Keep Me: A HERO Novella

by Del Mia, Leighton

  “This is not a safe neighborhood,” I say, scanning the space around us again. “I don’t want you down here in the middle of the night. You hear me?”

  “Goddamn it, this isn’t about me.” Goose bumps cover her skin, and her nipples are two perfect points under thin satin. I pull her to me by her bicep, but she wrenches away and crosses her arms over herself. “Don’t.”

  “We’ll finish this upstairs.”

  “Where were you?”

  “I told you, I went for a walk.”

  I’ve seen all the faces of Cataline, and I know this one well. She’s not good at hiding her pain. That she’s upset is clear, but I have no idea why. I also don’t really care at the moment. “Get inside. You’re wearing a fucking nothing nightgown in the middle of the street. Are you trying to get raped or taken? Again?”

  “Fuck you, Calvin. You’re the one who did those things to me. You’re the one I should be afraid of.”

  “I’m aware,” I say evenly. “I don’t think I need to be reminded of that.”

  “So don’t tell me what to do. And don’t disappear in the middle of the night. Do you realize the scenarios that ran through my mind?”

  “I’m fine as you can see. But I’m growing impatient. It’s cold, and anyone who passes by can see your tits, and almost,” I tilt my head until it’s at my shoulder, “your pussy.”

  She takes a step backward and shivers. “I think you should leave.”

  “No.”

  “Go home. I don’t want you here.” She spins away, disappearing back into the building. I’m completely lost, with no idea what the fuck her problem is. I sigh, rub my stubbly jaw with my palm, and follow her. Upstairs, I sit against the wall outside her apartment. All I can think about is what easy prey she was just now. Given my past, all the things I’ve seen inflicted on young, pretty girls run through my head. Each one leads back to the fact that I wasn’t here to keep her safe and that without my drugs and without Norman, I’m completely helpless.

  When the early-morning sun rises, beaming through the hallway window and into my eyes, I stand up. I pull out my key, but the knob turns before I insert it. I inhale a deep breath, talking myself down from raging at her for being so careless as to leave the door unlocked.

  The bedroom is empty, but the bathroom door is closed. I walk in to find her in the bathtub, eyes closed, head reclined against the ledge. The reek of the burning joint between her fingers hits me like a wall, something I normally would’ve smelled from the hallway and beyond.

  “Still haven’t learned how to knock,” she mutters. With her eyes still closed, she takes a hit. My gaze wanders to her nipples, which just breach the water’s surface, and her feet propped up on the other end of the tub. Next to her ankles is a razor. Would she? I’ve seen her at the edge of sanity. What would it take to send her back there?

  “I won’t,” she says. I meet her watered-down grey eyes. “As long as you’re here, I don’t need it anymore.”

  I step into the bathroom, remove my tennis shoes and perch on the edge of the tub. “I’m here.”

  “But you left.”

  “Cataline, where do you think I went? I don’t know why you’re pissed off.”

  “You left in the middle of the night. I was afraid you might not come back.”

  I need to touch her, so I grasp her chin and make her look at me. “I’ve told you, I’m not going anywhere. I just went for a walk.”

  “But why? Do you feel suffocated? Was it to see another woman? Was it to patrol? I thought all of that and more, but those are the three I decided were most likely. Honestly, I don’t know which one is the worst.”

  “How could you think there’s anyone else?”

  “Prostitutes count, Cal.”

  Her accusation is so ridiculous that I laugh, and she jerks her chin out of my hand.

  “This is what I get for dating someone in her twenties.”

  She scowls and looks away before sucking on the joint again and smashing it into an ashtray.

  “You want to know what it’s like to fuck someone other than you?” I ask.

  She unsuccessfully attempts to hide her shock.

  “It’s sex, so of course it feels good. The women I’m with, they let me do whatever I want.”

  “You do whatever you want to me,” she mumbles, still avoiding my gaze.

  “They suck my dick, ride me, let me in every hole, and it feels good. I don’t have to worry about anything but getting off.”

  “Get out of my apartment. You’re such a prick.”

