by Beth Michele
“Hey!” She squats down to hug me. “Welcome home!” Straightening back up, she waves a hand haphazardly around the room. “So, tomorrow they’re going to do some more stuff, you know, just some other things to make it a bit—easier. In the meantime,” she rambles on, not taking a breath, “I set up the small room down here for you. I wasn’t sure exactly what time you were going to be home, so I was getting ready to call the hotel and tell them I couldn’t come in and—”
“No.” I want to ask her what she did with my sister. I don’t like this version. While I know she’s trying to help, my mind is already swirling and it’s too much. “Go on in, Zoey. You’ve missed enough work and,” I glance behind me, “Dylan is here with me, so it’s fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” Now I put on my best face. “Take a hike,” I order, and this time, a genuine smile curls her lips.
“Okay. I’ll see you both later, then.” She grabs her purse off the chair and hauls it over her shoulder. Her keys jingle as she plucks them from the bowl on the side table. “Bye, kids.”
The second she’s out the door, I flop my head back against the chair. “Thank God,” I breathe out and Dylan laughs. “I love my sister, but—”
“No need to explain, Hopper. Slim is a rare species, but she means well.” He comes around to stand in front of me, looking down with a raised brow. “So, I have you all to myself for the first time in weeks. No doctors, no nurses, no interruptions.” He sets a hand on each side of the chair and leans in close, his lips twitching into a smirk. “What shall we do?”
I can’t help but smile, because this is Dylan after all. “I don’t know, but,” I drum my fingers against the padded arm, “I’m kind of at your mercy.”
“Stay right here.” He walks backward and rubs his hands together, a sparkle of mischief hidden behind his eyes.
“Of course. I’ll be right here, waiting.”
He throws me a wink that, as usual, makes my heart melt. I hum to myself, not knowing what else to do. I can hear him milling around and wonder what he’s doing.
He’s back and forth from the spare room to the kitchen a few times, and the smell of basil and tomatoes finds its way to me. My belly answers with a rather loud grumble and I pat it a few times, silently telling it to be patient.
“Okay,” he announces, finally emerging from the kitchen. “You ready?”
“You took too long.” I lift my nose in the air with a grin. “You’re lucky I waited for you.”
“You’re God damn right I’m lucky,” he growls, and I squeal as he sweeps me up in his arms, carrying me down the hall. He kicks open the door and my mouth hangs wide as my eyes dart around the room. A room that has been used for storage since my parents passed away. There was nothing in here before but a desk and some boxes stacked in the corner. Now, it’s nothing short of magical.
There is a double bed, frameless, centered against the far wall, covered in cream and yellow linens. Flowery yellow curtains, the ones my mother made but I refused to throw away, now cover the window overlooking the street. The oak desk has been cleared, a fragrant bouquet of purple lilacs sitting in a simple glass vase, and three tapered candles next to it. My bookcase has been transported down here with all of my paperbacks, my Kindle conveniently placed on an end table next to the bed. A picture of Mom, Dad, Zoey and me sits beside it. Warmth curls around my stomach and I touch a hand to my chest, my heart overflowing.
“Zoey did all this,” Dylan whispers, “and even I’ll admit, it’s pretty impressive… for Zoey. I can only take responsibility for the flowers and candles.”
“It’s lovely,” I admit, a word my mother frequently used. I nestle my head against Dylan’s shoulder and sigh. He kisses my hair then deposits me softly on the bed.
“Let’s get you comfortable.” He nods his head toward a tray with food that smells delicious. “Then we’re going to eat and watch some movies. Sound good?”
“Sounds great.”
He leans over and reaches for the hem of my skirt, sliding it down my legs. Normally it would tickle, but the sensation is different now. More like a pin-prick against my skin. I shrug off the thought and instead focus on Dylan removing his jeans. I watch as they sail past his muscular thighs, leaving him in snug black boxers and a t-shirt. He runs a hand through his messy hair and I want to leap off the bed and jump him. But I can’t.
“Evie?”
“Hmmm?”
