After taking a moment to let what he said sink in, I attempted to confess my fears.
“I understand what you are saying, but my head and heart haven’t caught up to each other yet,” before I could finish he was interrupting me.
“Do you trust me?” he asked.
“Yes I trust you, but what does that have to do with anything?”
“Everything. Turn around, I want to try something.”
Hesitantly, I did what he wanted and turned around facing the crackling fire. He spread his legs from the Indian style position he had them in and pulled me back until my back was flush against his chest.
“Do you still trust me?” he asked in a whispered tone against my ear. All I could do was nod my head in response.
“I want you to sit here and just feel. No thinking. No questioning. Just feeling. Can you do that?”
The lump in my throat prevented me from verbally responding. I feared what he would attempt to do the second I agreed to whatever insanity he was contemplating. But I did trust him. I knew he would never cross a line that I didn’t agree for him to cross, but I was scared what would come afterwards. What feeling really meant to him and the emotions that would course through me in the process.
Instead of promising him that I could, I responded, “I can try.”
“That’s all I’d ever ask.”
I sat there staring off into the fire and watched the glowing, orange flames dance off of the firewood. Minutes passed without anything happening. Just when I was about to question him, his fingers start to massage my scalp. His tender touch electrocuted my skin, sending chill bumps down shoulders all the way to the tips of my fingers. His touch had always caused a fire underneath my skin. Which is the main reason why I kept my distance when he was around.
The tips of his fingers continued the circular motion. One second his touch would be gentle, barely caressing my scalp. The next his fingers were kneading with more pressure. The mixture of his touch caused my tense posture to ease. The more he massaged, the more relaxed I became. Shutting my eyes, I just focused on his touch and the sound of the fire crackling. Both were relaxing in their own way.
His fingers moved down to the sides of my head and started to caress behind my ears in the same motions as before only with softer touches. Instantly, I shivered, my breath getting caught in my throat. The massage was meant to be innocent, but it was becoming more sensual by the moment. He didn’t know that the spot he was touching was a spot that turned me on. His gentle touch along with the roughness of his calloused skin set my skin ablaze and caused parts of me to come alive that I thought were dead.
“Are you starting to feel yet?” he whispered against my ear, his fingers continuing to caress behind my ear but moving ever so slowly down the sides of my neck.
The moan that escaped my lips was inevitable. I’d been holding it in for fear that he’d get the wrong idea, but he only took that response as a yes and continued to softly caress my skin. His fingers moved down to my shoulder and then back up my neck. All the while I could feel his touch down to my toes. Never in my life had I been given this type of massage.
Suddenly his touch was gone, leaving behind a trail of heat and chills in its wake.
“Can I try something?”
“Like what?” I questioned nervously, instantly fearing that he’d gotten the wrong idea.
“I just want to rub your back. I didn’t know how you’d feel about that though.”
It was a good thing that he couldn’t see my face because I couldn’t help but grin. He was such a gentleman.
“No funny business?”
“Scouts honor,” he responded, raising his right hand.
“If you say so,” I replied while moving to lay on my stomach in front of him, facing my left so that I could see what he was doing.
He lay down beside me, propping his head up on his left hand. He went to reach forward with his right hand and hesitated.
“Can I lift up your nightgown or would you rather I rub on top of it?”
The question shocked me. He really was taking all of my feelings into consideration. Without responding, I reached down and pulled the cotton material up to my shoulders. I should care that my bra was showing, but it wasn’t like he’d never seen a bra before.
He moved closer until our sides were touching and started to rub my back the same way as he rubbed my shoulders, with the slightest, gentlest touch. This type of massage was better than the kneading type if you asked me. There was something about the gentleness of it all that relaxed me even more than if he were getting kinks out of my muscles.
His touch continued to move up until he got to the bottom of my bra then back down again. With each passing stroke, I grew more relaxed. When his touch moved back up again he stopped at my bra this time.
“Can I?” he asked as he rubbed his fingers across the clasp. Without opening eyes, I told him he could. Using both hands, his fingers grasped each side and unclasped the bra. I felt exposed even though he couldn’t see anything. The second I was about to tense, he started caressing my skin again.
“You have the softest skin I’ve ever felt. So silky smooth,” he whispered, never wavering with his touch.
His touch moved down my sides causing me to giggle a little. I was somewhat ticklish if I hadn’t prepared myself beforehand. He started to stop, but I moved into his touch and he continued. This time his touch was harder. He pushed the tips of his fingers into my skin, pushing his fingers up my side in the process. He slowly dragged his fingers back down, never wavering in the pressure within his touch. He tugged me closer when he reached my hip, moving me onto my side. My heart was pounding in my chest. Where was this going? I almost didn’t want to find out.
Instead of taking it farther, he wrapped his arms around me and hugged me like his life depended on it. His state of arousal was apparent, but he didn’t act on it. He just continued to hug me and rock back and forth.
