by Roya Carmen
“Then I secured a contract with a big publisher, and the rest is history, as they say. I owe her everything. If it wasn’t for her, I’d probably still be teaching. I wouldn’t be doing what I truly love every day.”
The words just slip out of my mouth. “You loved her.”
He looks at me. “Very much.”
“Tell me something else about her.”
He stares at one of her gorgeous paintings – a lone tree on a cliff, its colours brilliant and striking. “Well, you know how she died…”
I nod.
A hint of a smile traces his lips as he stares at the painting. “She was funny… always doing hilarious things in the middle of the night. And the next day, she wouldn’t remember a thing. She’d make love to me and have no recollection of it the next morning. And I’d always say, ‘Oh, babe, you missed all the fun. I rocked your world’.”
I can’t help but laugh. “I bet you did.”
He smirks. “Oh yeah, I did. Another time she woke up and made crêpes, complete with homemade whipped cream and cut-up strawberries. I was up writing that night, and she asked me if I wanted some. I had no clue she was sleepwalking… until the next day.”
“Were they any good?”
“Delicious.” He bites down his smile, and his cheerful expression fades. “She was always doing stuff like that. She was actually highly functional when she was asleep. That’s why I never thought we needed to take precautions. But then…”
I inch closer to him. “Then what?”
“We had our stairs redone. We both wanted the house to be perfect. The oak was to be stained a dark espresso and the carpet removed from the steps.” He stares at the coffee table as he continues.
I stare at it too, unable to look at him. There are two books on it, one about birds and the other a collection of photographs from Life magazine.
“The renovators took off the banisters and didn’t properly secure the work area. Since there were no kids or animals in the house, they weren’t too concerned, I suppose,” he carries on, and his voice fades with every word. “I thought about Olivia’s sleepwalking and told myself to put something up, some kind of barrier, but then I got lost in my writing and the release of my new book, and I… I never did it.”
My heart breaks. Not only did he lose his wife, but he’s carrying unbearable guilt. I can’t even imagine. I need to cut and dig in. As messy as it might be, I need to ask the hard questions. “You feel responsible?”
He turns to me once again. “Every single day of my life.”
“It wasn’t your fault. In fact, if anyone is to blame, it’s the contractors. They should have secured the area. That was their responsibility, not yours.”
“But I should have insisted,” he hisses. “They do a half-assed job, and what do I do? I don’t do a damn thing.”
I shake my head, at a loss for words. “August…” We sit quietly for the longest time. I mull over the newly acquired info, trying to work out my next move. “Tell me about the agoraphobia. When did it start?”
He jerks in my direction, clearly taken aback.
“Tell me,” I press.
“Well, if you must know… not long after Olivia’s passing.” He lets out a huge sigh. Something is clearly pressing on him. At this moment, I can see how truly miserable he is. “It started off very slowly. I’ve always been a bit of a homebody. I preferred hanging out with Liv at home and watching movies every night of the week.” He smiles when he adds, “The poor girl always had to drag me out, practically screaming.”
I smile, picturing them together.
“I ventured out only to go take photographs and to travel. Liv and I loved to travel.”
“You must miss all that.”
“I do. When the scandal broke, no one would talk to me. Everyone suddenly went out of their way to avoid me. No one could look me in the eye. Whispers followed me. Rooms cleared in front of me. I eventually started to just stay home. I quit my photography club. I bought this house in the middle of nowhere and hired Millie. I had her buy the groceries and run my errands.”
He pauses to look at me, and I smile softly. I want him to know I’m not judging him. I don’t think he’s strange or crazy. I’m his friend.
“I buried myself in my writing,” he says, his words so soft. “One day inside became two. Two became four. Four days became a week. And one day when I felt I was going crazy, I ventured out. As I drove to town, I had a panic attack. I had to stop on the side of the road to catch my breath. Needless to say, I didn’t make it to town that day. I headed straight back home.” He leans forward onto his elbows. “I sequestered myself for a week, and then one day, I noticed it was a gorgeous day outside. I thought it was a shame to be stuck in this dark house, so I decided I’d go sit in the backyard with my notebook and do some brainstorming. But as soon as I stepped outside, another panic attack hit me.”
