by Sunniva Dee
“How is Grandma?”
“Upset,” Alan replies. “She wanted to finish the job, and now I’m driving her home instead.”
“Please, stay with her tonight?” Yeah, I’m pleading with him, while he retorts with the same non-answer he has for weeks now, the one that makes me want to rearrange his face.
“Dominic, at this rate, she’ll need supervision twenty-four seven in a nursing home. I mean, you don’t want your grandma to get seriously hurt either, do you? I’m filing for power of attorney over her—”
“Will you shut up?” He can’t talk like this, especially not in front of her. “It’s Grandma’s house, Alan—she fucking gave birth to you in the master bedroom! We can’t rip her away. She’s not even that old. Seventy-five is not old!”
A lump grows in my throat as I twist the door open and barge into my apartment. Out of habit, I turn on my laptop and start browsing for flights home. I’ve got work tomorrow, though, and study, and I know damn well I’m not going anywhere.
Fuck me!
“Put her on the phone,” I say.
“She’s not coherent, Dominic.”
“Just put her on, Alan.”
Alan grunts, but a second later, her confused voice breaks through the speaker. “Hel-, hello?”
“Grandma,” I press out. “Are you all right?”
She doesn’t reply at first, and I wonder if she’s physically hurt and my good-for-nothing uncle hasn’t noticed.
“Who… who is this?” she finally says.
I blink away the sudden wetness from my eyes. She has a single grandchild—me. She always, always recognizes me. My voice trembles like an old man’s when I answer.
“Me, Little Lady. It’s me, Dominic.”
I’m careful not to destroy my new phone once we hang up. Instead, I punch through the bedroom wall and rip the sides of my fist open in the process.
I clean myself up and toss back another beer before I go to bed. Sleep doesn’t come easy with my brain churning and grinding over options, though.
I can’t trust Alan with the responsibility for his own mother. He’s also a liar, I suspect, telling me exaggerated stories about her mental state.
My sweet grandmother, who never backed down on anything I needed, is suffering. Should I move home, postpone the rest of my studies until she’s more stable?
I grasp at straws, mulling over how Alan hasn’t mentioned my grandma disappearing after bedtime back there in Stowden. She must be safe, then, sleeping regular hours, perhaps due to her sleeping pills? I’m not sure. I’m so far away. What she needs is someone to be with her at the house, even get her to bed on bad days.
Again, my mind goes to Melissa. Last I heard, my high school ex was still at home in Stowden, working part time at the nursing home downtown while taking classes at the community college. She used to adore my grandmother. Even as she invented punishments for me, she was considerate of the little lady. To the point of spray-painting “piece of crap” instead of “piece of shit” on my windshield.
I need to talk with Geraldine, tell her I want to fill up with hours at the spa to pay for home care. Hopefully, Alan is willing to chip in too.
In the end, I drift off as I decide to find a nurse for my grandma.
The phone startles me awake, but the ringtone isn’t my uncle’s. I’m not sure how long I’ve slept—it’s light outside, though, so I get up and hit “answer.”
“Dominic?”
“Shannon? Hey.” At the sound of her voice, last night rushes back to me, with Pandora coming at me like a goddamn avalanche. I’d lost all willpower at the club, given in to my lust and need to control her, and I’d made out with her in public. Then, I’d left without a word of explanation.
Jesus H. Christ.
“It’s Pandora. That stunt she pulled yesterday did a number on her back, Dominic. She can’t even move right now. Can you come over?”
“Does she want me to?” I don’t know why I’m asking; to leave Pandora hurting isn’t an option when I can relieve the pain.
“Yeah. She’s worse than I’ve ever seen her before.”
I’m stepping into my shoes, pulling a black wife-beater over my head. I’ve got a stash of oils and lotions in the car already, so all I bring with me is a heating pad and a thick towel.
Mica waits for me at the front door of their building, eyes giant in her skinny face. “She’s asleep now, but she couldn’t move at all,” she repeats Shannon’s earlier statement while I pass, taking the stairs two steps at a time. “Whenever she shifts even a little bit, she can’t breathe, I swear. She was straight out whimpering.”