“How was that for feeling?” he whispered into my ear.
I just replied with the only word that came to mind, “Perfect.” Instead of moving, I leaned into him, feeling safer than I had in months. The heat from the fire and the gentle rocking lulled me to sleep in no time.
* * *
The chill in the air woke me. Confused as to where I was, I looked around and realized I was on the floor in the living room. Instantly, I recalled the events of the night before. How Weston made me feel once I confessed the guilty feelings I had about being happy. I didn’t deserve his kindness. If anything, I deserved for him to walk away.
“Good morning,” I heard him respond from behind me.
I turned all the way over on my right side to face him, a smile gracing my lips for the first time in the morning since I moved here. His arm went back around my waist, but his body went tense. I brushed it off to him just waking up though.
“Good morning, Weston,” I responded with a cheerful tone. A tone that he picked up on right away by the shocked expression on his face.
“Um…Magdalena. I don’t know how to say this, so I’m just going to say it. Your nightgown…It’s lifted.”
Looking down, I noticed that my nightgown was still raised from the night before and my bra was still undone. The only problem with this was that I was facing him and he could see a glimpse of my breasts underneath my loose bra.
“I’m…I’m sorry. I forgot all about that,” I replied attempting to cover myself while I reached behind me to hook the clasp.
“Hey, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” He leaned forward and grabbed each side of the bra and pulled them together, hooking the clasp. Once it was back in place, he helped me pull my nightgown down.
“Thank you,” I replied, still feeling like an idiot. I had no clue how I didn’t notice it was still up.
“There’s nothing to thank me for.” He caressed my cheek. His touch soothed me, made me feel safe and wanted. Two combinations I knew I wasn’t ready for but couldn’t help but feel.
<
br /> I tilted my head to look up at him, and the second our gazes locked I knew he’d be the person to get me to break out of my shell.
His thumb continued to rub up and down my cheek bone. He looked as if he wanted to speak but was contemplating how to word whatever it was he was trying to say. When he leaned into me I thought he was going to kiss me, and I was right. Only his soft lips met my forehead instead, lingering for a few seconds then retreating back.
His pointer finger came underneath my chin and he pulled my head back to meet his gaze.
“I want to kiss you. God do I want to kiss you, but I won’t. I can’t ruin what we’re building here by doing that. Plus, I have a feeling it’s something that you’re not ready for. You’re not over your husband, and I respect that too much to confuse you,” he stated and leaned down to kiss my forehead again.
I pulled back and looked up at him, the promise that shown in the depths of his baby blue eyes gave me all the courage I needed to say what I was about to say.
“Grace’s at your mom’s right?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Why don’t you go get her and we can all have breakfast together?” I suggested.
“Magdalena, you don’t have to do this. I know being around her is hard for you.”
“While that may be, I want her to come over and I want all of us to have breakfast together,” I reassured him, hopefully showing him that I was willing to try something that he suggested even if it scared the daylights out of me.
“As long as you’re sure, I’ll go and get her. I know she’d love to come over here. She always gets excited to be out in the open and roam the grounds.”
“Who knows? Maybe she can ride Shadow later if it’s not too cold,” I stated with a smile and leaned up to kiss him on the cheek.
Without waiting for a response, I jumped up and took off for the kitchen in hopes that it would make him get a move on. I couldn’t wait to see what the day would bring. Now the only question was what I was going to make for breakfast.
About forty minutes later, I heard Weston’s truck door shut. Seconds after that, an excited little girl barreled through the door with her handsome father at her heels.
“Lena,” she screamed as she ran through the kitchen in my direction.
I quickly shut off the griddle and bent down to get her when she got close enough.
“Hello to you too, Grace. But remember no running in the kitchen, okay?” I stated as I kissed the top of her head.
“Yes, ma’am,” she whispered looking over to her daddy.
“It’s okay, pumpkin. Just don’t do it again okay? We don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Breakfast?” she asked as she pointed to the griddle.
“Yeah, sweetheart. Do you like pancakes?”
“Cakes?” And just like that I felt the world crumble around me. I tried to not let the immediate sadness get to me, but I could tell the moment that it registered that her word had triggered another memory. Instantly I was brought back to the morning of the day that they had died. Hearing Liam’s excited voice as he helped his father stir the batter for the pancakes.
Weston rushed over and grabbed Grace from my arms and pulled me in for a hug. I didn’t want him to see me like this, but when I tried to pull away so I could leave and collect myself, his grip tightened around me. I burrowed my head in his shoulder and let all of the emotions out from that happy, yet painful memory. Minutes later, I lifted my head and turned away from them both so I could wipe away my tears.
When I turned back around, Grace reached her little hand out and touched the spot underneath my eye.
“Lena, sad?” she questioned with a worried tone.
“Lena’s okay sweetie. Are you hungry? How about we get you some of these yummy pancakes?”