As I stare at him, all I see is his flawless complexion. I can’t even begin to imagine what it would be like to not be able to feel the sun on your skin, to breathe in fresh air, to venture out and explore. When I first saw him, I’d thought he was the most stunning man I had ever seen; the contrast of his dark hair and his fair skin is utterly striking. His haunting blue-green eyes drew me in. Something about him reminded me of Twilight’s Edward, and I wondered for a second if the rumours were true. Had I stumbled into the home of a reclusive, mysterious vampire? I’d laughed internally at my whimsical musings. I’d never realized I was facing a man who had not felt the heat of the sun in two years.
“What did you do then?” I ask.
“I went back inside immediately. I told myself I was better off inside. I buried myself in my writing, my books. I had a home gym built. Everyone came to me.” He turns to me with a playful smile. “You see, when you have money, it’s rather easy to be a recluse.”
I sigh, realizing helping him won’t be as simple as I’d anticipated. I have no idea what to do.
It’s five thirty, and I’ve been racking my brain for the past hour. I want so badly to help him, but I have no clue what to do. He can’t live like this, sequestered in his beautiful mansion for the rest of his life. I don’t care how amazing his home is – a human needs the warmth of the sun on his skin. A human, even the reclusive introvert, is a social being at its core.
I felt it in him when we first met. I suspected he was attracted to me on a physical level, but it went beyond that. I sensed a lonely person with an eagerness to communicate – even if not many words were shared. There was a subdued excitement in him. Yes, at first, I’d thought it was because he secretly wanted to fuck me, but I now realize there was so much more to it. The man needed a friend.
I think about one of the kindest people I know – my big brother Flynn. Perhaps Flynn could help him. If anyone could, it would be Flynn. But Flynn specializes in equine therapy. We can’t exactly bring a horse to August. August needs to go to the horse, and I can’t see how I could possibly make that happen.
I head out to go home, feeling completely defeated. One more day. My heart breaks, and I feel like breaking out in tears right then, but I hold myself together and tell myself I can cry into my pillow later. I venture into his office to say good-bye, as I’ve gotten into the habit of doing lately.
As I walk into his office, I smile at the sound of Keith Urban. Miko is perched on his post, and his head bobs up and down.
“He likes it?”
August beams. “He loves it.”
I smile. “Bye, Miko. I need to get going for the day. Promise me you’ll keep good care of August.”
Sadly, Miko is one of August’s only friends. The whole thing is just so damn heartbreaking, and I feel completely helpless.
August lifts his head from a hodgepodge of papers on his desk. “You’re off? Did you manage to get a lot done today?” His beautiful eyes linger on me for the longest time.
Damn, I’m going to miss looking into those eyes. “Yes, all your promos are done. My final edit on the man
uscript is done. I’ve left all my feedback and comments on the hard copy as you like.”
“Good girl,” he says.
My pussy perks up her head. Who… what now? she seems to say. I don’t know why, but August calling me good girl arouses me. Maybe I have daddy issues. I mentally scold my pussy and tell her to behave. This guy is not up for auction. This man is off-limits. My brain gets it, but my sex… not so much.
I shake my head. “I’m also working on a list of suitable candidates to replace me. I’ll email you the list as soon as I can, and all you have to do is select your favourite ones and contact them.”
“Thank you,” he says quietly. There’s so much sorrow in his expression that I think he might be as upset as I am – if that’s even possible.
“You’re welcome. So yes, I’ve pretty much done everything… just a few loose ends to tie up.” I stand in front of him, motionless. I want to go, but my feet seem stuck to the floor. I stare at my black slippers. “I should get going.”
He nods slowly. “Yes. We’ll see you tomorrow.”
As I walk toward the door, all I want to do is turn around, march back up to his desk, grab him by the collar, and tell him he needs me in his life. He needs me to help him.
