Drawn To Dark

by Emma Tharp

  Sure, I struggled with the ethics of the situation, but in a few short days, he’s no longer my patient. He needs one more injection and then he’ll have two days of apheresis. Part of me dreads the fact that he won’t be coming in the office anymore. I look forward to seeing his gorgeous smile, but it’s never a good idea to get involved with a patient.

  Inside the coffee shop, I’m greeted by the delicious scent of freshly-roasted coffee beans and sweet pastries. I love it here, a mom and pop shop with multi-colored couches at one end and tables at the other.

  A text alert goes off on my phone. It’s Kingston.

  At the table in the left-hand corner. Come over. Got you a treat.

  Scanning the left side of the shop, I see Kingston incognito. He’s wearing a gray winter hat and he’s holding up a newspaper, but peering up over the top. A smile spreads across his face when I wave at him.

  When I sit in the seat across from him, I’m unreasonably excited. It’s coffee, not a five-star meal.

  “Hey, thanks for coming,” he says and squeezes my knee under the table.

  “No problem.”

  “It’s cappuccino and a blueberry muffin. Penny told me what you drink, and the muffin is because they’re the best in town.”

  He’s not only sexy as hell, but thoughtful too. “Can’t wait to try it.” I break off a piece of the muffin and put it in my mouth. It’s hard not to notice him watching me eat.

  “You look pretty today. I like that color on you.”

  “Thanks. I like your hat. Trying to disguise yourself?” I ask.

  “I try. I don’t love the limelight.”

  Just then a teenage girl walks by, snaps a picture of him, giggles, and wanders away.

  “See what I mean? Sorry about that.”

  It must be annoying to have people invading your privacy all the time. He probably can’t go anywhere without being recognized. “Don’t worry about me.”

  “I did ask you here for a reason. I need to know what’s going to happen to me in a couple of days. I told you that I looked online. I read someone’s blog and it sounds terrible. It makes me want to back out.” He rubs the back of his neck.

  “Please try to relax. We do this procedure in the office every day.”

  “Promise me that you’ll be there. If you need to call in sick or something, call me to tell me because I’ll reschedule for a day you will be there.” Kingston’s fingers tap on the edge of the table.

  Grabbing his hand, I say, “I’ll be there. I promise. For the entire procedure.” I’m not going to point out that he can’t call to change his appointment. He’s on a strict schedule. But no need for him to worry, I won’t miss it.

  He flips his hand over and winds his fingers together with mine. “Good. Now walk me through it.”

  “You’re sure you want to know now? It might be better to wait for that day, so you don’t stress about it too much beforehand.”

  “Nope. I need to know now.”

  This is important. I have to choose my words wisely, not wanting to worry him any more than I have to. “It’s called apheresis. Your stem cells are collected by a special machine. A needle is inserted in both arms. Blood is taken from one vein and it goes through a machine that removes your stem cells and returns the remaining blood in the other arm. You’ll have this done two days in a row.” His eyes are wide and dart around the room like he’s ready to run out of here. “Remember you’re doing this for your sister.”

  At the mention of her, his eyes light up. “You’d love her. Dee is the best. This has to work, she has to get better.” Kingston’s cell phone rings. When he looks at the screen, he scowls and turns it off.

  “If you need to get that, I don’t mind,” I say, lifting the cappuccino to my lips.

  Shaking his head, he says, “Thanks for meeting me. I appreciate your time. Knowing that you’ll be there through all of this has set my mind at ease. You seem to be really good at it. Not much in my past has done that for me. If you hear crazy stuff about me, most of it is probably true, but please believe me when I tell you that I’ve changed. I’ve worked hard this past year to straighten out my life. I’m a work in progress, but I’m coming along. Do you believe me?” There’s sincerity in his eyes. It’s clear that it’s important to him that I believe him.

  “Your past is just that. It’s over. Don’t worry about what other people think.”

  “Cam, you’ve got no idea how much it means to hear you say that.”

