Fragile Touch (Fragile Series, #1)

by Lexy Timms

“I don’t know if I’ll ever get over it,” she whispered to the air, so softly she couldn’t even hear herself. She sat up and pulled Black Cat onto her lap, hugging him tightly. He looked at her sleepily with his lemon-yellow eyes.

  She wished she could call Amelia. If she could just have another phone call with her, she wouldn’t be afraid anymore. She would tell her about Cayden, about his yard and how he made hers so pretty last time; of course, Amelia would ask about his body first and his personality second.

  And crap, would they be able to talk about his body for quite some time.

  Drops began to gather in the front of her eyes again, so she looked to the ceiling to drain them back down. Black Cat was still staring at her face. He blinked lazily.

  “I need a drink,” she told him. “It’s been too long since I’ve had a drink.”

  In the kitchen, she stood on her tiptoes to take a bottle down from the shelf. It had a little dust on the top of it.

  “Been a while, friend,” she muttered, and poured a hefty dose in a glass with some ice. She took a huge gulp, wincing at the sting. Seeing how low the glass had already gotten, she drained the rest then refilled and added a little extra.

  “That’s better.” She tapped the side of the glass. “I’m not going to be able to hold this very well. No, sir. I never could hold it very well, anyway. Screw it. Who cares?” She raised her glass to the air. “To Amelia.”

  Letting the music carry her along, she floated out the back door onto the porch, sat down in an old chair, and closed her eyes.

  Since her last drop of alcohol had been months ago, her body was far less tolerant than it used to be. After only a few minutes she felt her skin get hot and she took off her sweater, draping it on the porch railing. The chilly spring evening tickled her skin and cooled off the few drops of sweat that had gathered on her chest.

  The music felt good now. It didn’t just sound good. She could feel it go through her skin, all the way into her bones...not that there was much distance between the two. She could even hear the silence, that strange silence when afternoon fades into twilight. When she was young—maybe around nine or ten—the energy during this time of the day gave her a fright and so she always made sure to be inside by then. Nighttime was okay, but the transitional few minutes had a vibe that rubbed her the wrong way.

  Now, it didn’t bother her. Especially since she had her liquid courage on hand. The whole outdoors was golden even though she couldn’t see the sun. Had it already gone down, disappearing under the ground? Was it still awake just behind the trees? She couldn’t hold her thoughts on it long enough to figure out the answer. The memories were tugging again.

  The drink had melted into her body and relaxed her muscles beyond anything she could remember. She raised her arm to brush a strand of hair behind her ear, but scratched her cheekbone instead. “Shit,” she cursed, pressing her palm against the hot streak. “Easy, Lillian. You’re not as young as you used to be.”

  Come on, silly, she heard Amelia’s voice in her head and saw her bright smile, framed by the dark cranberry lipstick she wore every day. You’re still so damn young. Don’t waste it!

  She heard a meow and turned her head suddenly, grabbing the arm of the chair with both hands for stability. Both cats sat on the floor, looking up at her. “You want to come out?” she asked. Her voice came out of her mouth a lot louder than she expected. Am I really drunk this fast?

  You need this, girl! Amelia again. Let loose just one time, for crying out loud.

  I need this? Lillian thought about it as she carefully set down the glass, making sure to put it on the ground far enough away that, if she tripped, it wouldn’t spill. Yeah, maybe I do need this. Maybe you’re right, Amelia.

  The ground seemed to move under her feet. Somehow, she could feel the earth vibrating and it messed up her sense of balance. She held the railing on the edge of the porch and inched along, keeping her eyes on the cats.

  “I’m coming to let you out,” she told them, flinching at the volume of her voice. She let out a single laugh. “I’m so loud!”

  The door was just a few steps away. Lillian told herself it was no problem and moved away from the railing, but a deep growling sound scared her and she jumped forward, crashing into the door. The cats let out a hiss at the sudden movement and were instantly on the other side of the living room inside, staring from the other end of the sofa.