  I laugh again. I can’t help it. She’s completely naked, at my disposal, and her infuriation is speaking right to my cock. I want to jam my fingers inside her and make her orgasm while I jerk myself off and come in her clean bathwater.

  Her eyes narrow on me. “Should I tell you what it was like to make love with Grant?”

  My smirk vanishes and just as quickly, my hand is around her throat. “Don’t say another word.”

  Her eyes are locked on mine, defiant and completely devoid of fear.

  “I could fuck every woman on this planet, and nothing would come close to you. I’d give everything up—I’ve already given everything up—just to have your legs open for me, to bury my cock in you. I’m selfish, I’m fucked in the head, I want only you, and I want you to only want me.” I lean forward while pulling her to me. “Talking to you, sleeping next to you, being in the same room with you is infinitely better than sex with another woman. Sex with you is ecstasy. I love you. There’s nobody but you. Do you get it?”

  She nods.

  “Answer me, Cataline. Do you understand? Don’t ever ask me about another woman again.”

  “I understand,” she says. As I withdraw, she adds, “I love you too.”

  I rest my elbows on my knees and rub my hands over my hair as I sigh. “And I’m not going anywhere. I’ll spend all my days trying to get you to see what you’re worth.” I look back down at her. “I left to patrol. I feel weak not doing anything.”

  “You’re so good.” Her words send a tremor through me. I’m not good. I’m far from it. How far do I have to go to get her to see that? “But you can’t do that anymore,” she continues. “For one, you’re not equipped. If anything ever happened to you, I couldn’t take it. And it’s not your responsibility. It never was. Let the police do their job.”

  “I don’t even need to hear that. I know you’re right. I won’t do it again. Just promise me you won’t pull that shit anymore, going out looking for me like that.”

  “Fine.”

  “Promise me. I’m not the man I used to be. If something happens, I can’t be your hero.”

  “You’re no less of a man now, Calvin.”

  “Just promise,” I say, not recognizing the pleading in my voice. “Promise you’ll be careful.”

  “I promise.” She sits forward with a small splash. “My bath is getting cold.”

  The moment she’s on her feet, I sweep an arm under her knees and lift her out into my arms. “You’ll get wet,” she says through a giggle.

  “That’ll make two of us.”

  “Calvin,” she sighs as I set her ass on the counter. “I can’t.”

  I suck the soapy dampness from her neck, kissing my way up behind her ear. “It’s called make-up sex, Sparrow.”

  “I have to go to work. I’m already behind.”

  “But you’re the boss,” I remind her as my fingers knead everything I can touch.

  She pushes me off playfully. “Exactly. I have to set an example.”

  I engulf her again, nipping her earlobe. “Maybe the boss never shows up for work. Maybe a madman locks her in her apartment and fucks her until they’re both senseless.”

  She moans, her head falling back, and I look up to meet my own dark eyes in the mirror behind her.

  “Been there, done that,” she says half-heartedly.

  I chuckle and give her one last peck. “All right, I’ll leave you alone. But make-up sex is not off the
table. It’s happening tonight.”

  She grabs my forearm before I can turn away. Her eyes get big as her mouth parts to speak but nothing comes at first. Finally, she says, “These last two weeks have been like a dream. You’re everything I was missing. More than that—everything I need.”

  “Okay,” I prompt.

  “I like your idea. Maybe one night I could be your captive again.”

  I pull away from her to cross my arms. Redness creeps up her exposed skin. “What do you mean?”

  “I just—well, maybe we can try it. Pretend. Play a game.”

  “Our time in the mansion was no game.”

  She recoils. “I know that. Don’t you think I know that?”

  I only glare back at her.

  “I just want to see. Sometimes I dream about it, about the things you did to me.”

  Shit. I shift on my feet. “Dreaming and doing are two different things.”

  “Sometimes I do more than dream, Calvin.”

  “Meaning?”

  “I replay the memories.”

  “And?”

  “And they turn me on,” she admits.

  “You think you’re ready for that?”

