by Claire Adams
“Okay. Shoot.”
“Could I come to the hospital with you to visit Jane? Maybe I can help cheer her up. She and I got along so well the other night.”
I smiled. “Sure thing. You ready to go?”
“Yep. Let me just change and get my handbag.”
***
I sat on the hospital bench exhausted and worried. The doctors still hadn't been able to get Jane's condition to improve much. She had been happy to see Vivienne, but the strength and intensity of her fever had soon overwhelmed her.
“I hate to see her like this,” Vivienne remarked. “I can't imagine how worrying and stressful it must be for you, as her father.”
“It is,” I replied. “Believe me, it really is.”
“Can I... can I ask you a question?”
“Yeah, go ahead.”
“Where is Jane's mother?” she asked.
I figured she would have eventually asked about this subject. It was alright; as touchy as it was for me, I was prepared to talk to her about it.
“She was here last night... briefly.”
“Oh.” Vivienne sounded surprised. I imagined, perhaps, that she likely thought that Jane's mother was dead.
“Yeah. Susan – that's her name – she and her boyfriend, Ricky, they stopped by. They were both a little drunk, probably just got out of some damn nightclub.”
“Ah... I see. So, you two are uh, you're divorced?”
“Yeah, we are. Susan walked out of our marriage when Jane was only a few months old. She never could accept that she needed to grow up and be responsible, and not even having a child seemed to be able to change her perspective. That jerk she's with, Ricky, he's a promoter for various nightclubs, so they always get in for free and get drinks cheap or free, too. They're both booze hounds; she always did love her drinking, but it got worse after she had Jane. And before you ask, she did somehow manage to stay sober during the pregnancy. I think those were the toughest nine months of her life, though; no bottle to down every night for that long. I think that's what drove her over the edge and made her leave. I wanted her to stay sober. I mean, not be a teetotaler or anything, have a drink once in a while, but not hammering it every night like she was used to doing. She just couldn't do it, though. Just couldn't do it. Having a carefree, party-girl lifestyle was more important to her than me or her own child... so that's what she chose.”
As I had been speaking, Vivienne had slipped her fingers through mine, and now she was squeezing my hand tightly. I looked up and saw her staring at me with tears in her eyes and genuine empathy and compassion written raw across her face.
“I'm so sorry to hear that,” she said. “I know how hard that must be to talk about. I've got a story about my ex as well.”
It felt good to be able to open up about it. Of course, I wasn't ready to disclose everything just yet, and I suspected that she wasn't either, but this was a good start.
“Well, you can tell me,” I said, squeezing her hand softly. “If you want to.”
“I do want to. I’m not really sure why, but I do.”
She paused as though she were trying to muster the courage. So, I gave her hand still entwined with mine a gentle squeeze of reassurance. A moment later, she inhaled deeply and spoke.
“Well, first things first… I have to tell you is that my name isn't Vivienne.”
I sat up straighter, wondering where this was going. “Wait, uh... it isn't?”
“No. Well, it is now. I legally changed it. But my given name is Alicia.”
“Wow, alright. What made you change your name?”
“My ex, Simon, he's absolutely psychotic. When I was with him, he was terrifying. He was obsessive, controlling, wouldn't let me see any of my friends, banned me from speaking to any man besides him. Eventually, it got so bad that I had to get permission from him before I was even allowed to leave the house. That's how crazy he was. Then, when I tried to leave him, things got really scary. He threatened my life, and came after me with the intent to kill me. Unfortunately, I couldn't prove that he tried to kill me – he chased me around my friend's house with a hunting knife, but there were no witnesses, and I didn't sustain any knife injuries. He stalked me for a long time after we broke up. And I finally managed to get a restraining order against him. He broke it on more than one occasion, though; he didn't care. Every time he was able to wiggle his way out of it in court. He's very intelligent – which makes it even scarier for me. The only way I managed to get away from him was to change my name and move away. And that's how I ended up here.”