  My insides get warm. This man is way too good-looking and when he talks to me this way, making himself vulnerable, it’s all I can do to not lean in and kiss him. Maybe I’m being naïve, but the way he looks at me, with focus and intention, makes me feel special. I wonder if that’s how all his conquests feel.

  Today is the day of Kingston’s apheresis. Because I work here, I see it done daily, but if I were him, the patient, I’d be nervous too. It’s never easy going into a medical procedure, not knowing how you’re going to feel or if something will go wrong.

  The doctor gives him a mild sedative to help him relax; he didn’t want to take it, but I’m glad that he did. He was shaking, and I had to hold his hand and not leave his side until the medicine kicked in.

  Once he stopped shaking like a leaf, it was time for the doctors to put in the needles and hook him up to the machine.

  “Okay, Kingston.” His lids are heavy, but he focuses on me. “You need to hold really still for me now.”

  “Of course. I’ll do whatever you want me to.” His eyebrows raise up and down.

  It’s hard not to giggle. He’s acting like he’s drunk. He’s got no clue what he’s saying and clearly he didn’t just mean what he said. “Good. Hold my hand and look at me.”

  In the state he’s in, he barely blinks when another nurse puts the needle in his arm.

  “You’re doing so well. Just try to relax.” I shift his attention to my iPad. “Check out this show, it’s amazing.”

  He looks down at the screen, squinting, looking barely awake. The nurse puts a needle in the other arm and gives me the thumbs up.

  She turns the machine on and now all we can do is wait. He’ll be here for a few hours. With other work to do, I sneak away while Kingston seems to be dozing off.

  There’s paperwork waiting for me in the nurses’ station. I’m able to get through all of it and start seeing a few patients. Taking a peek back in the apheresis room when I have a free minute, I see that Kingston is still out cold. Perfect, I have time to help out the other nurses. When I finish up with one of my patients, Nurse Betsy is barreling down the hall. “You’re needed in the apheresis room. Mr. Lawless would like to see you.”

  Hurrying toward the room, I find Kingston waking up and looking as though the sedative is wearing off, his eyes are darting around the room.

  “Cam, where did you go? You said you’d be here with me.” His expression is panicked.

  “I’m sorry. I had some things to take care of and you were sound asleep. Is everything alright?” I take the seat next to him and put his hand in mine to give it a soothing stroke.

  “It’s like I’m hungover and I’ve got these needles in my arms. The nurse told me not to move but all I want to do is bolt out of here.” The pitch of his voice goes up.

  “He’s nearly done for the day. Stay with him,” Nurse Betsy says. “I’ll go finish up with the rest of the patients.”

  As soon as she leaves the room, I put my hand on Kingston’s cheek; it’s warm and soft. “I’m not going anywhere. You can do this, for Dee.”

  His eyes close and he turns his head into my hand and kisses it. “Thank you. I need you to stay.” There’s still a slur in his voice, a little medication still on board.

  Pulling my chair as close to his as I can get it, I rub the strong muscles of his thigh and when a groan escapes his lips, warmth pools at my center.

  “I owe you for this,” he says.

  “No, you don’t,” I say, even though I can’t help but wonder wha
t he’d like to do to repay me.

  “You made this semi-tolerable. You are the only reason I was able to get through this. Let me cook for you.”

  “You can cook?”

  “Of course. And it will save us from showing up on Instagram again. Did you see the picture of us at the coffee shop yet?”

  “What? No.” I don’t spend much time on social media, but I’m surprised that Penny didn’t see it and show me. Am I the type of person who can handle my picture being on the Internet? I don’t know. It’s not something I’ve ever thought about.

  “You’re a bit blurry. But I know it’s you. That’s why I’m asking you to come to dinner at my house. Not going to take no for an answer.”

  He’s got one more session here at the office and then he’s no longer a patient. No worries about ethics. No guilt. “Okay. Sounds great.”

  “I’ll text you the time and my address. You won’t regret it.” His smile is so damn cute, I can see why women fall at his feet.

