Ready To Fall

by Daisy Prescott

“Right. Staying until I ask you to leave.”

  “Glad you understand finally. I’ll sleep in the other guest room. I’d sleep on the sectional down here if it would make you more comfortable.”

  “Thank you. You didn’t have to ask your aunt for all that food.”

  “I didn’t. I called her this morning and told her what happened. That’s all her doing.”

  “Wow. She doesn’t even know me.”

  “She knows you’re important to me, which makes you important to her. It’s how things work around here.”

  “Right. The island way of life.”

  “We take care of our own.”

  “And I fall into that?”

  “You do now.”

  “I’m overwhelmed. I mean, I moved here not knowing anyone to be independent and make it on my own.” She shook her head and tears welled up again in her eyes. “Instead, I’m a charity case.”

  I walked over and draped my arm around her shoulder. “You are independent and strong, not a charity case.”

  “I can’t even bathe myself.”

  “You probably could. Not very well, and would probably make a mess, but you could.”

  “Then why did I need your help in the shower?”

  “Obviously you wanted me to see you naked again. I know your wicked ways.” I hugged her closer and kissed the top of her head.

  “You’re making it difficult to stay mad at you.”

  “Then don’t. Or do. But if you kick me out, I’m taking the cake with me. My aunt must like you to make her chocolate sheet cake.”

  “No way are you taking my cake!” She turned and pushed my chest with her good hand. “And don’t think I didn’t see you steal frosting.”

  I absentmindedly rubbed my hand. “If you didn’t see it, you at least would have heard the thwack of the spoon on my flesh.”

  She laughed and took my hand, massaging the back with her thumb. “She’s fast with a spoon. I was impressed with her reflexes.”

  “Don’t underestimate the woman. She’s put up with me and my cousins for years. Heathens, all of us.”

  “You’re not so bad.”

  I quirked my eyebrow.

  “Don’t give me that look.” She held my hand still and interlaced our fingers.

  I gazed down at our joined hands.

  A small gesture, but it was a start.

  We ate chocolate cake for dinner sitting on the couch. It felt rebellious and silly Diane said. A perfect reminder her life was her own, to be lived by whatever rules she wanted.

  I slept in a twin bed down the hall from her room that night and the next, but she kicked me out on Sunday evening, saying I had to work and she had to figure out how to be a one-armed wonder.

  The big talk didn’t take place. Part of me hoped it never would, but I knew we’d be better off if it did.

  A week after the accident, she invited me over for dinner of taco casserole—one of my favorite dishes, but she didn’t know that.

  She greeted me at the door, freshly showered and dressed in a blue button down and jeans. The bruise on her face had faded into a pale, greenish yellow.

  “Impressive,” I said, gesturing to her clothes.

  “I know. I’m thinking world domination is next on my to-do list.”

  “You could probably do it. Will you be an evil overlord or a kind-hearted despot?”

  Her brows pulled together while she gave her options serious consideration. “I’m thinking despot, but one who wears a tiara.” She cracked herself up over the image. “Come on in.”

  I laughed at her laughing at her own joke. “Someone’s feeling better.” I pointed at her face. “That’s a lovely shade of green on you.”

  She gently touched her bruise. “It’s almost gone.”

  When she moved her hand, I traced the line with a light touch. “I’ve said it before, it makes you look like a kick-ass ninja. I like it.”

  “Thank you.”

  “For what? For liking your bruise.”

  “For always making me feel beautiful. And desired.”

  “I’m that obvious?”

  “It’s a good thing.” She sashayed into the house ahead of me. “Don’t stop.”

  “I won’t,” I promised. Somewhere between the shock of the accident and finding out she’d be okay, a shift occurred inside me. Despite the doctor’s assurance, this felt like a second chance with her. Life didn’t give you many of those and I wasn’t going to waste it.

  The house smelled of taco casserole. “My mom used to make this all the time when I was a kid.”

  “I’ve never had it before.”

  “I’ve got to admit when Helen made it for you, I was jealous.”

