“Heard you did a number on him?” Dad says to Grayson.
“What’d you do, Chief?” I tilt my head. “Does it have anything to do with what happened to your hand?”
“Yeah…” he nods, looking a little upset that Dad brought it up.
“I’m glad you were there,” Dad says, his voice heavy and thick with emotion, causing me to choke up a bit.
I reach out and grab Mom’s hand, who is also watching them; she squeezes my hand in understanding and comfort.
Grayson doesn’t say anything, he just nods.
“Hey, bitch!”
I turn my head to the door and see Kota and Malia standing with a big bouquet of flowers, Declan and Ryder behind them.
“Aw, thank you!” I tell them. “Come in. Have a seat. We’re just waiting for the doctor to get here to send me home. Hey,” I turn to look back at Grayson, “how long have I been in here?” I ask.
I keep getting so distracted that I forget to ask.
“Nearly twenty-four hours, babe,” he tells me.
“Pfft, I’m totally good to go then,” I wave my hand at him.
He shakes his head with a grin like he does when he thinks I’m being adorable.
“Azaria…” Mom begins to fret.
“Actually,” Malia jumps in as her and Kota take a seat after finishing setting up the flowers on the night stand, “it probably will be okay for her to leave since she’s awake and coherent.”
“See!” I exclaim. “And my head has finally stopped hurting. I knew having a friend in the medical profession was going to pay off someday.”
Malia giggles and shakes her head at me.
Ryder comes around the other side of the bed, that Malia and Kota are not sitting on, and leans down to kiss me on the cheek, “I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Thanks, Ry,” I grin at him.
“Me too, Ree,” Declan says.
“Thanks,” I tell him. “Thank you both so much for everything you did. And be sure to tell the rest of the guys I said thank you.”
“Will do,” Declan smiles.
“So how are we doing?” Dr. Halsten says standing in the door.
“Ready to go,” I tell her.
She smiles, “Let’s check you over and see how things look first.”
“We’ll see you later,” Ryder says. “Get home safe,” he adds.
Kota and Malia stand and walk toward the door with him and Declan.
“See ya later. Love you!” Malia calls.
“Love you, too!” I call back.
“Mwah!” Kota blows me a kiss.
“Love ya,” I smile at her.
Dr. Halsten does a head to toe exam over the next few minutes. Checking my eyes, my memory, how strong I can grip my hands, having me push against her hands with my feet…
I think the only thing she doesn’t check is my ‘gina.
“Okay, Azaria,” she says. “I think I can let you go home, as long as you’re not alone. Someone needs to be there to check on you and make sure that you wake up every couple of hours.”
My dad bursts out laughing, “Good luck with that, son,” he claps Grayson on the back.
“Oh joy for me,” he says dryly.
“I’m not that bad,” I argue.
“Babe,” Grayson looks at me with a bored expression, “the other day, I woke you up from your nap, when you told me to, and you chewed my head off because I was two minutes early.”
“Those two minutes make a difference!” I slap my hand against the mattress, in lieu of stomping my foot (you know… since I’m in bed and all…).
“And last week, you woke up early and were crabby all morning until you laid back down for a nap,” he states.
“Whatever,” I pout, “I like sleep. It’s an important part of a healthy lifestyle. Right, Doc?”
“Uh…” she looks around the room. “I think I’ll stay out of this argument,” she grins. “Just know that you do have to be woken up every couple of hours.”
“Oh, all right,” I huff. “Now let’s get me out of here.”
***
“You have everything you need?” Mom asks.
“Yep,” I nod, curled up on my sectional, a blanket thrown over my legs, a glass of water on the coffee table and plenty of snacks surrounding me to feed the 25th Infantry Division in Hawaii. “Thank you, Mom. For everything.”
“Of course, honey,” she says then turns to look at Grayson, “Call if you need anything, okay?”
“We will, Sandra,” he nods and walks her to the door.
