Scattered Pieces

by Allie Able

  “Fucking bitch. Are you too good for me? Is that it?” he slurs close to my ear.

  He roughly turns me around and I look up into the face of the guy that came to our table earlier. I think his name was Tim? Whatever his name is, while he was slightly buzzed earlier, he is completely drunk now. I'm too far from our table for anyone to hear me over the music and no one around me is even taking a second glance. What in the hell is wrong with these people?

  “W-what are you doing?” I stutter in fear.

  He laughs and grabs my ass with his free hand. I can't breathe and I can feel myself starting to panic. Oh my God. This can't be happening. I start to struggle trying to pull my arm free, but he just holds it tighter, looking down at me with an evil grin. Before he can get another word out, he is knocked to the ground. I stumble backwards, catching myself before I fall.

  “Summer!” Lexie yells.

  I see her and Zack running towards me, but I quickly turn back around, when I hear a loud cry. Grant is on top of the guy and he is punching him repeatedly in the face. I can hear the sickening sound of bones crunching, but I can't find my voice to tell him to stop. I'm pulled into Lexie's arms and I notice that my whole body is shaking. Over Lexie's shoulder, I watch as Zack tries to pull Grant off of him.

  “Grant, Stop! You're going to kill him!” Zack yells, pulling on Grants arms.

  After struggling for a few seconds, finally Zack gets Grant up and pins his arms behind his back, but I can see Grant still trying to pull out of Zacks hold.

  “Summer is freaked out. I will deal with this asshole. You go and check on, Summer,” Zack says, in a low voice.

  That seems to break through the fog he is under and he turns to look at me. I can see his concern for me all over his face. He quickly moves towards me and pulls me into his arms.

  “Are you okay?” he whispers.

  I am still shaking uncontrollably and my heart feels like it is about to be beat out of my chest. I can't catch my breathe and I'm beginning to feel dizzy. I know I need to get out of here now, so I start shaking my head where it is pressed up against his chest. I want to tell him I need to leave, but my throat feels like it has closed up.

  “I'm taking Summer home,” he says, but here is a buzzing sound in my ears and I can barely make out his words.

  I feel myself being lifted into his arms. I hold on to his shoulders and bury my face into his chest. The music has stopped and everyone is staring at us.

  “I will call you tomorrow,” he says, to who I am assuming is the owner or manager, but I don't look to see. I keep my focus on trying to breathe, hoping he gets us out of here quickly. He keeps his quick pace, through the bar, and I finally feel the cool night air, as he walks outside. I take a deep breathe trying to get as much fresh air into my lungs as I can.

  He opens the door to his truck and gently sets me down into the passenger seat. He fastens my seat belt and bends down, resting his lips against the top of my head.

  “It's going to be okay, Summer. You are safe with me,” he mumbles softly.

  He kisses my forehead and then shuts my door, making his way to the driver side. I wrap my arms around my stomach and try my best to stop shaking. I let his words circle around in my head on the drive to my house.

  You are safe with me.

  You are safe with me.

  You are safe with me.

  I barely know Grant, but for some reason I do feel safe with him.

  * * *

  Grant pulls into my drive way, neither of us have said anything on the short drive to my house. Grant gets out of the truck and walks over to my side. Still not saying anything, he unbuckles my seat belt and lifts me into his arms, again.

  “I can walk, you know,” I whisper against his shoulder.

  “I know, but I can carry you,” he responds.

  He walks through my front door and into the living room, settling us both on the couch, with me sitting on his lap. I keep my head on his shoulder while he strokes my hair.

  “I'm sorry,” I say, just loud enough for him to hear me.

  Grant stills beneath me and after a moment of silence, his hand comes to my chin. He lifts my face so that I am looking right into his eyes.

  “What in the hell do you have to be sorry for, Summer?” he asks gently.

  I try to advert my eyes, but he isn't having it, “Please look at me, sweetheart. Why would you say that you're sorry? You did nothing wrong.”

  I shrug my shoulders helplessly, “For dragging you into this mess. I'm sure this is not how you wanted to spend your night.”

