by Bijou Hunter
Thinking of Quaid healing alone breaks my heart. Rather than pity him aloud, I say, “Having a fuzzy head sucks, but I don’t want to panic again.”
“Then let your body heal. The bullet damaged a lot of shit on its way through. If you push yourself too fast, it’ll heal wrong. In a week, the pain will naturally be less, and your meds won’t be as high. It’s a process. Don’t fuck up your healing with the misguiding belief that you can force yourself to heal faster, or that tough people don’t need meds or to be careful.”
“My family needs me to be strong.”
“Today, you scared the crap out of them. The only one who wasn’t terrified was Cap.”
“He might be a robot. Of course, he also has sperm and made a baby, so, he probably isn’t a robot.”
Quaid returns to watching TV. Is this his way to avoid the temptation of climbing into bed with me? “No, the sperm thing definitely ruins your robot theory.”
“Do you think we’d make a good-looking kid?” I ask, wishing we were naked. With my fatigue, I’d need to be very still while he did all the work. I still think it’d be great.
“I don’t know.”
“Really? I expected you to say yes. Isn’t that what men always say when they’re trying to seduce a woman?”
“Seduction isn’t my plan. I’m trying to make you love me. It’s different, and love needs honesty,” he says and stops staring at the TV. Turning to me, he sighs. “And honestly I don’t know if our kid would be attractive. I’ve known pretty fucking people with the ugliest runt-looking kids. Never can tell with genetics. You took after your mama in most every way, and she’s a beautiful woman. What if you ended up with your father’s face instead? He isn’t really hot girl material.”
Snickering, I reach out for his hand. “Did you know I’m actually blonde?”
“No, I did not.”
“I have Pop’s blond hair. Probably not as light nowadays, though. I started coloring it brown in high school when I realized my eyebrows were dark like a brunette’s.”
“I bet you’re a sexy broad no matter what your hair color,” he says and runs his fingers along my hairline and along my right cheek before lingering against my lips.
“No, I look like a freak.”
Quaid laughs for a moment and then shakes his head when I place his hand on my right breast.
“Just a little sex to take the edge off?”
“You don’t need sex.”
“I want it, though. So very badly,” I say, wiggling my hips as much as possible—which isn’t very much.
“What you’re craving is comfort, MJ, and you crave it from me. You’re confusing sex with this stud with comfort from this stud.”
“Your words mean nothing to me.”
Quaid removes his hand from my breast and caresses my cheek with his knuckles. “First, we eat lunch, so the meds don’t make you nauseous. Second, I’ll climb into bed with you and watch a crappy movie or TV show or whatever is on. We’ll stay close, and you’ll feel safe which is what you really want right now.”
Quaid leans down and kisses me gently. When I attempt to deepen the kiss and force him to ravish me, he effortlessly pulls out of my grip.
“Me fucking you won’t fix what’s broken, MJ.”
“We won’t know that until we try.”
“Because the last thing you need is my hard body on top of your soft, pliable one. Plus, I’ll need to do a ton of foreplay to get you worked up. Despite what you think, you’re not even a tiny bit randy.”
“So, so randy,” I say as seductively as possible—so not very seductive at all.
“No, not really. That means I’ll need to lick and kiss just about every inch of your body. Then I’ll jack it because my dick will be so fucking hard and I won’t want to come inside you seconds after we start.”
“Seconds, hours, years, what’s the difference?”
Quaid settles back into his chair. “Then I’d need to find a comfortable position for you so when I’m fucking you nice and deep, you don’t hurt your arm from the constant thrusting.”
My interest in sex deflates immediately at the thought of hurting my arm. Quaid likely realizes his words had their intended result because he grins.
“There’ll come a time when I’ll fuck you, MJ. But only when you want to be fucked rather than because you’re craving a hug.”
“I do think hugs are outstanding.”
