.
“Saige,” he says more loudly and forcefully. I blink a few times and look into his eyes. “Eat before I feed you like a toddler.” My brows lower until I feel like I’m squinting.
Looking down, I stab a piece of meat as if I’m taking out my anger on the poor thing. “I’m eating.” I look up and shove the fork into my mouth, chewing, and swallowing quickly. Oh, my God! Amazing! “See?” I look back down and pick up my corn, taking a huge bite. I look back at him as I swallow. “You don’t have to go all caveman on me.” I take another bite, relishing the taste. Wow, he does know how to cook! Sexy, mysterious, brooding, and caring. Now I can add an excellent cook to my adjectives of him.
“Caveman? Hardly.” He chuckles as he continues to eat.
I let out a most unladylike snort. His smile widens, making him even more gorgeous, if that’s even possible. As I eat, I get renewed strength and curiosity overtakes me. “So, why did you become a physical therapist?” I take another bite of steak, savoring the taste that explodes in my mouth.
He shrugs. “I love helping people.” Duh. Obviously.
I push a piece of meat around on my plate with my fork, watching him eat. “And these business trips you go on, what kind of business?”
His eyes shift to mine then back onto his plate. “Just business,” he replies, like it’s no big deal. But it is. I pretend it isn’t.
“What about family? Have any?” I ask as I take another bite of corn, trying to be nonchalant.
He surprises me by stopping and looking straight into my eyes. “I have a mom and a kid sister.” He seems to relax like talking about them is okay where nothing else is. “We’re really close and sometimes my sister a little too close.” He chuckles. I’m infatuated by his talking, the smooth sound of his low voice, and how animatedly his eyes get as he talks about his family. “She seems to think I’m the greatest, put me up on some damn pedestal when she was very little, and follows my every move and word.” He chuckles again, looking at me but lost in his memories. Suddenly he stops, giving me the one look I never wanted from him. Ever. Sympathy. “Look, Saige. I’m sorry.”
I shake my head, asking him to stop, d
iving into the rest of my food. It’s hard enough to see or hear concern or condolences coming from anyone else but from him it felt like it crushed me. For a short time, he’s been my strength, and I felt like I didn’t have to think about any of the disappointments or trials in my life when we’ve been together. It’s been like he’s shielded me from it all, made me forget at least for the time he was with me. It feels like he’s – betrayed me.
By the time my plate is empty I’m stuffed and sleepy as all hell. The air had shifted around us, and I didn’t like it. I tried not to be angry with him. After all, I’m the one who asked about his family. I hadn’t thought about how I’d react to it. The way he looked at me once he realized how sad I’d become and then to tell me he was sorry, I almost got up and left the table. I don’t begrudge him his happiness, but I guess I felt sorry for myself that mine is being taken away.
I stand, pick up both of our empty plates and rinse them and the utensils, putting them in the dishwasher. Then I cleaned the pan he cooked in and wiped the counter clean. When I turn around, I find him right in front of me, so close I can smell him – feel his warmth. He doesn’t smell of store bought fragrances, more like soap and a woodsy smell. Maybe part of that is just him. It intoxicates me and my feelings of betrayal for him start dissipating quickly. I look down, not able to meet his stunning eyes, afraid to see if they’re still filled with sympathy and remorse. His hands grasp my upper arms, and I slowly look up. The look on his face is of sorrow and sadness. He squeezes then rubs down my arms, leaving tingles where he’s touched. His eyes search mine, for what I’m not sure. He leans down, rubbing his nose against my cheek, and I feel his warm breath against my ear. “I didn’t mean to make you sad,” he whispers. I shiver. I try to take a step back, wanting to tell him it was my fault, but he holds me firm. He nips at my lobe, and I close my eyes, feeling emotional. Feeling him. “You can’t expect people not to care.” He kisses right below my ear then down the side of my neck. “Show you.” My head falls back, exposing my skin to him. Giving it to him. He sucks some skin into his mouth then licks over it, kissing it. “You don’t have to be alone.” His mouth trails tiny kisses down to the base of my neck. He puts his strong hands on my waist and pulls me closer, kissing back up my throat. My hands slide up his chest as a moan escapes me. Suddenly, he stops. I open my eyes and look into the depths of his. “I’ll never hurt you,” he whispers. He kisses my lips, gently, never taking his eyes from mine. “Ever.”
