Finding Mikayla

by Samantha Christy

  Mitch takes a long drink from the bottle and hands it to me. I take it willingly, attempting to squelch my own anxiety over what we just heard. “So, no pool today then.”

  He shakes his head. “Can I get a rain check on that? I think I’m going to take off for little while. Is it okay if I catch you later?”

  “Of course,” I say, trying to sound a tiny bit cheerful when I think I’m dying a little inside.

  I watch him walk away toward the barracks and I wonder if he is sad because he can’t remember, or because he now knows someone is waiting for him out there, or simply because the reality of someone else not finding who they were looking for just slapped him in the face.

  I take one more drink from the bottle that Mitch abandoned on the table.

  ~ ~ ~

  Dear Jeff,

  People have left in search of loved ones only to come back empty-handed. They bring information of death and destruction amid small slivers of hope in the rumors they hear about the government making plans to help.

  None of the missing have returned. No soldiers. No loved ones. And as each day goes by, I have to wonder if the chances of that happening get better or worse. More and more people are moving on from those they lost. I have found myself crossing lines that I never thought I would. Are you crossing your own lines? Does that make us bad people?

  I delivered a baby last week. I haven’t felt that alive since arriving here. It gave me hope. Hope for what, I don’t know yet. But, I also lost a patient—one that could have been saved if I’d had the proper equipment.

  Working here at the clinic has me thinking a lot lately about my past life and the direction it was heading. I like it here. Call me crazy, but I love the leisurely pace of our little community. I wonder if maybe I’m not cut out for the fast-paced life of emergency pediatrics. Is it wrong of me to simply want to set up a small practice someplace where all my clients feel like family?

  The blackout has changed me. Has it changed you? Would we ever be able to be the Jeff and Kay that we once were? I guess the bigger question is . . . would we want to?

  Until next time. All my love,

  Kay

  Chapter Thirteen

  Hours pass with no sign of Mitch. I can’t help but wonder if Carson helped trigger his memory. Dr. Jacobs told me that sometimes all it takes is a single event, item or even just a word and every lost memory will come flooding back.

  My body goes into autopilot, understanding what I need and I end up at the stables. As Sassy carries me to the meadow, I think about the fact that Mitch has become such an integral part of my life. He hasn’t even been here for a month, yet I already know my world would be incomplete without him.

  I blink a few times as I see Mitch come into focus and I delight in my unexpected ability to make him materialize before me merely with my thoughts. I think I see a faint smile as he approaches and when I notice that he is riding Rose, memories of that first ride together flood my head sending a shiver down my spine.

  “Hi,” he says, bringing Rose to a stop next to me.

  “Hey. You okay?” I ask.

  He smiles and nods his head at me.

  “If you’re looking for a place to think, I know a good spot if you want me to show you. It’s kind of off the beaten path.”

  “Sounds like exactly what I need. Lead the way, doctor.”

  I can feel Mitch’s eyes bore into me as he follows me over to the meadow. It takes a few minutes to get there. Minutes that we spend in complete silence. Minutes of pure torture because I wonder what is going through his head. Minutes of overwhelming guilt because I want him for myself.

  “So, here it is,” I say, as our horses emerge from the tall trees into the serene grass and flower-lined prairie that has become my sanctuary. I turn Sassy around to leave. “Okay, well . . . maybe I’ll see you later.”

  “Stay, Mikayla.”

  My eyes close in relief at his command. Those two little words increase my heart rate as if I’ve just run a marathon. I turn my horse back around and walk her over to him.

  He lets out a deep sigh. “I feel so guilty.”

  I nod my head in understanding. “I know, Mitch. Me, too. It’s okay. I know how you feel.”

  “No, Mikayla, I don’t think you do.” He inches Rose closer to me. “I don’t feel guilty for wanting you. That’s not it at all. I feel guilty because I don’t want to be searching for anyone else. I don’t want anyone out there waiting for me. I just want you.”