  “You didn't drag me into anything. I went willingly. That guy was an asshole and he needed to learn that it's not okay to go around grabbing women,” he reassures me.

  He gently lays my head back down on his shoulder and starts stroking my hair again. After a few minutes, I finally stop shaking and now I just feel exhausted.

  “Are you feeling better?” Grant asks quietly.

  I nod my head against his shoulder, still not looking at him, ”Yes. Thank you.”

  “Does that happen a lot?”

  Shit! I should have been expecting him to ask that question, but I wasn't. I'm not ready to tell him about my panic attacks or why I have them. He must think I'm bat shit crazy.

  I sit up and move to get off of his lap. He reluctantly lets me go, with a sigh. I stand up and wrap my arms around my stomach, trying to hold myself together. I feel exposed to his penetrating gaze. It's almost like he can see all of my secrets. I quickly try to think of something to say to explain my reaction at the bar, without revealing too much, but come up empty. I look over at the clock hanging by the fireplace and I see that it's past 3:00 in the morning.

  “It's really late,” I mumble, trying to steer the conversation off of me.

  He nods his head at me and stands up. He walks towards me and even though every instinct in me is telling me to back up, I stay where I am.

  “I will let it go for now, but, Summer, I want to know you, all of you,” he whispers, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear.

  All I can do is nod my head dumbly. This man turns me into a pile of goo with almost every word that comes out of his gorgeous mouth. I should have known he wouldn't just let it go so easily. Part of me is annoyed that he won't just leave me the hell alone, but the other part of me is relieved that he doesn't seem to be giving up so easily.

  I look down and gasp, when I see that he has blood on his button up shirt.

  “You have blood on you, Grant.”

  He gives me a rueful smile and shakes his head, “Its not mine.”

  I shake my head, but I can't help the small smile that comes to my face. I should be afraid of this man. I just witnessed the level of violence that he is capable of, but somehow I know, he would never hurt me. Who would have thought I would be smiling after all that has happened tonight?

  “Do you want to use my shower? Your hands need to be cleaned.”

  Damn! Where in the hell did that come from? I can't believe I just asked him if he wanted to use my shower. The only reasonable explanation my brain can come up with is that I'm not ready to be alone yet.

  Grant looks at me like he is trying to read my thoughts and his face becomes serious again, “Do you want me to stay the night?”

  I don't want to be alone, and for some reason, that I can't quite understand, Grant makes me feel safe. I haven't known him long and I know there are so many things that I don't know about him, but at the same time it's like I have known him forever.

  I look into his beautiful eyes that are so patient and understanding and I nod my head. I hope I don't regret trusting him.

  Chapter Eleven

  Grant

  I LET THE WARM SHOWER run over my shoulders, as I lean my forehead to rest on the tiles in Summer's bathroom. I have never met a woman like her. I wish she could see how unbelievably beautiful she is, inside and out, but she's too afraid to open up to anyone. I wish she would open up to me a little. As far as I know, the
only family she has is her Aunt, that lives in Tennessee. I know tonight is not the night to push her and I keep having to remind myself that we haven't known each other long, but I can't help but think that her asking me to stay tonight is a step in the right direction.

  When we got back to her house earlier, I could see how scared she still was, even after the panic had subsided. I know what panic attack is. Hell, after my first tour overseas, I had them for awhile. I just wish I knew what triggered her's.

  I turn off the water and grab the towel Summer laid out for me. I keep a change of clothes in my truck in case of emergencies. So, while Summer was showering, I ran out to my truck and grabbed them. I hesitate when putting on my pants. I put on a t-shirt, when I usually only sleep in boxers, but there is no way in hell I will be able to sleep in a pair of jeans. I leave them folded on the counter and go look for Summer.

  As soon as I walk out of the bathroom, I see her sitting on the edge of the bed. She stares at me for a second and then holds up a bottle of hydrogen peroxide.

  “I thought you should clean out the cuts on your hands.”

  She stands from the bed and moves towards me. Her hair is still wet from the shower and she is wearing a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. Seeing her like this is a huge contrast to the way she looked at the bar, but to me, she is even more beautiful. Her hand hesitantly reaches out to grab mine. She holds it up and looks at the cuts and scrapes on my knuckles.