  “How did you move so fast?” Lillian yelled at them. “Can you hear me?”

  She flipped around and examined the backyard. Nothing was there. Where’d the growling noise come from? The music stopped for a moment, then started again with a new song. For some reason she felt very heavy, and leaned with all her weight against the outside wall.

  “Come on, kitties,” she beckoned, holding her arm out. “Come here so I can go back to my drink.”

  The cats didn’t move.

  “Why aren’t you coming? You just wanted to come out!”

  They stared at her, glassy-eyed, not giving her any sort of answer. She could usually tell what they meant to say by even a tiny movement, but she couldn’t even see them breathing right now.

  “Are you statues?”

  Gray Cat, without warning, leapt backward and bolted into the next room. She heard something fall off a shelf, but for once it didn’t bother her.

  “How about you?” She pointed at Black Cat. “You’re still here; do you want to come out and catch the last little bit of daylight?”

  Black Cat stood up gracefully and padded over to her reading chair. Lillian swore time slowed when he jumped onto it, and it sped back up when he curled up on the quilt.

  “Fine. Have fun alone, you lame cat.” She stuck out her tongue and braced herself on the door. Back to my drink, then.

  The first step she took, her leg buckled beneath her and she toppled over. In a frenzy she tried to lean forward and grab the rail post, but she was just a step too far away. She fell with a shout and heard it echo across the backyard.

  This is probably the loudest I’ve ever been, she found herself thinking. Her knee and the pads of her hands felt hot, and she looked down. Her knee was scraped and her hands were shedding a couple drops of blood.

  When was the last time you felt pain like this? It was Amelia, in her smiling voice. She used that voice every time Lillian needed calming down, whether it be from anxiety, tiredness, or boy troubles.

  Pain? Lillian immediately thought of her last flare-up and, lifting her head to the sky, let out a sad cry so soft only she could hear it. She tried to get up, but her legs wouldn’t hold her. She saw her drink on the other side of the chair, and wished it was close enough to reach. But it was much too far.

  She slumped over, her chin on her chest.

  At some point, the crickets started chirping.

  “Are you hurt?” The voice was distant, but it sounded so tangible.

  “You sound so real,” she wailed to Amelia.

  “I am real.”

  “I need you!” Lillian buried her face in her hands, hoping it would stop the tears from flowing. It didn’t. “I wasn’t ready for you to go; why’d you leave me like that? You were all I had!”

  There was a thick silence before the reply. “I’m sorry...I didn’t realize you wanted me to stay. Why didn’t you say so?”

  You’re dead, she tried to say, but her throat tightened. She coughed and the words came out in a terrible crack. “You couldn’t have stayed if you tried! You couldn’t have known about that truck...”

  As she let out a wracking sob, she felt arms around her and smelled a sweet, musky scent.

  That doesn’t smell like you, Amelia. Her body tensed and she looked up, right into Cayden’s bright eyes. Shocked, she put a hand on his chest and tried to push him away, but she was too weak to do anything.

  “Why are you here?” she demanded, wiping the tears away with the back of her hand.

  His face drew a blank. “I thought you just said you needed me.”

  “I
was talking to Amelia.” At the sound of her name, Lillian lost control of her emotions and curled up into a ball against Cayden’s chest.

  AT FIRST CAYDEN WENT stiff, taken aback by how willingly she fell into him. It was a total contrast to her mysteriousness emotional distance before. Every time they talked, he found himself growing increasingly curious about her. But right at the perfect moment to start a conversation, she closed off. Which normally involved walking away.

  He didn’t mind her walking away, as long as he could watch. But when she was gone he felt words on his tongue so ready to release, and the one he wanted to share them with wasn’t there anymore.

  And now she was weeping, her sweaty body plastered against his shirt, her fingers groping at his arm like a newborn kitten. She was white-knuckled, but he could barely feel any pressure on his skin. The smell of alcohol radiated from her, and he looked around for a bottle.

