by Jenna Gunn
21
Though neither of us say it out loud, we both understand that I’m going to stick around Perry’s house for a while. I pull into his driveway and cut the engine. We both sit in silence for a long while. The silence and stillness feels good.
“You all right?” Perry asks softly.
“I’m good.”
“You’re shaking.”
I lift my hands off my lap and look at them; sure enough, they’re trembling. “Oh. I didn’t notice.”
“Come on. I’ll make you some tea.”
Now that I’ve noticed the shaking, I can’t help but dwell on it as we head into his house. I stand numbly on his porch while he fumbles with the door. My hands continue to tremble.
“Come in,” Perry grunts.
I walk inside. His house is more furnished and lived-in since I was last here. Not only does he have a couch, but also an armchair, and a coffee table, too. He drops his keys on a table by the door that I don’t recognize and heads into the house, shedding things as he goes; his shoes, Apple’s leash. Henrietta’s box he carefully places on the counter in the kitchen and swaps the flashlight out for a mini heat lamp.
“She’s pretty dry,” Perry says, peering into the box, “but I’m gonna keep her in here for a while. Just in case.”
I slump down onto the couch; Apple jumps up beside me and bats at me with her paw until I pet her. My hand shakes as I scratch her ears; she puts her head in my lap.
“She’s trying to make you feel better,” Perry grunts from the kitchen, putting a pot of water on the stove to boil. He’s really making tea, I think, watching as he grabs some teabags. “Gonna make you some lavender tea. Supposed to calm you.”
“Do you like tea?”
“Therapist recommended it.”
“Ah.” I scratch Apple’s head; she moves so that her whole upper body is draped across my lap. “Are you feeling all right?”
“Doing fine. Worried about you now.”
My first instinct is to assure him that I’m okay, but he’d know that was a lie. He was the one who pointed out my shaking. Instead, I don’t reply; I just pull out my phone and text Emily and Hannah that there’s been an emergency and the whole vet’s office is closed. Of course, Emily immediately texts back, worried; Hannah simply replies with “k”. I smile and set my phone aside.
Perry walks over to me and sits next to me on the couch. “It’s hot,” he warns as he sets a mug of tea on the coffee table in front of me, followed by a bear-shaped bottle of honey. “Mind if I pop my leg off?”
I shrug. He sets about pulling off his prosthetic.
There’s a wheelchair next to his side of the couch; I point to it. “You use that often?”
He shrugs. “Sometimes. When I don’t feel like hopping around on one leg.”
The thought of that makes me laugh; I try to stop myself, but Perry grins at me. “Should I get you a pogo stick?” I tease him.
“Already got one.” He raps his knuckles against his prosthetic.
I laugh again, already feeling better, and he starts pulling his layers of socks away from the sleeve that covers his leg. I watch; he notices, but he doesn’t seem to mind. When he finally peels back the final layer and sets it aside, I get a full, good look at his leg.
There’s a scar. Of course there is; he had to have surgery. It’s not as bad as I was expecting; just some darkened, rumpled-looking skin around where his knee joint is. I watch as he rubs it, then scratches the air where his shin would be.
“Itching?” I ask.
“Phantom itching.” He continues air-scratching.
“Does it help?”
He laughs bitterly. “A little.” He massages his stump for a moment. “So...do you wanna talk about it?”
“Your leg?”
“No, dumbass,” he says, glancing sideways at me, both hands still on his leg. “What just happened.”
I reach for the bottle of honey and squirt some into my tea, dislodging Apple from my lap. Perry waits while I stir my drink and sit back.
Apple gets into the floor and curls up beneath the coffee table. I take a sip. It’s still hot, but I welcome the feeling of it filling my mouth.
“I didn’t expect that to happen,” I say finally.
Perry turns toward me. “You dated that guy, then?”
“Nathan,” I remind him. “And it was one date. I went on one date with him. And he was bossy the whole time.”
“Bossy?”
