Beautiful Disaster

by Rye Hart

  I didn’t care what I had to do to get out. I was leaving today, and no one could stop me.

  There was a hair tie lying on the counter, so I threw my hair up in a bun. I looked like hell, but it was the best it was going to get right now.

  I knew if I could reason with Drake, he’d let me go.

  He was stubborn, but he wasn’t a kidnapper.

  As I came out of the bedroom, I saw him propped against the wall. I jumped at his presence, taking stock of his body while he grinned. He was in a pair of old worn jeans and some boots. They were muddy, which meant he’d already been out on the farm today. But his chest was bare and his muscles were sculpted. He looked to be chiseled from the marble of the gods, and I stared at him before I made my way down the hallway.

  I felt my nipples puckering under my bra. As I made my way downstairs, Drake was hot on my heels. He followed me into the kitchen, his body heat radiating against my back.

  I made the grave mistake of leaning into him, and he took the opportunity to press a kiss to my cheek.

  “Mornin’ sunshine,” he said. “Figured you’d want something easy for breakfast.”

  He slid a bowl of cereal onto the table before he grabbed a banana.

  I stared at my breakfast as the banana he was holding slid into view.

  Drake sighed as I sat down, walking toward the kitchen counter and leaning against it.

  He folded his arms over his chest once again, his eyes staring out the window. His muscles were flexed and my body was falling for his trap. I could feel my nipples standing at attention. I could feel my pelvis churning. I could feel a heat rising up the back of my neck. It had been a long time since I’d been in his arms. Those arms that kept flexing for me as he lost himself in thought.

  My body wanted him badly.

  “How’d ya sleep?” Drake asked.

  “Fine,” I said.

  “The bed comfortable?”

  “Not as comfortable as mine. But it served the purpose.”

  “Got anything you wanna do today?” he asked.

  “Yep. I have to clean my bathroom at home and check in on some loose end P.A. clients I’m still working for.”

  “You’re working two jobs?” he asked.

  “I am. Which is why I need to get home. I got people waiting for me.”

  “I can have Hank get your laptop for you.”

  “Or you can take me to it.”

  “I probably have better internet here than you do at your apartment.”

  “Drake, I’ve already told you I’m not staying here. I want to go.”

  Before he could say anything, Paul stepped through the back door. His eyes darted between Drake and I, watching our silent standoff as he stood at the back door.

  Then he knocked off his boots and stepped his way into the kitchen.

  “Got whatcha asked for,” Paul said.

  “Thanks. It’ll make my run into town easier,” Drake said.

  “Make sure you get exactly what’s on the list. Don’t go improvisin’ on me,” Paul said.

  “When have I ever done that to you?” Drake asked.

  “Every damn time you go into town,” Paul said.

  I snickered at the comment as I continued to eat my breakfast. Drake shot me another heated look as I peeled my banana, shoving it into my face just to make a show of things. A grin slid across Paul’s cheeks as he turned his kind eyes my way, and immediately I felt a bit of relief. He tipped his hat to me, smiling broadly before he turned and left the house.

  I finished my breakfast as Drake studied the paper in front of him. He was flipping things over, his eyes scanning whatever document Paul had just handed him. I stood and took my bowl to the sink as I caught Drake’s stare again.

  “I’m ready to go home whenever you’re ready to take me,” I said.

  “Well, I’m not ready to take you.”

  “Then I’ll walk home.”

  “No, you won’t. We still have a lot of talkin’ to do, about how we’re gonna go about doing all this together,” Drake said.

  “I don’t have to stay here in order for us to talk. You can call. Or come over yourself.”

  “Thought you didn’t want me there.”

  “I don’t want you living there, no. But you can come visit.”

  “Like you expect me to just come visit my child whenever it’s convenient for you?” he asked.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me. I’m this baby’s father and you aren’t going to push me away. Not now, not ever.”

  “I’m not going to keep you from this child,” I said. “What kind of person do you think I am?”

