I’ve been in bed for two days straight with what I can only presume are broken ribs, since he refuses to take me to the hospital.
“Get the fuck out of bed.” The smell of whisky from his breath when he shouts makes me gag. “I don’t work all goddamn day so you can lie in bed on your fat fucking ass,” he yells, throwing his hands in the air.
I whimper, trying to shuffle back on my arse. A slap to the face knocks my head to the side, sending me dizzy.
“Please stop,” I beg, tears running down my cheeks. I wrap my arms around my sore ribs, trying to prevent him making them worse. But somehow I know before he even raises his hand that he’s going to punch me again in the ribs. Only nothing could have prepared me for the agonising pain that shoots through my whole body when he does.
“Get the fuck up! Get yourself together and go make yourself useful. Dinner needs making,” he shouts over my whimpering cries. When I don’t move, he raises his leg in the air, and it’s the last thing I see before passing out.
I wake up gasping, fighting for air as a strangled scream rises from deep in my chest. I clutch at my chest, trying to control my breathing, and hear quick footsteps heading towards me. Still in the clutches of my nightmare, I stumble off the bed in a frightened panic, gathering myself into the corner and trying to hide as much as possible.
The door opens, and the hallway light shines behind a large male figure. I can feel my pulse beating heavily, ready to burst through my skin.
As the fogginess from the nightmare wears off, I notice it’s not Rick but Dean. Another whimper escapes as I begin to shake with relief. I open my mouth―to say what, I don’t know. He walks into the room, bending down in front of me, and I try to blink back tears.
“Jesus, Lola! It’s me. It’s Dean. Everything is okay. It was just a bad dream,” he says, his words rushed as he tries to calm me. My mouth opens again to try and tell I’m okay, but only a gasp of air comes out, frustrating me. I’m still shaking and can’t help but huddle closer to the wall to ward off the chill. “Talk to me! Are you okay?”
His arms come around me, helping me up off the floor and back over to the bed, where he lays me down against the pillows.
Once he pulls away, I give him a small smile. “Yes,” I croak before clearing my throat. “Yes, I’m okay. Just another nightmare.”
As I tell him, something occurs to me, and I look up at him, my cheeks heating. The last thing I remember is Dean and me cuddled together while John Travolta sang. “Did I fall asleep on you again?”
“Yes, you were really out of it, so I brought you back here. I didn’t want to leave for you to wake up and wonder where you were, so I stayed on the sofa. Do you want to talk about your nightmare?”
My mind goes back to the nightmare, the pain I felt and endured. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget my time with him, although I wish to every day. It’s starting to become impossible to forget. Most people’s nightmares are of monsters under the bed; mine just so happen to be someone I had in my bed.
I cast a quick glance at Dean, seeing the emotion written on his face, but I can’t talk about my nightmares, not now. Maybe one day.
I shake my head. “I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to forget,” I whisper.
“Okay.” He sighs sadly. “I’ll go and turn everything off, and then I’ll leave you to get some rest,” he tells me as he starts to stand. Without thinking, I grab his hand, holding it tightly.
“Would you, um… I… I…,” I start, too embarrassed to ask him to stay with me. I shake my head and lower it, focusing on the edge of my T-shirt.
“What is it?” he asks, sitting back down on the bed.
Taking a deep breath, I glance back at him, a shiver running down my spine. “Can you stay with me? I don’t want to be alone.”
“Of course,” he answers immediately. “I’ll grab the spare blankets for the sofa. Do you want anything?”
I don’t let go of his hand, even as I feel my cheeks warming once again. Fortunately for me, it’s dark, so he can’t see the dark shade of my cheeks or the level of my discomfort.
“No… I mean… I want you to lie here, with me,” I tell him quietly, staring to feel unsure.
He hesitates for only a moment before nodding. Walking to the end of the bed, he picks up the bed sheets I managed to kick off during my nightmare and pull them back up, covering my cold body.
I watch as he leaves the room, the lights turning off in the living area before he walks back in. He moves straight to the lamp on the other side of the bed, flicking it off.