  Am I really going to be one of those women?

  8

  Kingston

  “I’m going to be fine. I just can’t work with Helena anymore,” I tell Tommy, the band’s manager. I’m done avoiding this. It’s time.

  “You’ve been a good boy while you’ve worked with her. Why switch now?” His voice is losing its patience.

  I’m only calling him as a courtesy. I can’t keep seeing her. She used to be good for me. Not anymore. “Yes. She helped me and I appreciate everything she’s done to get me where I’m at now, but it’s time for a change.”

  “I’ll give you a week to establish yourself with someone new. I want updates from this person, so you’ll have to make arrangements for me to stay informed.” He’s firm with his request.

  I understand it. The band’s reputation is at stake. If I have any more big mess-ups, I’ll get cut.

  “That’s all I ask.”

  “If you revert back to your old ways, you’re as good as done. No more second chances. Am I understood?”

  Swallowing hard past a lump forming in my throat, I say, “You won’t be disappointed.”

  “Good evening, Kingston.”

  There’s something unsettling about making promises to Tommy. I know I can be good. I’ve been doing it for a year now. But what happens if I slip up? I’d love to think I can do it without Helena in my life.

  There was an evening when we played to a sold out crowd at a stadium; we opened for the band Last Horizon for the first time. To introduce ourselves to each other, we started partying before we went on stage, and then after the show. I was so tanked, I barely remember that night. I ended up meeting a groupie. She wanted me to drive to a local hotel. I ended up driving us into the front of someone’s house. Thankfully nobody was hurt, but it was my third DWI. That’s when Tommy put his foot down and demanded I start seeing a shrink and go to rehab. That was my fifth stint in rehab. Helena was what changed me.

  I’ve known Helena for two years now. And for the first year, our relationship was doctor-patient. When I started to feel healthy, I had so much appreciation for how much she helped me. The first time we slept together, I’d never felt more connected physically to a woman. It started out normal, vanilla sex. Soon she started asking me to spank her, to use handcuffs. But then her requests got harsher. She wanted me to use instruments to cause her pain. I wasn’t opposed to trying new things, but it never became my kind of kink. As time went on, I understood that if I wanted to stay with her, it would have to be as a Dom.

  Since finding her in the Indian restaurant with her husband, I’ve done some soul searching. And what I know now that I never did before is that Helena has major issues of her own. She was able to use what I told her in confidence against me, to manipulate me into doing what she wanted. And I kept doing it. Maybe I’m not as well as I thought. Still a work in progress.

  Do I dare let myself get excited about Cam? Does someone like me deserve a woman like her? She’s sweet and beautiful. She comforts me and it’s easy to be vulnerable around her and I don’t understand why. There’s something soothing about her presence and it’s more than her being a nurse. And she’s coming to my place tonight. I finished my last session on apheresis yesterday, two days in a row of total torture. I haven’t seen Cam for one day and I miss her already but I was exhausted after the procedure each night. Thought it’d be better to entertain Cam today since I’m feeling better.

  This afternoon, Rick, Dee’s chef boyfriend, brought me over some chicken marsala for tonight’s dinner. Definitely better than takeout. I don’t cook much more than spaghetti or grilled cheese.

  When the doorbell rings, my heart beats faster than a Davies’ drum solo. I’m amped up. I open the door to find Cam standing there looking gorgeous in black shorts and a royal blue v-neck top. She has no idea what shirts like that do to me. The tops of her full breasts peek out and stare at me, begging to be set free and touched.

  “Hey,” she says, a shy smile on her face. She’s clutching her purse in her hands like it’s a lifeline. It’s nice to see that she’s as nervous as I am.

  “Hi. You look beautiful. Please, come in.” Moving to the side, I gesture for her to walk past the threshold into my home.

  “Thanks.” Her cheeks get a pink tinge. Adorable. She comes in and swivels her head around, checking out my place.