I pick up the bowl of Crack Dip. It’s Kota’s specialty, but she taught Mom and I how to make it. It has a can of diced tomatoes, cream cheese, corn, black beans and a ranch packet all mixed together, then chilled. It’s best with those tortilla chips, but pretty much can go with everything. It is named Crack Dip, because it is seriously addicting as hell.
Grayson sits down next to me, grabs a chip and scoops up some Crack Dip with it. He inspects it for a minute before popping it into his mouth.
“Oh, my God,” he says around the mouthful of dip and chips.
“Yep,” I nod, scoop up some dip and pop it into my mouth.
“What is this?” he asks, scooping up another chip.
“Crack Dip. It’s Kota’s.”
“It’s amazing,” he says.
“Yep,” I agree.
“What’s in that bowl?” he points to a large white bowl on the coffee table with a lid on it.
“The main course,” I tell him. “Go get some bowls and spoons, would you?” I ask, reaching for it and pulling it into my lap.
He gets up, goes to the kitchen and comes back with the supplies then sits next to me.
“This is one of my favorites,” I tell him. “Malia makes it a lot. She got the recipe from her aunt.”
“What is it?” he asks again.
I smile, open the lid and dish it out into a bowl for each of us.
“It’s taco salad, but way better.”
This taco salad is served cold. And is super easy. You cook the meat just like you would for tacos, then cool it in the fridge. Once that’s done, you add it to a bag of nacho cheese chips and some lettuce, top it off with some French dressing and mix it all together. And add whatever else you want in it.
“How so?” he asks and takes a bite. “Holy shit. You Belton women really know how to cook. What makes it so good?”
“The French dressing,” I tell him.
“Do you know how to make this?” he asks, shoveling more in, then reaching for another scoop of Crack Dip, alternating between the two.
“Of course,” I begin alternating between the two as well, both of us stuffing our faces.
“Thank God,” he says. “I’m definitely going to need this on a regular basis.”
I laugh and reach for the remote. I turn on the television to a drama show about navy investigation and we sit in silence eating.
Once we’re done, Grayson takes our bowls to the kitchen for me, then takes the rest of the food and puts it away. He comes back and sits down next to me, pulling me into his side.
“Grayson?” I call.
“Yeah, babe?”
“Tell me what happened when you got there? What happened to him? Where is he?”
“Are you sure, Ree?” he asks. I look up at him. His head is tilted and looking down at me. “I’d much rather just keep you in the dark and let you live in your own happy little bubble.”
I laugh dryly, “Chief. I was there. It wasn’t good. And I’d do better at getting back to my ‘bubble’ filled with gumdrops and fairy dust if I knew what happened after I passed out.”
He stares at me a long moment before he makes his decision.
“Okay, baby,” he says softly. “When we got there… you were already… unconscious… and he was laying on top of you…” I grab his hand and hold on tight. Just remembering it makes me feel so dirty, even though I know it wasn’t my fault. “Once that registered… everything kind of went blu
rry…
“You still had all of your clothes on, as I said at the hospital. I don’t know why, but that registered in my brain,” he runs his thumb across the back of my hand. “I remember lunging for him… and I just… I couldn’t control it…” he trails off.
“It’s okay,” I whisper.
“It was like I was suspended above myself, watching as his face swelled up and my hands were covered in blood… It wasn’t until later that I realized I sliced my hand open on one of his teeth. That’s why I have this,” he lifts his other hand up. I place my free hand over the bandage gently and rest it back on his leg.
“Is he…? Where is he?” I ask.
“The guys pulled me off of him. He was taken to the hospital in Fort Dodge. He was patched up and taken to their jail, where they have agreed to hold him until a trial can begin.”
I nod my head, relieved.
Relieved that I wasn’t raped…
Relieved that he was caught…
Relieved that Grayson doesn’t have to wrestle any more demons brought on by killing a man… No matter how sick the prick is.
But most of all I’m relieved that it’s all over.
So where does this leave us?