I don’t reply, just bob my head to Destiny who’s in the den, arms crossed and watching me. I catch a glimpse of Mica taking Destiny’s hand in an undisguised show of affection as I stride past them on my way to Pandora’s room.
“She’ll be okay,” I call out over my shoulder. “Pandora just went a bit overboard last night.”
“Surprise,” Destiny quips, and all I can do is nod in agreement.
At Pandora’s door, Shannon meets me. “Thanks for coming so fast,” she says, her voice low like we’re entering a hospital room.
“I didn’t get to her in time yesterday,” I say even though Shannon knows.
She snorts. “No, Dominic. Pandora needs to get her shit together. If she can’t party without losing her common sense—I mean, her body can’t take circus acrobatics—she learned that in…” She frowns and twists to the doorway. “Destiny?”
Destiny pokes her head in. “What?”
“Was it in seventh grade Pandora did the bridge thingy and got scheduled for surgery on her back?”
“Yep, seventh grade. After Christmas. She was out of school for two weeks straight.”
“Oh yeah, those were some boring-ass weeks. She escaped surgery due to sheer luck too.”
Christian appears behind Shannon as well. He hooks an arm around her neck and pulls his girlfriend in from behind, causing her to lose balance. She leans back against him. “Dominic,” he greets me.
“’Sup,” I say.
“She’s crazy, you know?” Mica interjects, which surprises me. Granted, Mica isn’t at Smother as much anymore, but from what I remember, she’s not so good herself.
“How do you even talk like that with Pandora in the same room?” Shannon shoots daggers at her friend from across the room.
“Hey, she’d be the first one to admit to it, only she denies that she still has a dash of ADHD, ADD, or whatever. No way she isn’t hyperactive, though. She wouldn’t be so impulsive otherwise.”
“Are you an interior designer or a psychologist?” Destiny asks, and Mica chuckles.
“Yeah, well. She’d better freaking calm down.”
“What happened to my sister-in-arms?” a small voice breathes from the bed. Pandora sounds different, from the drugs I hope. Again, I think back to the first time I saw her. Dancing, she radiated pure bliss. I hate to see her so subdued.
Mica sucks in a breath, but then she stands by her outburst. “Sorry, Pan—I’m right, though. You’ve got to pull it together.”
“Of all people?” Pandora whispers.
This room is too crowded. “Get out,” I say and clap my hands. I want Pandora to myself as I start working her. An instant of silence follows, but then they obey. One by one, her roommates leave, and the last to exit is Mica. She sends Pandora a troubled look.
Pandora meets her with a side-glance. “We’ll party down later, Wifey.”
“Yeah, Pan. Let’s go all euphoric together again soon,” Mica sighs out.
I give Pandora a once-over as the door closes behind her friends. She’s pale, as if her back isn’t the only thing killing her. A damp hairline frames an alabaster-smooth face, showcasing how she must have been sweating before the pain relievers kicked in. Those beautiful, green eyes seem brighter than usual against her ashen complexion. They follow me, broadcasting hope and relief at my presence.
I unpack my bag and
line up the oils, plug in the heating pad. A small frown appears on her face as I get ready to tuck it under her.
“I’ll die if I have to move again, Dominic.”
“I know, babe. I won’t move you. We’ll just sneak this little friend in underneath you, okay? And we need your shirt off.”
She puffs out a nervous breath but doesn’t object. Slowly, I ease the pad in under her back, covering the area of her lumbar vertebrae. It’s not where most of her problems begin. Considering her gymnast stunt, I’m sure this is where the injury is located, though.
Pandora’s lower lip quivers with apprehension as I start on her tank top. I wiggle the fabric upward, inch by inch, until her breasts are free and the shirt rests under her arms. Yeah, she’s scared.
“Panda, I promise we’ll take this slowly. You won’t feel a thing. You’ll be fine.”
“Why am I so thoughtless?” she whispers. “I’ve known since I was in middle school that I can’t do the bridge. I—what was I thinking?”
