Wings Over Poppies (Over #2)

by J. A. Derouen

  My blatant indifference and outright cruelty wounds her, I know, but that pales in comparison to what the alternative will do. I know Alex too well. She’ll never give up on me if I give her even the slightest inkling there’s a chance for us, and I won’t be her burden.

  Instead of Alex, a woman with bouncing brown curls and tight ass jeans approaches. She makes no attempt to hide the fact that she’s sizing me up, taking her time looking me over before landing on my eyes. She smiles unapologetically, and I instantly like her. No pretense. No bullshit. I can appreciate that.

  “Well, hello handsome. Can I interest you in some art? It would be my extreme pleasure to serve you,” she drawls, literally drawls, bringing a hand to her hip and a smirk to her lips.

  I laugh out loud. I can’t help it.

  “Marlo, stop verbally molesting my customers, would you?” Alex sidles up beside her friend and pulls her hair playfully. The smile disappears and her back goes ramrod straight when she sees me. Instantly, the temperature drops several degrees.

  I deserve that and so much more.

  “Why are you here?” she asks as she crosses her arms to protect herself. From me.

  Damn, that stings.

  Her friend looks back and forth between us, and her eyebrow lifts in question. I have a feeling Alex is getting the third degree when I leave.

  “We need to talk,” I say curtly. If the look she’s giving me is any indication, she may just kick me out.

  “Alex is in the middle of teaching a class, Mystery Man. Is it okay if I call you Mystery Man?” Marlo loops her arm around mine and leads me to the back of the gallery.

  “Or you could just call me West. It’s shorter.” I chuckle and shake my head at her bravado. I may have only just met her, but this chick cracks me up.

  “West it is. Anyhoo, why don’t you come on back and help out until class is over. It should only be twenty minutes or so.” She squeezes my bicep in appraisal and widens her eyes at Alex.

  “Whatever,” Alex huffs as she passes us and bumps Marlo’s shoulder in reprimand.

  “Don’t worry about her, West. She’s like one of those little bitch dogs. All bark, no bite.” Marlo laughs and gives me a quick wink before joining the commotion beyond the doorway.

  I stop short when I hear the laughter and screams filtering into the hallway. I chance a glance into the room, and beads of sweat erupt on my forehead and upper lip. I try to slow my breathing, but my heart is already pumping overtime.

  I’ve taken most of my college courses by correspondence for this very reason, only able to sit in class in recent months, and even then in the back row with the exit always in sight. The unexpected noises and general chaos is … overwhelming isn’t a strong enough word to describe the feeling.

  A hand grabs mine, and my eyes dart forward to see Marlo pulling me inside. “Come on in. She won’t be long, I swear.”

  With nowhere else to go, I push up against the wall so I have a clear view. Marlo closes the door behind me and saunters into the room.

  A loud bang sounds on the other side of the room, and a few of the children howl in laughter. The noises echo, magnifying not only the sound, but my anxiety, too. My chest constricts tightly as I close my eyes in an attempt to get a hold on myself.

  I have to get the hell out of here. I can’t let Alex see me this way.

  Just before a full on panic attack ensues, I notice an open door in the back of the workroom. Sunlight filters through the doorway, and my chest loosens slightly at the thought of a way out.

  I take a deep, cleansing breath in preparation and quickly walk to the door, my steps quickening the closer I get. As I cross the threshold and hit gravel, relief slowly washes over me. I fill my lungs to the brim over and over as I bend down, hands on my knees.

  This was a terrible idea.

  “What’s wrong with you?”

  I whip my head around to find a young boy hunched on a bench with a full scowl and handful of rocks.

  “Nothing’s wrong with me. I just needed some air. Okay with you?” I ask with a matching scowl.

  He shrugs noncommittally and keeps throwing his rocks. “Fine with me. You didn’t look all right to me, though.”