  “Maybe she knew I’d share it with you. There’s no way I could eat all her food by myself in a month.”

  I smiled thinking of my aunt’s meddling.

  We talked about general stuff while we ate. Weather felt safe. The rain had stopped and spring bulbs broke up the continuous green of the island. Mid-May and Memorial Day lurked on the horizon and with it, June. June meant the return of Maggie. Uncertainty pushed me to ask what I’d avoided for the past months.

  “Speaking of warmer weather …” I cleared my throat. “Maggie said she’d be returning first of June.”

  “That’s the plan.” Her answer sounded deliberately vague.

  “Right. And what does that mean for you?”

  She gave me a knowing smile.

  “What?” I asked. Lost.

  “You finally asked me what happens next.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve been waiting for you to want to know what happens in June.”

  I furrowed my brow in confusion.

  She leaned across the table and pushed against my eyebrows. “I haven’t told you, because you never asked.”

  “Why keep it a secret?”

  “I didn’t mean to. In fact, I’d planned to tell you when we were on the beach. But then everything went ass over elbows and I didn’t get the chance.”

  “Ass over elbows?”

  “Tits up? To shit?”

  “Gotcha.” Here it was. ‘The Talk.’ “Are you leaving?”

  “No.”

  “No?” I asked, surprise written all over my face.

  “I love that you’re surprised by this.”

  “I always assumed you’d be leaving when your lease was up.”

  “Right. Assumed.”

  I shook my head and my brows pulled together again. My fingers found the scruff of beard at the corner of my jaw and I cocked my head to stare at her. “But you never said you were staying. All that talk of the city and how you missed it.”

  “I do miss it, but it doesn’t mean I want to leave here.”

  “So all of this …” I gestured between us. “… happened because of my stupid assumptions?”

  “Not all of it. I take responsibility for being guarded.”

  “Why guarded?”

  She stared back at me, then reached over and moved my hand off my beard, pulling it to her side of the table. “You scared me. Kind of still do.” Her smile soft and shy, she laced her fingers with mine.

  “Scared you? Like you believed I’d hurt you? I’d never hurt a woman.” My disgust caused me to clench her fingers.

  “Not physically, never. I knew you were a big softie. But I was scared you’d hurt me. Break my heart.”

  “I …” My words fell away. Break her heart? “Did I?”

  “No, but you came close in the driveway. I knew you had a big wall around your heart. I could see through the chinks, and thought I’d found a way inside, but that day in the driveway when you said you’d see me around, everything closed up again.”

  “I’m an asshole.”

  “Stop saying that. You aren’t. You try to be, but you’re not.”

  “I’m a selfish guy who doesn’t fall in love.” Half was true.

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “You should,” I lied.
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  “Have you ever been in love?” she asked.

  “Once. Maybe twice. A long time ago.”

  “Let me guess. Before your mom died?”

  I inhaled a deep breath and glanced away before nodding.

  “Not everyone leaves, John.”

  “Yes, they do. At least in my life. They leave or you lose them.”

  “Your aunt and uncle are still here. Donnely is still here.”

  I snorted. “Donnely’s never leaving this island. Unless he runs out of women.”

  “Sounds like he ran out of local women a long time ago, but you’re not Donnely. Not even close.”

  “Closer than you know.”

  “You’d never have a boat named The Master Baiter. There’s that. Plus, Donnely wouldn’t have shown up at the hospital. Or bought me a stuffed salmon.”

  “He might’ve.” She stared at me. “Okay, he wouldn’t have.”

  “See? Different type of man altogether.”

  “What’s your point?”

  “You’re a nice guy. One of the best men I’ve ever met.”

  “Well, knowing you married an asshole, it doesn’t sound like you met a lot of half-decent guys in your life.” I scoffed and let go of her hand.

  “Stop. Why can’t you accept it?” She stood up and walked around the table to my side.

  Grumbling, I pushed my chair back at her instruction. She sat on my lap and draped her cast over my shoulder. My arms wrapped around her waist.

