by Pamela Clare
The night air had a calming effect on Bailey. If it wasn’t for the nasty cough that intermittently racked her small body, she almost seemed well. But we were there already and had paid, and it made more sense to stay and be seen.
I almost didn’t notice him. My attention was split between Bailey and the clock. But he stopped right in front of us, and I looked up. Even then I didn’t recognize him right away. A big, scary-looking man who’d had the shit beat out of him, that’s what I thought. Angry, red welts covered his face. His right eye was swollen and literally taped shut, with what looked like first-aid tape. My arms tightened around Bailey, and then I recognized him—the man from the club, in the parking lot.
The man who’d almost raped/fucked me and had only been stopped by Colin’s threats. Apparently he’d picked the wrong girl to mess with this time, because he was wrecked.
Had he followed us here? Would he try to hurt us?
This was a public place, but I knew from personal experience that no place was safe, least of all a hospital. I glanced nervously around the small, empty room of plastic chairs. The receptionist was behind a frosted-glass sliding window. Probably the most I could hope for was that she would call the cops if trouble started. Oh, and we’d have speedy-fast medical aftercare. Great.
I had to get him away from us for Bailey’s sake. There was no going along with it this time. I licked my lips, trying to think fast with an armful of sick baby.
He spoke, but only half of his lips moved, the other half busted up. “I’m not going to hurt you, I swear.”
Right, that’s what people always say when they have no intention of hurting someone.
“I just want to apologize,” he said, the last word slurring almost unintelligibly. He shifted his weight between his feet nervously, or maybe just in pain.
I didn’t really care, so long as he left us alone. “Okay.”
“I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“Okay. It’s okay.” I willed him to walk away, begged him with my eyes.
“I hope I didn’t hurt you. Are you all right?”
All I could think of was how to get this guy to leave, but I didn’t know what he wanted. If anything, he seemed to be getting more worked up. His breathing increased, but not in a menacing way—more like he’d fall down any second.
I glanced at the closed receptionist window again, wondering if we’d need her help for a different kind of emergency. “Umm, you don’t seem so good. Are you all right?”
He jumped back. “No! I’m fine. I don’t want any trouble.”
“Okay,” I said, more confused than wary at this point. “So…” I trailed off, glancing at the door suggestively.
“Ah! Right. Well, you take care. And again, I’m sorry. Very sorry.” He backed away from me to the door as if I might lunge and attack him with the diaper bag. I heard him mumbling apologies even as the door shut behind him. My whole body slackened in relief that he was away from Bailey. She dozed in my arms, fitful from her sickness but otherwise no worse for the wear.
That call was too damn close.
We made it through the actual visit with minimal fussing. The doctor, who performed what appeared to be a cursory exam, said it was probably a virus but sent us home with an oral antibiotic “just in case.” By the time I dragged us back home, it was already midnight. Late, but not that bad, considering all that had happened.
Bailey, who had been exhausted on the ride home, decided to wake up with wide eyes after I administered the antibiotic. Meanwhile my lids were closing. Not good.
My throat started to ache, and it felt so cold. I cranked up the heater, already cringing at the thought of our gas bill next month. I set Bailey up with some soft toys in the living room and then collapsed on the floor beside her, watching her play.
I jolted awake to the sound of my phone ringing. I took a quick inventory of Bailey, who seemed to have collected everything that wasn’t nailed down and piled it in the middle like a bird’s nest.
My hand fumbled for the phone. “Hello?”
“Hey, Allie.” A few of my frazzled nerves settled at hearing his voice.
I glanced at the clock and groaned. It felt later than one o’clock. “Hey, you.”
“What’s wrong?”
I sighed. “It’s nothing. Bailey’s caught some sort of bug, and I guess I’ve got it too. She’s wide awake, and I’m exhausted.” I took a deep breath, in and out.
“That doesn’t sound like nothing. What can I do to help?”