  I watch him for a moment as he pelts the rocks at the fence with no particular target in mind, at least not one that I can see. I run through my options and decide I’d rather spend some time with a smartass kid than deal with the inevitable panic attack I’ll suffer if I go back inside. Decision made, I gather my own handful of rocks off the ground and sit on the other side of the bench. Instead of blindly pelting the rocks, I aim for the empty paint can in the corner of the lot.

  “Whatcha doing?”

  “Trying to land the rocks in the paint can over there. It takes a bit more skill than hitting the broad side of a fence, don’t ya think?”

  He shrugs again and nods slightly before joining me in the new game.

  “What’s your name, kid?”

  “Timothy. Did Miss Cece make you come out here to talk to me?” It’s obvious by his expression he doesn’t like that idea at all.

  “Sorry, little man, I don’t even know Miss Cece.” I turn my attention back to rock throwing and let him brood privately. My legs shift to adjust my throw, and Timothy’s eyes watch me closely.

  “What happened to your leg?” His back is a little straighter than before as he curiously watches my leg. Taking a short break from rock throwing, his hands lay idly in his lap.

  It’s my turn to shrug, so I do. “Roadside bomb.”

  Timothy remains perfectly still, and I question my decision to be honest with him. It was a split second call. Everyone seems so desensitized by the constant reports on the news, it didn’t occur to me he may not be able to handle the truth.

  “My dad’s in Iraq,” he whispers quietly.

  Fuck.

  I close my eyes and pray for the right words as I turn to him. I definitely regret being honest with the kid now. The imagination can be a debilitating thing sometimes, and I don’t want to put those thoughts in his head. “I bet he’s very brave. I’m sure he’s excellent at his job.”

  His eyes brighten slightly at my comments. “He is. He’s a Marine.”

  I tap my chest lightly. “I’m Army.”

  “Army’s for wimps who can’t hack it in the Marines.” He puffs his chest and squares his shoulders. I almost smile at the unwavering pride he feels for his father.

  Almost.

  I give him my fiercest glare and move inches from his face. “Do I look like a wimp to you?”

  “N-No sir,” he stammers, attempting to back away from me until he hits the wall behind him.

  I chuckle softly and tap his leg before throwing another rock into the paint can. “I’m just messing with you, kid.”

  He breathes an audible sigh of relief and rejoins our game, fist pumping when he finally lands one in the can. We continue on in silence, the only sound being the occasional “Yes!” when one of us hits the mark.

  “It’s just me and my mom at home,” Timothy offers, his eyes never leaving the game.

  I keep tossing, taking the hint that he doesn’t want my complete attention. “That’s a lot of responsibility for a boy.” I throw my fist in the air when I hit my mark. “Being strong for your mom and all, I mean.”

  “Can I see it? Your leg?” He’s obviously finished with our previous conversation, and I’m willing to give him that.

  I’m wearing wind pants, so I pull up the fabric with ease to let him take a look at my prosthetic leg. The liner covers most of the scarring, so I don’t think it will frighten him too much.

  “Whoa.” His eyes widen as he examines my leg more closely. “Does it hurt?”

  “Sometimes I have something called phantom pain. It feels like my leg is hurting even though it’s not there. I feel this burning sensation where my leg used to be, and it can be really uncomfortable. But it’s lessened with time. It mostly feels like tingling now. I lost my leg over two years ago.
” Timothy is listening intently to my explanation, and we’re both bent over my leg inspecting it.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  I quickly pull my pant leg down and turn to Alex. I hate she saw me exposed that way. I don’t want her pity, but there’s nothing to be done about it now. She looks nervous as hell, ready to bolt at any second. Does my leg disgust her? I push the thought away as soon as it enters my mind, but it stings regardless.

  “My man, Timothy, and I were just talking. You didn’t interrupt. Isn’t that right, Timothy?” I divert my attention his way, and he nods at Alex.

  “The other children are cleaning up, Timothy. Would you please go help?”

  He jumps up before she finishes her sentence. He turns when he gets to the doorway and looks my way.

  “Bye, Army. See ya around,” he says with a half smile.

  “Sure thing, kid.”