  His sincere eyes tell me he speaks the truth and I almost launch myself at him. Luckily, I remember we are sitting on horses and I come to my senses before injuring another ankle.

  I quickly remind myself that he may feel that way now, but when he gets his memory back, I’m sure things will change. Still, we both harbor this guilt, for whatever our reasons, binding us together as we have yet another thing in common.

  He holds my stare as he dismounts Rose. He walks both mares over to a tree and ties them together. Then he holds his hands up to help me down off Sassy.

  I fall into his waiting arms, expecting him to place me firmly on the grass beneath my boots. Instead, he wraps me in an embrace, my feet inches from solid ground, my face meeting his. He moves us away from the horses and then just holds me to him, staring into my eyes that I’m sure are ablaze with want and need. He doesn’t lean closer; he doesn’t put his lips on mine. He is waiting for me to decide if this is okay. He’s told me he wants me, and only me. However, I can’t tell him the same in all certainty.

  I see his tongue come out and swipe his bottom lip. This tiny movement, this unconscious gesture has me ignoring the battle in my head, silencing the voices when I lean in and softly place my lips on his. “Mitch,” I breathe into his waiting mouth as I feel him release a relieved breath before he molds his mouth to mine.

  It is only the second time we’ve kissed, but our lips fit together as if we’ve been doing this forever; as if our lips were specifically designed to fit so perfectly only with each other’s. We nip, lick and touch each other with such fervor, such intensity, that I think it’s not even possible that anyone else has ever shared a kiss such as this. My hands reach up to grab the hair that falls across his collar, weaving my fingers through the dark wavy locks. He moans into my mouth and then breaks our kiss to taste every inch of my neck, licking and nibbling his way along my jaw from ear to agonizing ear.

  “Ahhh…” escapes my lips as he lightly nips at my earlobe.

  His hands falter and I feel myself slipping out of his grip so my legs hitch up and wrap around his waist, bringing our hips together and drawing a pleasurable groan from deep inside him. His hands move down to support my bottom as our bodies mash together with impatience. I can feel the evidence of his arousal pressing into the apex of my thighs and it drives me higher. Without a thought, I reach down to grab the hem of my halter top and boldly pull it over my head.

  Mitch’s expression quickly turns from shock to admiration as his heated stare first caresses my eyes and then my exposed breasts. “Mikayla,” he whispers breathlessly, “you are so damn beautiful. I have to touch you.”

  He removes his hands from my backside and my body protests as I slip away from him, my feet finally reaching solid ground. He swiftly removes his shirt, exposing his own awe-worthy chest, spreading the shirt on the ground. Then he turns around and in an instant, he sweeps me up into his arms as if I’m lighter than air, and he leans over to deposit me on the material laid over the grass.

  Oh! The Caveman returns.

  He kneels next to me, his eyes running up and down my body. I momentarily wonder why I’m not embarrassed, being half naked in the daylight, but then I realize that with the way he’s looking at me—the way he devours every inch of my exposed skin—there is no need for shame. His eyes tell me that despite my imperfections, he is appreciating my body like a priceless piece of art. His heated stare sends tingles through my body and I shudder to think what his touch is going to do to me.

 
He leans down to me and I stare at his mouth, wanting it to do so many things to me. He says, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything as sexy as you lying here right now.”

  I can’t wait another second to feel his touch. I reach up and grab his head and almost violently pull it to my mouth, our lips crashing together in heated passion. I can feel his smile against my mouth before he pulls back slightly. Then as if reading my mind, he murmurs into my mouth, “Who’s the Caveman now, Mikayla?”

  He reaches down to put my breasts in his hands and a moan escapes his throat, mirroring my own pleasurable sounds. He rolls my nipples between his fingers and my body arches into him as my eyes roll up into my head. He leans down to run his jaw up the side of my face and the scratchiness of his stubble just adds to the sensations shooting through my body. “I love the way your body responds to me,” he whispers in my ear, his hot breath flowing over my neck.