“What? Oh, no. We’re fine.” I rubbed my hand over my eyes, willing myself to stay awake. “I’m sorry. Did you need something?”
“No. I was just calling to… Well, it doesn’t matter. But it sounds like you could use a hand.”
“Nah, I’ll figure something out. I’ve done it before, you know.”
A pause, then, “Can I come over?”
I glanced at Bailey. “Uh, now? It’s pretty late…”
“Yeah, I know. I’ll just come over, and if I’m getting in the way, you can kick me out, okay?” He hung up.
The phone slipped from my fingers, as if maybe the conversation had been a dream. I drifted in a haze of discomfort as I watched Bailey use a block of Post-it notes as stickers on all the furniture.
Colin had to knock twice before I dragged myself to the door, holding Bailey. He held up a plastic drugstore bag. “I brought meds.”
A burst of pleasure at his thoughtfulness was quickly doused by my exhaustion. I took the bag from him and led him into the kitchen.
“Here, I can take her while you do that.” He reached out his hands for Bailey, but his eyes were veiled as if he expected me to refuse.
I hesitated for a moment but realized I trusted him more than that tired doctor. I handed her over, awkward because I rarely did so. He was less nervous than I would’ve thought as he set her on his hip. She gave a token fuss before settling against him.
The picture of him with her made my heart thump. Apparently Colin had a horse-whisperer effect on both girls in the Winters household.
I hid the strange euphoric feeling by dumping the contents of the bag onto the counter. I sorted through the boxes casually as if men brought me gifts of kindness and health every day. “Wow, did you buy out the store?”
“I didn’t know what you already had, so I just got everything they had.”
I opened a few to take. “You didn’t have to do this. Thanks, though. This is really great.”
“No problem. Should I put Bailey to bed?”
Bailey examined Colin with undisguised curiosity, looking no closer to sleep than she had a few minutes ago. “Uh, sure. You could try that.”
“Any specific thing she likes?”
“I usually read a few books and then sing to her. When she wakes up in the middle of the night, like tonight, I try to cuddle her back to sleep.”
“Okay,” he said and headed toward the hallway.
No one except for me and Shelly had ever put her to sleep before, and I doubted Colin had tons of childcare experience, so I wasn’t expecting success. Still, grateful for the reprieve, I leaned against the counter with my eyes closed for a few minutes.
I took a bunch of pills to help with various symptoms and then headed to Bailey’s bedroom. The door was cracked open, and I peeked inside. Bailey lay on the bed with her eyes closed.
Colin sat on the edge stroking her hair and singing. “In my thoughts I have seen rings of smoke through the trees, and the voices of those who stand looking…”
Led Zeppelin! I clapped my hand over my mouth.
This big, strong man, wearing a muscle shirt and cargo pants, sang rock songs to a toddler in the middle of the night. I was so toast. Game over. And it was doubly terrifying, considering I had no idea how to make him stick around. He would leave and take his sweetness and his Pepto and our hearts.
In disgust at my own vulnerability, I stalked into the living room and started picking up Bailey’s things.
Colin ca
me in and leaned against the door frame. “Hey, I can do that. You can rest.”
“Is she down?”
“Out like a light.”
I closed my eyes again for a long minute, savoring the peace. “Thank you. Really.”
“No problem.”
“Here.” I patted the couch. “Come and sit. Not too close, you don’t want to catch this thing.”
He rolled his eyes and sat. “After what we did earlier, I don’t think an extra foot is going to help me.”
I laughed, which kicked off a coughing spurt. When it was over, I groaned and rolled my head forward. Colin shifted closer and kneaded my shoulders.
“Jesus,” I said. “Stop being perfect.”
His hands froze. “I’m not perfect.”
“Okay,” I said, partly because I hadn’t meant to offend him and partly because I wanted him to continue. His fingers, thick and calloused, started to move again, pushing away my knots. Those hands were strong enough to hurt me, but instead they brought me pleasure and now comfort.