  “I'm so sorry,” she whispers, looking down at my hand with concern.

  I use my free hand to lift her chin, so that she is looking in my eyes, “Sweetheart, I already told you, you have nothing to apologize for. I would do it again in a heartbeat.”

  She searches my eyes for a second, as if she is trying to determine if I'm being honest. I think I would do anything for her.

  She nods her head and leads me back into the bathroom, still holding my hand. I watch as she grabs a few cotton balls out of the drawer and pours some of peroxide onto one.

  “This might sting a little,” she warns.

  I can't help but chuckle at her worried expression. “I'll be okay,” I assure her.

  She carefully dabs the cotton cotton ball on my hand. I would have just poured some out of the bottle. I probably wouldn't have even put any medicine on it, since I cleaned it with soap in the shower. However, I don't say anything, I just watch in a amusement as she tenderly treats each little cut. When she finishes she looks up at me and takes in my amused expression.

  “Are you laughing at me Mr. Hamilton?”

  I'm caught off guard by her teasing tone and sassy question. I'm so use to seeing her acting timid and shy. I laugh of loud and shake my head, “I wouldn't dream of it Ms. Foster.”

  She smiles at me. I tuck a piece of hair behind her ear and let my hand graze down her cheek. “You are so sweet, Summer.”

  She blushes a deep red and I love that I get that kind of reaction from her. I want to pull her against me and kiss her, but I don't want to scare her. I don't quite know how to deal with someone like Summer, but I do know rushing her into something she isn't ready for, will only push her away. Instead I bend down and kiss her forehead. Letting my lips linger for a moment, enjoying her sweet smell of vanilla. I step back, putting some space between us, before she can feel the evidence of how much I want her. Not that I can really hide it in just a bar of boxers anyway.

  She clears her throat and looks away, her blush deepening even more. “Since my guest bedroom is still under construction and my couch wouldn't be very comfortable for you to sleep on, you can sleep in my bed. If that's okay with you?” She walks out of the bathroom, not waiting on my response and leaving me to stare after her completely stunned.

  Is she kidding? Of course her bed is okay with me, I just don't know how in the hell I'm going to get any sleep with her body right next to me.

  I walk into the bedroom to see she has already turned out the overhead light, leaving just the lamp on my side on. I watch as she hesitantly climbs into bed and rolls on her side, facing away from me. I turn off the lamp and take my t-shirt off, before lifting the covers and getting into the bed. It has to be past 4:00 in the morning and although I just thought that I wouldn't get any sleep with Summer laying beside me, I can feel my eyes starting to grow heavy.

  “Goodnight, Grant,” Summer whispers, from her side of the bed.

  “Goodnight, sweetheart”, I respond just as quietly.

  I wait until I hear her breathing even out, indicating that she is sleeping, before I let myself drift off to sleep.

  * * *

  I wake up the next morning with sunlight filtering through the curtains. Summer's back is pushed against my chest. My arm is wrapped around her stomach, holding her tightly against me, and our legs are intertwined. I listen to her breathing deep and even, and know that she is still asleep. I've never been much of a cuddlier, but that is exactly what we are doing. Of all of the women I have been with, I have never once woke up next to one like this. Usually, I am out the door before the post orgasmic glow wears off. I'm not a bad guy. The women I have slept with know the score before I even take them to bed, and they were fine with that. I'm not against commitment, I just haven't found a woman I would want to wake up next to in the morning, until I met Summer, and I haven't even had sex with her. Shit, I haven't even fucking kissed her. I am going to rectify that soon, but not right now. Right now I need to get out of this bed and away from her warm tempting body. My dick is quickly responding to having her luscious curves pressed up against me. I let my hand graze against her bare stomach, where her shirt has risen up. Fuck, her skin is so damn soft. I quietly, but quickly, get out of the bed, I'm not a damn Saint. There is only so much I can take before I strip her bare and slide between her legs, but I know she's not ready for that, yet.

