A Long Time Coming

by Heather Van Fleet

  “Good to meet you all.” David responded coldly, hoping to put off the vibe that he was far from interested in making friends. The douchebag white–haired freak seemed to have a staring problem though. His gaze was burning holes into David as he stood there. Every ounce of his body went stiff as he felt the perusal of this freak’s gaze. It was more than pissing him off. But he kept his mouth shut, forgoing what he wanted to say in the end.

  “Man, who’s that hottie dancing with your girl, Mase?”

  Oh fuck…of all the things the guy could say, it had to have been that. David’s pulse raced with abandonment. His fingers tightened, burning his skin as his nails dug marks into his palms. His jaw ached from clenching it so tightly, and with every comment the fucker made, his headache only intensified. “…and I mean, shit, they really don’t breed ’em that good here. That country girl is gonna be in my bed tonight, that’s for damn sure.” A few of his buddies laughed and high fived him, while David stood, ready to lay him out. Mason stepped between them before he got fully in the fucker’s face though.

  “That there is Abigail, Harley’s best friend from back in Nebraska. And also, David here’s soon–to–be girlfriend.”

  David snarled, inhaling through his mouth, blowing it out slowly a second later. Yeah, okay, he didn’t want to go there—to that label—but if it kept all hands and eyes off of Abigail, then he’d take on the role in a heartbeat.

  “Girlfriend? Your girlfriend?” The tone of the prick’s voice said it all, and David pressed forward, as Mason’s arm shot out in front of him. This dude needed a meet and greet with his fist.

  Crutch long forgotten, David’s adrenaline fueled his move with the hatred towards this guy. But the freak didn’t take his non–verbal hint and his berating continued on. “I mean, isn’t that a little pathetic, dude? You know…someone like that and someone like you…?”

  He was going to kill the bastard…

  Soft hands caught his wrists—Abigail’s hand. She was his calm before the storm, and if it had been anyone else besides her, he would’ve followed through with his internal fighting words and decked the guy.

  “Hey baby…come dance with me?” Confusion washed over him as he glanced down at her face before blinking.

  Baby? What was her ploy here? Sure her eyes were heated, her face flushed from dancing, but as he glanced over towards the dick–face once more, he didn’t give it another thought, realizing that dancing with her would probably be the only thing to keep him from pummeling this guy. And he really didn’t want to wind up in jail tonight.

  Nodding in agreement, David found his steps slowly inching towards the dance floor—sans his crutch. “Abigail, hold up…I need my—”

  She spun around, nibbling on her lip grabbing both of his hands as she pulled him slowly along with her. Her eyes were so focused and shiny that he barely remembered his own name, let alone what he was about to say.

  “No crutches, David.”

  They made it to the edge of the floor, just as the tempo of the music slowed, to that of a seductive, rhythmic beat. She pulled his hands towards her, and he took that non–verbal command, wrapping his arms around her waist. His fingers knew just what to do, settling into the curves of her body right above her perfect ass. Those damn traitorous body parts had a mind of their own.

  “I won’t let you fall…” she whispered in his ear, running her fingers through the back of his hair like a vixen who he wanted to steal away forever, only, though, so he could lock her up with him in the backseat of her car again.

  Shit …it wasn’t the fear of falling that worried him. Oh no…it was the fear of never wanting to let her go again.

  Frozen in place, he couldn’t find his footing, nor could he feel anything beyond her warm hands as she rubbed them up and down his neck, and then down his chest, followed by his stomach. She tucked them under the front of his shirt, running her skillful little fingers along the lines of his rib cage. Her lip was sucked in between her teeth and he groaned. Damn her…why did she want him? It would be one thing if it was one–sided, but this thing between them would never cease until he told her to stop completely. But he didn’t want her to stop. No…he wanted all of her, as his, forever and he couldn’t continue to fight it if she kept coming back into his life.

