by Ashley Logan
“Yeah, she’s a total nerd,” I say, nudging her with my elbow. “May I pick your brain in the kitchen, nerd?”
Practically jumping at the chance to escape, Alexa thanks my family again and excuses herself, following my lead and taking a stack of dirty dishes from the table.
I set mine down first and shut the door behind her. Finding a space for her load of plates on the counter, she sighs in relief and turns to face me.
“You’re doing great. Don’t worry about whatever it is you’re thinking in that gorgeous head of yours. They wouldn’t care if you told them why you spent so much time in libraries, so don’t even trouble yourself about it. The take away here, is that you kicked my ass at chess and that makes my family deliriously happy.”
Giving me half a smile, she raises one eyebrow just a touch. “It doesn’t make you happy though.”
“Yes and no,” I argue, chewing my bottom lip. “I enjoy a challenge, but I don’t like to lose. I assume you realize we’ll be playing again soon.”
Her smile grows wider and she nods as she looks around us at the huge mess. “I guess we should get cleaning then.”
“I just need to clear a spot here first,” I reply as I stack pots inside other pots to make some room.
“Why?”
“This is where I’d like you to sit for your pre-clean up kiss.”
“Oh, that’s a thing?” she says with a smirk as she pulls herself up onto the counter in the gap I’ve made.
Nestling myself between her legs, I catch a pot lid as it starts to fall and put it inside the nearest pot. “It’s a rule actually.”
“Oh yeah?” she challenges, pulling me down by my shirt so my face is closer to hers. “Says who?”
“My mom,” I whisper, pressing my lips to hers.
Alexa giggles into my mouth and it tastes as musical as it sounds. I will never stop wanting to make her laugh. My whole body crackles in response to it.
“Urgh. Really?” Lara says as she sets another stack of plates on the butcher’s block behind us. “I’m thankful you two waited until after dinner, I guess.”
Rolling my eyes, I pull Alexa to me and lower her back to the floor. “Alexa had something in her teeth, I was just helping her get it out.”
“Ew!” Alexa cries, covering her mouth with her hands as she laughs.
Lara shakes her head and tries to keep a straight face. “You are so gross, Damon.”
“Not gross, helpful. Given that I have no hands, I think it’s reasonable to assist by any means possible. I was trialing gentle suction with a sweeping tongue motion to remove any debris, and considering Alexa’s dazzling smile, I’d say my methods were successful.”
Covering her ears with her hands, Lara makes a quick exit, but it isn’t fast enough to hide her smile.
Turning back to Alexa, I find her shaking her head at me. “You are just terrible.”
“Terribly... handsome, maybe?”
Suppressing a smile, she moves towards the sink. “Maybe,” she says with a secretive backward glance. “You want to wash or dry?”
“THIS HOUSE HAS VERY fancy bathrooms,” Alexa says, coming towards me in my old shirt and joining me in the king-size bed that I spent a lot of time brooding in after my accident.
“That’s because of me. I only tinkle in the best facilities.”
Giggling, she huddles in close, making me gasp when she puts her cold feet on me. “You peed on the side of the road on our way here,” she says matter-of-factly. “And I wasn’t asking about it, merely making an observation,” she adds, rolling on top of me and tugging my arms up above my head.
“What are you doing?” I ask, not wanting her to stop, just wanting her vague plan so I can prepare to squash any desires I might have to take things further.
“I want to look at your no-hands.”
“Why?” I ask, already pulling them back under the blankets.
“Because I want to. Please?” she says, sitting up and trying to keep me from hiding them.
“I don’t like it.”
“What? Me touching you?”
“No. I love that. I just don’t like having them on display,” I explain. “I prefer to feel normal. It’s an out of sight, out of mind thing.”
“Well, you’re not normal. Or average or ordinary. You’re abnormal, and well above average, and extraordinary. Now hold your stumps where I can see them.”
Gritting my teeth, I stare at her hard. Holding them up on the pillow next to my head, I frown at her as she leans forward and puts her hands where mine should be.
