by Taryn Plendl
She was pure beauty, trusting and waiting.
“How do you do this?” I fingered the blue blouse that showed just enough cleavage to make me hungry for more. “How do you match your clothes so perfectly when you can’t see them?” Hell, I struggled sometimes, and my sight was near perfect.
“Mira’s helped me pick a lot of my clothes out.” Her fingers pinched the bottom hem and lifted it over her head, leaving her in a lacy black bra and the black skirt. “They’re all labeled, but I still screw it up sometimes. I just hope someone will tell me before I head out in public.”
I was momentarily stunned, my hands poised in midair. She held the shirt out to me with a smile. A small tag on the inseam had raised Braille bumps along with the word blue printed. The number of resources available to make life easier, and her more independent, amazed me.
Taking the shirt from her, I tossed it over my shoulder and pushed her gently until she was lying on the bed. With far more care and precision than I wanted to use, I unbuttoned her skirt and dragged it down her legs, dropping it to the floor. My rough hands caressed her exquisitely soft skin from her knees to her ribs.
“No labels here.” I kissed her stomach, closing my eyes and breathing in her flowery scent. “Or here.” I nipped her side, smiling against her warm skin, loving the goose bumps that sprang up as she giggled. “I guess I’ll just have to try to find my own way.”
“Oh, God, please do.” Her back arched off the mattress. Her head fell against the pillow in anticipation. Sitting up, I pulled off my own shirt and worked on my belt. I couldn’t shed my clothes fast enough. It felt like minutes, not seconds, before I was able to press my lips to hers.
Every kiss had a raw passion. She was breathing fast, and my own heart rate was even faster. Moving softly together, like a breeze on the trees, I couldn’t stop if I tried; her soft moans and arching back short-circuited my brain in the best possible way. The only thing that mattered was touching her more, tasting and kissing her mouth, her neck, her stomach—it consumed me.
Without warning, she slipped from under me and rolled me, albeit willingly, onto my back, sitting astride my lap. Her delicate hands unclasped her bra, freeing her delectable breast. Taut, pink nipples made my mouth water and my cock throb.
The thin fabric barrier of her thong was too much, and my restraint was just as thin. She gasped as I tore the sides and pulled it from her.
“I was getting there,” she teased, leaning down as she slid her core over my straining hardness. The deep groan left my throat as I involuntarily thrust my hips, needing more than the fleeting friction.
“Wanna go for a ride, cowboy?” she asked as she glided over me again. My hands stilled her hips. For a quick moment, I worried I was going to end the ride before it even began.
“You’re killing me, Shiloh. Hold still, damn it,” I growled through clenched teeth as I reached for the condom I’d tossed to the bed. With trembling hands, I rolled it on and exhaled, shaking from the torturous need for release.
“Saddle up, Shi-girl.”
She smiled at the nickname and rose before lowering herself, taking my full length into her. Heaven.
Her head was thrown back, long locks of hair fluttering over my legs and balls as she rode me slow and steady. Soft moans from her lips left me entranced as I watched myself slip from her glistening core and disappear inside again. My thumb slipped between her thighs, circling her clit as she cried out in pleasure, pulsing around me until I couldn’t hold on a second more.
Pulling her down to me, I devoured her mouth, finding her as hungry as I was. Tongues plunging and tasting as they intertwined, while she rode me into a frenzy of aching need. Breaking free from my mouth, she kissed her way down to my chest, licking and sucking every scar as if she knew they were there. When she grazed my nipple with her fingernail, my climax shot through me so suddenly I grabbed onto her hips, matching her moves as I pounded, her name on my lips as I rode out the exquisite release.
She climbed off me way too soon. After removing the condom, I gathered her into my arms, holding her as I caught my breath.
“We’re going to Oklahoma to say goodbye to my father. He’s dying.” I had no idea why I blurted it out. He was the last thing on my mind, but it was also the final thing I hadn’t shared with her.
“Whatever you need from me, Nate, it’s yours. Tomorrow and after, okay?”