“Let’s eat… first.” A grin splits his lips and I bite down on mine.
“Oh yeah, right. Food,” I tease, throwing a pillow at him. At least my arms still work.
I manage to scooch back against the wall. Dylan jumps on the bed, grabbing another pillow and placing it behind my back. I lick my lips as he hands me the plate of lasagna.
“This smells amazing.”
“You have Grandma Molly to thank for that. She did a shit-ton of cooking while you were in the hospital, so we’ll be eating like kings for a while.”
The fork is on its way to my lips but I pause before it reaches them. “Is she still here?”
“Yes.” He moves the tray closer to the bed before he hops off to set up the DVD player. “She was supposed to go back a few days ago, but… she’s decided to stay for a while, and I’m glad. Okay, so what should we watch?” Over his shoulder he asks, “Anything in particular you’re in the mood for?”
“I’m flexible. Just… nothing sad, okay?”
MY HEART TWISTS, pulls, squeezes at her words. Evie’s trying so hard to be strong. Since we left the hospital, she’s vacillated between laughter and profound sadness. Bravery has always become her, though. However, that somber smile on her lips, her attempt at being courageous, tears me in two. She doesn’t have to try. She already is.
“Okay,” I muffle as I dig through the movies, “I’m thinking funny so let’s see what we’ve got here.” I hold up two in my hand, continuing to fish for more. “The Hangover, Bridesmaids? Wait a minute. Whose movie is this? Mr. Popper’s Penguins?”
“Oh,” she giggles, “that’s Zoey’s. She’s got a thing for Jim Carrey.”
“Let’s not delve any further into that fantasy,” I cackle, and Evie laughs behind me. “Moving right along. Ah. How about Robin Williams? The Birdcage?”
“Yes! I love that one.”
I pop the movie in then nestle beside Evie on the bed as the opening credits roll. Her plate is already empty. “Holy shit. You’re finished? Do you want more?”
“No. It was delicious, though. However—”
“Ice cream?” When her eyes light up, I know I’ve read her thoughts. “Be right back.” I kiss the tip of her nose and slide off the bed. It takes but a minute and I’m back with a pint of her favorite ice cream and two spoons. I hand the pint to her since I’m going to eat first. “Looks like Zoey hooked you up. The freezer is full.” She’s not even listening at this point. Her spoon is already digging for fudge as if it’s a buried treasure she’s desperate to find.
The movie plays on and Evie’s giggles float around the room. My chest lightens at the airy sound. I’m pretty sure I needed to hear her laugh as much as she needed to laugh.
Partway through the movie and half a pint of ice cream, Evie clicks the television off. I pivot to face her. A pale blush colors her skin.
“What’s wrong?”
She bites her lip, lowering her eyes to the blanket. I hook a finger under her chin, forcing her to meet my gaze.
“What is it?” I ask more softly this time.
“I need to make sure you still…,” she pauses as if searching the air for the right words, “I need you to touch me, Dylan. Put your hands on me.”
For the briefest moment, my heart sinks somewhere deep inside my chest, knowing what she’s saying to me. Needing reassurance that I still want her. I push the thought away before it immobilizes me, not allowing me to give her what she needs most right now.
Because she’s the only thing I want. That I’ll ever want.
> My eyes dance over her face; the delicate curve of her brow, the rise of her cheekbone, then stall at the bow of her lips. I open my mouth to tell her how much I want her, then close it, realizing this is not about words. This is about feeling.
Slowly, I run the tips of my fingers lightly over the indentation just above her collarbone, dragging them up and across her skin before I cup the side of her neck. She shivers as my thumb strokes back and forth over her cheek, my breath flirting with her lips as I draw her closer.
Her eyes become sheathed, anticipating my mouth right before it covers hers, and I slip inside. Her tongue is warm, her body needy as she wraps her arms around my neck, bringing her chest flush with mine, her tight nipples pressing into my skin making me hard.
I thread my fingers through her hair and she arches against me with so much yearning I can taste it. And I feel the same. I want her so God damned badly—to show her this changes nothing for me.