“Yay,” she cheered while clapping her hands. One diversion had been succeeded, but when I looked up at her father, I knew that I wouldn’t get away with trying to divert his attention. He rubbed my back as I gathered the plate of pancakes and syrup then he guided me over to the table.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yeah, it was just a memory of Liam. He used to call pancakes the same thing too,” I confessed with a half ass smile on my face as I attempted to mask the pain. Only it felt good in a way to have someone to confess the feelings to.
After we’d sat down and he placed Grace comfortably in his lap, he rubbed the top of my hand and we dug into the delicious food before us.
Chapter 20
Breakfast without of without a hitch and soon after we both took Grace outside to let her play in the snow since it had tapered off. Shockingly, we’d only gotten about an inch or so for once. She was quickly played out and Weston took her home so that she could nap for which I was thankful. I needed some alone time to wrap my brain around the changes that were happening around me. How did he weasel his way into my life so quickly? And more importantly, how did he get me to change my mind about everything in the blink of an eye? He had this way about him that just made me feel at ease. Like we’d been friends for years’ kind of feeling, which I believe could describe the madness that I’d agreed to last night.
With them gone, I decided to go and change into some comfortable pajama pants and an oversized sweatshirt. As I was pulling my hair from beneath the shirt, I looked over to the closet, wondering if I could do one of the things from his suggestions. I could already cross feeling off of the list. He’d made me just feel in the moment, take in the comfort that he so willingly gave me, and I couldn’t believe that I hadn’t gone running for the hills. While it scared me and made my heart feel like it was hammering out of my chest, I remained in the moment. The real question this time was could I stay in the moment with what I was about to consider. Behind the door tucked away on the top shelf, was an item I’d sworn to never touch again. The joy that I’d gotten from it couldn’t begin to be rekindled since so much pain was also brought with it. While I’d listened to the music and danced with Weston, I didn’t think I could consider, let alone play a song again. I loved to play. Andrew adored the music that I played. But most of all my mother loved to watch me strum the keys and get lost in the music they produced. Just those thoughts alone had me wanting to storm out of the room, but I remained still. Waiting for the moment that my brain and my heart were on the same page. I needed to live again. To take in the joys that life had to offer and take away from the simple things that used to make me happy again. Not live in fear that my happiness would be snatched away from me again.
Without giving it much more thought, I walked over to the closet and opened the door. I stood on my toes and reached for the case that held my keyboard. Careful not to drop it, I grasped the case with both hands and pulled it down. I wiped off the dust and carried it off into the kitchen. I wanted to at least get it out of it’s case. I didn’t necessarily have to play it today, but looking at it was a step in the right direction.
I sat the black case down on the table and grabbed the zipper, slowly inching it open. Once I’d made it to the other side, I quickly opened the case and stared down at the instrument that had brought me such joy. While it wasn’t a piano, it was the next best thing. Only the keyboard wasn’t the only item the case contained. There was a small recorder off to the side. Confused, I reached inside and picked up the silver gadget, inspecting every inch of it.
Hesitantly, I pressed rewind and when it clicked to finish, I pressed play. The voice that came across the speakers was one that I instantly recognized. My feet could no longer hold me and I fell into one of the chairs at the table.
Andrew.
My dear sweet Andrew.
Along with the one song he always wanted me to play.
“She’s much more amazing than I heard yesterday,” Andrew stated.
I took a moment and realized where this recording took place. It was the day before a recital that I had in college, where me and another classmate just happened to be performing his favorite song. And instead of pushing t
he memory away, I let it take hold.
“Hey. Magdalena, right?” Andrew nonchalantly asked as he walked beside me.
“Yeah. Andrew, right?” I asked already knowing the answer but not knowing what else to say.
“I was heading over to your dorm to check to see how you were doing and you appear.”
“As you can see I’m fine,” I confirmed, not really knowing what the definition of fine meant anymore.
“You appear to be. Can I walk you to where you’re heading?” What was it with him and his need to walk me? It’s not like we knew each other and we’d never get to that point. I didn’t need to get close to anyone ever again.
“Sure,” I stated, while I kept the other thoughts to myself. He’d realize it soon enough anyways.
“How long have you played?” he asked, seeming to really want to know the answer based on the excited tone in his voice.
“Since I was six years old,” I replied, not really wanting to go into the get to know you questions.
“That explains it then.”
“Explains what exactly?”
“The emotions you express when you play. They appear all over your face, in your posture, the way you press the keys. All of it. It shows just how passionate you are about the music you’re playing.”
Wow. I had no clue people could see all that just by watching me perform.
I didn’t know what to say, so instead I nodded and started walking a little faster toward the building that was so close yet seemed so far away.
When we reached the building, I thought he’d turn around, but instead he followed me inside and into the auditorium. The piano was already set up for class later today, where we’d be practicing our performances. I stopped short of the stage and sat down my backpack. I wanted to do this alone, but I didn’t want to appear rude. Especially since he’d just walked me all of this way.
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