I nodded, trying to process all of this information. “Wow,” I murmured. “Umm. That's pretty crazy. I'm sorry it was so hard for you to get away from that maniac. You're safe now, right?”
I could see there was something else she wanted to say, a hint of fear or anxiety glimmering in her eyes – but perhaps she wasn't ready to tell me about it yet.
“Yes,” she said softly. “It's all over now. I'm fine; everything is fine.”
Chapter Thirteen
Vivienne
Talking with Everett was easily the most comfortable I’d ever felt with anyone aside from my dad. The conversation just flowed like we’d known each other for years. Opening up to him was second nature. It just felt right. Even if we were sitting in a hospital. Not an atmosphere typically conducive to intimate conversation.
After more talk about our exes, I considered telling him about the knot stuck in my stomach now that Simon had disappeared and no one seemed to know where he was. However, after seeing how Everett took such a proactive stance on things handling the drug problem at his school, I thought maybe it would be best if I just kept my fears to myself about that for the time being since all I knew was that Simon was MIA.
Before we could continue, a doctor came and spoke to Everett.
"Mr. James," he said. "We've given Jane some medication that will keep her sedated for some time. Sleep is the best thing for her right now. It will allow her body to fight the infection more effectively, and will, of course, prevent her from feeling pain."
Everett nodded. "Thank you, Doc."
"We're doing everything we can. You might want to go out and get some fresh air. I know that you want to be by your little girl's side, but for the time being, there isn't very much you can do here to help her. Trust me; she's in good hands."
"Alright, Doc. Please let me know right away if she wakes up or anything changes, okay? I can be here in 10 minutes from wherever I am."
"We will keep you informed about everything, Mr. James."
"Come on, Everett," I said, slipping my fingers through his and squeezing his hand softly. "Let's go. Jane's getting the best care she can. Now it's your duty to her to take care of yourself as well, you know. You need to be in the best shape you can be to take care of her, and I know right now that you haven't had much rest. And that...injury from last night, it isn't helping. Let's go get some nice healthy food into you, and then we'll go relax."
"That does sound like a good idea right about now. I am pretty worn out after everything that's happened in the last couple of hours."
"Well, where would you like to eat?" I asked.
"I need something hearty, something that's gonna fill me up. Like I said, feeling pretty drained."
"Hmm, steak?" I suggested.
He grinned. "I like the way you think."
"Not sure how familiar you are with the area yea, but I'm guessing you don't know the best spots. I, on other hand, have been here for a whole two years…and as that pretty much makes me a native, I know where the best spots to eat can be found."
Everett chuckled; it was good to see him smile after all this stress and worry.
"Well take me to 'em, I'm ready!"
***
Everett leaned back and patted his stomach appreciatively. "Now that, that was a fine steak," he remarked, smiling. "I'm very glad you showed me this place!"
"And I'm glad you liked it. Just don't come here too often, though."
<
br /> "Why do you say that?" he asked.
"We wouldn't want to ruin your not-so-boyish figure," I said with a wink.
My comfort level and my attraction toward Everett seemed to have intensified almost magically. And from the way he had been stealing glances at me over lunch, I was sure he felt the same.
"It ain't nothing that my morning seven-mile run and workout session won't burn off," he said. "And speaking of figures…I’ll be a gentleman and let you guess what I’m thinking."
I blushed and smiled. "I'll try to do that. But hold up a minute – you run seven miles every morning?"
"Sure, ever since I was in…"
He stopped mid-sentence as if he had just inadvertently blurted out a secret.
"In what?" I urged him to finish.
"High school, I was on the track team," he said after just enough hesitation that a person who didn’t question everything wouldn’t think twice about. Unfortunately, I wasn’t that type of person. I was the type of person who had to question everything. It’s how I managed to keep myself safe and hidden from a psychotic ex. And that meant that I didn't really believe his story, but at the same time, I knew what it was like to not want to talk about my past. And this seemed to be a subject he was reluctant to talk about, so I didn't press him on it.