I launch into the story, telling him all the ways Nathan seemed to talk over me, boss me around. I tell him about the constant phone calls and texts. I tell him about Raina’s concern; he seems surprised to hear that I met his mother, but he doesn’t interrupt.
“I should have listened to Raina,” I sigh, looking down at my cup. I feel foolish for not seeing that Nathan had an issue from the very beginning.
Perry scoots closer to me on the couch and reaches out to put a gentle hand on my knee. “It’s not your fault. You shouldn’t blame yourself.”
“Is this therapist talk?”
“Maybe,” he replies. “But therapist talk helps. And it’s also true. He’s the one who went nuts and - ” He stops himself.
“Tried to kidnap me.” To my surprise, my voice falters and breaks; I feel a lump in my throat. I guess it’s finally hitting me. I almost got kidnapped today. What would have happened if I was alone? What would Nathan have done with me after he got me away from the office? “Maybe kill me,” I add.
Perry’s hand snakes up to mine. He grasps my shaking fingers. I set my mug down, and he tugs me closer.
I lean against him and bury my face in his shoulder. I don’t cry; I don’t know if it’s just too much trouble or what. I just tremble while Perry holds me against him.
He’s so warm and safe. I want to stay here forever. “I’ve got you,” he whispers into my ear, and I fully believe him. I don’t usually lean on people or let myself become vulnerable in front of them; but this man brings that out in me. I’ve seen him at his most vulnerable, after all. And he saved my actual, physical life. I feel a growing bond between us.
He leans to whisper in my ear again, but I turn my head and press my lips to his.
Perry stiffens, then softens and cradles my face in his hands. I want to thank him. I want to be close to him, as close as I can possibly be. I press into him, wrapping my arms around him, while his fingers tangle in my hair. His chest is a solid wall of comfort and safety.
I spend a long time just...touching him, still kissing him. I run my fingers along his jawline, down his neck and shoulder; I trace circles on his chest, his stomach, his back. I push my hands beneath his shirt and feel his bare skin. I’ve felt it before - hell, I’ve straight-up had sex with him - but this time I want to live in this moment. I want to be present, really appreciate who he is, what he feels like.
In return, his hands cautiously move over me, too. I love the warm pressure of his fingers caressing my waist. His lips are soft as they move against mine. He puts one hand so, so gently on my face, using the other to move the hem of my shirt up so he can put a hand on the small of my back and pull me closer.
I oblige, pressing against him, and he lays down, pulling me with him. I find myself draped over him like a curtain pooling on a windowsill. He pushes my shirt higher up and runs his hands along my back.
I can’t stop kissing him.
My leg slips and I almost tumble off him and into the floor; he catches me easily with both hands, laughing, and I sit up. “Do you maybe...want to take this into your bedroom?” I ask him.
“How unsexy would it be of me to go there in the wheelchair?” he asks in reply.
“Won’t know until I see it,” I tell him. He pulls the wheelchair toward him and scoots himself into it in one swift motion.
He swivels the chair toward the hallway and imitates the sound of tires squealing; I laugh, getting up to follow.
He beats me to the bedroom; he’s already swinging himself from the chair
and into the bed when I walk in. I crawl across it to him.
“Come here,” he says, and pulls me close again.
I pull my shirt over my head; he does the same. Both of us shimmy out of our pants. I run a hand over the swell in his boxers, and he cups my breast, but we still slowly lay together and kiss - though desire is starting to take us over.
“You’re so soft,” he tells me, gently squeezing my breast and trailing his hand down my waist.
“You’re so…” I let my hand drift down his chest and grasp his hard shaft; he flashes me a grin.
I kiss him again and put my hand inside his boxers, taking hold of him, skin to skin. I feel him shudder as I do it; his hips move slightly, and a groan escapes his throat.
He slips his hand down and I gasp as his fingers stir me up. I press my lips to his.
“I wanna do something new,” he says when he breaks away; before I can answer, he’s slipped downward on the bed and tugged my panties down. I lift my legs to let him slide them off me.