“I can’t feel it,” I offer sadly, figuring she must have some notion that my phantom hands might feel hers. I wish they could. What would it be like to hold her hand? To weave my fingers through hers?
“Well how could you? I’m not even touching you,” she says as if I’m being stupid. Frowning, she brings her hands back and studies them before she looks back to the empty spaces at the ends of my arms.
“I have no idea what is going through your head right now, but I am not very comfortable with what’s happening,” I say truthfully, hoping she’ll take pity and let me hide again.
“Were your hands as big as your Dad’s?”
“What?”
“I mean you guys are very similar in size, and his hands are really... huge. Did you have huge hands?”
Looking to one side, I try to remember what my hand used to look like. Visualizing it at the end of the stump takes more concentration than I thought it would - which is strange, because I can easily recall a time when I expected them to be there and was shocked to find they weren’t. Adjustment is an odd phenomenon.
“Maybe?” I answer with uncertainty as I try to focus again. “It isn’t something I’ve thought about lately.” Closing my eyes, I think of my hands in scale with everyday objects - a pen, a soccer ball, my little sister's hand as we crossed a road. “Yes. I think they would’ve been considered big. Comparable to Dad’s.”
Shuddering noticeably, Alexa stares at my stumps, as if I might grow new hands.
“Is that why he makes you uncomfortable? Because his hands are big?”
Meeting my eyes for a split second, Alexa lowers her gaze to her hands and shrugs.
“Do you think you’d be scared of me if I still had my hands?”
“I don’t know,” she says in a whisper as she runs her hands up my forearms. Moving away before she reaches my stumps, I sneak them below the pillow.
“Why do you always do that?” she asks, putting her own hands on her hips as she sits astride me. “At first I thought it was because they were sensitive and it hurt you, but I’ve been watching. You wouldn’t noogie your sister if it was painful, and you don’t seem to mind it when your mom touches them when she’s smiling at you. Why won’t you let me touch you?”
“You’re touching me right now,” I reply, plastering on a grin and wiggling my body beneath her.
“Stop goofing around to avoid the question. You know what I’m talking about. Why do you pull them away from me?”
Saying nothing, I act like the sudden tightness in my throat isn’t affecting me as I push my stumps further under my head.
“Is it me?” she asks, her eyes still intent on my face. I shake my head.
Leaning back, she looks down at herself, and then back to me. “It is though, isn’t it? I said that as long as you don’t touch me with your no-hands, everything would be fine.” Her face crumples a little and she shakes her head. “I’m sorry I said it. I’m not fine with this,” she says, leaning forward so she can pull my arms out. Raising my elbows to fend her off, I do my best to stop her.
“It isn’t about you, Alexa,” I say firmly, swallowing hard. “Well it is, but not how you think. It’s the touching.”
“What do you mean?” she says, pausing in her efforts to expose me. Studying my face, her eyes begin to shine. “You don’t want to touch me?”
Sighing, I close my eyes. “I want to touch you so, so badly.”
&n
bsp; “Are you scared that touching me will feel like stabbing, or burning, or some other horrible thing?”
“Touching you feels amazing. I’ve accidentally touched you with my no-hands when I’ve held you before,” I admit quietly, opening my eyes to receive the consequences of my confession.
Staring at me a moment, Alexa folds her arms in front of herself. “Then what is it? You’re scared I’ll run?”
Nodding slowly, I take a breath to explain, but Alexa pulls my shirt over her head, leaving her bared to me. “I’ve thought the same thing, but I’m not so sure about it anymore. You’re different, Damon. When we’re together, I feel... different. Brave, maybe,” she says, watching me. “Safe in a way I didn’t know I could. I want to know how it feels when you touch me.”
My throat tightens again and I shake my head.
Frowning, Alexa covers herself with her arms as her eyes fill with tears.
“Please don’t cry, Alexa. I love you so much.” Forcing all my courage to the surface, I make another confession. “I’m scared.”