  “If you’re done grumbling, do you want to know my plans?”

  “Sure,” I mumbled into her hair. I felt defensive and cranky, but a warmth had begun to spread out from my chest from the same spot the nettle sting hurt a few weeks ago.

  “Will you stop growling, please?”

  “I’m not growling.”

  She pivoted back and stared me in the eye.

  “Fine. I’ll stop growling.” I growled and showed my teeth.

  This brought out her laughter and a groan. “You can’t make me laugh. Bruised rib, remember?”

  “Sorry.” I loosened my grip around her waist.

  “Okay, plans. First, I’m staying on the island.”

  “When did you decide this?”

  A blush bloomed in her cheeks. “Can I plead the fifth?”

  “No. When?”

  A deep breath and a pause preceded her answer. “March.”

  I narrowed my eyes at her. “When in March?”

  “Late March.”

  Dates and places filtered through my memory. An image of the two of us sitting on our own tiny island above the water of Deception Pass came into focus.

  “Deceptions Past?”

  She nodded and the blush deepened.

  “Why then?”

  Rather than answer, she tucked her head under my chin and curled into me.

  “Diane?”

  A soft sigh escaped when she exhaled. “I knew then.”

  My own breath paused and I felt my heart rate increase. I wondered if she could hear it. Or feel it as it attempted to beat its way out of my chest.

  “Knew what?”

  “I knew. I knew my marriage was truly over after reading Kip’s letter. I knew a whole, big beautiful world existed out there, which I didn’t know about because I’d always followed others in my life.” She paused and took a breath. “And I knew I was falling in love with you.”

  I exhaled, but didn’t speak.

  “It’s okay if you didn’t feel the same. Or don’t. That’s another thing I figured out.”

  “What?” I whispered.

  “I knew it didn’t matter. I would be okay.”

  “How?” I continued to respond in single syllables while I processed her words. She fell in love with me. In March.

  “It was okay because I could fall in love. After Kip and the pain I went through, I had lost any faith I’d ever be able to fall in love again. You showed me I could.”

  “I did?” Two syllables. I made progress.

  “You did. At the time I wasn’t sure you knew how to fall or would ever be ready. Or would let yourself. I came to the decision to not live in the land of maybe or should. I’d be in the moment with you. Wherever that led, I’d be open to it. And I decided I’d stay. Maybe not forever, but I knew I wouldn’t be going back to New York.”

  I lifted my hand and stroked her hair where it fell over her shoulder.

  “Mmm, that’s nice.” Her breath sounded out like a purr. Curled up in my lap, she felt solid and warm in my arms. Whatever happened next or outside this bubble, we had this.

  “I—”

  “Don’t feel you need to say anything. Knowing is what matters.”

  I needed to say something. Something to honor what she said.

  Before I could speak, she continued, “Everything that followed after was easy. Falling was impossibly easy, like floating in salt water. I gave into it and fell. I never once believed I would sink.”

  I felt myself drowning in her words. Each sentence poured over me, stealing my breath while I attempted to keep my head above the flood of emotions. She lay herself bare to me. I discovered myself in an uncharted place.

  “I never brought up emotions or expectations with you. I had none. Or so I told myself. Until the beach. My carefully constructed tower of bowling balls toppled over when you shut me out. But it also showed me the truth.”

  I swallowed and asked, “What truth?”

  “Loving and being loved feed each other. You can love without reciprocation, but being in love requires two. And you weren’t there with me. Or you were, but I couldn’t find you over the huge wall you built around yourself.”

  My ego told me to defend myself. I didn’t have a wall. Being independent wasn’t a bad thing. I stayed silent rather than lie to her.

  “So I let you go.”

  “I wondered why you didn’t call me.”

  “No you didn’t. You knew.”

  Caught again, I nodded.

  We sat in silence for a few minutes. I stroked her hair and she played with the button on the cuff of my shirt.