  “Where’s the bottle?” he asked.

  She sniffed, and pointed a trembling hand at a tiny glass by the chair a few feet away.

  “That’s it?” Cayden wondered out loud accidentally. “How much have you had?”

  Lillian held up two fingers.

  “Only two?” He didn’t say it too loudly. She made no response; her mind was obviously in another place. An odd combination of emotions he hadn’t felt in a long time were starting to rise, and he didn’t try to stop them. With a sigh of empathy, he put a hand on her arm and softly rubbed it back and forth. After just a minute, she took a deep breath and her muscles relaxed.

  “Let’s get you inside.” He kept his voice low.

  She nodded, her head still directed at the floor. Cayden moved to stand up, but she began to fall back without his support. He couldn’t figure out how she was so drunk after less than two drinks, but now was not the time to be thinking about that.

  Stooping down, he put one arm under her back and the other under her legs. She was so tiny compared to him; he guessed he’d never noticed it before because they had never been this close.

  In fact, this was the first time they’d ever had physical contact. He couldn’t deny that he wished it were under different circumstances.

  He hooked his pinky finger into the door handle and pulled it open. One of the cats was asleep on the chair and opened one bright eye to assess the situation when he stepped inside, then returned to sleep.

  Her house smelled different now, and it had a different energy. Maybe it was the music she had playing from a little speaker on the desk. Quite frankly, he was a bit surprised that she owned a speaker. The inside of her house was so quiet last time. It was almost unsettling, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave when she had just thrown up in his bushes. He knew something wasn’t right, because while she was sleeping he casually looked around and couldn’t find any drugs or alcohol that would have caused it. There were a lot of bottles, some prescription and some vitamin and mineral supplements, but he didn’t recognize any of them as being particularly dangerous. They were all separated into those day-of-the-week boxes which, in his limited knowledge, didn’t scream addiction or abuse.

  He suspected it might have been food poisoning, but he had looked in the fridge to get some cold water and saw perfectly preserved foods, all homemade in their wrapped dishes and sealed containers, and if the groceries were store-bought, they were all natural.

  It wasn’t snooping, he told himself. He was just curious, and considering her apparent ill health and current incapacitation, looking around for what may have caused it was an act of kindness.

  And here he was now, in the same situation. Back in college, his group always gave him a hard time about being “whipped” whenever he was dating a girl, and even with those he wasn’t really dating. He took care of them, good care of them—in more ways than one, of course—but they always broke up for the same reason. Because too many other girls threw themselves at him and he didn’t exactly go out of his way to keep that from happening.

  As he carried Lillian to her room, he tried to reason with himself after so many years. I never cheated on anyone I dated, he thought. He had told himself this what seemed like a million times before, but some slight pang of guilt still pricked his chest. I know I look good. There’s nothing wrong with taking pride in your appearance. And I know I’m the type that a lot of girls like. But I can’t help when drunk girls get horny and bold.

  Still, he couldn’t figure out what was the main issue in those past relationships, and the ones that weren’t official, why they stopped cold turkey. If he never cheated, what reason did they have to leave? It didn’t make sense to his logic.

  I mean, I’m not one to turn down getting physical with a sexy girl...but I never sunk so low that I went behind someone’s back.

  He looked down at Lillian, whose eyes were closed peacefully. Her face was paler than he remembered but, then again, he had never seen her this close up. Something about her didn’t look entirely well, or feel entirely well for that matter. She wasn’t tall by any means, but even for her height she was a lot lighter than he had expected.

  It was true, something excited him when he walked over to her place and saw her there in a tank top. He noticed the different wardrobe statement before he noticed she was crumpled on the ground, and before he heard her crying and saw her shaking. When he got closer he saw her sweater draped over the railing, and it was only then that he found it odd she was wearing so little in the chilly evening air.

  Maybe I get a little too caught up in myself sometimes.