“Of what?” she whispers, her voice sounding as strangled as mine feels.
“I don’t want to lose you.”
“Then touch me.”
Breathing hard now, I look around, hoping to come up with my next move, but my mind has gone blank with panic and I can only think of escaping.
Coward!
Here is the girl you love, willing to face her worst nightmare and you won’t even try? Sickened by myself, I suck in a deep breath and face her.
“Alexa?”
“Damon.”
Here goes.
“In my experience, women do not like to be touched by my stumps. They find them disturbingly creepy and downright repulsive. That’s why I’m good at not touching when we’re... together. I’ve had practice. I’m used to people not wanting me to touch them.” I take another deep breath. “In the past, I have ruined every single intimate encounter by touching. I have been yelled at, cursed, threatened, called names, and always, always rejected. While I wasn’t particularly fond of those women, I am smart enough to identify the common element in their disgust, and I don’t want to see their looks on your face, or feel you recoil from my touch. You mean too much to me to lose you like that.”
Staring down at me, Alexa doesn’t seem to notice her tears. One drips on my chest and my heart aches. “I’m so sorry, Alexa. You’re so brave to ask, and I’m ruining it for you.”
Blinking at me a moment, Alexa leans forward, bracing herself just above me and kisses me softly. “Please touch me,” she whispers, her breath tickling my lips. Her voice is part demand, part pleading and it’s a combination that slices right through me. I can’t deny her.
Sliding my arms out from under my pillow, I slowly reach up with a tentative stump to wipe away a tear and sweep her hair back from her face. Torn between an extreme fear of her response and a genuine elation for not having to restrain myself from what feels natural, I walk the tightrope as I try to gauge everything Alexa might be feeling. Her eyes close, but she leans into my touch and I utter a shuddering sigh as I relax beneath her.
Guiding her face gently back to my lips, I swallow her soft, silent sobs and smother her salty cheek in tiny kisses. My no-hands run gently down her sides before sliding over her back and pressing her whole body to me in a light embrace. Resting my cheek against the top of her head, I inhale her fragrant shampoo and kiss the golden silk of her hair. “You are the most incredible woman, Alexa. I’m so glad you allow me to be in your world.”
Beneath the covers, her hands start to communicate what she’s unable to say, but I shake my head.
“Not tonight. Right now it’s more than enough to have you in my arms knowing that you feel safe accepting my touch, and that you didn’t throw up when it happened.”
Shaking a little with quiet laughter, Alexa sniffs and pokes me in the side. Tilting her head up so that her eyes meet mine, she stretches a little further to kiss me again. “You could never disgust me.”
“I bet I could,” I argue, smiling down at her.
Considering a moment, she nods. “I’ll rephrase. Your loving touch will never disgust me.”
With a shy smile, I sigh happily and settle comfortably beneath her. “That is... very nice to hear, Alexa.”
As her body quivers against me, she sighs too. It is both musical and magical, and I know that fake Thanksgiving is my new favorite holiday. Alexa’s small body melts further into mine. Chest to chest as we are, my heart can feel hers beating against it as we lie in what has come to be my preferred position for sleeping.
“Sleep well, beautiful girl,” I whisper into her hair as I stroke the soft skin of her back.
I’ve never been so thankful for anything in my life.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
ALEXA
“You’ve been staring out that window for the last twenty miles. What are you thinking about?” Damon asks, pulling me back to the present. Turning to him I smile and shake my head.
“I’ve had a really nice time this weekend, Damon. Thank you for sharing your family with me.”
“No problem,” he says, pulling a goofy face at me. “I’m sure you realize they’re your family too now. I mean, Mom literally said so at least six times over the two day period. Four of them since breakfast. I hope that didn’t scare you.”
Shaking my head, I laugh quietly to myself. “I like her. Of course, I’ve never met a librarian I didn’t like. Kind of like you and strippers, huh?” I add with a giggle, watching his cheeks turn pink. “I liked them all. Even your Dad - despite his big hands. I can’t believe you thought Lara was into dudes, though. Too hilarious.” Shaking my head, I look out the window again, still not really seeing anything I look at.