“Then eat as much as you can at lunch without puking, and I’ll find a way to make us both fit on the bed. If you have a nightmare, I’ll be there to kiss away your fear. If you’re in pain, I’ll be here to get you properly buzzed. We’ll have a relaxing afternoon and evening, just you and me. Then tomorrow, we’ll ditch this place for your safe home. Once you feel better, I’ll make you come loud enough for your father to make threats.”
“No way can Pop hear me fucking,” I say, just imagining the man’s reaction. “He isn’t emotionally prepared for such a horror. You’ll need to cover my face with a pillow or shove a sock in my mouth.”
“No to both those suggestions, but we’ll figure something out,” he says, resting his feet on the bed.
“Because you’re smart, and I’m sneaky.”
“You’re smart too.”
“Sometimes.”
“Everyone is only smart sometimes.”
Grinning at his efforts to build up my confidence, I sigh. “I know you’ll keep me safe.”
“That I will.”
Watching him silently, I wish I could explain to Quaid how much he means to me. But there are no perfect words. I've never been a complicated person. If I like something, it’s good. If I hate something, it’s bad. In my world view, Quaid falls in the good column but saying something so simple feels beneath him.
So I only smile at Quaid and hope my expression says what my words never can.
THE OUTSIDER
MJ is a sore loser, accusing me of cheating every time I win at UNO. She also claims she says the word when down to her last card even though she never does. I must admit she’s a happy winner and offers gifts of condolences upon beating me.
“You can have my breasts,” she says, gesturing at them like a “Price is Right” model.
“Both of them?”
Laughing, she nods wildly while I shuffle the cards Vaughn dropped off just after dinner. “I’ve already named them, though.”
“Let me guess. That one,” I gesture to the right tit, “is Meow. And the left one is Mee-oww.”
MJ laughs harder. “No, but I think they’ll respond to those names.”
“So what are your tantalizing titties called?”
“My right boob is Cantaloupe, and my left boob is Pineapple.”
“Oh, you’ll have to explain that one.”
“Well, see, I noticed in all my school and family pictures how the left nipple was always standing at attention. I mean, what’s that about, right?”
“I think it’s obvious. Your left nipple was acting like a love lighthouse searching for the man of your dreams. That’s why it’s pointed at me right now.”
MJ quietly laughs until looking into her gown. Likely finding her nipple ready for the spotlight, she laughs harder. I only smile until she snorts. Once she has me going, though, I’m giggling like a fucking kid.
Eventually, we calm down long enough to start another game. “I feel bad I didn’t finger Pineapple more at the river.”
“That’s okay. Cantaloupe is the whore between them, and she enjoyed the attention very much.”
“Once you’re home, I’ll give them both their fair share.”
“And I’ll cook you dinner.”
“Are you a good cook?”
MJ nods quickly. “Mom taught me, and Gram taught her, and Gram learned in a cooking class.”
“Do you know how to make chili?”
“Do you like it spicy, sweet, or smoky?” she asks, and I suspect she’s attempting to sound sexy based on how she emphasizes each word.
“Sweet and sm
oky. Spice isn’t a great idea for a man who shits in the woods.”
“Or a friend’s bathroom,” she says and winks. “Will you move into my trailer when we’re done at the hospital or will that be too fast?”
“Wherever you go, I go.”
“I’m easy to live with,” she promises. “Mom says so. In fact, she said I’m the least demanding of all her kids. No doubt she says the same to all of us, but I choose to believe she’s lying when she says it to the others.”
Her smile lingers throughout the game, making it nearly impossible for me to look away. The longer I know her, the less real she seems. How does such an amazing woman exist? Even more puzzling is how did I stumble into her life and steal her heart?
Her eyes struggle to remain open by the time we finish our tenth hand. Once she finishes accusing me of being a cheating bastard, I lower the lights and kiss her head.
“Let’s sleep.”
“No,” MJ mumbles. “We need to stay awake and talk about my feelings.”
“What feelings?”
“All of them.”
Smiling, I crawl into the left side of her bed and rest on my side. “Save them for tomorrow and the next day and the next and the next and the next and the next…”
“Your point has been received and is currently being processed.” MJ fights a losing battle to stay awake. “There’s no room for you to sleep,” she whines through a yawn. “You’ll be uncomfortable.”