He moves around the room effortlessly, and an old memory resurfaces of the time Dean and I had set up a tent in the Salvatore garden. Before we settled down for the night, I had gone back to mine to have dinner with my parents. But on the way back to the cabin, a few other kids who were on holiday started giving me a hard time. They had been there two weeks, and in those two weeks, they were always mean to me. And they always did it when Dean wasn’t around.
Anyway, they ended up calling me names and pushing me over. My hands and knees scraped on the stone ground, leaving me a bloody mess.
I didn’t think anyone had seen and because I was that embarrassed and upset, I had rushed home, not bothering to look around. The twins had seen the whole thing and apparently, after they spoke to one of the other kids there, found out it had happened to me before. They told Dean and, as you can imagine, he wasn’t happy. He got upset with me for not telling him and he stormed out of the tent, leaving me alone. At first I thought it was because he didn’t want to be my friend anymore, but later when he came back, he told me he’d dealt with them and that they wouldn’t be picking on me again.
That night I cried until we both fell asleep. I also think that was when I told myself I was in love with Dean Salvatore.
“I’m sorry I woke you up,” I whisper, turning to face him in the dark.
“I’m just glad I can be here for you. I hate what this is doing to you. I know I can’t erase your nightmares or your past, but I’ll help you through it any way I can. You’re a strong woman, and I believe you’ll get through this.”
“Yeah,” I whisper back, feeling my eyes water.
“Good.” He runs his fingers down the side of my cheek. My breath hitches from the sudden, warm touch.
Feeling sleepy, I roll over, giving him my back. He doesn’t waste any time in comforting me the way he used to. Only this time it feels different.
His hand glides across my hips to the front of my stomach, and I stiffen from the intimate touch. I can’t breathe, my body frozen as he presses my back against his hard chest. It doesn’t take me long to relax against him, butterflies in my stomach.
His breath against my ear sends delicious shivers down my spine. Even as relaxed as I am, I still feel like my body is coiled up tight.
“Breathe, Lola. I’m only going to hold you. That’s all I’m going to do. Okay?” he promises me, and I sigh, relaxing.
My heart melts at his sweet, caring gesture and I can’t help but enjoy the feel of him wrapped around me, making me feel safe and comforted.
With that as my last thought, I fall into a dreamless sleep.
*** *** ***
The sun streaming through the cabin window wakes me up. The first thing I notice is that my pillow feels hard.
My eyes widen when I realise it’s not a hard pillow, but instead a hard body, a body belonging to Dean. I peep down through my lashes, checking out the cut ridges of his abdomen and I’m struck again by the beauty of him.
Somehow through the night, I’ve managed to wrap my body around his. One leg is shoved between his thighs, and one of my arms is wrapped around his chest as my head lies in the nook of his shoulder.
My eyes take in every inch of him, memorising just how good he feels and how soft his skin is. God, the view is seriously hot. He has a body only books can describe, and only computers can air brush. This man is pure muscle, pure beauty, and pure man.
I
can smell his scent clearly, his natural masculinity, dark and musky. It reminds me of being in the woods after a storm has hit.
His scent makes me dizzy, my blood rushing to places I’ve never felt before. I’m so fixated on how he’s making me feel that I failed to notice his impressive morning wood, which is thick and long and pressed against my thigh. A new wave of dizziness hits me, and my body burns like it’s on fire.
I’m about to sneak out of bed when he moves. My whole body freezes, wondering how I’ll escape this position, but his hand tightens on my hip. He moves fast, turning me quickly so we’re both on our sides. I squeal in surprise.
“Morning, beautiful,” he rasps, his voice husky with sleep.
Hearing him call me ‘beautiful’ has my breath hitching. No one has ever called me beautiful before. Not unless they’re blood related, but they don’t count; they’re meant to give you compliments.
He feels sorry for you, Lola, nothing more. You’re just a charity case. I frown at my inner thoughts, the negativity causing me to hesitate. Dean is everything I’m not, and everything a girl could wish for.