  I stare at the empty doorway long after he disappears through it. I need a minute to put on my game face. I can’t let her see how she affects me.

  I keep my face stoic as I look into those piercing blue eyes. My gaze runs down her long waves, and I notice small braids littered throughout. She’s wearing faded, patched blue jeans and a flowing white shirt that hangs off one shoulder. Quintessential Alex.

  Fucking perfection.

  I want to be enough for you. I want it more than the air I breathe.

  “I thought you had left. The kids are finishing up. Why don’t you come wait for me inside? I’ll be done in just a few minutes,” she suggests.

  “I’ll wait right here, thanks.”

  I know she doesn’t get it, but what am I supposed to do? I’m not about to tell her the truth. What kind of man can’t stand to be in a crowded room? She’ll see me for the pussy I am, and I can’t stand the thought of her looking at me that way.

  “Suit yourself.” She shrugs and disappears back into the gallery.

  “Okay, I’m finished now, West. I’ll ask again. Why are you here?” She protectively crosses her arms and diverts her gaze.

  “Will you be home Monday evening around 5:30?” I give her no indication why I’m asking.

  “I should be. Why?” I’ve taken her off guard, causing her to relax a little.

  “A friend of mine who owns a security company will be stopping by to install your security system. It’s all taken care of, so all you need to do is be available to let him in the house. His name is Andrew, and I’ve given him the appropriate instructions.”

  “How do you know I don’t already have a security system?”

  “Because I stopped by your house during the week and looked through the windows, Alex. Let me add, not one neighbor questioned why I was crawling in your bushes and peeping in your windows. The deadbolts on your doors look sturdy, so at least there’s that. But no alarm system and a Cracker Jack neighborhood watch program is not acceptable. You need to do this, Alex.” I narrow my gaze in warning, trying to get my point across.

  “Fine.” Her words are terse, but she knows I’m right.

  I’m shocked she folded so easily. I was prepared for an argument, but I must say, I’m pleasantly surprised. That is, until she looks up and meets my eyes. That’s when I see it.

  Hope.

  Fuck.

  “Look, about what happened at your house…” My words trail off, and I stammer uncomfortably.

  Her eyes meet mine, and she shakes her head in disgust. “We don’t need to discuss it, West. You made yourself painfully clear already.”

  I give her a small nod and look away, unable to face the hurt I’ve caused. I’m such a dick.

  “I didn’t wear a condom, Alex…” I trail off.

  “Jesus, so typical. I should have known you weren’t worried about my feelings or anything.” She hugs herself tightly and looks away. After a moment, cold eyes meet mine. “I’m on the pill, West. I take it religiously. Don’t worry, you’re in the clear. Do I have anything to worry about?”

  “What? Oh, no, I’m always meticulous about protection.” I pause and hate that I have to ask. “You?”

  Her glare cuts me, and I raise my hands protectively and nod. I guess that answers my question.

  “I didn’t mean to lose control like that, Alex. You have to know it can’t happen again. It was a mis—”

  “Stop talking, West. I said I got it. Leave it alone.”

  We face each other in defensive stances, silent, the tension owning the moment.

  “I need to be sure we understand each other about your … dating.” I try to keep my voice even and my tone harsh. The harsher the better.

  “My activities are none of your concern.”

  I’m still sitting on the bench, so she has the height advantage as she hovers over me. I stand to my full height and remedy the situation.

  “Since I saved your ass from almost certain assault last week, I’m gonna disagree with you on that.” I shake my head. “Look, you think I’m an asshole? Fine. I don’t give a shit. But no matter how you feel about me, you have to know I’m right. Pick-up bars, dating events? You’re gonna stop that shit. Right. Fucking. Now.”

  My carefully chosen words hit their target, and she’s ready toss me out on my ass again. Good. I can’t have her dreaming up some half-baked, happily ever after scenario.

  Alex’s eyes cut right through me. A less stubborn man may accept defeat and call it a day. But screw that. She means too much. Who am I trying to fool? She’s everything to me.