God, this was better than sex. It was probably best not to tell him that, male ego being what it was, but it was true.
“So good,” I managed to groan, to let him know I appreciated him.
“Shh,” he said. Even better.
He rubbed my shoulders, my neck, even my arms, until I relaxed back into him—a puddle of sick, exhausted woman. My mind entered a slushlike state, dreamy. His arms wrapped around me, gently rubbing my hands. Who knew hands had tension?
At first I’d been so desperate for relief that I was content to be pampered, content to use Colin that way. But after a while, even through my fog I felt the oddness of the one-sided flow of pleasure. Normally I would feel guilt that I’d even accepted it, and maybe concern that he would demand recompense, more than I had to give. But with Colin it was different. There wasn’t fear, only gratitude. I wanted him to feel good, as good as me. Of course, I also didn’t want to move or even open my eyes, so that was a dilemma.
I turned my hands over. My fingers felt small and fragile in his large ones, like a bird’s wings fluttering in a cage, but he wasn’t holding me down. He let me explore, my fingertips tracing the calluses on his palms. I curved my fingers around to the backs of his hands. Rough skin, though not as rough as the calluses, and the soft hair of a man. My fingers inched up—it was coarse and…? My eyes snapped open, and I looked down to see open cuts on his knuckles. I stared at them for a moment.
An icy shiver ran down my spine, one that had nothing to do with my fever. I didn’t know if I was slow because of the late hour or because I didn’t want to see it. I remembered what the man at the clinic had said—that was the exact phrase Colin had used last night, that the guy just didn’t want any trouble. Last night the guy had acted like he knew Colin, or at least knew of him.
I turned slowly in Colin’s arms until I was facing him, still clutching his hands. “How did you get these?”
His face closed up, confirming my fears. And in his eyes there was knowledge of what he’d done. There was caution too, which I hated.
“Colin.”
He looked like he might not answer me, but he said, “It was nothing. A disagreement.”
“Who?”
He shrugged, not casually enough. “Someone where I work.”
“Right. Someone didn’t pay the tab, so you beat him up?”
Colin shook his head, but his eyes never left mine. “The restaurant isn’t the only place I work.”
“Tell me.” Tell me you didn’t do that to him. Tell me you aren’t another violent man.
“My brother. He owns a few businesses.”
“Was it the man from the other night?”
“Why would you think that?”
“Gee, I don’t know. Maybe because you tell me you have something to take care of. Then I see him with the shit beat out of him. And then you come around with—”
“You saw him? When the fuck did you see him?”
I flinched at his language, which was laughable considering my own dirty mouth. Still, this one was less like an exclamation and more like a lash.
“Did he come here?” he asked. “I swear to God, I’ll kill him.”
I pulled away from him and stood, wrapping my arms around my sides. “You did it, then.”
“Yes, I kicked his ass, but it was a fair fight.” He stood and paced away from me. “What? Did you like him or something?”
“No, I don’t like him, but I don’t want to see him hurt because of me. Jesus, Colin.”
“You didn’t do it. He started it, and I finished it.”
I rolled my eyes. “I am not some stupid girl you fight over, winner take all.”
“I wasn’t fighting to win you. I was teaching him a lesson. Now answer me. Did he come here?”
“No! Not that I owe you an explanation, but apparently you’ll go homicidal if I don’t tell you. I saw him at the ER where I took Bailey, okay? All he did was apologize to me. And he looked like shit. You seriously hurt him.”
“Good. But he shouldn’t have talked to you at all. I warned him what would happen if he did.”
My eyes widened. “You’re not going to do anything else to him.”
He said nothing.
“I’m serious. I can’t believe you even did that much. This isn’t like the caveman days. Who does that? Crazy, violent people, that’s who. You could’ve really hurt him.” And then a thought hit me. “You could get in trouble. Even go to jail.”
“If I do get sent to jail, it won’t be for that.”
“What does that mean? What other things are you doing?”