  “The type of person to not tell me you're having my child, maybe?”

  His words were like a blow to my gut. He pressed by me, his body heat gracing me one last time as tears filled my eyes. Was that what this was all about? He thought if I left, I’d keep his fucking child from him? I whipped around on my feet, watching him as he pulled a shirt from the closet. He pulled it over his head, then grabbed a baseball cap and started for the front door.

  “Don’t you leave, Delia. We still have a lot we gotta sort out. But first, I gotta go get feed and see about getting a new damn tractor,” Drake said.

  He threw his front door open and slammed through the screen door, his legs boasting of a swagger that still didn’t mesh with his ranch life. I had no idea how he did it. How that cocky swagger of his got set aside, for the rough and tumble ranch life. None of it fit together. They were two separate worlds, yet somehow, he managed to make it work.

  How he managed both lives was beyond me.

  But if he could make two seemingly opposite lives work, then maybe he could make us work.

  Maybe we could make us work.

  CHAPTER 29

  Drake

  After a quick ride into town, I grabbed everything we needed. Though, I still didn’t trust Delia not to run off into the sunset with my child, so I called the tractor company on the phone instead of going into their store. That shit was gonna cost me way more than I wanted to pay, but the tractor we had couldn’t be fixed. Paul and I had slaved over that piece of shit for days trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with it. But, I was done fighting with it.

  I needed to conserve my energy for other things.

  Like fixing shit with Delia.

  When I got back to the ranch, I drove the truck around to the feed barn and helped Paul toss bags into the corner. Then I drove the truck back up to the house and walked inside. I braced myself to find Delia gone. For her stubborn ass to have walked back to her apartment or some shit. But instead of finding the house devoid of her, she was the first thing I saw when I walked in.

  It reminded me of that night when I walked onto the bus and saw her asleep on the bus tabletop.

  She was asleep was on the couch while Elsie sat at her feet with a book. Elsie was reading to her, talking her through all the concepts of this new book she was studying. I watched for a while, listening to Elsie read page after page to a sleeping Delia. The soft snores that fell from her lips caught my sister’s attention, and Elsie looked back before she sighed.

  My sister touched Delia’s arm a couple of times before I intervened.

  “Thanks for keeping her company, sis,” I said, with a smile. “I’ll take it from here.”

  Elsie smiled up at me as she got up, taking one last look at Delia before she left us alone.

  My sister never ceased to amaze me. How attentive she was to the needs of others, despite struggling with her own. The same could be said for Delia, for her independence and her fire and her perseverance.

  She was a mixture of amazing and frustrating. And I loved every minute of the polarity of her.

  I sat on the couch, lifting her legs and hooking them over mine. She began to stir, her body stretching and her groans filling the room. The swell of her breasts was mesmerizing. I was trying to read up on what was going on with her in my spare time, trying to educate myself on what
she would be experiencing so I could help her the next time she was in pain. I'd been through some of this with Shannon, but Delia's problems were entirely new to me.

  I saw her wince as her hand went to her hip, and I instantly began massaging it. Her eyes popped open at my ministrations and she looked up at me, but she didn’t pull away from my grasp. Instead, she pulled the blanket up to her chin, her eyes fluttering shut as I continued to massage her aching ligaments. I knew that if this was going to work between us, we had to come clean with one another. I had to let her know the real me and she had to do the same. It was time to be honest.

  “Feel better?” I asked.

  “Mhm,” she said, with a hum.

  “Now that I’ve got a break, I want us to play a game,” I said.

  “A game?”

  “Yep. It’s called the truth game.”

  “Sounds like a stupid game,” she said.

  “The name’s lame, but the premise is simple. I tell you one truth, then you tell me one. We go back and forth until we run out of truths to tell one another, then we order pizza for dinner. How does that sound?”

  “Fine,” she said with a sigh.