“Are you okay?” he asks, looking at me with concern, and I realise I’ve spaced out.
Blinking, I force a smile, pushing my darkened thoughts aside. “Yeah, sorry. Good morning! Did you sleep okay?” I ask, trying hard not to check out his body again.
“Yes, I did, thank you. Best night’s sleep I’ve had in ages,” he says as the hand still on my hip gives me a gentle squeeze, causing a jolt of electricity to shoot down my spine. He must know what he’s doing to me because his smile turns into an arrogant grin.
I go to get up, but his firm grip keeps me pinned to the bed. “What’s the matter, Lo? You’re acting funny. Is it about your nightmare?” he asks, and I wince, wishing he hadn’t mentioned it. I was finally managing to forget.
“I’m fine. C’mon, I’ll make you some breakfast. After, maybe we can go out for another ride with Dolly and Hunter? We can go up Liza Mountain and make a proper day of it. What do you think?” I ask him.
Now that I’ve thought about it, I’m excited about riding up the mountain. I loved it when we would go camping out there.
His smile widens as he rolls me so he’s half on me and half on the bed. His face comes close enough to mine that if I were to take a deep breath, we would be touching. I freeze, thinking he’s about to kiss me, yet he doesn’t move any closer.
The butterflies are back in full force from being under his scrutiny, and I feel a little dizzy from it. My skin begins to burn as his thumb starts moving in a light circular movement on my hip, driving me wild.
“Okay, Lola, Liza Mountain it is. But if we take the horses, babe, it will mean staying up there overnight. There’s a cabin up on the mountain now, one the rangers use. I use it when I need a break from this place. It’s basically mine since I helped build it. We still have the occasional camper up there, but other than that it will be just us. Is that okay? I’ll pack some supplies if you still want to go.”
Thinking it over, I surprise myself by still wanting to go, giddy and excited. “Yeah, it sounds like fun.”
I have to admit this has to be one of my better ideas. Getting away from civilisation and any responsibility sounds like heaven right about now.
The only conflict I have is being alone with Dean for another night. For some reason it doesn’t feel right after last night. Something changed on that field, and I can’t quite explain what. All I know is that my childhood crush no longer feels like a crush. It’s become something much more.
I know my attraction to Dean is too soon after Rick and it’s making me question what’s real and what’s not. For all I know, my feelings for Dean are only there because of his gentle affection towards me and his caring nature. Even still, thinking that makes my stomach coil. I don’t want to think of Dean as a rebound, not when he means so much more to me than that. I loved him before I even knew Rick existed.
I guess the only way to find out if our friendship means more is for me to spend more time with him and get to know him better.
I just wish I could predict the future and find out what I’m destined for.
Chapter 9
We decided to take the scenic route to the cabin, which added another twenty minutes to our journey.
Dolly and Hunter loved the ride. According to Dean they really dislike being cooped up in the stables, so it was nice giving them that freedom. Apparently, there are more renters around now, so they can’t let them run wild in the fields.
We’ve just finished our ten-minute hike after getting the horses settled in for the night at the stables.
The cabin doesn’t look like much from the outside. Two rocking chairs creak back and forth as we step onto the wooden front porch and I can’t help but admire their antique beauty.
Walking inside, I gasp in surprise. The whole bottom floor is one room. The kitchen is in the far-left corner, with an L-shaped breakfast bar separating it from the other areas of the room. There are a couple of old brown sofas that have seen better days to my right, but their cushions look plump and soft.
There’s a huge HD TV on the wall with a large selection of DVDs, CDs and a few old videos stacked on some shelves on either side.
In the back left of the room, there are a few camp beds folded up and maps of the area taped to the wall, along with other paper clippings and articles. The desk is old and worn, just like its rickety chair. The desk doesn’t look very organized. It’s covered with plastic cups of old stale tea and wrappers of chocolate bars and crisp packets.