He gave a quick shake of the head. Don’t ask.
“I swear to God, Colin, do not make me play twenty questions. If you are up to something dangerous and you are bringing it here into my house with my daughter, then I have a right to know.”
Finally he looked ruffled, his cheeks pinking and his nostrils flaring slightly. “I’m not bringing anything into your house. No one will hurt you or your daughter, especially not if I’m seeing you.”
“Is this supposed to be comforting? Because it’s really not. What does that even mean? Who the hell are you? The mob?” I tried to laugh but choked on it when he shrugged.
“Nothing that organized.”
I stared at him, dumbstruck. Out of the frying pan and into the fire, that’s what had happened.
He sighed. “Can you please sit down?”
“I don’t want to sit down.”
“Allie. Sit.”
I sat.
“You know I own a restaurant. But before that I worked for my brother. I won’t lie and say everything was above the table, because it wasn’t. It wasn’t always legal and it wasn’t always…good.”
He looked at me resignedly, as if I would condemn him. I thought of Shelly, and I thought of Jacob. My own halo was much tarnished. No, I wouldn’t condemn Colin for his past, but that didn’t mean I had to accept it into my life. I had to think of Bailey.
“You aren’t involved in that stuff now, right? I mean, now that you run your restaurant.”
“Most of the time.” His words were slow, too carefully chosen to be comforting. “But sometimes he asks for my help, and I do it. That’s what I was doing at the club the night we met—meeting him.”
“What types of things do you do?”
“Whatever he needs done.”
“Violent things?”
“I never claimed to be perfect.” His eyes focused on mine, his voice steady.
A small laugh burst out of me, the sharp sound bouncing off the walls of my bare apartment. “No, you didn’t, but there’s a long way from not perfect to violent criminal, don’t you think?”
He said nothing.
“And if I asked you to stop doing those things, would you?” But I already knew the answer.
“He’s my brother.”
I wasn’t angry. Not angry for whatever slight deception there may have been not to tell me this up
front. Not for his past, whatever illegal or violent things he had done. Not even angry for what he had done to the guy from the club.
I was afraid.
Afraid that somehow, that world would intersect with mine, when I’d worked so hard to isolate myself. Even my club nights were carefully orchestrated and contained, incidents that never spilled over into my real life. Until Colin.
I was afraid I’d misjudged him, that he wasn’t the nice guy I’d thought him to be. Just doing bad things in your life didn’t make you a bad person. I believed that firmly. But how could I tell the difference? I couldn’t trust him. I couldn’t even trust myself.
“You’re breaking up with me, aren’t you?” An undercurrent of steel in his voice was the only sign of his displeasure.
“It’s not like we’re going steady. We’ve had one date and two fucks. That does not make a relationship.”
“Don’t bullshit me. You and I both know it was different between us.”
I paused, then said more quietly, “Why me? You could go back to that club and pick up a girl who’s hotter than me, who doesn’t have issues, that’s for sure. I need to understand why you want me.”
He shook his head, though it wasn’t a refusal.
“It’s not just the sex. It’s…it’s this.” He waved his hand around my apartment.
Bare white walls, cheap ratty couch, strewn plastic toys. I just looked at him.
“I want you. I want this.” He gestured between us in frustration, maybe at me for asking the question, maybe at himself for not being able to answer.
“Oh, Colin.”
He hid behind a thicker skin than I could ever hope to breach. The only reason I was seeing this was because he’d let me in. I fell in love with him a little right then, as he sat, so large and competent yet so vulnerable. I wanted him for my own, and that wanting was like a chant in my head. A greedy, futile chant.
“Maybe there is something special between us,” I finally said, “but it’s just too hard. I’ve got so much baggage I could sink the Titanic, and you…well, you have your own baggage, don’t you?”
Maybe I was being mean, I thought, as I watched his defenses tighten up again right in front of my eyes. Sometimes mean was good. Sometimes mean was the difference between survival and going under.