  “I shattered my leg three years ago, right before the band was discovered. I was on the tractor, drunk, and I fell asleep. I fell off and the tractor rolled over me, nearly severing my leg. My drinking only got worse after that,I said.

  I watched Delia’s face drop as her jaw unhinged in shock.

  “This is the part where it’s your turn,” I said.

  “I can’t ask you any questions about it?” she asked.

  “I’ll answer all of them before you can ask them. It’s the beauty of the game. Your turn,” I said.

  “Okay. Since we’re starting off heavy. Um—my mother committed suicide when I was seventeen. She suffered from severe depression.”

  Now I felt my face dropping as the curtain over her eyes slowly began to lift.

  “My mom died trying to get me to the hospital. My mom was pulling me out from underneath the tractor, but she had a heart attack from the shock of everything, I guess. Paul was the one that called 9-1-1. I Momma died in the hospital two days later.”

  “Oh my God, Drake. I’m so sorry,” Delia said, genuine compassion in her eyes.

  “Your turn,” I said.

  “My father was an alcoholic,” she said.

  So many fucking pieces dropped into place with those five words.

  “He loved my mother the best way he could, but it wasn’t enough. He’d get sober then get drunk again. Get sober then get drunk again. One day he and my mother fought so hard and screamed so loud that he gathered his stuff and left. He um—”

  I watched tears crest her eyes as she turned her gaze out the window.

  “He left drunk. Just left me and Mom behind. I can remember how broken she was, sobbing on the kitchen floor as I rushed to the door. I wanted him to come back so badly. I screamed for him. Begging him to come back and at least sleep off the alcohol first.”

  Her hands were trembling so badly that I took them into mine. I didn’t know what else to do. Never in my wildest dreams could I have ever pictured innocent little Delia going through shit like this. It was like I was seeing her for the first time.

  And all of her reactions were finally making sense.

  “He died, didn’t he?” I asked.

  “No questions. It’s your turn,” she said.

  “My wife was pregnant with our second child when she died. I didn't just lose one child that day, I lost two, along with the woman I loved.”

  Delia covered her mouth with her hand, gasping, as she stared at me with such intense pain in her eyes. “I'm sorry, Drake. I had no idea.”

  I wasn't sure I could handle talking even more about it, so instead, I took a deep breath and said, “Your turn.”

  “Shortly after my Dad left, the police called. They said there’d been a crash and that my Dad was hurt. He’d run a red light in his drunken stupor and crashed into an oncoming car. He was dead before my mother could get out to him,” she said.

  “Holy fuck,” I said, as I drew in a deep breath.

  “After the investigation and after his truck was declared totaled, I bought it from the scrap yard. I learned how to fix trucks and cars because of that thing.”

  “That old rust bucket truck is the one your father crashed?” I asked.

  “It is. It’s the only thing I have left of him. Whenever I sit behind the wheel, I feel like he’s with me. And I need that—especially now.”

  I squeezed her hands in reassurance as a tear trickled down her cheek.

  “I was a mistake to my parents,” I said.

  Delia slowly panned her gaze over to mine as her eyes locked onto me.

  “My parents were just hooking up when they got pregnant with me. And my Mom was like you, according to my Dad. She was hesitant to even do this with him. She wanted an abortion, but he convinced her not to get one. They tried to make it work, but it wasn’t easy. But they did go on to fall in love with one another, to lead a great life. They had my sister and that brought on a whole other set of struggles, but they did it. They stuck by one another because they knew they could trust the other to be there.”

  “You’re making that up,” she said.

  “God as my witness, I’m not. Took my father six months, according to him, to convince my momma to do it with him, to raise me together instead of separately. He believed in a unified home and he believed Momma and he could do it. And they did. They built all of this together, but what brought them both to it was me. The mistake.”

  “This child isn’t a mistake,” Delia said. “No child ever is.”

  “Then we’re one step ahead of them, in my eyes,” I said.