I know we need to have this conversation. It’s been past my One Month Rule and I’ve been on and off the fence about it the whole time.
I need to tell him to forget about it. That we can just take this as it is. See what happens.
That I’m okay with that.
“Grayson?”
“Yeah, babe?” he says quietly, pulling me even closer.
“Thank you for finding me,” I chicken out of asking him.
It can wait until tomorrow…
“Always,” he answers. After another episode on TV he asks, “Are we back to gumdrops and fairy dust?”
I look up to see him smiling.
“I think so,” I tell him, grinning.
“Good.”
Yes.
Yes, it is…
ChapterSeventeen
Story Time
“Don’t forget the rolls!” I holler at Grayson. “And the water! And the s’mores brownies! And the crackers! Oh! And I’ll need you to carry one of these roasters of meat, too!”
“Babe,” he comes in from the garage. “Do we need to take the whole house?”
“Excuse me?” I spin around in the kitchen to glare at him. “You’re the one who won’t let me lift a finger! I’m surprised you let me even bake my dammed brownies! Mom needs me for this. This is the most important day of the year for her.”
“I know, Ree,” he smiles.
“It’s the Fourth of July Chili Cook-off and Nancy Harrison is rumored to have Chili so good they think it will beat Mom’s winning streak! She’s a complete mess! Therefore Dad is a complete mess. And in turn they are making me a complete mess. They need me now, more than ever. Dad’s freaking out that she is going to have another stroke, and I’m freaking out that she’s going to have another stroke because she’s so damn wound up. And you’ve had me on bed rest since I got home from the hospital! It’s been five days, Chief! I’m fine! I can handle carrying shit out to the truck if you would let me!” I stop my rant on a screech, panting for breath because I’m so worked up.
And… I still haven’t talked to him about our future!
“Ree…” he calmly states, slowly coming closer, “I know. I can handle taking it all out. Just take a breath and tell me what we need.”
“Take a breath?” I snap, leaning threateningly closer to him. “You’re making jokes about packing up the whole house and I don’t know how we could possibly do that,” I say, getting worked back up and starting on another rant. “You’ve moved practically all your shit into my house. Filling up my upstairs with boxes and workout equipment. I don’t know who gave you permission to move in with me, but it wasn’t me, buster!” I jab my finger into his chest as he has moved within reaching distance of me. “Hell! I don’t even know where this is going! It’s already been over a month! I have a rule, Chief. A rule I live by. And you just come in and think you can throw my rule out the window? Who do you think you are?!?!”
“Fuck your rule,” he tells me, smiling.
“Fuck…? Excuse me?”
“Fuck. Your. Rule.”
“You can’t say that to me! That rule is important!”
Now I’m just spewing nonsense.
I don’t even care about the rule. I’ve been wanting to tell him to forget about it anyway. But he can’t just assume I’m changing my life for him. I mean, I totally am, but he doesn’t get to conclude that for himself.
“That’s it! You need to take all of your shit and leave,” I tell him. It’s the principal of the matter, really. “I’ll put everything in my car and you can load up your truck and go back home.”
“Are you serious?” he looks at me funny.
He doesn’t think I’m serious.
“Oh… I’m serious,” I nod.
I’m totally not serious.
I really like having him here, but I can’t stop the oral vomit.
“Ree,” he says angrily. Um… eek! “What we have is good,” he growls, stalking even closer to me and pinning me into the corner between the counters. “Do you really want to ruin it because of your misconceptions about relationships?”
“What?” I jerk my head back.
“You think men can’t fall in love,” he tells me. “You think they’re all after one thing and one thing only.”
“Well… I…”
I totally do think this.
“Let me tell you something,” he leans even closer. (I guess it’s story time …) His face softens and he drops his voice, his eyes roaming across my face, “Let me give you a little insight into a man's head as he's falling in love with a woman,” Oh, boy. He means business. “It's a process that's so alien… so strange, that I'm afraid you've got to experience it to believe it. But it's as real as death and taxes....