And then he parts my legs and grasps my thighs with both of his big hands, putting his mouth right on the perfect spot.
I gasp. We’ve had sex twice. He didn’t do this either time.
But damn, he’s good at it.
I close my eyes and just let him work me over. He needs no direction; he responds so perfectly to my every twitch and moan, and I moan a lot. I can’t help myself. He clutches at me and works me, and it feels so amazing that I lose myself in it. I arch my back and clutch at the blanket beneath me. My body moves in ways I don’t tell it to, jerking and twitching, my hips bucking without me wanting to. Through it all, Perry stays locked in place, his hands anchoring me to him.
It’s so good that when he leads me to the edge, I don’t have time to warn him. It just happens like a wave smashing down; just raw power and a roar. I throw my head back and writhe, trying to get away from Perry’s tongue as it continues to touch me over and over, but not breaking free from his grasp.
“Perry,” I gasp.
He sits up; I reach out for him, and he pulls himself on top of me. I feel his hardness pressing against my thigh as I pull his face down to press kisses to his lips.
“I want you,” I whisper to him.
He reaches down and obliges.
He enters me with as much force as someone with two full legs would; I marvel at his beautiful body. He moans a little as he thrusts. His pleasure shakes his whole body. I wrap my arms around him and kiss him, moving with him.
His climax builds more quickly than mine, but I don’t mind. He wraps his arms around my waist and buries his face into my neck, breathing hard as his movements become more hurried.
“Trisha, oh god. So good.” he breathes into my ear.
I like knowing I have this effect on him. He can’t seem to control his own reactions. His breath is sharp and panting, his voice comes out in sounds that definitely aren’t words. I cradle the back of his head and kiss his neck.
“That feels amazing,” I whisper to him.
And then he lets out a growl. I feel him flow into me. He gasps a bit, little moans escaping as he comes down; he rolls onto his back. There’s a beautiful smile on his face. I snuggle up beside him with my head on his chest.
“That was excellent,” I sigh.
Still panting, all he can do is nod.
22
I’m spent. My stump throbs a bit from whatever I did to it, but I wanted to be on top while I made love to Trisha.
I glance down. She’s curled against me, her naked body pressed to my side, one of her legs hooked over my good one.
“Trisha,” I say, feeling a strange fear swell in my chest.
She looks up. Her brilliant blue eyes meet mine. I cup her cheek, cradle her face in my hand.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
She blinks at me and frowns. “What do you mean?”
“I…” I don’t know how to express it, but...she’s vulnerable right now. She just went through something, and for me to do have sex with her directly after that - isn’t that manipulative? Aren’t I a bad person for doing it? A lump rises in my throat.
“Perry,” she says, concerned, and sits up. Her hand lays on my cheek while her thumb wipes a tear from my face. “What are you talking about? Of course I’m okay.”
“I didn’t...take advantage of you?” I ask.
She laughs. “No. No, you did not.”
I shut my eyes. “How do you know?”
“Because I very much wanted what just happened,” she replies. She takes my head in both hands and taps my cheeks, making me open my eyes. “I wanted that,” she whispers. “I liked it. I like you.”
I don’t know how to respond. How could someone like me? Especially Trisha, who I’ve been butting heads with since I moved here? I’m not whole. I can’t even walk properly. But this gorgeous, irritating, wonderful woman wants to kiss me and have sex with me? Even right now, one of her legs brushes against my stump, and she’s not cringing away.
“I just - why?” I ask, my voice breaking. I want to ask her all the questions I have, but instead...I just start crying.
“Hey,” Trisha says softly; she lays down and pulls my face to her chest.
Nestled in Trisha’s arms, I weep. I can’t remember the last time I cried. After Johnson? After Kirkland? I didn’t even cry for my own leg - well, not until now, at least.
“I’m sorry,” I gasp, still halfway sobbing. “I’m so weak.” I grit my teeth. I shouldn’t be crying, not in front of Trisha when she just went through the whole Nathan debacle.
“You’re not,” she says firmly.
