by JA Huss
That makes me smile. But then I remember that Rook’s not mine and I just walked away for good. That action—walking away from her, slamming that door and driving off—that was the most painful thing I’ve ever done. And it still hurts. Like… in my chest. I’m not sure what it is, really. This feeling. It’s a little bit like when my dad died a couple years ago. But not really. It’s different.
That was just… unreal. Like I was watching a movie of everyone around me going through the motions of mourning.
I did not cry. Not once. But my dad would not take it personally, because as far as I can remember, I’ve never cried. Not for a stubbed toe, not for being called names in elementary school, not when my dog died when I was ten. And not when my dad died when I was twenty-three even though I did out-luck Ronin in the dad department and I miss him this very moment.
I came to the conclusion a long time ago that I don’t have tears. I’m deformed.
This is not logical reasoning and I realize this. If I had no tears I’d need eye drops. I’d have all kinds of eye problems, and my vision is perfect. So of course, I make tears. I just don’t cry tears. This gets me through the introspection required to understand why I have never felt the deep sadness that others experience.
I look at myself in the mirror as the steam floats out of the bathroom. People who know me see the imperfect weirdo. They see the anti-social freak. They see nothing about me that’s real. And the people who don’t know me are instinctively suspicious. I have a vibe, or something. A vibe that says stay away.
And yet when people look at Ronin they see honesty. Even though he’s a fucking professional liar.
I scrub my hands over my stubbly chin. I’m gonna grow it out. I’m gonna be someone different. I’m going to do things different from this second on. I’m not going to look for happiness anymore. I’m going to eschew happiness and seek out the glum. The broken and doomed. The dark and the dirty.
Why not? It’s where I belong anyway.
I’m New Ford. Fuck happiness. Fuck the nice girls. Fuck everyone. I’m all about me now.
I take off my suit coat and hang it up using the pathetic hangers in the makeshift closet next to the bathroom vanity, then strip off my shirt and do the same thing with that. Like it or not, I’ll have to wear it tomorrow. Even New Ford realizes gym shorts will not do in the aftermath of a blizzard. I check the water temperature in the bathroom one more time and I’m unbuttoning my pants to strip down when there’s a small knock at the door.
I peek around the corner and stare at it.
The knock comes again.
I walk over and open the door, expecting Mrs. Pearson. But it’s the girl with the baby.
She swallows hard, like it’s taking an incredible amount of willpower just to stand here at the door. “I’d like to take you up on your offer. I’m sorry I was rude.”
I don’t even know what to say. She sways back and forth a little, like she’s trying to comfort her baby who must be hidden under the blankets covering the carrier, but the child is silent so it comes off as nerves.
And then she decides my silence is a message and she hears it loud and clear. She turns and starts walking back towards her car.
“Stop.” I find my voice. “You can stay.”
Her shoulders stiffen, but she stops walking and the snow just pours down on her like blobs of white rain. Her dark hair is soaking wet and dotted with sparkling flakes. It takes another second for her to turn and then she nods at me. I open the door wider, letting in the blizzard and freezing cold air, and she brushes past my bare chest when she enters my room.
I shiver, but not from the cold.
So much for New Ford.
Chapter Five
I close the door with a whoosh and my heart beats erratically for a few seconds before it calms down. We stand still, her looking at the room, not turning to face me. And me looking at her.
The distressed cry from beneath a blanket covering a baby carrier snaps me out of my surreal funk and brings her focus back. “I’m sorry,” she says as she sets the carrier down on the floor and kneels. “I just…” She pulls the pink blanket away and snow falls onto the floor. The baby is trying its best to sleep, but there’s too much going on and its little fists flail as it winds up to wail.
I grab the remote and flip the TV and the lights off at the same moment. The girl gasps.
“Sorry.” It’s my turn to apologize. The bathroom light is still on, so it’s not completely dark, but the baby quiets down. “It was too bright and I don’t mean anything derogatory by this remark, but crying babies are not my thing.”