  She nods ardently.

  I don’t have to answer. Her gaze drops to the almost-painful erection pressing against my zipper.

  She smiles coyly and hops off the counter. Her touch on my crotch is too gentle. “I’ll be your sparrow again.” She leaves the bathroom and I almost turn around to grab her, pull her to the floor, and thrust myself so deeply in her that I’ll be there forever. But that will have to wait until tonight.

  Melinda nudges my arm. “Why’s Grant here?”

  I close the folder in front of me and drop it in my desk drawer. My ex-boyfriend wears a tailored navy suit, carries a leather briefcase, and is pulling open the gallery door.

  “Give us a minute?” I ask without looking at her. She leaves while he traverses the gallery, his eyes wandering over the latest exhibit. “What are you doing here?”

  “Nice to see you too.”

  “Sorry. I just wasn’t expecting you.”

  He nods once behind me. “Is that the last piece?”

  I look over my shoulder at the photograph. It’s my window in the mansion and that’s all. I’d framed it so there was only the windowsill below it and the molding around the nook. I’m not surprised it didn’t sell; the view is grey and wintry and there’s nothing exceptional about it. It could be a window in any home. But it means very much to me, which is why I’ve priced it too high. “From my showing, yes. Everything else sold.”

  “Good.” His eyes graze over me before he looks at his watch. “Lunchtime. Mind if join you?”

  “Well, actually—”

  “Come on, Cat. Give me this.”

  I sigh. “All right. Sure. I’ll just let Mel know.”

  I grab my jacket and purse from the back and tell Melinda I’ll be back. Grant waits for me out front, holding the door open.

  “The usual?” he asks, and I nod.

  We start for the corner market.

  “How’s work?” I ask.

  “Going well. I got back from my trip last night.”

  “That’s right. I forgot. Japan.”

  “It was good for me to get away for a while. I had a chance to do some thinking too.”

  I look at the ground and wait. He doesn’t say anything though, just pulls open the door to the market when we get there and heads for the deli.

  “Two turkey sandwiches, mine with everything, hers with cheddar instead of provolone and no mayo.” He looks down at me when the woman behind the counter turns away from us. “That is, unless anything has changed these last few weeks?”

  I smile. “No. Not my eating habits, at least.”

  He pays for our food and drinks as I pick a table out on the sidewalk. The day is cool, but the sun is just the right kind of warm. When we’re a few bites in, I ask, “So what is this about?”

  “It was lonely in Japan. I mean, I took a few trips this year, but this one was different. I knew you wouldn’t be here waiting for me, and that pretty much ruined my time there.”

  “I’m sorry. I know this has been sudden.”

  “Sudden, yes. I’ve had some time to think since we last talked though. Being away from you—it’s been hard. I wish you’d give me a shot to try and make things right.”

  “Grant—”

  “I brought you something.”

  “Me?” I ask, touching my chest. “How come?”

  He takes his briefcase from the ground and sets it on the table. It opens with two clicks, and he removes a small rectangular package. I push my sandwich aside and unwrap the brown craft paper, glancing up at him as I do.

  Three panels make up a painting of a single cherry blossom tree branch. The background is snowy grey, as if it’s the middle of winter, but the pink petals remain vibrant and inviting in their paleness.

  “It reminded me of you,” he says.

  “It’s beautiful,” I say. “I’m not this delicate, though.”

  “Maybe not. You’re right, the cherry blossom is fragile. Its lifespan is short. This is a reminder to appreciate those rare and precious moments.”

  My eyes flicker between the gift and his face. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Grant.”

  “Perhaps you felt—I don’t know, underappreciated. I never meant for that.” His suit wrinkles when his normally stiff shoulders wilt. “I could be in the wrong profession. Sometimes I forget that just listening is more helpful than problem solving. If I’d known I was losing you, babe, I would’ve tried harder to be there for you.”

  “It’s not that,” I say. There’s thickness in my throat and a pang in my heart.

  “Give me another chance.”