“You were drunk.” My tone doesn’t excuse her, rather the opposite. By her pained expression, I can tell she catches the nuance.
“Maybe I’ll need surgery now. Stupid—so stupid.”
“Let’s hope you don’t, babe, okay?”
Once her shirt is off, I let her rest. I cover her with a blanket so she doesn’t get cold. To take her mind off of the pain, I start chatting while we wait for the heat to soften her muscles. I talk about school, about my grandma. I keep it brief, though, and she tells me she’s definitely studying from now on. She’ll study on bed rest if necessary, she vows.
Twenty minutes pass, and Pandora’s muscles are ready to be massaged. The hardest part comes next—turning her. Even if she’s light, I realize that I need an assistant. Thankfully, Shannon is still home and steals in quietly when I call her.
Shannon is a great help; while I stabilize Pandora’s torso, she flips her carefully. It’s easier than we expected, and I let out a quiet sigh of relief.
Honestly, I shouldn’t have taken my chances; if there’s even the smallest compression fracture in her spine—
Droplets cool my forehead at the unfinished thought.
Dominic’s familiar hands knead my muscles. For once, they don’t cause my mind to roam in unwanted directions and my body to stir with inappropriate need. I sense his concern for me, my own gratitude whenever he unravels a painful nub at the core of my compressed lumbar region.
Knot by knot, area after area, Dominic untangles me, and between the painkillers and his touch, only a dull heat remains as testimony to my sufferings.
“Do you want to sit up?” he finally asks.
Cautiously, I turn my head to the side to check if he’s serious. Warm, hazel eyes meet mine, awaiting my decision.
“Is it safe?”
“I think so. I don’t believe you’ve dislocated anything.”
I breathe out, my relief prompting him to add, “Get an X-ray as soon as possible, though, okay? You need to know one hundred percent.”
I nod into the pillow, excited about the small move not hurting.
“You’re a wizard,” I say, and Dominic laughs.
“A wizard, huh?”
“Mm, a magician.” I grin, getting back into my playful mood for the first time today. “Or, hey, a troll?”
His irises glitter with amusement. “And you’re a witch. A spellbinding one.”
My smile widens. “Am I? What do I spellbind, then? Trolls?”
“Perhaps so.” Dominic says it in a stern politician voice and pops his index finger up as if there’s a lesson to be learned from this.
“Hopefully I spellbind only the sexy trolls,” I hum.
He sinks to his haunches on the floor by my side. Strokes my hair away and lets his gaze flicker over my face. When it rests on my mouth, I’m suddenly shy, and despite the blanket covering me, an odd sensation of being exposed floods in.
“Pandora,” he whispers, breaking the silence. He watches me bite my lip while I wait for more. My heart speeds up as the seconds tick by without him speaking, and suddenly I can’t lie still any longer.
Cautiously, I ease myself onto my back with the sheet still draping me. I must emit some unconscious signal, because he helps me into a half-sitting position just as I think that I’d like that.
“You’re so lovely,” he murmurs, shaking his head slowly. “I don’t know what to do with you.”
My warning bells start tingling; with all my flaws, I need to stay away from this man, and yet the closer he is to me, the closer I want him.
“Can you hold me a little bit?” I am weak for Dominic.
He hisses air out through puckered lips, and it’s his defeat and then he’s got me engulfed in his arms. Behind him, the door to my room slides open. I catch a partial view of Mica over his shoulder.
God. I’m so safe here in the sanctuary of him. Dominic has me. They’re right—all of them are. He does come whenever I ask for it. He does take care of me.
My heart sinks as I breathe in his scent. I think of how I have to stop being a fucking disaster. How I need to stand on my own two feet. Be an adult. Responsible.
Still, more than anything, what resonates through my mind is how he doesn’t deserve this. Dominic, of all people, is the last person I should pull down into the mud bath of my life.