My lips leave hers and I trail my tongue along the flesh of her neck. The moan that escapes is desperate and strangled making my cock throb even more. “Do you have any idea how hard I am right now? How much I want to be inside you. I’ve missed being able to touch you like this, Evie, to make you come.”
“I want you, Dylan,” she whimpers, and I fist my hands into her top so I can lift it away, needing to feel her skin against mine. “Off,” she orders, tugging on my shirt until it lands on the floor. She flicks the clasp of her bra next, revealing her firm pink tips.
“Lie back,” I urge gently, perusing her body, “God, you’re sexy, Evie.” I catch her smile before I suck one taut peak into my mouth, swirling my tongue around and around until she’s panting. I continue teasing her nipple while I let my fingers roam lower, finding her panties overly damp. “You’re soaked,” I rasp, and she stares down at me, eyes wild with desire and something else I can’t pinpoint.
“Please, Dylan, I-I can’t spread my legs.” A tear falls down her cheek and it makes me want to stop and pull her into my arms, hold her tight. Instead, I shift my body lower, grabbing the hem of her panties and clumsily maneuvering them down her legs. I push her thighs apart with both hands, letting my fingers glide through her arousal as I crawl back up to her face.
“Is this okay? Can you feel that?” I ask cautiously, and she smiles as I rub her sex, dipping in and out of her wet folds.
“Yes,” she breathes, right when my touch sends a shudder through her upper body, her lips parting on another moan. “Dylan, I-I’m….”
“Let go,” I whisper, covering her lips with mine so I can catch her pleasure in my mouth, swallow her sighs as she climaxes against me. I untangle our lips, her breath still banging loudly against my cheeks.
“I want to feel you,” she murmurs, and I know I don’t have any protection, so I let the weight of my body cover her, grinding my hips against her moist skin. She’s so warm underneath me and I let out a groan. When I look up at her, she’s chewing on the inside of her lip while staring at the ceiling.
“Evie, I don’t have—”
“No,” she chimes in right away, “it’s not that.” Her eyes meet mine, the flush of desire from before has vanished. “I have to go to the bathroom and I left the… self-catheter in there.”
“Oh. Okay. Well,” I roll off of her and stand, “in that case, your chariot awaits.”
The expression on her face is a combination of a wince and a half-smile, and I wonder if that was the wrong thing to say. I’m trying to make things lighter, but for the first time in my life, I’m not sure if I’m saying the right thing around her. And I hate it.
She rests her head against my chest as I carry her down the hall. I’m not sure if she’s talking to herself or me, but in the smallest whisper I hear, “This is my favorite place to be,” then she pauses, her voice cracking, “right next to your heart.”
My arms cradle her more tightly, while my lips press together in fear that I might fall apart. I don’t want her to know that I’m holding on by a thread. She needs to draw strength from me right now. So no matter what I’m feeling inside, I have to keep it hidden.
Placing my palm against the door, I push it open. The first things that strike me are the two, rounded gray bars on either side of the toilet now. My jaw clenches tight as I hold on to Evie and lift the seat up, then set her down gently and hand her the catheter. “I’ll wait for you outside.” She nods without meeting my gaze, and I quietly close the door until it clicks behind me.
With a desperate exhale, I drop my head back against the wall and close my eyes. I want to pretend this is all a nightmare and I’m going to wake up any second. I find myself replaying the minutes before the accident over and over again. Wishing we hadn’t left her room. Wishing we’d stayed inside my house just a minute longer.
Wishing it had been me.
Her small voice disrupts my regret. “All set.”
I turn the knob on the door to find Evie’s small hands clinging tightly to those two sterile bars. There’s something about seeing her sitting there naked, unable to look at me that has my heart crumbling, my spirit shattering. I tough through it and force my lips upward into a smile. “Let’s get you back to bed, Hopper.”
By the time I make the short walk back to her room, she seems pretty wiped out. I round the bed, placing her down on the sheets and climb in next to her.
“Dylan, would you mind….? Could you just… hold me?”