  I look at the table to avoid his sad eyes. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

  “Why not? I need a reason, Cat. ‘It isn’t working’ just makes things worse. That could mean anything.”

  “I met someone.”

  “What?”

  I make myself face him, but he’s staring at an invisible spot on the table.

  “That was quick,” he says. “Unless . . .” He looks up. “While we were together?”

  “No.”

  “Who is he? What’s he do?”

  “He’s . . . a work in progress.”

  “I don’t like the sound of that.”

  “But so am I.”

  I reach for his hand and squeeze it. “Thank you for the gift.”

  I bundle it up while he cleans off our table.

  “I’ll walk you back.”

  “It’s out of your way,” I say, but we’re already walking.

  “Cat,” he says, hedging. “You sure about this? We’re a good match, everyone says so. Work’s going well; I have a home where I want you to be. I was helping you deal with all the shit you’ve been through. I love you. Can this guy give you all that?”

  We stop outside the gallery’s oversized windows, and I study the lapels of his suit. It’s true, Grant is the dream boyfriend. Life with him would be easy, and a far cry from life with Calvin. “I don’t know,” I say finally. “But it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters, because there’s no keeping me away from him.”

  I’m grateful when he turns away because I can’t stand his expression. He stops though and looks back. He peers past me, into the gallery. “The first time you showed me that photo, I asked why it was important to you. You said you sat there, waiting and wishing.”

  “You asked if I ever got what I had wished for.”

  “You said no. Why do I get the feeling that’s changed?”

  I cock my head. “It has. I didn’t get what I wanted, but I got something better.”

  “Bye, Cat.”

  He walks back the way we came, and I watch for moments after he’s turned the corner. I worry what it says about me that I’d choose Calvin over Grant, like I’m unable to walk away from the pain that seems inevitable with us. His pain, mine,
and ours together.

  Later, I’m in the same spot locking up the gallery for the night when Melinda whistles softly. “Wow.”

  “What?” I ask, pulling down the iron gate.

  “Tall and sexy staring in our direction right now.”

  “Who?”

  She gestures down the sidewalk, and I spot Calvin leaning against a car.

  “That’s Calvin,” I say.

  “That’s your new boyfriend?”

  “Told you he was hot.”

  “Um, hot is hot. He is gorgeous.”

  I nod in agreement. He is hard, lean muscle in a forest green sweater and jeans as he relaxes against the hood. His sleeves are pushed up, and his brawny arms are crossed. But perhaps the thing that stands out the most is that he’s wearing his black, thick-framed glasses for the first time since he came back into my life. I sense his tension, even from a distance. Or, maybe, it’s my own tension from seeing him in his old disguise.

  Melinda smacks her forehead. “Oh—don’t be mad. I forgot to mention that he called earlier.”

  “He did?” I ask and take a deep breath. “Calvin and I have plans right now. I’ll introduce you another time.”

  Only his eyes move as I approach him.

  “This is a surprise,” I say.

  “Want to tell me about your lunch date?”

  I stop so our toes almost touch. “Closure, I guess. Grant’s having a hard time with this. I told him about you.”

  “Yeah? What’d you tell him?”

  I smile. “My superhero wears a green sweater,” I say, plucking the soft fabric in front of my face, “to match his eyes.”

  He grunts. “What’s that?”

  I follow his nod to my purse, where the painting’s brown packaging sticks out. “You are nothing if not astute,” I say. “A present.”

  His jaw flexes familiarly. “He bought that for you?”

  “In Japan.” I pull it from the wrapping and hand it to him. He flips it over, looks at it, and hands it back to me. I smile a little and force my arms around him as he’s rigidly still. “I’m glad you’re here. Can we go home now?”

  He kisses the top of my head. “Yeah.”

  He’s quiet as we walk, but I don’t mind. Since I mentioned the idea of roleplaying a few days earlier, Calvin’s been distant. The time I feel closest to him is the middle of the night when he unknowingly crushes me to him. It should bother me, how tightly he holds me when he sleeps, but I’m afraid it’s the only thing capable of calming me—maybe him too.