"Well, that's impressive. Most men in their 30s are lucky if they can run seven miles in a week, let alone a day," I complimented.
"Being fit is an important part of who I am," he said. "Healthy body, healthy mind. And discipline when it comes to taking care of your physical health means discipline in all other areas of your life, too – and discipline is what's needed to succeed."
"I suppose I agree with that," I said. "Why else would I go to yoga classes three times a week? It's not as grueling as your seven miles every morning sounds, but it does wonders for my mind and body."
A mischievous smirk turned up one side of his mouth. "I suppose I would agree with that. You seem pretty sound of mind, too,” he added with a wink. “Perhaps we can work out together sometime. I wouldn't mind trying some of that yoga stuff, and maybe you can come run with me one day."
It was a good save since the conversation was clearly headed for the gutter if he hadn’t turned it to running.
"I haven’t been running in years. Where do you usually run?" I asked, trying to focus on changing the subject and not the idea of naked yoga with the beautiful specimen sitting across from me.
He laughed. "Well, usually in my house. So, might get kind of tricky if you tried to run with me on the treadmill. But we could go for a run around the neighborhood sometime."
"I would like that," I replied with a smile. "I'd like that very much, in fact."
Before we could continue, the waitress interrupted us.
"Anything else for you guys?"
"Just the check please," answered Everett.
"So, what are your plans for getting some rest?" I asked.
"Not sure," he replied. “Resting isn’t really my strong suit.
"Would you like to come over to my place, maybe watch some Netflix and relax on the sofa? It would do you good, I think."
He smiled. "Yes, I think it would actually do me a lot of good."
***
"What do you feel like watching?" I asked as I turned on the TV.
"Too much to ask for you to just walk back and forth?” he joked.
“Cute. But today is my rest day too. Nice try, though. So…preferences?”
“Oh, I don't know. Maybe a movie before I head back to the hospital? What's on here?"
"Pretty much whatever you want to watch. Do you seriously not have Netflix? What kind of American are you?” I teased.
“The kind who watches Disney more than Netflix,” he smiled.
“Well, before your Disney days, what sorta movies were you into?"
"Light-hearted stuff," he replied with a smile. "Life's too heavy as it is to watch serious stuff when you're trying to relax."
"Agreed. You like comedies?"
"Sure, comedies are my favorite! Who doesn't like laughing?" he asked.
I chuckled. "Any specific comedies in mind?"
"I'm a big fan of The Hangover movies," he replied with a grin.
"Why? Wait. Let me guess. Because they are based on your life experiences?" I shot an insinuating grin at him. I was enjoying the playful banter. It was nice to see that he had a humorous side to him, despite all of the seriousness that accompanied his character.
"Never! I’m a father, remember? Hell, I've never had a drop to drink in my life," he replied with a wink. “That’s my story, and I’m stickin’ to it.”
"Yeah, yeah. Let's see what's on before you say something that sends lightning down to strike you," I said, easing myself back into the couch, and subtly shifting closer to him.
I pulled up the movies menu on Netflix and began scrolling through it.
"Ooh," I said. "Saving Private Ryan. That's supposed to be a classic. Can you believe I've never actually seen it?"
His face changed instantly, and his smile vanished, replaced with a look that was cool and detached. He shook his head.
"No war movies," he mumbled.
I had obviously struck a nerve that made me instantly wonder what kind of past this man had that he could just shrug off a gunshot wound and refused to watch war movies? He had to have been a soldier. He had to have been. I wanted to ask him about it, but judging from the look that came over his face when I had even brought up that movie, I guessed it was a pretty sensitive subject, so I left it alone.
"Hmm, alright, no war movies. Well, let's keep scrolling... Here we go, The Hangover 3; you fine with that?"
His smile returned as quickly as it had disappeared, and he nodded.
"Sounds great. Let's put it on."