  The door to her bedroom was ajar, and he stuck his foot in to ease it open. The room was very simple. She had a closet, a bookshelf, and a chair that was piled with the books that couldn’t fit on the shelf. He made a mental note to look at the books later. The titles would probably tell him a little more about her.

  “I’ve had to save you twice,” he muttered, his eyes locked on her as he lay her down. “What did you do before me?”

  “I didn’t mean for this to happen,” came the soft slur from between her dry lips. Cayden couldn’t tell if she was responding to him or still talking to that Amelia person from back on the porch.

  “Who takes care of you?” he asked, unfolding a puffy comforter at the foot of the bed and spreading it over her.

  “I’m too hot,” she protested, her eyes still closed. She weakly pushed the corner of the blanket off her chest and flopped her arm back down, spent.

  She’s really out of it, he thought. “That’s not what I asked.”

  “You always ask so many things.” She sounded like she was about to cry.

  “I’m curious.” A small smile crossed his face.

  Lillian’s eyes opened to tiny slits and she examined him for a few seconds. “Why did you come over?”

  He chuckled deep in his throat and looked back at her. “I was coming to complain about you being too quiet. It’s annoying.”

  She grunted. “Very funny.” An expression of angst transformed her face and she clutched her chest. “I’m so hot, I’m so hot...”

  Shit, what am I supposed to do? He told her he would be right back, not that she would be going anywhere. In the bathroom he found a washcloth and soaked it with cold water from the sink. That ought to help.

  When he was back by her side, he heard her breathing and saw her chest rising and falling rapidly. “Here, take this.” He lay the washcloth on her forehead and she reached up with fumbling fingers to unfold it and cover her face completely.

  “Thank you.” He managed to make out her voice from under the cloth.

  “Don’t mention it.” There were so many more things he wanted to ask, but obviously that wasn’t going to happen while her face was hidden. He stood up and walked to the bookshelf, tilting his head and reading every title starting from the very top shelf.

  He was halfway through when he heard her moan. Turning around quickly, he saw her lying with her arms straight by her side, washcloth still over her face.

  “Are you okay?” When she gave no reply
, he removed the cloth and folded it back to cover her forehead.

  “I’m going to get up...” she paused. He could see that talking wasn’t so easy for her right now. “...I’m going to go get some water. You don’t have to be here.”

  “No way am I letting you out of this bed in your state,” he tapped her shoulder. “I’ll get you water. Do you want ice?”

  She grunted; he was unclear whether it was a yes or a no grunt. He decided to put a few cubes in anyway.

  In the kitchen, he passed the basket on the counter that contained all her medicine. Lifting a few of the bottles to take another look, he realized that he had no idea what he was looking for. None of the prescriptions looked familiar to him, but he definitely wasn’t an expert. And why were there so many vitamins? Last time the big bottle of fiber supplement powder wasn’t there. Maybe he had just missed it.

  It seriously looks like there’s an old woman living here. That was all he could conclude. None of it made sense. He would have to ask her. Now was the perfect time, since she was not her normal mysterious self.

  He filled the glass with ice and water and, heading back to Lillian’s room, made a fart noise with his mouth at the black cat asleep on the chair. The cat didn’t move.

  I hate cats, he thought.

  She hadn’t moved.

  “Here.” He took her hand and touched it to the glass. She grabbed it with both hands like she’d been thirsty for days, and gulped half the glass down.

  “You’re good at chugging.” He tried to break the quiet. The music in the other room didn’t quite reach her room at its current volume. “Had some crazy college days, I bet.”

  She looked up at him with an evil eye, then went back to the water. A small stream of it dribbled down her chin, and she shoved the glass back at him before wiping it with the blanket.

  “You don’t have to be here,” she croaked as she hugged the big pillow.

  “You’re right, I don’t.”

  “So you can go.”

  “What if you need something?”

  “I won’t need anything.”

  “Who’s Amelia?”