She finally turns to face me. Her eyes are brown and so is her hair. It’s soaking wet, and now that I have a good chance to look her over, so are her clothes. Her skin has olive undertones, but maybe she’s tired, or maybe she’s scared, because she’s very pale at the moment. “I was just saying that I’m sorry to have to ask for help. I’m just… stranded with no other options.”
“Of course,” I say, waving my hand at the beds. “This is out of character for me as well. I do my best to ignore society as a whole. I just happened upon you in a vulnerable moment. I was just going to take a shower, so—”
So what?
“So just do whatever you need to do.”
I go back into the bathroom and close the door. What the fuck did I just get myself into? I shake it off as I undress then get in the shower. Luckily the water is still hot, otherwise I’d be pissed. When I’m done I realize my gym bag is still out on the bed so I wrap a towel around my waist and go to retrieve it.
She’s lying down with the baby, huddled under the blanket. She might even be asleep, although that is not a very smart move. I could be a serial killer for all she knows. My bag is on the bed closest to the door, so she’s sleeping in the one nearest the bathroom. I grab the bag off the bed and when I turn she’s staring right at me. Her eyes take in my bare chest for a few seconds—not in a seductive way, either, more of a do you mind putting on some fucking clothes way.
I ignore her and go back to the bathroom and change into my gym shorts, then flip the light off and walk back over to the bed.
“It’s freezing in here,” she says softly. “I tried to change the setting on the heater, but it’s just cold air so I turned it off.”
“Oh, yeah, I forgot.” I switch the bedside light on and grab the heat blanket on my bed and offer it to her. “It’s a blizzard blanket. Self-heating. It should last all night.”
“What about you?”
I offer her a small smile and hold up the other bag. “I have two. But takes like fifteen minutes for them to heat up, and this one’s already warm.” I wait a few seconds as she studies my face. “Want it?” She still says nothing. “Well—” I throw it over the top of her and then sit back down on my bed. “I’ll have to insist. You’re still wet.” I rip open the other blanket bag and her reply is so small I almost miss her, “Thank you.”
“No problem.” I throw the other blanket over my bed, turn the light off, and let out a long sigh as I get under the covers. What a fucking day.
“Good night,” she says. And then there’s some rustling as she turns over.
“Night,” I say back to the darkness. I expect to stare at the ceiling for a good long while, since I’m not a big sleeper on the best of days and having a strange girl with a baby in my room is pretty out of the ordinary for me. But I’m drifting off before I can even close my eyes.
I sit up in bed, confused, and then instinctively reach over and switch on the light. “What’s that fucking sound?” And where the hell am I, I don’t add out loud. My heart slows as I remember. I turn to the girl in the bed next to me and her expression is nearing fearful. “Sorry,” I say.
“She’s hungry, that’s all. I’m trying to be quiet.”
It’s only then that I notice the sound that woke me is a baby suckling. On a breast. That’s partly exposed right now. I’m not sure what comes over me but it takes quite a few seconds to
pull my eyes away. When I find her gaze she’s not afraid anymore, she’s mad. I laugh a little as I switch the light off and lie back on the bed, my hands behind my head.
“What’s funny?” she asks, annoyed.
“That look. Like you’d punch me in the face if you didn’t have a baby attached to you.”
“I’m going to ignore you.”
And she does. The baby slurps away happily and I can make out the girl’s face in a stray beam of light that filters through an opening in the curtains from the parking lot. Her eyes are closed and she appears utterly content.
My dick twitches a little and I laugh again.
“Do you mind?”
“I actually do not mind. Not one bit.” And then it’s my turn to turn away and ignore her. But the smile is still on my face and even though I’m almost embarrassed to admit it, I think that breastfeeding a baby not six feet away from me—a man she knows nothing about but seems ready to trust completely—is just about the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever encountered.