“Sometimes, a guy will meet a girl and think nothing of it. Maybe she's a co-worker, classmate, or his buddy's friend. She gets mentally categorized as ‘female, acquaintance, feelings neutral’. Sometimes, though… he meets a woman and something in him shifts completely.
“He doesn’t think anything of it at first. Then, he gets to know her better and something fascinating happens in the man's mind. He starts to notice things about her appearance… pleasant things. It starts small. One day he realizes he likes looking at the curve of her nose, or where her ear lobe meets her face,” he trails his hand along my neck.
“It's nothing he can put his finger on or describe, really... just that looking at that part of her… makes him feel good.
“He starts wanting to do that more.
“Then, he notices an expression she makes, could be her genuine belly-laugh, or the way she furrows her brow in concern, and he gets a little flutter in his chest.”
He pulls me further into his body and drops his head, running his nose along my jaw… inhaling slowly.
“They stay friendly for a while, get to know each other better.
“Then… one day, she hugs him goodbye....and he can't stop thinking about it. He plays it over and over in his head. The feel of her breasts through two shirts, her arms around his back, her smell...” he inhales again. “He finds these little mental movies of her playing unbidden when he's driving somewhere, squeezing out his other usual daydreams.
“Shortly thereafter, the guy realizes that whenever he looks at this woman, he feels good. He likes her lines… her curves… her sounds and smells...”
He raises his head and his eyes become unfocused a bit, breathing deep, “It's like she's gradually turned from a black and white photo into a 3D color movie with surround sound… a perfect movie that makes him feel good.
“He starts wondering what he can do to keep her around… to make her happy… He realizes that he likes looking at her more than any other human being in the world.
“A man in love with a wo
man doesn't see her objectively. There is a filter there…” he looks back at me, his eyes coming into focus again, the corner of his lip turning up, “or some kind of participatory illusion. He does not see who you see in the mirror,” he runs the back of his hand down my cheek, causing me to notice that my breathing is erratic. “He is seeing someone beautiful… and perfect… and sublime… It's one of the most powerful things in his life…”
He’s silent a moment, thinking, before he goes on, “Go watch a happy old couple that's been married for decades. Watch the man's eyes. Sure, he may appreciate some young woman's ass in yoga pants or whatever...” I let out a short burst of laughter and he smiles, “but watch his eyes when he's looking at his spouse. If you're paying close enough attention, you can almost see the filter click on when his gaze settles on her,” Oh, my God. “In that moment, he's not seeing the same frumpy empty-nester that you or I see… he's seeing something wonderful…”
“Chief…” I breathe out.
“I love you, Azaria,” his caramel eyes burn into my blue ones and I gasp. “I know it’s crazy, and we hardly know each other, but I know what I feel. And I know that you have changed me in ways I never thought myself capable of. I’ve fallen completely and irrevocably in love with you.”
“Chief…”
“I don’t know if you love me, but I know you don’t want this to be over. So fuck your ‘one month rule’ and stay with me,” he leans closer, his lips brush against mine and our breath mixes together.
“Chief…” I whisper. I push against his chest a bit to give myself a little space. His expression turns pained. “No…” I lay my hand against his jaw. “I’m not rejecting you,” I smile. “I…” I shake my head a moment, trying to gather my thoughts. “I don’t know what love is, really,” I tell him. “I know that every day you amaze me… I know that looking at you causes my breath to catch in my throat… I know that when you touch me… I feel like a piece of me, that has been missing for years, is somehow back in place. But I don’t know if that is love. The idea of it…” I tilt my head looking at him, his expression soft and understanding. “it eludes me, I think. I’m terrified of being wrong… but I’m not terrified… or even apprehensive… about being with you.” A slow smile begins to form on his lips. “I was going to tell you the other day that you can just forget about my rule and that we can move on with our lives, but I kept chickening out and I didn’t know how to bring it up,” I scrunch my nose up apologetically.
My Coyote Ugly Life Page 24