Too overwhelmed, I couldn’t find words, so I placed a kiss to her palm and tucked it into my chest. Her arms wrapped me in love, passion, and safety, too. It was as if she brought me back to life, renewed what was lost, and rebuilt what was shattered. She made me feel like I was born to be loved, to be cherished for who I was, unconditionally for the first time in my life. It scared me even more than the monsters in my nightmares.
The one-story building looked so unassuming. Light brick covered the outside with beige framing and shutters. It seemed safe. How could this place house a monster within its walls? Didn’t the people inside realize who they were taking care of? Providing compassion for? This was the same man who’d extinguished his lit cigarettes on my legs and shoulders. The same man who’d blasted me with words that had hurt almost more than the physical pain I’d endured.
“Nate?” Shiloh’s soft voice shook me from the memories. “Are you sure you want to do this? You know you don’t have to.”
She was wrong. I didn’t have a choice. If I ever wanted to move forward, I needed to confront the monster of my nightmares. I gently placed her hand on my elbow before moving to the door. “I’m ready.” I wasn’t sure if I was telling her, or trying to convince myself, but as long as Shiloh was by my side, the rest of the world could go to hell.
The clinical smell assaulted my nose as soon as we made it through the doors. It was a mixture of bleach, flowers, and something I couldn’t describe. Something I probably didn’t want to identify.
“Can I help you?” A dark-haired woman sat behind a small window with a computer to her right. Her genuine smile almost made me want to let my guard down. Almost.
“Yes, we’re here to see Marty Davis.” The name croaked out of my mouth. Shiloh’s small hand squeezed my arm, and I took a deep breath, doing my best to keep my shit together. The woman typed on her keyboard and looked at me in surprise.
“Are you one of his sons?” she asked. “We were told no one would be coming.”
“Marty was my father,” I confirmed.
“Is,” she amended. “He isn’t gone yet.” Her smile remained gentle and full of compassion. I wondered how compassionate she would be if she knew the true man like I did.
“Was,” I corrected. “His being alive doesn’t change that fact, ma’am.” The truth was, Marty was my father in genetics only.
A frown settled on her face, but she directed us to room six.
As we approached the door, I was willing to bet Shiloh was the only thing keeping me on my feet. Without so much as a knock, I pushed it open and stepped in.
Small and quaint, it had the look of a hotel room. The medical equipment was disguised by cabinet doors and paintings, giving it a homey feel. The hospital bed looked out of place, but not as much as the frail old person occupying it.
Gaunt, gray skin hung on the man’s frame. Mottled spots covered the arms and legs poking outside of the blankets. I didn’t know this person. Were we in the wrong room?
“Nate?” Shiloh tugged my arm, and I realized I’d stopped in the doorway.
Her voice stirred the man in the bed, and his head turned, eyes boring into mine. I might not have known the body in the bed, but I sure as hell knew those eyes. Poorly masked by thick, white eyebrows, they still harbored an evil that couldn’t be hidden, not when he looked at me.
I expected to be terrified. I expected to feel the need to run, but as I stared at the frail old man, I felt almost vindicated. This man had tried to destroy me, but he hadn’t. With measured steps, I approached, Shiloh tucked tight to my side. Standing tall, I peered down at the shrive
led hunk of flesh.
“Still a fucking pretty-boy, huh?” The scratchy voice was barely audible, and his chest heaved with the effort. Deep wrinkles around his mouth froze his face in a permanent scowl. It was easy to see this man’s misery was of his own making. He might have taken it out on me and Ryke, but deep down, it had nothing to do with us. It took seeing him small and pitiful, for me to realize the truth.
When I was a child, he’d seemed bigger than life. I never would’ve been strong enough to stand up to him.
The memories of my early childhood stayed with me, but for the first time since, they held no weight.
“Marty,” I greeted, surprising myself with how strong my voice sounded. “Looks like you’re as ugly on the outside as you’ve always been on the inside.”
Shiloh didn’t try to stop me. Her solid support strengthened me even more.
“I expected your brother would come before you. I bet you’re feeling strong now that I’m bedridden, huh, you little shit?” The sardonic smile held no dominance over me.