  In the span of thirty minutes, I felt like I knew her better. Like I knew her for the woman she was. Her past made so much sense now when it came to her actions and her words. And the way she was so desperate to keep me at arm’s length was because I reminded her of her father. Not the good part of him, but the bad one. The one that left his daughter on the front porch screaming for him as he drove away drunk.

  But she reminded me of my mother, of her strength and her beauty and her integrity. Her fiery personality and her stubbornness. It was familiar to me in a way that home should be.

  She was familiar to me in a way home should be.

  I slid her legs from my lap and crept closer to her. Delia’s eyes were connected with mine as I pressed my lips against hers. I felt her stiffen underneath me before she gave way, her tongue licking across my lips. I allowed her entrance, her body unfolding for me as her legs spread to accommodate me. Our tongues collided, and I could feel her trembling, her moans being swallowed in my kiss as her hands gripped my back.

  I sank down on top of her, cloaking her with my body as I tasted her sweetness. How I had missed her. How I had dreamed of her during my stint in rehab. Every night when I closed my eyes, I imagined her next to me, smiling at me and talking me through things as I laid there alone in that cold, hard bed. And every morning I would reach for her. Expecting her to be there.

  But she never was.

  Until now.

  I pulled back from her, our chests heaving and our lungs panting for air. Her lips were swollen from my kiss as her dazed eyes looked up at me. I could feel her desire for me humming through her veins. I captured her lips with mine one last time, feeling her arch into me as her hands ran through my hair.

  “Now, I’m gonna order that pizza so we can celebrate the fact that we’re officially together,” I said.

  “What?” Delia asked.

  “I know you better, and you know me better. And instead of pushing me away, you leaned into me. You opened yourself up to me. You trusted me, and I trusted you. Now, you’re mine. And we’re gonna order pizza to celebrate.”

  The shock that rolled over her face caused me to sit up and laugh.

  “You’re—we’re—that’s not how a relationship works,” she said. “Y
ou can’t just announce that we’re together.”

  “Isn’t that how it works? People announce engagements in the paper all the time,” I said, as I grabbed my phone.

  “Yes. After the man asks the woman to marry him,” she said.

  “That what you want me to do?”

  “What?”

  “You want me to ask you to be my girlfriend?”

  I listened to her stumble over her words as I took her hands within mine.

  “Delia Jakobson, you’re a beautiful woman. Feisty. Independent. Stubborn as hell. You’re carrying my child, and that makes you a priority. The priority. Now, will you accept the pepperoni pizza I’m gonna order us and go steady with me?” I asked.

  I saw her shake her head as a giggle fell from her lips. Her eyes darted around the room, taking everything in. I sat there, my nerves getting the best of me as I held her hands tightly. She had to say ‘yes.’ I didn’t have any other tricks if she didn’t.

  “I guess, yeah,” Delia said. “Under one condition.”

  “Figured there’d be one,” I said.

  “I go home Sunday night. I’ve got work to do and a workday to prepare for on Monday. I have to go home for that.”

  I sighed as I relinquished defeat and nodded my head.

  “Then you rest while you’re here,” I said. “You need it more than you think.”

  “I’ll stay until Sunday and rest however much my body asks for,” she said.

  With that, I grinned as I released her hands and went to order our dinner.

  CHAPTER 30

  Delia

  I couldn't sleep. I tossed and turned in Drake’s guest bedroom, but I couldn’t get comfortable. I was too hot, then I was too cold. My mind was too loud, then it was too silent. The shirt Drake gave me to sleep in was too uncomfortable, then it felt weird sleeping naked in the bed.

  But I knew what it really was.

  It was Drake.

  The kiss on the couch, the way I felt comforted by him. The looks he had given me during the talks we’d had. How things were clicking in place. Just the act of trying to get to know me better had weakened me towards him. But the heat of his kiss, the electricity of his tongue, and the way he kept undressing me with his eyes, as we all ate pizza.