  Her body, all pliant and sexy, moved at a slow rhythm against his thigh. He couldn’t do anything but watch her face as she stared up at him—longing and need and love in her eyes. Selfishly, he wondered what it would be like to take her again—this time slowly, in a bed, with him being in control, not her.

  Her eyes sparkled up at him. She obviously knew exactly what he was thinking and she’d use that to her advantage, knowing her. Abigail was exactly that kind of female—charming, sexy, and manipulative—but the best kind. Tiny beads of sweat dripped over her eye and she winked. She was powerful, and if she wasn’t careful, she’d be his—completely. She couldn’t be his though. They’d settled that once before. But for tonight…he’d pretend she could be.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his ear down to her mouth, her tongue slipping out as she spoke, wetting the skin. “Come on David…you can do better than this.” And then her mouth, warm and soft, was on his neck, heating his body to a point that he could no longer take.

  Wrapping his hands tighter around her waist, and dangerously close to her jeans–clad backside again, David pulled her to him, this time taking control as he groaned in her ear. “What are you doing to me, Abigail?” Half embarrassed, half completely turned on, he dropped his hands from her backside, only to dig his nails into her perfect little hip bones. Her entire body shuddered and she threw her head back, ignoring his question completely as she continued to dance.

  Damn her…

  She swayed against him slowly, and he met her pace, only slightly aware of the fact that his stub throbbed like a bitch against his prosthetic as he did. Abigail was an erotic drug that surely would heal all his wounds—head, leg pain and all. The silk of her top slipped under his fingers and he groaned, frustrated because he wanted to feel her soft skin so damn badly.

  “Do you like to dance with me, David?”

  “Fuck, Abigail, you know I do.” She leaned back towards him and grinned—looking downright mischievous. She turned around, and settled her backside to his front, pushing into him with the ass he wanted all to himself. “Abigail…” he warned, feeling his core heat further. Her hands reach around behind her, grabbing at his neck and hair as she continued to move her body at a tempo with his that should be illegal in all fifty states. He lowered his mouth, ready to taste her…just once, until the sound of a voice interrupted him.

  “Hey sweet little thing, you got one of those sexy little dances saved up for me?”

  Abigail stiffened under his hands as the unexpected, unwelcome sound sifted through his fog filled brain. Settling herself at his side, she reached down and grabbed his hand, interlocking it with her own. The move wasn’t missed on him at all and he took the strength she probably wasn’t aware she was giving him. The white–haired freak from the table winked at her, rubbing his chin with his forefinger and thumb as his gaze traveled between the two of them before perusing the length of her body.

  “Listen pal, I don’t know who you think you are, but my special little dances have to be earned by my boyfriend and my boyfriend alone, not creepy skinny guys who can’t seem to keep their dicks from doing all the thinking for them.”

  Wow, Abigail was feistier than ever. Spitfire anger came darting out of her like steam, but there was no way David was about to let her fight this battle for him.

  “Abigail, can you give us a second please?” He questioned her, settling his hand on her lower back. She turned to face him. The anger written all over her face was more than evident.

  “Um, I’m not going anywhere, David.” She dropped his hand, stubbornly crossing her arms as she pushed her chin upwards. Normally, seeing her so riled up would make him laugh. But tonight, he just wanted her
to listen and back away, so he could deal with this punk once and for all.

  Harley approached on her other side, grabbing Abigail’s wrist. She pulled her back towards the edge of the dance floor, leaving David face to face with this prick.

  “Dude, you’re kind of pathetic. Who knew you’d let a bitch fight your battles?” David’s breath staggered as he inched forward. His stump continued to burn from bearing weight without the crutch at his side. But there was no way he’d allow this dickhead to stand there and call him pathetic, while at the same time, calling Abigail a bitch.

  Readying his fists to do some serious damage to pretty boy’s face once and for all, David snarled through his teeth as the guy continued on. “I mean, that chick is way too hot and slutty for someone who probably got their dick chopped off along with their leg,” he winked, and laughed. “She needs a real man—someone of my caliber—not yours.” He turned towards his buddies that stood stock straight next to him, hitting each one of them in the shoulder, obviously trying to draw a laugh out.