An angry motor roars from his jeans. Dominic groans, and for a moment, he buries his mouth into the nape of my neck, inhaling me. My stomach clenches, sending a jolt of heat—pain—to my chest. His phone snarls with displeasure, more furious by the second, but I slide my hands into his hair and hold him to me. I swallow with him tight against my throat.
He blows out a hot burst of air as he fumbles in his pocket without drawing away from me. I don’t want him to let go of me. We’re both so—
I’m so—
“Please let this be good news,” he mutters.
Dominic stands up, tall for this room. I feel faint at the thought of the last time his phone rang like that. He’d been so upset. Ah, he should get good news, only ever good news.
“Alan,” he says, listening intently. His eyes glaze into a blank, controlled sort of despair, focusing on a point behind me.
Mica retreats from the doorway with Destiny’s arm hooking her back by the waist. Destiny has always had a better sense of privacy than Mica.
“So, you stayed over last night? And this happened in the morning. After you left,” Dominic says.
A deep man’s voice buzzes from his phone.
“Well, that does it. Tell her I’m getting on a plane right now, Alan. Tell her.” His uncle buzzes again, but Dominic doesn’t let him finish. “No, I’ll find a way. This is fucking it, Alan. I’m coming home.”
Dominic lifts the phone in the air, wanting to chuck it at something. My hands fly to my ears, preempting the blow as it shatters against the wall, but he stops himself in time. Hand frozen midair, he’s shaking with contained rage.
Then, he backs into the wall behind him. “I gotta go,” he says, shoving his hands into his hair and making the ends stand up around them.
“What happened, baby?” I’ve never used an endearment for him before. I don’t know if he notices. He doesn’t comment on it, but his gaze glides from the floor to me.
“My grandma. After my uncle left this morning, she went to the store. Long story short, she thought someone said her name, so she swung around, tripped and fell over a threshold.”
He squeezes his eyes shut over the tears forming and shakes his head angrily.
“Is she all right?” Of course she isn’t. He wouldn’t have been on the verge of crying if she were.
Dominic pulls in a deep breath, nostrils flaring. He’s so adamant not to show how upset he is. I don’t understand.
“Grandma has this cute overbite. I used to tease her about it when I was little, and she’d make rabbit sounds to get a laugh out of me. Claimed she was related to the Easter bunny.”
“Aww, how sweet,” I
reply, unsure of where he’s going with this.
“Yeah.” His pitch breaks, but he clears his voice quickly. I wave him closer. With sluggish steps, he advances until he slumps down next to me.
“Well, they’re gone now. When she fell, she hit the floor face first and knocked out six of her upper teeth, all in a row. My uncle says she’s got a gaping hole there. He’s waiting for the doctor to tell him if her nose is broken too.”
“Crap, Dominic. I’m so sorry.”
“Gotta take off,” he repeats, eyeing me. He reaches out and cups my face once, brushing a thumb over my lower lip. “Get your back checked on Monday, okay? Have the girls drive you?”
“Are you leaving for long?” I sound needy.
“Don’t know. I’ve gotta find a solution for her. She can’t be alone anymore.”
“Your uncle’s an idiot,” I tell him even though I don’t know this Alan.
“I’ll check in on you. Be cool, babe, okay? Please.”
I’m so selfish that I don’t want Dominic to leave. I go through the motions of nodding, because I can’t talk right now—this is too much.
My phone vibrates on the nightstand. Since I’m not picking up, Dominic reaches over. “Mother Dearest,” he informs me, causing my lips to tug upward again. I roll my eyes.
“Yeah. Hit ‘reject call’ for me?”
He does without a word. “Do you have me programmed in there?”
“Yes.” My grin grows.
He frowns, browsing through my contacts. “No, you don’t?”
“Check under ‘P.’”
I expect him to ask why, but instead he thumbs down and looks up, surprised, once he finds himself. “‘Perfect Dominic?’”
“Yep, Mr. Perfect. You’re Mr. Right and I’m Miss Wrong,” I giggle, although what the hell’s funny about that? A hint of a smile plays on those full lips of his again.
“Nah, you’re ‘Miss Drives-a-Guy-Crazy.’ I’ll be in touch.”