  “That’s the why of my staying. Simple. I have a job, a car, or had a car, and hope life gets better.”

  “You have me.”

  Once again she leaned back and stared into my eyes. I got lost in hers and the truth in them.

  “You do. I’m not going anywhere.”

  She repeated the words I’d said to her since the accident. “Not until I ask you to leave?”

  “Pretty much. I’m not good at the other stuff, but I’m a man of action.”

  She smiled at me and leaned forward until less than an inch separated our lips. Her eyes swam in my blurred vision until I closed mine. When our lips touched, I felt everything my mind failed to form into words. No doubt in my mind what I felt for Diane. If I couldn’t tell her, I could show her.

  I pushed the chair back from the table and stood up, lifting her in my arms, careful not to hurt her arm or rib.

  “Oh,” she said. “What are you doing?”

  “Making love to you.”

  With that I carried her up the stairs to bed.

  I CAREFULLY SET Diane down on the big white bed, aware of her bruises and cast. She flopped down on her back and stared up at me. Her arms lay splayed out at her sides and her hair spread out like a dark halo beneath her head. Brown eyes framed in dark lashes stared up at me.

  When she opened her mouth to speak, I placed my finger against her lips. “Shhh. Let me make you feel good.”

  She nodded mutely, but her eyes followed my every move.

  After I unbuttoned my cuffs and removed my shirt, I stood there in my jeans and boots. I trailed my gaze over her curves. “You’re wearing too many clothes. I think we’ll lose the jeans first.” The button released with a single finger. The zipper slid down easily, exposing pink lace underneath.

  I tapped her hip and she lifted her ass to allow me access to pull down her jeans. After tossing them on the floor, I moved up to her sh
irt. The blue cotton resembled a man’s shirt and I remember how much I liked seeing her in one of mine.

  With one finger, I traced down the buttons, pressing into her skin, letting her know exactly where I was.

  When she closed her eyes, I told her to open them. “I want you to watch me, see what I do to your body.”

  Her throat bobbed when she swallowed and nodded her head.

  The first button exposed the swell of her breasts. The second showed me her bra matched the pink lace covering her pussy. The third, fourth, and fifth revealed all of her torso to me.

  “Gorgeous.” I ran my nose down the middle of her chest, between the valley of her breasts, and over the softness of her stomach. Inhaling, I slowly brought my mouth to the top of the lace at her hip and dragged my lips across to the other side. My breath hit her skin, causing her to raise her hips. I hadn’t even touched her below the lace. To hold her in place, I rested one of my hands over her navel. My other hand nudged her thighs apart and held them open. From my position between her legs, I peered up at her face; her eyes were still open, but her lids were heavy. Her cheeks flamed pink and her chest rose and fell with her breath. My girl was turned on.

  Continuing my slow explorations, I repeated the same pattern on her thighs. Nose, mouth, breath. She smelled of citrus and musk. I needed to taste her, to bury myself inside her and remind myself she was alive, here, and mine.

  Her underwear had to come off and now. Once gone, I returned all of my attention to her center. I wanted her to feel everything.

  Pleasure, want, need, and love.

  A hand curled into my hair and tugged, giving me a sign that what I did pleased her. Inhaled breath held and clenched before a slow, deep exhale guided my tongue. Every moan and squirm, each push and retreat, was noted and obeyed. My sole purpose was to please her. To love her with my body.

  My world began and ended with her.

  Because the words weren’t mine yet to say, I had to show her she meant everything to me.

  When she clenched around my fingers, I knew she was close. I observed her face. Her eyes had been closed, but as if sensing my stare, she opened them and stared back at me. Our eyes locked and her orgasm shot through her, rippling through her thighs and pussy until she was shaking with it. She moaned, hands fisted on the quilt and her eyes closed. I slowed my movements, drawing out the high for her until her muscles relaxed into nothingness. With a soft peck to her hip, I rose above her. Resting my weight on my elbows, I kissed her breasts, her chest, her collarbone, her neck, and finally her mouth.