  After I have used the bathroom, I pull on my pants, that are still laying on the bathroom counter. I walk back into Summers bedroom and contemplate what to do now. Should I wake her up? I look at the clock and see that it's only 8:00 am. My body was conditioned to have only a little sleep, while I was in the Marines, but I bet Summer is exhausted. Leaving isn't an option, I don't want her to wake up wondering where I went. While I'm contemplating what to do, Summer lets out a sigh and rolls over onto the pillow I just vacated. I watch as she burrows herself deeper into the covers, before finally settling back to sleep. With one last lingering look towards the bed, I decide to make myself useful and go make us some breakfast, before the temptation becomes to much and I crawl back into bed with her.

  Chapter Twelve

  Summer

  I WAKE UP TO THE smell of bacon cooking. I roll over and look at my alarm clock and see that it's only 8:30 am. I'm still so tired, but the smell of breakfast is so alluring that I find myself getting out of bed and making my way towards the kitchen.

  When I round the corner, I have to stop and admire the view. Grant is standing in front of the stove drinking a cup of coffee. He is still naked from the waist up. I stare at the muscles flexing in his shoulders and upper back. As if he can sense me staring at him, he turns around, a brilliant smile lighting up his face, making the two dimples pop out on his cheeks. I sigh inwardly, he is just so damn handsome.

  “Good morning. Did I wake you up?” he asks.

  “Good morning, yourself,” I respond. I walk into the kitchen and towards the coffee pot, needing to do something to distract myself from the gorgeous half naked man in my kitchen, “I needed to wake up anyway.”

  After I've poured my coffee and added the right amount of sugar and creamer, I turn around and watch Grant, as he flips a piece of bacon in the skillet. This whole scenario seems so surreal to me. Not once, while I was with Ryan, did he cook me breakfast. Watching Grant move around my kitchen in nothing but a pair of low ridding blue jeans, with top button still unbuttoned, feels so intimate. Like they have a mind of their own, my eyes wander down his bare chest to his impressive washboard stomach. I have never seen a man like him. My hands itch to rea
ch out and touch him. I want to see what he would feel like beneath my hands. I don't know where these feeling are coming from. I have been so skittish around men, since I left Ryan. Even when I was married to him, I was always a nervous wreck. So why does this man make me feel so at ease? Ryan was charming and nice, when we first starting dating. How do I know Grant won't turn out to be a monster as well? I need to stop comparing Grant to my ex-husband. In the back of my mind, there is a little voice telling me Grant is a good man and would never hurt me, but I also know I need to take this slow, because it's too soon for me to know that for sure. His words from last night come back to me. 'You are safe with me.' I want so badly to believe him and part of me does, but I know better than to let my guard down, yet. I will not be a victim again.

  I'm brought out of inner musings, when I hear a throat clearing. My cheeks immediately heat with embarrassment, when I realize I was still staring at his body. I quickly look away.

  “You didn't have to cook breakfast,” I say , taking another sip of coffee, trying to hide my face.

  He shrugs, “I don't mind. What time do you have to be at the bakery today?”

  “I don't open until 1:00 pm on Sunday's.”

  He nods his head and looks thoughtful. I can tell he is about to say something else, but the ringing of my cellphone stops him.

  “Sorry, let me get that.” I set my coffee cup down and make my way towards my bedroom, where my phone is still plugged in. I look at the screen and see that it's Lexie.

  “Hello?”

  “Are you okay?” she says, sounding upset.

  “Yes, I just woke up a minute ago. I was going to call you this morning and apologize for last night.”

  “Apologize? For what? Sweetie, you have absolutely nothing to apologize for! That guy was a complete asshole!”

  “I know, but I hated dragging anyone else into that mess.”

  “Don't be. I'm just glad Grant and Zack were there. I tried to call Grant this morning, but his phone is going straight to voice mail. I wanted to tell him that, after ya'll left the bar, the owner told Tim that if he knew what was good for him he wouldn't press charges against Grant. He, of course, obliged all too quickly and his friends took him home. I think he learned his lesson. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that the owner of The Sand Bar didn't call the police or anything, but he said if you wanted to file charges against Tim, to let him know.”