“You don’t even have to ask.” And finally her lips curve in a genuine smile, maybe even of relief. “Here, let’s scoot you over.” She uses her upper body strength and I grasp her hip, helping her shift on her side. Then I snake my arms around her waist, spooning her from behind. “Sleep sweet, Evie.” I sweep a kiss over her shoulder. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Sometime in the middle of the night I awaken on the opposite side of the bed. I throw the covers off, about to head for the kitchen to get a glass of water when a muffled sound captures my attention. Moving closer to Evie, I find her head pushed into the pillow, soft sobs jerking her upper body.
I wrap an arm around her belly and tug her back against me. Her cries become louder and sharper and my chest explodes with her grief. “Shhh… I’m here. I’ve got you, Evie,” I whisper into her hair.
Only it’s not just her grief. It’s mine now, too.
THE ROOM IS filled with light when I open my eyes. Unsure of the time, I glance over at my watch on the side table, noting that it’s nine in the morning. I reach out, patting the bed for Evie, and bolt upright when she’s not there.
“Evie?” I call out, my eyes immediately dropping to the floor. A strange panic sets in, one I’m not familiar with. It makes me dizzy and I take a deep breath to steel myself before making my way out into the hall—stopping dead in my tracks. Evie is crawling on the carpet with her arms, naked from the waist down. One elbow is propped on the floor, as she pushes herself forward. Spots flash in front of my eyes. I grip the wall and my chest, afraid I might collapse into myself.
“Evie.” She pauses her efforts as I walk around her body, squatting down in front of her. Her eyes are swollen, face red from exertion. Dots of sweat line her forehead.
“Why didn’t you wake me up? Let me help you.”
“No.” Her voice is empty, cold. “I need to do this myself, Dylan. I can’t rely on you.”
Her words are like a sharp jab to my chest, even though I know she’s right. It’s important that she learn to become self-sufficient for however long this lasts.
“Could you just wheel the chair over?” It’s only now that I’m aware of her labored breathing. “I’m getting tired.”
“Sure.” I stand up, unlock the brake on the chair and move it closer, cursing myself for forgetting to bring it to her room. My fists flex at my sides, desperate to help. Only I don’t. As hard as it is, I back away and give her space.
After a couple of tries, bracing her arms on the sides of the chair and attempting to lift her lower body, she b
lows out a frustrated breath. “Okay. I guess I thought I could do this… can you just help me sit?” She sounds defeated and I want to say something to reassure her. Only I’m at a loss for words. This fucking sucks.
I cross over and stand behind her, gripping under her arms and raising her up off the ground. “Sling your arm over my shoulder and I’ll turn you around.” She does as I ask and I twist her so her back is now against the chair.
“Okay, I’m good.” I let her go and without too much effort, she manages to lower herself, releasing a breath. “Thanks.”
Bending down so I’m eye level with her, I place a hand on her thigh, just above her knee. “Tell me what you can feel. I want to understand.”
“I mean, I can feel something,” she offers, her voice softening a bit, “but it’s still like my legs are asleep. That prickly feeling. But even when I will my brain to tell them to move, they won’t move.” She stares down at her legs and shrugs. “Stubborn little suckers.” And in those three words, I’m able to breathe again. She’s still in there—somewhere.
“Yeah. Reminds me of someone.” Our eyes meet and I tempt her with a smile which she barely returns. “Hey, you got your shirt on,” I say, and then realize how condescending that sounded, though I didn’t mean it to be.
“The top is the easy part.”
“Let me grab you some shorts, okay?” I give her a small, careful kiss on the cheek then hustle upstairs to her room.
It takes me a couple of tries before I find the drawer with her shorts and panties. Then it takes me another minute to pull myself together when I see the picture of the two of us at our senior prom tacked against the corner of her mirror. The edges of the picture are tattered when I yank it down. I smile at how her flowing red hair contrasted against the white off-the-shoulder dress she wore. Tight at the waist, but flared at the bottom. She looked like a beautiful mermaid. I didn’t look so bad in my black tux either, come to think of it.
I place the picture back on the mirror, staring at it.