I laugh bitterly. “What do you call this, then?” I ask.
“Emotion.” She strokes my hair. “You’re not weak. You saved my life, Perry.”
I wrap my arms around her waist and don’t speak. Trisha keeps playing with my hair; slowly, my tears subside, my sobbing stops. The hitch in my breath fades away. I just lie there with her, pressed close against her, our naked bodies intertwined in something that’s somehow even more intimate than the sex we just had.
“This is really nice,” Trisha says finally. As soft and quiet as she says it, it still sounds loud in the silence.
“It is,” I reply. “I could...maybe get used to this.” I want to kick myself for saying that. She hasn’t really said anything about wanting to continue this with me.
“Me too,” she says.
I calm down a little and press a kiss to her breast. “Trisha?”
“Hm?”
“I think I might...well, I think - ARGH!”
I’m cut off as Apple leaps onto the bed and shoves her nose directly into my face. Trisha rolls away, laughing, while Apple prods at me, her tail whipping through the air at the speed of sound.
“Cold!” I gasp, putting my hands in Apple’s fur. She continues to put her cold nose all over me, from my face to my shoulders. I struggle to sit up. “What is it?”
Apple jumps down from the bed and stares straight at my nightstand. I grab my phone and check the time. “Oh,” I sigh. “You’re telling me about my meds.”
She wags her tail. I open the drawer of my nightstand.
“Meds?” Trisha asks. “How is she telling you about that?”
“I trained her to remind me to take my medicine around this time.” I pull the pill bottle out of my drawer. “Apple, water.” She trots out of the room.
“She’s so smart,” Trisha sighs. She sits beside me on the bed, still fully naked. She’s gorgeous. I can’t keep my eyes away from the smooth curve of her breasts or the curtain of red hair tumbling down her shoulders.
“You’re beautiful,” I tell her.
She grins and blushes, looking away. I’m surprised at her reaction; she’s normally so tough.
Apple comes trotting back in with my water bottle; I take my pills and make sure to put the bottle back into the drawer of my nightstand.
“Henrietta’s probably dry by now,” I say to Trisha. “Want to meet the ot
her chicks?”
Her face lights up.
Henrietta reenters the brooder as easily as I scooped her out. Trisha watches as I carefully pat the other chicks’ heads.
“That one’s Brenda,” I say, pointing. “And that’s Clover; see the little mark on her head? Looks like a clover.”
“Sure,” Trisha says with a grin.
“We’ve also got Agnes. Of course you know Henrietta. Then we’ve got Eugenia. And over here is Mud.”
“Mud?” she asks in surprise.
“Mud likes to play in the mud.”
“Of course.” She reaches in to scoop up Clover, who makes her little cheep-cheep sounds as Trisha strokes her back. “They’re all so cute. I hope the rest of Nathan’s animals go to good homes.” She bites her lip.
I reach out and stroke her back. “They’ll figure it out.”
“Teacup is pregnant,” she says.
“It’ll be okay,” I tell her, having no clue who or what Teacup is.
She sits perched on the balls of her feet, her butt hovering over the ground, with her knees drawn up to her chest. She wraps her arms around her shins and perches her freckled chin on her knees. With her long hair in a tumbled mess and dressed in one of my own T-shirts, she looks small and shrunken, disappearing beneath rumpled fabric and flaming locks. I’ve never thought of her as small before.
She glances sideways at me. “What?” she asks bitingly.
I grin. That’s more like her.
She sighs and stands up, placing Clover carefully back into the brooder. “You’re doing a good job with them,” she says. She braces her hands on her back and stretches; I hear her back crack. “I’d better get home.”
I start to ask if she’s sure, and then I bite my tongue. She’s not the sort of person who would hint around if she wanted to stay the night.
“I’ll drive you to your car,” I tell her.
Trisha watches my feet as I drive her back to the office to pick up her car.
“It’s my left leg that’s missing, not my right,” I growl at her. “Driving’s not hard.”
“It’s gotta be weird, though, right?”