“Ryke has no use for you, Marty. Why would you think he’d come? Do you think he’d feel the need to say goodbye? To make amends? Don’t hold your breath, old man. You’re as good as dead to him already.” My mouth rose in a smirk as I glared down at the pitiful excuse for a man.
“You thrived on your power by taking your failures out on a child. Did that make you feel strong, you bastard? I hope, as you lay here dying, that you’re haunted by every scream and cry you caused, and as you take your last breath, I want you to understand something.” I leaned down to look him right in the eyes. “You have no power over me. You’ll die a miserable human being all alone while I’m living the life you were never man enough to have.”
Without another word, I spun on my heels and marched purposefully to the door with my girl on my arm in a unified front. I’d entered the room with leftover fear and anger, and left with nothing but relief. With a final glance at the building, I experienced a rush of freedom like I’d never known.
As I helped Shiloh into the truck, she took my hand in hers and pressed it to her chest. Her heart was pounding at the same rate as mine. I pressed my lips to hers before backing away, closing the door, and going around to my side.
“Are you okay, Nate?” Shiloh asked, looking in my direction.
As I entered the on ramp, I realized I was grinning like a fool. “That felt really good, Shiloh. I’m not gonna lie.”
Her soft giggle was like music to my ears. I couldn’t explain the relief. After all these years, I was free from my past.
“I’m so proud of you, Nate, and for the first time, I really wish I could see you.”
She was so beautiful sitting there. I smiled, even though she wouldn’t see it. “Shiloh, sight or no sight, rest assured you’re the only one who’s ever really seen me.”
Happiness radiated through the cab of the truck as I gazed at the woman next to me—the woman I loved. Holy shit! I was in love with this woman.
That thought was the last thing through my mind before a blaring horn and screeching tires pierced my ears. The impact was so hard my body bounced back against the seat and then flew forward as the truck spun. The clatter of crunching metal and shattering glass filled the cab. As the truck flipped over, my body collided with the steering wheel. We came to a sudden stop, and my head smashed against the windshield.
“Shiloh,” I croaked, reaching out for her.
Everything went black.
S H I L O H
Amusement park rides were a childhood favorite of mine. The fast turns and jolting bends sent ripples through my belly that tickled and made me laugh. After I went blind, they lost their appeal. I didn’t like being taken by surprise without any control. On a horse, I sensed the movements before they happened. I got the thrill without the surprise. That wasn’t the case with rides, and it sure as hell wasn’t the case with this crash. I was trapped in the unpredictable steel prison.
There was no way for me to know. Everything happened so fast. No warning. No catch in his breath. No cussing or screaming. Nothing.
The momentum from the impact slammed my face into the airbag. The harsh crack of my nose radiated through my ears. Thrown back and forth like a rag doll, my head smashed the window as I grappled for something to hold me in place.
The truck tipped and then completely rolled. The seat belt gripped and tore my skin with every revolution. With no indication of what was next or when it would all be over, seconds felt like hours. The top of the truck scraping against the concrete was so close the vibrations ran through my body. The rancid smell of burnt rubber filled my nostrils, leaving an unwelcome taste in my throat.
God, I didn’t want to die.
As everything stopped, the only thing I heard was the wheels of the truck spinning above me, and glass clinking as it showered around us. Blood rushed to my head. As I hung upside down, the seat belt hurt me as much as it saved me. With one hand, I braced myself, and the other found the release. The drop was hard as my shoulder took the impact. The silence scared me more than the pain. Shouldn’t Nate be making some noise?
“Nate?” I croaked around the blood flowing over my lips. From my nose or head, I had no idea. Everything was throbbing. Feeling around, I searched for Nate, suddenly afraid he’d been thrown from the truck. When my hand brushed his, I cried out in relief. I checked for a pulse but was having a hard time finding one. Dragging my hands up his arm, I realized why. Right below his elbow, bone scraped my finger, and blood pulsed out with every beat of his heart. I ripped my belt from my jeans and wrapped it around his arm and pulled it as tight as I could.