  His words turn me on every bit as much as his hands on my body. He looks into my eyes as a hand makes its way down to the top of my jeans. He works a finger under my waistband, leaving a blazing trail of sparks everywhere he touches. His eyes ask a question that I answer simply by raising my hips and pushing them into his hand. He wastes no time unbuttoning my jeans and reaching his hand down, working his fingers underneath my panties to where my body is aching for his touch.

  When he finds my pulsating center, I hear, “Oh, God.” I’m not entirely sure if the words came from Mitch or from me. He works a finger in and out of my slick flesh and my moans become muffled when I bury my face into his neck.

  I’m building up so fast. My body is on fire under his touch. I writhe beneath him as I dig my nails into his arm. He works moisture up to my tiny bundle of nerves and I know I don’t have long before I explode under his ministrations. He rubs circles with his thumb while a few fingers push deep inside my tight walls. “Mitch . . . God, yes!” I can’t keep the pleasurable words from escaping my lips.

  “You are so sexy, Mikayla. Your body feels so good. Let go for me, sweetheart,” he breathes into my hair as his fingers bring me to a place that is my undoing. His words, his hands, his scent, his body . . . they all come together to push me over the edge into a place where heaven and earth collide as flashes of light shoot behind my eyelids and agonizing pleasure works down through my curling toes. He has me calling out his name along with garbled words of ecstasy as pulse after incredible pulse flows through me in never-ending waves.

  Holy shit!

  As I recover from what I can only describe as an out-of-body experience, I think that even though he’s made me come before—in my guilt-ridden fantasies about him—this was, without a doubt, the best sexual experience of my entire life.

  I gather my scattered wits and look up at Mitch who is beaming, no doubt at how he was able to reduce me to a quivering mess. I contemplate thanking him for such a pleasurable ride but instead, I reach my hand over and cup the large bulge in his jeans.

  I’m taken aback when he removes my hand. “I want to return the favor, Mitch,” I say, with a suggestive smile.

  “No, Mikayla. You don’t have to do that. That’s not why I’m here,” he says.

  Not why he’s here? I thought that’s exactly why he was here. With what he just did to me, he’s going to suffer a major case of blue balls if he doesn’t let me touch him. I look at him in confusion.

  He shakes his head at me and says, “I mean, yes, I’m sure that would be great . . .” He reaches a hand over my chest and places it above my heart. “But what I really want is this, Mikayla. Everything else is merely a bonus.” His eyes soften and he runs a finger across my lips. “When you touch me like that—when you make me feel as good as you just felt—I want to know that it’s me you are thinking of.”

  My heart sinks. “Mitch . . .” I don’t know what to say. Everything he’s said is true. Would I be thinking of him and only him if we went further . . . if we made love? It wouldn’t be fair to him. It wouldn’t be fair to Jeff.

  “It’s okay.” He smiles down at me. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  We relax into each other and lie here, shirtless and in comfortable silence while our fingers intertwine.

  “I want to tell you about the phone, Mitch,” I say, eager to have him understand why I keep it so private. I also want him to know that I’m trying. I’m trying to give him more.

  “No.” I can feel him shake his head behind me. “I don’t need to know,” he says.

  “But—”

  “Mikayla,” he says, rubbing a hand down my arm. “It doesn’t matter to me. We all have our reasons for doing things. I really don’t need to know.”

  We lie here until the sun begins to set and we realize we need to head back.

  Halfway back to the stables, he pulls the horses to a stop, comes over close and reaches up to my hair. He shows me some blades of grass that were apparently stuck to the back of my head and I flush. “Sweetheart, your hair could be covered in mud and you’d still be beautiful,” he says, leaning in to plant a sensuous kiss on my lips. When we part, his demeanor suddenly changes and he nods in the direction behind me.

  I turn to see John in the distance. He’s riding a horse close to the perimeter. I didn’t realize he had any watch duties and I wonder if it’s a coincidence that he’s out here. I quickly remove a hair tie from my wrist and secure my locks into a messy bun. I wave at John, trying to be polite, but he simply stares daggers at Mitch.