  This guy…was a goner.

  “Nobody talks about my girl like that.” Damn the leg, damn his worthless life, this girl belonged to him, and nobody else. He’d just been too stupid and idiotic to see it…until now.

  “What are you going to do about it, gimpy? It’s not like you can fight me or anything.” That’s when he turned back to face his friends, laughing like some sort of drunken hyena. His buddies stayed still though, looking damn uncomfortable as they tried to obviously talk him down.

  “I may be a gimp…but I’m still gonna kick your ass.” Reaching forward, David grabbed the back of his shoulder, yanking him around until he was within inches of his face. His breath reeked of sour milk and beer, sending David’s stomach into a tumultuous battle with his dinner. But he pushed through, yanking at the guy’s girly hair.

  Good, the fucker was turning white. That’d teach him. That was the thing about only having one leg…David worked the hell out of his upper body.

  “Dude, don’t.” A hand fell upon his back, catching him off guard. Mason… What the fuck did he want? “The guy’s drunk, and not worth your time.” A whimper fell from freak boys’ mouth as David tightened his hold. He inhaled through his nose, staring over at Abigail’s wide–eyed, fearful face.

  Dammit. He had him right where he wanted, too. Just one move of his face and this asshole’s nose would be busted. He was ready to show him exactly what the hell happened to the idiots that messed with the people he loved. “Step away, Mason,” he snarled through his teeth, fighting a cringe, just as a jolt of uncontrollable pain practically split down the center of his skull.

  Jesus Christ…not now!

  He dropped the freak with a thump on the plexiglass, bending over to rest his hands on his knees. The room began to blur, and sounds rushed together, but the pain outweighed everything. Voices called out to him, but he couldn’t tell who it was. He fell to the ground on his ass, groaning as the contact sent throbbing pressure through his leg and head both. He needed his pills… And he needed them now. The music pounded louder, adding to the pain. He couldn’t fight it. It hurt.

  “Abigail,” he hissed through gritted teeth.

  “I’m here, David. What do you want me to do?” She sat on the floor in front of him, pressing her shaking palms against his cheeks. Her face was level with his, calmness exuded from her, betraying her trembling hands.

  “What’s wrong with him? David, what is it?” Harley cried out next to him, wrapping her arm around his back. “Mason, please, help me get him up. What’s going on David?” The panic rose in his sister’s voice. But he couldn’t pull his gaze away from the tear–filled eyes of the girl he was so in love with.

  She nodded at him. Knowledge seemed to fill her eyes. “It’s fine…he’s going to be fine, Harley. Just…let’s get him back to the apartment, okay? David, can you stand?”

  A face of an angel—that’s what Abigail looked like under the neon lights of the club. His angel in the darkness, shedding the only brightness he’d known since the day he lost his leg. “Help me,” he whispered, meaning it more in the sense than just helping him stand up. He meant it a way that said I need you to help me live again. He just prayed that she understood. He couldn’t take it anymore. He needed a friend. He needed his Abigail. And he was finally…finally ready to admit it.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The tears she’d been fighting for two hours just would not cease. They’d been falling at a rate that was completely out of control, especially for her. Wasn’t there a limit as to how many she could produce? Well, the preggo thing probably didn’t help either, but still, this was getting downright ridiculous.

  Abigail shook her head and shut her eyes as she rolled onto her other side. When they’d returned from the club, she’d followed David to his room. Harley had protested, obviously wanting to be there for her brother, but she’d convinced her best friend that it wasn’t the time to get into everything that was going on with David. She did promise to explain more in the morning, saying that David needed her too much tonight to get into it. Harley loves her brother more than anything, and just wants the best for him, so she let it go, but only when Abigail confirmed that he wasn’t, in fact, dying.