"Alright. Before I do, though, would you like some popcorn?"
"Sure."
"How do you like it?" I asked.
"Loads of salt, loads of butter."
I chuckled. "That doesn't seem like the kind of thing a fitness freak who does seven miles every morning should be eating."
"It's a cheat day," he replied with a cheeky grin.
"Alright, in that case, I'll go fix us a nice bowl of popcorn."
"You do that."
I went to the kitchen and made a bowl of popcorn, and brought it back to the living room. We put the movie on, and then settled on the sofa and started watching. The laughter soon began flowing, and any tension that had existed melted away. After a few minutes, I shifted closer to him. In response, he slid his arm around my shoulder and pulled me in even closer.
"You know, Vivienne," he said, adjusting his focus from the movie to me. "I'm glad you gave me a second chance. Thank you."
"I am, too," I replied looking up to meet the intensity of his gaze.
Electricity ricocheted between us as Everett’s hand settled around the base of my neck and he moved in for the kiss. Our lips met, and it just felt like it was meant to be. He began by kissing me slowly and gently at first, his tongue exploring my mouth with an almost inquisitive nature. As our tongues danced, shivers of pleasure began traveling along my skin. I responded by nibbling on his lower lip, teasing with my teeth, which seemed to elicit a positive response. His kisses grew more passionate as he pressed his tongue deeper and more forcefully into my mouth, all while pulling me into a tighter embrace.
I wrapped my arms around his broad back tracing my hands along the lines of his unbelievably hard and firm muscles. My fingertips delighted in the strength they found beneath his firm skin as explosions of bliss detonated in me.
As we leaned back on the sofa more, kissing deeply and pressing our bodies tighter together, he tentatively slipped his hands under my blouse, moving them with soft, gentle fingertips up over my belly.
"Is this okay?" he whispered in my ear as he moved his hands over me and planted warm kisses along my neck.
"You have no idea," I whispered back, feeling the heat of arousal pumping
through me.
"Oh, I think I have a pretty damn good idea," he mumbled back.
He slipped his hands up over my sides, sending shivers of pleasure trickling across my skin, and then up behind my back as he unclipped my bra with deft fingers. With the bra loose, he moved his hands back around onto my breasts, still kissing me deeply and passionately. I couldn't help but let out a gasp of pleasure.
He began to caress them, gently at first, just teasing and almost testing them out, his fingertips working with a building pressure that sent wave after wave of bliss surging through me. I slipped my hands under his shirt, discovering the hard ridges of his abdominal muscles, which caused him to shudder with pleasure. I then began to move one hand up onto his broad and powerful chest. I couldn't help but marvel at just how chiseled he was. Real men, in my experience, didn’t have bodies like this.
My nipples had begun to swell and stiffen with pleasure at his touch, and with his skilled fingers he started massaging and playing with them, causing jolts of joy and intense bursts of pleasure to tear through my whole chest. Suddenly, I was feeling another swelling, this one at the meeting of my thighs, where a hot wetness was growing and spreading. It was a sensation I hadn't felt for longer than I cared to think about. An intense hunger for him started to grow with a powerful force inside me.
I gasped softly and moaned as his fingers began taking me closer and closer to an orgasm and the man hadn’t even touched me below the waist. It was amazing how skilled he was with only his touch. I began to imagine how skilled he had to be with other parts of himself.
"Oh, Everett, that's good, that's really, really good," I gasped as the force of the orgasm developed like a head of steam within me, building up a glorious pressure that was just waiting to be released. As if he could sense this, he began to work his hands with more vigor and pressure, taking me closer and closer to the edge. My heart was hammering inside my chest, and a flush of heat spread across my face and chest – it was going to happen, it was going to happen at any moment now, I just knew it.
And then, finally, with a cry of pleasure, the orgasm tore through me blazing a glorious path of ecstasy through my whole body. I shivered and shook with the joyous force of it, breathing quickly and sighing with the wonderful intensity of it.