Chapter Six
A knock at the door pulls me back from my dreamless slumber. I open my eyes and stare at the door. “Now what?” I look over at the girl but she’s still asleep. I wrap the blanket around me and check the time on my phone. Seven AM. Who the fuck is up at seven AM on New Year’s Day?
I pull it open, ready to bitch out whoever’s on the other side, but stop short when I realize it’s Mrs. Pearson.
“Rutherford, sorry to bother you…”
I wait.
“Do you mind if I come in? It’s six degrees out here.”
“Oh, sure.” I step aside and let her in.
She pushes past me and then stops short as I close the door. “Oh, I just assumed you were alone last night. I only charged you for a single.”
“So bill me,” I reply dryly.
“No, no, that’s fine. You know we were all so disappointed when you never came for your father’s funeral. The whole village turned out. Everyone wanted to see you.”
I have nothing for that.
“At any rate, I’m happy you’re back. I’m sure everyone will be glad to talk to you.”
“I’m not back. I broke down and I’m passing through, that’s all.”
Her gaze remains on the girl in the bed and I have to clear my throat to get her attention back. “Right,” she says, finally turning back to me. “Dallas called Jason last night and told him of your… situation.” Her eyes linger on the girl again, like she just can’t accept the fact that she’s there. “Anyway, Jason said he’ll be in at eleven to take a look at your truck. You still have that thing, huh?”
“Yes, Mrs. Pearson, it’s a classic.”
“Oh, well… I hope it has seatbelts. You know, for the baby.”
I look over at the girl, who now has her eyes open and is starting to pull herself up from the bed. She’s stripped down to a t-shirt and her legs are bare when she swings them out from under the covers in a half-dazed state. The baby is sleeping next to her and shifts a little as she maneuvers, enough to make Mrs. Pearson jump into action to prevent a potential roll-off.
“Thanks,” the girl mumbles groggily. She’s clearly not awake yet.
I look over at Mrs. Pearson and she’s frowning. “Why is it so cold in here?” she asks.
“The heater’s broke, so we had to use blizzard blankets,” the girl replies as she rubs her eyes.
“Oh, dear. Why didn’t you ask Rutherford to come tell me?” Mrs. Pearson goes back over to the heater unit under the window and messes with the switch for a few seconds. “The dials on this one are off, you have to put it halfway between hot and cold to make the heat work.”
“Wonderful, thanks,” I reply. “Now that the fucking night is over and we have to leave, I’m so glad we have heat.”
“Rutherford, your mouth!” Mrs. Pearson chastises. I feel like I’m ten again.
“Rutherford?” the girl asks, looking up at me, confused.
“Ford, I suppose you know him by, right?” Mrs. Pearson nods to me and my eyebrows raise at the girl’s stare. “I was the village librarian when he was little, so naturally I stick to given names.” She walks over to the girl’s bed, pushing me right out of the way as she does this. “Blizzard blankets,” she says, her fingertips gliding across the blanket, testing for heat. “He always was resourceful. Did he tell you he was an Eagle Scout?”
The girl laughs and suddenly I feel like I’m just scenery, something to be talked about, but not talked to. I shake my head and then stare at the two of them as they discuss me.
“Was he?” the girl asks, interested.
“He never told you about how he electrocuted Jason in the boys’ bathroom and then used that apparatus for the sixth-grade science fair and got his electricity badge out of it at the same time? Rutherford is not one to waste an opportunity.” The girl laughs a little at this image and Mrs. Pearson is encouraged. “Honey, I have some stories—”
“OK, that’s enough.” I snap out of my daze and grab Mrs. Pearson by the arm and start pulling her towards the door. “And for the record, I was not charged for that small mishap in the skate park bathroom that year, so technically I never did it. Thank you for delivering the message, Mrs. Pearson. If Jason calls back, tell him I’ll meet him over there at eleven.”
“OK, but your wife can come visit with me while you figure out the mechanical stuff. I’d love to talk to her—”
“I’m sure you would. Thanks!” I shove her out the door and close it before she can open her mouth again. I look over at the girl and she’s smiling at me. “What?”