  Undressing David down to his boxers, Abigail had gotten him settled under the comforter on the bed without a single protest on his end. It was hard as hell not to study the perfection of his body, but she let her need to be his friend outweigh her girlie needs. The oddest thing was that he had actually let her take care of him. That was just another sign that he wasn’t doing well. His headaches were getting worse—far worse—but at least he hadn’t passed out like he’d done at the party. She’d definitely have a hard time trying to explain that one to Harley.

  She had found his pills in the side of his bag and without argument, he took them. The simple fact that he had actually brought them on the trip was a step towards finally giving in to the acceptance/healing process. David had always been so set on giving up on life in general. Could it be that he actually was stepping up and facing his problems after all? She could only hope so.

  As she brushed the curls off of his forehead, long after he’d settled into a deep sleep, Abigail smiled to herself, realizing that tonight, he’d finally dropped a wall between the two of them as well, whether he knew it or not. A wall that, for one, gave her permission to be what she was dying to be again—his friend, a caretaker too, and maybe, someday soon, he’d let her be more.

  “One day at a time, Abigail.” She groaned, rolling onto her back once more.

  She grinned, throwing her arm over her still damp eyes. God, she needed to stop getting ahead of herself here. This was something, sure, but only a millimeter of a step towards where they would eventually need to be in seven more months, maybe less, maybe more. Sure, she ached to make it all happen at once, but like with Harley, she needed to be patient with David. He wasn’t the type you wanted to take on full–force, and get all you can get at once.

  Shivering, Abigail pulled the blanket up to her chin as the air conditioning vent blew down on her bare legs. She rubbed them together like a cricket, trying to settle her jumbled nerves. Just knowing that on the other side of that bedroom door was her sleeping salvation, the one thing that would make her own crooked, messed up life a little sunnier.

  She bit her lip and rolled onto her side again. Jesus…what was she doing? Better yet, what was she thinking? It wasn’t like she could go in there—into the room where he lay clad in only his black boxers. But yet he hadn’t protested at her earlier in the night to leave him before he fell asleep. In fact, his silent gaze and pleading eyes said something entirely different. At least she thought so… Did she dare think that he wanted her to sleep with him in there all night?

  Her hands tightened on the edge of the blanket at the thought. The leather of the couch stuck to her legs as she tried to sink in lower. She blew out a breath, wondering what exactly he’d do if he woke with her standing next to hi
m? Would he kick her out of bed? Or would he, God help her, pull her into his arms and hold her in his sleep, taking her to the unspoken place she’d been dying to go to ever since the night they’d changed the way she looked at the back seat of her car. Not the sex part of course, but more of that post–coital bliss thing in its entirety. She’d barely remembered what it felt like to sleep snuggled up next to his naked chest that night, and out of all the needs she had for this guy, that was the one she was dying to experience again.

  “Jesus Abs, get a fucking grip here.”

  She shook her head and gave up on sleep, finally standing. Her footsteps treaded lightly against the wooden floor as she sauntered into the kitchen. She yanked open the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water sucking it down flat in only a minute. She tossed the empty bottle into the garbage and began to gnaw on her lip as she stared down the dark hall. Okay…she’d just check on him at least—make sure he was breathing—and then walk out, completely content. Well…not completely, but sated on a level that was entirely not sexual.

  “Hah, content and sated my ass…”

  Tiptoeing towards the room, she settled her hand over the door, taking a deep shuddering breath before she let it click open. The room was dark, with only an inkling of light spilling through the curtains from the moon. It outlined the reflection of his body that was currently lying sprawled out over the top of his sheets on the bed.

  Okay, a few more steps and she’d be there. Then she could turn and get the hell out—act like this never happened in the first place.

  The edge of the mattress hit her knees before she even realized it. But the obstacle wasn’t concerning her—it was the sight before her that made her gasp. She’d never seen David without his prosthetic, or without pants on covering up his non–existent limb, either.