  It’s big and beautiful. Dee helped me pick it out. She told me that it was a good investment. I bought it when it was a buyer’s market and got an even better deal because I paid cash. It didn’t take long to get used to spending money when the band started doing well.

  “Your house is gorgeous.” Her sweet mouth is open as she continues to walk through to the kitchen. “And whatever you’re cooking smells delicious.”

  “Can’t take credit for any of it. I hired an interior designer for the house and Dee’s boyfriend, Rick, brought the food over earlier. I’m just heating it up.”

  Cam nods and says, “Works for me.” When she scans my body, her eyes stop at my arms. Her hand comes up and gently skims the area where the needles were during the apheresis. Her fingers feel so good against my skin. “How are you doing?”

  “I’m doing good. I’ve only got small bruises.”

  “That’s good. You did it. It’s done,” she says, her tone is light and cheery.

  Sweet relief. Having all the bone marrow donation procedures out of the way is one of the best feelings I could ever have. Now Dee will have it transplanted. If that goes well, I’ll be ecstatic. “Let’s celebrate. I’ve got non-alcoholic red wine. Rick says this bottle pairs well with the chicken marsala.” I go to the counter and show her the bottle of red.

  Grabbing the bottle from me, she scans the label. “Looks good to me.” She hands it back to me.

  Unscrewing the cork, I pour us two glasses. “As you can probably guess, I don’t drink. Booze and I don’t have a good track record together. I hope you don’t mind. Here you go.”

  She takes the glass, swirls it around, and smells it. When she puts her lips up and takes a sip, her eyes close. “This is really good. And I don’t mind at all. Must be nice to know someone that can cook and knows how to buy good wine.”

  I’m thankful that she doesn’t seem to judge me when I admit that I don’t drink anymore. “It is. Rick is a great match for Dee. And since she’s been sick, he’s been there for her every step of the way.”

  “That’s the dream, isn’t it? To meet someone that cares enough about you to stick by you when the chips are down.” She absently swirls her glass around, staring off into space.

  I wonder what she’s thinking and if it’s appropriate for me to ask her. The alarm on my phone goes off, alerting me that the food is ready. Putting on oven mitts, I take the dish out of the oven. I serve us chicken, rice, and asparagus and bring the plates to the table. “Dinner is ready.”

  We take our seats at my farmhouse table. It has ten chairs. The funny thing is, nobody ever sits here unless I have a party. I’ve had a
few catered events, but other than that, it’s empty. Seems silly now to have such a big place when it’s only me living here. Maybe someday it’ll be full of family.

  “When does your tour start?” Cam asks as she cuts a piece of chicken.

  “In a few days.”

  Looking up from her plate, her eyes widen slightly. “Really?”

  “Yeah. We’ll be gone for three weeks. It’s the west coast leg.” My tone is apologetic and I’m not sure why. No, I do know. I don’t want to go yet. I just met Cam and I like her; it’d be amazing to get to know her better.

  “Wow. Sounds exciting,” she says.

  “Not really. Don’t get me wrong; I love the music and the energy at shows, but the down time and being on the road wears me down.” My stomach sinks, thinking about getting back on the tour bus again.

  Cam takes a sip of her wine and says, “I never thought about it like that. It seems like it’d be exciting.”

  “Touring does have its moments. But it gets lonely.”

  “Sure. Do you mind if I ask you a question? It’s a little personal,” she asks through her eyelashes.

  For this to work, honesty is the only way to go. I just hope it doesn’t backfire. “Ask away.”

  She hesitates for a few seconds. “Are you dating anyone?”

  “No, I’m single. What about you?”

  “Me too. But, I’m divorced.”

  This surprises me. She seems young. And great. Why would anyone let her get away? “Now it’s my turn to ask a personal question, if you don’t mind sharing. What happened?”

  Cam pushes the food around on her plate. “Of course. I don’t mind telling you. I married my high school sweetheart. I thought he was my soulmate. But, he could never hold down a job and spent too much time on the computer,” she sighs deeply. “On Internet dating sites.”