“Rutherford?” she snickers as the baby squirms in her arms. “You look nothing like one now, but I can totally see you as a nerdy little prankster.”
“A what?” I’m not sure if that was a compliment or an insult. “And please, only my parents call me Rutherford.”
She hugs the baby to her chest and coos at it for a few seconds, then gets back under the covers and lifts her shirt and slides the baby in next to her bare skin.
I want to look away.
That’s a lie. Not only do I not want to look away, I can’t look away, so the girl catches me staring again.
“The librarian thinks I’m your wife,” she says, closing her eyes as the baby begins to suckle.
“Yes, sorry about that. I’ll set her straight next time I see her.” I climb back into my bed, hoping all my chance encounters with Mrs. Pearson are over. I’ll just leave the key in the room and not check out. The heat’s blasting out of the unit now, and the room is warming up nicely. “We have a couple more hours, might as well enjoy it.”
I get no reply and at first I think she’s ignoring me, but when I open my eyes and drag my stare over to her, she’s already breathing heavy with her mouth open. Her dark hair spills over her shoulders in a long cascade and for a moment I imagine she’s Rook.
Would I want a wife and a child if it was with Rook?
Yes. Unequivocally, yes. I would like that. I’d like that very much. I take the daydream a little further and imagine Rook’s body pressed up against mine as she feeds our baby. How warm her skin would be. I allow the slurping noises the baby is making in the next bed to lull me further.
If that girl was Rook, she would be naked, tucked up into my chest as she nursed. I’d rest my cheek against her and pull her as close to my body as I could.
I’d touch her all over. Every bit of her body would get my attention. I’d explore her daily. Take her as often as I could get away with it. And not from behind, either. From below. So I could watch her move on top of me, watch her breasts as she arches her back when I make her come.
I could make her happy and she knows it.
She is the only woman I’ve ever wanted.
She is the one woman I cannot have.
The daydream fades and the baby sounds jerk me back to my reality. I’m with a strange girl and her child in the cheapest motel in Vail—a town I’ve avoided successfully for two-plus years. My ve
hicle is fucked and even though I could just rent a car and be on my way right now, that hunk of shit means far too much to leave behind.
Chapter Seven
I sit up straight in bed, confused as fuck again. “What is that smell?”
I get baby noises as a response.
“And why the fuck is it so cold?” I manage to locate the source of the noise—the baby is cooing in her carrier seat on the floor. Then the cold—the door is propped open with one of my shoes. The girl bursts through a second later, shivering from the frigid alpine air, and shuts the door. When she turns around she jumps and puts her hand on her chest.
“Oh, crap, you scared me! I thought you were asleep.”
I lie back and put my hand over my eyes to block out the light. “I was, until that smell woke me up.”
“Sorry,” she says quietly. Everything she does seems quiet to me. Slow. “She had a stinky diaper. I took it to the dumpster. That librarian lady said we have to be out by ten and it’s almost nine-thirty. So if it’s OK, I’m going to take a shower.”
I don’t even move my hand from my eyes. “Fine with me.”
“Um, I hate to ask, but… do you mind just keeping an eye on the baby for like five minutes? I promise to be—”
“Absolutely not.” I do take my hand away from my eyes for this, because I want to look her in the eyes. “No,” I repeat, shaking my head. “I do not do babies.”
She shoots me a dirty look, scoops up the baby carrier, and walks into the bathroom.
I do not care how angry she is. I do not do babies and I especially do not do babies belonging to strangers. And, I add to boost my reasoning, she should not want a stranger watching her baby, anyway.
The shower starts a minute later and I can hear her talking to the infant. I get up and get dressed in last night’s tuxedo, leaving off the tie. I button up the shirt without tucking it in and lay my suit coat on the bed. I don’t even have a winter coat because the last thing on my mind when I got dressed for the Chaput party last night was trying to drive the Bronco over the motherfucking Rocky Mountains and ending up stranded in Vail after a blizzard.