  “Well, I can’t blame the guy for wanting you,” he says with a shrug. “You are kind of irresistible. Especially now.” He winks at me. “But if he even looks at you the wrong way, he’s going down.”

  I shake my head at my Caveman. Then it strikes me that I’ve just thought of him as mine. Mine—I test the word again in my head. Could he be? Do I want him to be? The voices in my head are once again at war despite my repeated attempts to ignore them.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I narrow my eyes suspiciously at my best friends. I’m good, but I’m not this good. Why aren’t they all vying for the little square packages, that are ‘ribbed for our pleasure,’ like they normally do?

  “Okay,” I slam my cards down on the card table, causing my drink to splash out of my cup and splatter all over my cards. “What the hell is wrong with you guys?” I eye the condoms on the table and then pick one up and examine it for quality control. “Have these been used or something?”

  Holly, Pam and Amanda quickly look at each other before Holly says, “I have a goddamn yeast infection, so sex is the last thing on my mind.” She nods to Pam. “And I guess she and Craig are in a fight at the moment.”

  I look from Holly to Pam. Wiping my cards off with my shirt, I say, “But these things are like gold. You can always use them later, you know.”

  I’m not sure, but I think Holly kicks Pam under the table. Pam says, “Maybe we’re just all waiting until you raise the stakes.”

  “Raise the stakes? What do you mean? I’ve already lost five tampons and some nail polish.” I really didn’t want to bet the hot-pink nail polish, but it was the best thing I had when I drew a full house so I had to go for it. Damn Holly. Her full house beat mine, her three tens to my nines.

  Amanda pipes in, “They want your porn, Kay.”

  “Porn!?” I exclaim. I’m confused, but when they all stare me down with raised eyebrows, it dawns on me.

  Aw, crap. “How the hell did you find out?” I ask. My face heats up knowing they are now privy to my guilty pleasure.

  “Don asked me the other day if you were keeping Christian Grey all to yourself.” Holly elbows me. “Well . . . ?” she asks. “Come on Kay, are you gonna share the dirty bastard or not?”

  Hmmm. How do I handle this? They are my best friends after all. I’m trying to figure out what to do when Amanda asks, “Can we just finish this hand before getting into it? I have to pee.” She glares at Holly and Pam and nods to the pot in the middle of the table.

  “Oh, right,” Holly says. “Okay, I call. What
do you have?” They all lay down their cards which have to be the most pathetic cards I’ve seen all night.

  I lay down my two queens, making me the winner of the hand, and I pull everything in the pot over to my side of the table. I inventory my winnings. Two condoms, a tube of lipstick—that I open up to see is my favorite color—and a sample-sized perfume.

  Amanda smiles coyly at the other girls when she gets up to use the latrine.

  “Hurry back for the last hand, Amanda,” Pam calls after her.

  “Last hand?” I ask. “It’s not even ten o’clock.”

  “Yeah, but I hear they have great music tonight so I think we should all take shots and head over to The Oasis,” Pam says, winking at Holly. What the hell is up with them tonight? Too much moonshine, I conclude.

  “So . . . you were about to tell us if you will bet your precious Mr. Grey,” Holly says, wide eyed and smiling in anticipation.

  I look down at my stash and eye the condoms I was going to ante. I suppose I can just save them for next time. “I guess I can do that. But it’s for a borrow only, not full ownership. Got it?”

  “Geez.” Pam rolls her eyes at me. “Awfully possessive of your porn, Kay.” Then she mumbles something about wondering if Mitch knows of my erotic fantasies, causing her and Holly to burst into a fit of giggles.

  As we wait for Amanda to return from the latrine, we fall into a familiar game of ‘Best and Worst’ that Pam came up with a while back. It’s the way we rant and rave about life after the blackout.

  “Okay, what’s your best?” Holly asks.

  “Not dealing with rush hour is super sweet,” Pam says quickly. “My commute was hellish. Now it takes me thirty seconds to walk to work.”