“Nate? Nate, can you hear me?”
His breath came out in shallow pants, so that was good. Patting my hip, I was never more thankful to find my phone still in the clip. With my free hand, I pulled it out and pressed the number two button, holding it until it started ringing.
“Shiloh? Hey girl, how is it going?” Mira’s voice singsonged through the line.
“Mira, oh God, Mira!” I gurgled through the blood, spitting out what I could, and gagging on what was left.
“Shiloh? What’s wrong? Where are you?” Mira screamed through the phone. “Shiloh?” The phone seemed to drop, and then a deep voice broke through.
“Shiloh, it’s Silas. What’s wrong?”
“Accident,” I sobbed into the phone.
“Okay, Shiloh, where are you guys?”
“Oh, God, Silas, I don’t even know.”
“Hang on, Shiloh. I hear sirens. Don’t hang up. Just give the phone to whoever comes to help, okay? We’re coming as soon as we find out where you are.” Silas’s voice was calm as Mira shouted for Ryke in the background.
Suddenly, chaos replaced the quiet outside the truck. Footsteps pounded the pavement as voices shouted, but none of those voices were as loud or as anguished as Ryke’s as he called for Nate through the phone.
“Ma’am? Can you hear me?” A voice came from the other side of Nate.
“His arm,” I croaked.
“Okay, I see it. I’m going to reach in and take hold of the belt so we can get you out.”
“Is he alive?” I begged.
“Yes. Let us help you.” A hand covered mine, taking the belt from me. “Take my partner’s hand next to you,” the person instructed.
“I’m blind.” I hated how helpless I sounded.
“Shiloh!” Ryke’s voice bellowed as the hand guided me through an opening. I collapsed the moment my feet touched the pavement. I felt like I was there forever, fading and waking, agony and fear for Nate the only thing keeping me holding on.
I tried to match my breaths to the beeping machines surrounding the bed. Nurses flitted in and out of the room touching, poking, and prodding me. Some simply stopped, pens scratching paper as they wrote things down and left. Keeping my eyes closed was easier than talking to anyone.
At one point, a doctor set my nose, and a sweet girl named Sara cleaned me up a little. The songs she
sang as she worked soothed my panic.
I had no idea where my phone was, and no one would tell me how Nate was, just that he was in surgery. Fear consumed me as I waited for news.
“Shiloh?” Mira’s soft whisper made my eyes spring open and had me hoping like hell I wasn’t imagining it.
“Mira? Is it really you?” My hands flew up, searching for my friend.
“I’m here, Shiloh.” She grabbed mine and brought them to her lips.
“Ryke’s here, too. He’s checking on Nate.” Her distressed voice quivered as she spoke.
Ryke was here? Thank God. Struggling against the covers and discomfort, I tried to sit up.
“They won’t tell me about Nate, Mira.” I sobbed, fear and despair bubbling over after holding it in for so long.
“Shhh, Ryke’ll come as soon as he knows something.” Mira pushed me back gently, her voice now calm and gentle in contrast to mine, which bordered on hysterical.
“God, Shiloh . . . your face,” Mira gasped, as if she had finally taken a look at me.
“Is it bad?” My fingertips glided over my face, finding the splint on my nose and the raised and tender cuts and scrapes. “I have stitches?” I asked, discovering a long wound along my hairline. I didn’t even remember.
“Yes, and you’re in desperate need of a good hair washing unless you want to be a redhead.” Her joke was only a little funny.
“I was so scared,” I whispered, pulling her arm so she was closer.
“I can’t imagine. You should see the truck, Shiloh. It’s crushed.” Mira’s voice was thick and strained from crying, almost a whisper, even though she had every reason to shout.
The memory of the crunching metal, and the repulsive burning rubber caused the hair on my arms to stand on end. A violent shiver coursed through my body, sending shards of pain across my nerves. I could only imagine what the truck looked like.
She ran her hand over my head in such a loving gesture, it brought tears to my eyes. We sat in silence until heavy footsteps came through the door. The woodsy scent filling the room announced Ryke’s presence.