“So that’s what you’re thinking about? My blindness and my likable family?” he asks, stealing the occasional glance at me as he watches the surrounding traffic.
“Amongst other things.”
“Such as?”
“Such as whether we’ll spend tonight together, and where we’ll sleep, and what we might do before we close our eyes, and how it will feel, and if I should guide you, or let you feel your way. Also I was wondering if I remembered to take my clothes out of the washer, and if I didn’t, who would have found them, and what kind of message that person might leave on my noticeboard.”
“We can sleep wherever you want and whatever we do will feel amazing, because even when you think you’re not, you’re guiding me. Every movement, every breath, every achingly quiet noise you make lets me know exactly where you need me, and I’m very eager to please. Now tell me more about this laundry dilemma. What will the message say if Bruno finds your clothes?”
Laughing a little, I shrug. “Maybe... ‘Lex, the washer is not your hamper’,” I say in a deep, gruff voice. “But my laundry will be waiting just inside my door, dry and immaculately folded.”
Nodding, Damon grins. “That sounds like him alright. What if Scarlett finds it?”
“If Scar found it, she’d leave it wet in a basket and write ‘Lex, your shit is still in the laundry’.”
“What about Kat?”
Sighing, I roll my eyes. “Kat would dry it, fold it and leave it on my bed whilst leaving no message at all, because she’s always doing everything for everybody without seeking recognition.”
“Hmm,” Damon says, thinking about that. “What if... Natalia found it?”
Smiling at the way Damon says her name with an attempted Estonian accent, I shrug. “You never can tell with Nat. She comes across as almost emotionless, but she’s quite efficient, so I would think maybe she’d dry it, throw it in a basket and put the basket in my room for me to fold later. And her note would be worded strangely, like... ‘Lex, you forgot to wash’, but there would be an x or two at the end, because really she is also very sweet.”
“I bet you didn’t even leave your clothes in the laundry, but now I can’t wait to find out if you did. Do you think living with ten, I me
an nine, other people makes everyday activities become more interesting?”
“Sometimes,” I reply with a smile.
“What if it was me that found your laundry?” he asks, a mischievous smile tugging up one corner of his mouth.
“In this scenario are you one of my roommates, or are you a visitor who is snooping for racy delicates because this particular laundry room belongs to an apartment full of strippers?”
Chuckling, Damon checks his rear view and indicates to change lanes. “In this scenario I’m a roommate that is very attracted to you.”
“Well in that case... I think my laundry would go missing and your note would read ‘I emptied your drawers and closet as well.’”
Laughing, he nods. “That does sound like something I might do.”
Smiling, I lean my head back and watch his sure movements as he maneuvers the car through traffic. “I’d be awfully cold though. Winter’s well on its way, so it’d be a bit mean to steal all of my clothes. You’re not a cruel person.”
“I’d make sure you were kept warm,” he says with a wink. “I’ll show you how in... approximately seventeen minutes, depending on traffic and red lights,” he says after glancing at the clock on the dash.
Shivering in my seat, I catch him smiling at me and when I raise my eyebrows in question, his smile widens. “I’ll warm you up real soon, Alexa.” He says it in such a way that I believe he knows I’m not shivering from cold. Shivering again, I look out the window and try not to blush.
As soon as we’re upstairs, Damon picks me up and carries me to my room. Pausing outside my door, he looks at the noticeboard.
‘Lex, I’ll trade you. One laundry service for one night on dinner,’ it says. No name accompanies the message. Damon looks to me in question.
“Benji found my clothes,” I tell him as we open the door to find a tidy pile of clean clothes on my desk. Nodding, Damon shuts the door with his foot and sets me on the bed. I stand there a moment as he just looks at me. Then he nods, takes a step closer, brushes my loose hair over my shoulder and leans in to kiss my neck.