“Ruby,” he calls, startling me.
I turn back, curious.
“Although you look very lovely today in your suit and slippers,” he says with a playful smile, “since tomorrow is your last day, I thought you could do me a favour…”
“Yes?” Anything…
“I-I…” He seems to be rethinking what he’s about to say.
No, no, no. Don’t overthink it. Just say it. Say you want to fuck me on your desk.
He bites his bottom lip, driving me absolutely bonkers. “I… I thought you could possibly wear that grey skirt you have. The cute one with the frilly hem.”
I nod and smile. “Of course, sir.” Maybe we can play a little – just one last time.
“And…” I can see arousal in his expression. Yes, it’s probably a good thing that tomorrow is my last day. “I’d love it if you could wear the heels I got you.”
Oh my… The man is killing me. Tomorrow will be the most sexually frustrating day of my life. I just know it. But I shoot him an impish smile. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Ruby
I make my way to the barn after work. It’s been forever since I’ve been here. I went riding only once last summer, and in the middle of winter like this, there is no way I’d venture out. I suppose it’s theoretically spring now, but Mother Nature has apparently not received the memo. With the cold and the snow squalls, it’s still dreadful out here.
I shuffle into the barn, glad I’m wearing my trusty old winter boots. Flynn is brushing Magnum, one of the most majestic horses we have here, a striking black beast of a thing. He towers over Flynn’s six-foot-two frame. Magnum shakes his head and neighs loudly, the sound echoing off all the walls. Otherwise, the place is quiet.
Flynn looks surprised when he spots me. “Wow, Ruby, what brings you here?” He abandons his grooming and grabs me in a big bear hug like he always does. “What’s up? You’re not here to ride, are you?”
I shake my head. “No, of course not. I just came for a bit of advice from my oh-so-wise big brother.”
Fine lines etch the corners of his eyes as he smiles. “I’d be happy to help. What’s up?”
I shuffle my feet. My bulky boots feel heavy. I don’t really know how to get into this or even what to ask. “It’s my friend. He’s messed up real bad, and I want to help him.”
Flynn cocks a brow. “Is it drugs?”
“No, no, no, not drugs. If anything, the man could use some drugs, but he refuses to take any medication.”
Flynn seems intrigued as he studies me. “What’s his situation?”
I swallow hard. “He’s afraid to come out of his house.” Wow, it sounds so crazy when I say it out loud. “He can’t even step onto his front porch. He has panic attacks.”
Flynn blows out a breath. He doesn’t ask who this man is or how I’ve come to know him. Flynn is a professional and extremely considerate.
“I know it sounds crazy,” I add. “But it’s true. He suffered a terrible trauma a few years back, and ever since…”
He nods slowly. “It’s not crazy. It’s more common than you think, especially when someone has suffered a traumatic event. Was he attacked or in a serious car accident?”
I shake my head. “Not exactly…” I don’t want to say too much or betray August’s confidence. “He witnessed the traumatic death of his wife.”
He blows out another breath. “Yep, that’ll do it.” He stares off into the distance, toward the empty arena. “Come with me.”
Flynn leads me to the viewing room, where it’s a little warmer and cozier. He takes a seat on the worn leather sofa in the corner, and I follow suit. I’m curious what he has to say. Flynn is kind of the quiet type, and when he says something, it’s usually worth listening to.
“A few years back, I worked with a girl who had been raped at a house party by two boys.”
My heart sinks at his words. I can’t imagine…
“Understandably, she retreated into the comfort of her home,” he goes on. “Her parents couldn’t get her out of the house. They couldn’t even get her to go to school. Eventually, with therapy and medication, she was able to have a go at the world again. But something had to get her out here – her love of animals. Before the incident, she loved riding. When I met her, she was only halfway there… she still needed to rebuild the confidence those boys had destroyed.”
My eyes well up as I listen. “Was she okay in the end? How is she today?”
A smile spreads across his cheeks, and his whole face lights up. Right then, I get it. I totally get why he does this, why he helps people.