In the centre of the room is a set of stairs that leads up to an open-plan bedroom. As I walk up the stairs, the first thing I notice is the bed. I mean, you can’t miss it―it’s huge, as in two king-size beds stuck together huge. It looks soft with thick fluffy pillows on it and a blanket clearly made for winter.
To the left of the room is a door, the first I’ve seen in the cabin, which must mean it’s the bathroom. Thank God that isn't open-spaced too.
The only other furniture in the room is an old TV stand with an older-looking television sitting on it. If I was to guess, I would say it once belonged downstairs until someone―I’m guessing Dean―bought the big-ass plasma instead.
The place is beautiful. It needs some work done on the outside and a clean-up downstairs but other than that, I love it here. They must have had this built after my parents died; there was no way my parents knew about this place and didn’t bring me. This is the kind of place my dad loved because of the potential hunting game.
“This is amazing. I was kind of worried that it would fall down on us in our sleep,” I admit, chuckling at Dean’s expression.
He bursts out laughing at my remark. “Lo, the place is stronger than it looks, I swear. The only reason the outside doesn’t look like much is because it hasn’t been painted in a few years.
“We had a few bad storms a while back, and it caused the paint to start chipping away. The cabin managed to stay standing through it, which is more than I can say for the stables. They were originally built by the gates, the ones we first entered. The storm completely destroyed them.”
“Oh, I wondered why the horses were so far away,” I murmur, hoping none of the horses got hurt.
“We didn’t want to risk re-building them in case we had another storm. We were lucky none of the horses were up here. One of the blokes who worked for my granddad warned us it wouldn’t be safe when dad first built the barn, especially since we were so high up and all, so we built another one lower down. We needed to. Not only did some of the rangers sleep here but so did I. I basically lived here at one point, building it up. I was going to move in permanently, but it’s a pain in the ass coming up and down all the time.”
“Well, I think the place looks great. I was wondering why there was a bed and stuff here,” I tell him truthfully, still eyeing its characteristics. “No wonder you like it here, it’s great.”
The place is beautiful. Yes, it’s ol
d and looks like it needs some TLC, but Dean has done a great job. That’s if you turn a blind eye to the junk wrappers on the desk downstairs.
“C’mon back downstairs. I’ll make us some dinner,” he says, heading for the stairs before stopping and turning to eye me. “Do you want to watch a movie? It’s getting too late to go explore.”
I ponder the question as he looks on at me amused. I tap at my chin dramatically. I mean, do I want to put Dean through a chick flick, comedy, or a sappy romance? Decisions, decisions.
“Hmmm,” I hum, my expression straight faced.
“If you’re even thinking about watching a chick flick, you can think again. There aren’t any here.” He grins like he can read my blooming mind.
I burst out laughing as the memory of making him sit through the movies Bring it On, Ghost and, of course, The Lion King pops into my head. Dean was not a happy camper, not just because of my DVD choice but because I sang to all the cheerleading chants in Bring It On. Although, he never even criticised my singing or dancing skills, which weren’t really that bad. I think I made the night worse for him when I put on The Lion King. We had just got to the part when the dad lion dies when his parents and a few of his mates, walked in. By that time, Dean was a sobbing mess. He never lived crying at the cartoon movie down. He ignored me for weeks after that. God, his face when he realised he had been caught… It was epic.
“What’s so funny?” he asks, lifting his eyebrow in confusion when I start to chuckle out loud.
“Oh, you know, nothing much.” I shrug, staring at him mischievously. It’s hard to keep a straight face. “Just thinking about that time you cried like a baby at The Lion King.”
“Is that so?” he asks, grinning as he takes a step forward. God, the look in his eyes. I know that look; he’s up to something. “You do realise I had something in my eye, and that I wasn’t actually crying, right? It had nothing to do with that damn movie.”
Sheesh, he’s even good-looking when he sulks.
“What? Can’t handle the truth, Dean?” I tease, giggling. I think back then he told himself that he had something in his eyes so much he actually started to believe the lie himself.
If I Could I'd Wish It All Away (I Wish Book 1) Page 9