“I’ve slept in worse positions.”
“You were adorable curled up on that stupid chair bed. I don't want you to sleep wrong.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Listen,” she says, abruptly very alert. “I am not a child, and I will be heard, bub. You need to take care of yourself. That’s important to me. I’m MJ, and I get what I want most of the time. Now you may stay with me until I fall asleep, but I demand you move to the pullout bed and get a decent night’s rest. Tomorrow night, you’re free to enjoy the queen bed in my RV. Do you understand?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Looking sleepy again, MJ smiles. “You’re important to me, Quaid, and it’s my job to take care of you. That’s how it works. Mom takes care of Pop and Pop takes care of Mom. No one’s ever given you what you deserve. I plan to change that, okay?”
“Okay,” I say, carefully leaning toward her so I can kiss her forehead. “I knew you were perfection before we even spoke, and you’ve done nothing to prove otherwise. It’s the first time I’ve ever been this right about anything in my life.”
Falling into silence, MJ and I compete in a staring contest until she dozes off. Years ago, if someone told me I’d be entertained by simply sharing a smile with a pretty girl, I’d assure them I’m a restless spirit. Until MJ, I never felt at home anywhere. It was who I was, and I never felt capable of—or interested in—change.
But I did meet MJ, and she’s a woman with plans no one will deny.
THE CHAPTER WHERE THE ODDBALL ISN’T IN KANSAS ANYMORE
THE ODDBALL
At nine in the morning, Mom and Dad arrive. Breakfast eaten and IV removed, I’m ready to see them. Despite loving every moment with my sexy hero, I still crave my mom’s help. Maybe I’ll never stop being a kid when it comes to her. Her gentle touch is just what I need to get me out of the hospital gown. I dress in a tank top and sweat shorts. Then she helps me slide on a sling for my arm. It’ll act as a reminder not to use my dominant side.
We exit the bathroom to find Pop with paperwork in his hand. “Whenever you’re ready, we can get out of here.”
Glancing at Quaid, I ask, “How hot is it outside?”
“Already ninety,” Pop answers instead.
“The heat makes me nervous,” I mumble, unable to explain why.
A smiling Quaid opens the door and gestures for us to leave. “Your parents’ SUV has air-conditioning. No doubt they’ll crank it up.”
“What about you?” I ask, horrified at the realization that he won’t be feet away from me at all times.
“My bike is parked outside. I’ll follow you home.”
Pop might say something. I can’t hear anything now that I’m vomit-inducing panicked about leaving the hospital. Training my gaze on Quaid, I hold Mom’s hand while Pop opens the door. The first few steps following after my man are the worst. I’m so afraid to be in the open. How had I not prepared better for this moment?
We take nearly a minute to reach the nearby elevator because I keep freezing. Mom speaks to me softly and Quaid gives me his usual casual grin. They’re not worried, so I don’t have to be. Besides, Pop is so pissed at the world that he’ll kill a doctor if he thinks it’ll make me feel better.
“I don’t think so,” I say the second the elevator opens. Undaunted by my panic, Pop and Quaid corral me into the death box. “Mom,” I whimper. She’s shorter than me, but I still manage to press my face against her chest. “I forgot how loud the world is.”
Once we arrive on the main floor, Mom and Pop flank me. We take slow but steady steps from the elevator through the lobby where only a few people linger. Quaid takes the lead, and I notice Colton pick up the rear once we’re outside. I’m protected by four amazing people—three of them being capable killers—yet I’ve never felt as exposed and terrified.
“I want to go back to the hospital,” I say as Pop opens the back door of the SUV. “I’m still sick.”
“Don’t make me carry you,” he threatens.
Suddenly at my ear, Quaid whispers, “What if he throws out his back?”