“She’s doing amazing,” he says. “She’s in her third year at Guelph University, studying to be a vet. She wants to be a large-animal vet.”
“Oh, wow,” I say, relieved. The heaviness in my heart lifts. “You’re amazing. Do you realize that?”
He laughs. “I have my moments. But what I was trying to say with that story is with any phobia, especially agoraphobia, you need something powerful to entice, as well as conventional therapies. Something needs to be at stake – a lost passion, a goal, a loved one in jeopardy. You need something powerful to drag them from their haven.”
I mull over Flynn’s words, and I think about August. Short of setting his mansion on fire, I’m at a loss as to what to do. Who does August love? What is he passionate about?
Cheese… he has all the cheese in the world delivered to him. Anything he needs, he gets.
Writing… nope, he gets to do that in the comfort of his home.
Birds… a possibility.
Sex… another possibility.
Shoe fetish…
A smile traces my lips as a plan slowly weaves together.
Mr. Hyde won’t stand a chance.
August
I can hardly get myself out of bed. I don’t want to say good-bye. Of course, I absolutely need to. We’re both vulnerable. We’ve gotten too involved, but it’s not too late to put a stop to it. I just can’t be the man she needs me to be. She’ll be much better off with a nice man her own age, someone like her – a guy who likes to go to the movies, eat out, go to the occasional party or on a trip to Cuba. She’s too beautiful, too young, and too full of life to be dragged down by a miserable disaster of a man like myself. Every time she looks at me with pain in those stunning eyes of hers, I want to scream, “I’m doing this for you. I’m doing what is best for you. You don’t need me in your life. You’ll be so much better off without me.”
We have one final day together. I tell myself I’ll keep my distance but let myself enjoy the sight of her. That’s why I requested she wear the heels and my favourite skirt. I hope she’ll wear her luscious, thick auburn hair down. Just the thought of running my hands through that gorgeous hair works me
up. Thankfully, I have a memory to revel in – I have actually felt her hair between my fingers, heard her moans as I pulled at it softly. God, I wish I could do that again. I shake my head and remind myself to behave.
I hear her come in with the usual noises. First, the quiet and muffled sounds coming from the coat room as she hangs her jacket and purse and peels off her boots. And then… nothing. The house is eerily quiet. Something’s missing… the click-clack of her heels. I cock a brow, intrigued. She seems to have disappeared into thin air.
My heart practically leaps out of my chest when she pokes her head in my doorway.
“Hi, August,” she says cheerfully, her smile as wide as ever. Apparently one of us is in a good mood.
I take her in from head to toe, a bit disappointed – her hair is up just as it was yesterday. She is wearing my favourite skirt, but again, she’s wearing those ghastly slippers I’m starting to hate. And without the sexy heels, the skirt just isn’t as enticing. I want to ask why she’s not wearing the heels as I requested, but at the risk of sounding like a complete asshole, I decide not to ask.
After a quick hello, she heads back to her office. I feel so hollow – I don’t want to let her go. I’m not even sure why I’m letting her go. I just don’t want to hurt her or drag her into my dark world.
Shortly after one o’clock, she makes an appearance again. I look up as soon as she enters my peripheral vision. She ventures into my office cautiously, carrying a black briefcase. With the flat slippers she wears, I realize how petite she really is – perhaps five foot three, if that.
“August, is this a good time? Were you writing?”
I nod. “It’s a great time.”
The truth is that I couldn’t write a single word all morning, too upset from the depressing turn of events. Saying good-bye to an esteemed colleague, or to a friend, is never easy. I figure she wants to go over a few last-minute details, but when she inches closer to my desk, she wears a mischievous expression. The lovely Ruby Riverstone is up to something.
I sit up straight, intrigued. She takes a seat across from me and studies me for a beat. Her face is exquisite, her lips a dark shade of ruby red, just as I like them. I want to bite that plump bottom lip. Almost as if she can read my thoughts, her eyes seem to darken, and I become powerless under her stare. It’s amazing how a person can turn you to jelly with a single look.