  “Wow, I’m not even sure how to respond to that. Here, in the civilian world, West.” She raises her arms, looking right and left. “We have this little thing called free will.”

  “I’m well aware, sweetheart. I lost my leg so you could keep it.”

  Her breath hitches, and her hand covers her mouth. From the look on her face, I may as well have slapped her. Now I’ve got her attention.

  “I’m not asking for anything off the wall here, Alex. I’ll even ask nicely if it will help.” I give her a forced smile.

  She drops her head and curls a strand of her hair around her finger. She stays silent for a while, contemplating my request. She looks up and smiles at me.

  “Okay, West. I’ll do this one thing for you.”

  “Thank you. You have to know I’m doing this for your own good.” I sigh in relief, glad she’s finally decided to see things my way.

  “But I’d like something from you in return.” Her smile is still firmly planted on her face, but now there’s amusement dancing in her eyes.

  This can’t be good. I grab my neck and meet her gaze, preparing myself for whatever her request may be.

  “You’re already getting a state of the art security system. Please tell me, how else can I serve you?” I snap.

  “You and me, eighteen holes. Once a week.”

  “Not gonna happen,” I reply without a second’s hesitation. Spending hours alone with Alex every week would chip away at my resolve in the worst way.

  “Then I won’t keep up my end of the bargain either.”

  “There’s no bargain, Alex. You stop trolling the city’s bottom feeders for dates. That’s the issue here.” My argument is solid, but she’s already shaking her head in disagreement.

  “What? Are you going to let this stop you?” Before I know what’s happening, she plants a swift kick to my prosthetic leg.

  “Did … did you just kick a crippled man?”

  Alex rolls her eyes and flips her hand at me. “Oh, please! Go sell that shit somewhere else, because I’m not buying it.”

  I continue to stare at her in disbelief until she lets out a gigantic huff. “Fine! I’ll even give you a few strokes. We’ll consider it your handicap. Pun intended.”

  How does she always know exactly what I need to hear? And how am I going to keep the love of my life at arm’s length? Knowing she’s unaffected by my injury hits me deep. It’s an unexpected gift.

  Will I ever stop falling for you?

  “I don’t need extra
strokes. I’ll kick your ass without any help,” I reply with a smirk.

  “So we’re in agreement? Eighteen holes once a week, for my compliance?”

  “Nine holes once a week, and it has to be on Friday afternoons. I’m off work and school on Friday afternoons.” I look to her expectantly, and she nods reluctantly at my compromise. “And not only will you stay away from skeevy dating dives, you’ll run your dates by me beforehand so I can fully vet them.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me!” she screams and stamps her foot. “I’m not asking your permission every time I want to have a date.”

  I throw her words back at her with a laugh. “Then I won’t keep my end of the bargain, either.”

  “Ugh, fine. But you don’t get to make the final decision on who I date. You can provide me with the information you find, but I make the final call.”

  I try to keep a serious face and not let on that I won this argument, hands down. “You drive a hard bargain, Fontaine.”

  Her face lights up with pride, and I fight to keep my smirk hidden.

  “So next week then. I’ll pick you up.” Her voice is sweet as sugar, undoubtedly pleased with her fake victory, as she fishes her phone out of her pocket.

  “No, I’ll meet you there. Be at the Magnolia clubhouse at two o’clock Friday.” I cross my arms and practically dare her to argue with me.

  Her face falls slightly, but she straightens her shoulders and holds her head high.

  “Whatever, West. Have it your way. Prepare to have your ass kicked,” she calls over her shoulder as she walks away from me.

  I look forward to it, Poppy Girl.

  “Unpack Your Heart” by Phillip Phillips

  “THANK GOD. I’M starving,” Marlo says dramatically as she snatches a slice of pizza off the table.

  Marlo, Sara, and I attack the pizza and breadsticks like we haven’t eaten in a week. We’ve all been so busy lately we haven’t had much time to catch up with each other. A girls’ lunch at Antoni’s Pizza Place was long overdue.