Despite grinning at his teasing comment, I’m terrified at the thought of him leaving me. I’m not ready for him to be gone for even a minute. Yet as soon as I’m in the back seat of the SUV, Quaid disappears from my side. I watch him jog deeper into the parking lot where I assume his Harley is parked.
Once he’s out of view, I squeal, “I think my arm is infected! I need to go back inside!”
“You’re doing really well,” Mom says as if she’s talking to another—saner—person.
My terror pauses just long enough for me to frown at her. “I feel as if you’re not listening to me.”
“Audrey and Lily are waiting for you at home,” Mom says while helping me with the seatbelt. “They’re helping me make fried chicken for dinner.”
“I hate food,” I say and grip the driver’s headrest when the SUV begins to move. “We're going to crash.”
Next to me, Mom says in a soothing voice, “Coop, put on some music.”
Pop immediately flips on the radio, and I’m immediately bored by a song from The Rolling Stones.
“Coop, put on better music,” I say after a few seconds.
Pop fiddles with the radio, searching for music he finds suitable. Likely realizing she married a man with horrible taste, Mom stretches between the seats to reach the control panel. She turns on “I'd Really Love to See You Tonight” by England Dan and John Ford Coley. Pop makes a snide comment, but Mom and I soon sway our heads to the soft 1976 song.
“This is nice,” Mom says while we sit at a light.
“Is Quaid nearby?” I ask, searching the road for any sign of him.
Pop glances back at me. “He’s up ahead.”
Relieved to know he’s close, I lean my head against Mom and struggle against the panic still strangling me. “I used to feel safe going anywhere and doing anything,” I admit when we reach the road to our house. “Now everything seems dangerous.”
“That’s normal,” Mom whispers. “It’ll take time before you regain your confidence.”
“Once I kill the fucker, you won’t have to worry,” Pop declares as we pull down the long gravel driveway leading to my parents’ house and my RV.
We park, but I don’t hurry out. The heat waits for me outside the SUV, and I can’t deal with the stickiness without thinking of the day in the woods.
“Audrey came out to see you,” Mom says and unsnaps my seatbelt.
“She should stay inside or her baby might boil in the heat.”
Pop opens the passenger door and gestures for me to hop out. I just stare at him while Mom nudges me to scoot over.
Quaid suddenly appears next to Pop and frowns at me. “Ready to show me your home?”
Smiling at his calm manner, I finally move my ass out of the SUV and follow him the few yards to where my RV sits unloved. Lily, Audrey, and the giant man join us. No one speaks until Gram appears and mentions something about Audrey’s belly. For whatever reason, I figure now is a good time to drop bad news on Pop.
“Quaid will sleep overnight in my place.”
“No men in your RV,” Pop says instantly, clearly only pretending to care about Audrey’s little bump.
Tilting my head as if confused, I ask, “What?”
“He’s not rocking this RV. Get it?” Pop says, leaning down to glare at me eye-to-eye.
“No.”
“Quaid is forbidden from sleeping in your RV.”
“Mom!” I yell, gaining her attention from Gram. “Pop is being unreasonable again!”
Mom walks over; wearing a gentle smile as if her joyful expression is enough to fix our disagreement. The poor woman always underestimates the level of stubbornness in this family.
“What’s wrong?”
“Pop refuses to let Quaid stay in the RV with me. Is it so wrong that I want to be near the man who makes me feel safe and keeps my panties in a constant state of dampness?”
Mom gives me a disapproving look. Yes, the dampness thing won’t help my case, but Pop was shaking his head before I even started talking.
“She shouldn’t be out here anyway. Let’s move her back into her room until she’s better.”
Mom only frowns, unable to respond to our bullshit. Pop and I realize our stubbornness has broken her, so we return to yelling at each other.
“You’re just angry because Audrey ran off with the giant robot! It’s not fair for you to take your anger out on me when she’s the one who betrayed you!”
“Hey!” Audrey yells.
“Shut up, Audrey,” I say without glancing at her. “I’m working an angle here.”
“Screw your angle,” Pop growls. “If you push this, I’ll order him back to Shasta.”
