by Lux Miller
With that, he slams the door again and Poppy jumps in my arms. I inhale a slow, deep breath, trying to put a lid on the rage that’s bubbling inside of me. I cannot let my anger get the better of me right now, because there’s nobody here that can stop me once I let the maelstrom out and it will destroy anything in its way as it creates a path of destruction. I lift her sobbing form into my arms and grab her suitcase, carrying her over to my bike.
I set her down on the seat and bring my hands to her face, using my thumbs to brush away the tears that escape her eyes. Ignoring my greater urges, I lean my forehead against hers and gently kiss along her tear-stained cheeks. “Shhhh,” I murmur between kisses, “...he’s not worth your tears, Poppy. No man is…”
All is silent as I take a deep breath and rub my nose against hers. She shudders slightly, tilting her face just enough that her lips brush mine. An electric jolt shoots straight to my dick as time stands still for the briefest moment that her mouth touches mine. As quickly as they touch, the moment is gone, though the sizzling charge in the air remains. Her voice is soft and barely audible as she leans back away from me and whispers, “I know. I’m not crying for him. I’m crying for the girl who wasted six years of her life believing that he was...”
FIFTEEN
Poppy
You’d think I’d be used to waking up alone by now, but it’s never a welcome feeling to wake up to an empty expanse of bed. The bigger the bed, the lonelier the feeling when you wake to find yourself solo in a heaping mass of nothingness. Just pillows, blankets, and the scent of a man you cannot have. Storm’s essence is everywhere in this bed, but he is not.
After we arrived back to his hotel last night, he carried both me and my paltry bag of belongings into his hotel room. He laid my suitcase on the floor in the entryway of his suite, and me in the massive king-sized bed. While half of me was hoping he’d join me in the bed and help me forget about all the things I can’t unsee, the other half was begging for space. Storm listened to the other half and left me alone to sleep in his bed.
I sit up, rubbing my eyes as I push the covers down off my body. I groan when I see Amber’s uniform still tied around my curves. I hadn’t even had a chance to change out of it last night when I caught her and Brad playing cowboy games in our marital bed. I hadn’t stuck around to see what else happened or listened to Amber’s weak explanations. Of course, Brad had kicked her out of the bed and the house and demanded I tend to his needs now that I was home from work.
I’d just shaken my head at him and essentially told him to go to hell. I could smell from the doorway that he was drunk, but drunk or not, I’d finally confirmed with my own eyes what I’d suspected for years - Brad was cheating on me. Shaking, I’d dug through my apron and pulled out the business card that was still wrapped up inside the wad of cash I’d earned waitressing and done the only thing I could think to do - I’d called Storm and begged him to come get me.
And surprisingly, he had. Without a single argument or complaint, he’d come and rescued me from the front porch while Brad continued to throw all of my personal belongings in the front yard. I guess I should be glad he took his frustration out on inanimate objects, but it scared me to see him in such a rage all because I’d told him no. And I’d only told him no because minutes earlier, he’d had his dick buried in my coworker after bitching at me for taking on a job with a skimpier outfit because it paid more. So in retaliation, he’d fucked the girl who’d swapped uniforms with me for the night.
But none of that mattered once Storm had come riding in on his black steed. Sure, he’s not a knight in shining armor and his steed isn’t actually a horse, but it was close enough. He’d rescued me from years of mistakes and brought me to his suite in Egg Harbor to sleep, a welcome reprieve from the starkness of the home I share with Brad. Perhaps, I should say shared because I’m not going back. I know I can’t stay here with Storm, but I’ll figure something out. I always do.
“Good morning, beautiful.”
The velvety smoothness of the voice catches me off guard. I’m not used to hearing anything in the mornings other than Brad demanding I pleasure him, or my alarm blaring at me to get out of bed. I blink sleepily and blush, using my arms to try to cover my over-exposed body. Storm chuckles and steps into the bedroom part of the suite and shakes his head, “Poppy, have you forgotten that I’ve seen you naked? It was brief, and only once, but don’t think I’ve so easily forgotten the raw beauty I got a glimpse of that night.”
Now I know my face is crimson as he sits down on the edge of the bed. “Are you hungry?”
I stare at him incredulously, struggling to keep my eyes on his. I shake my head quickly. I don’t want to be any more of a burden on this man than I’ve already been, but my traitorous stomach has other ideas. It growls loudly and my eyes widen into saucers as Storm chuckles and slaps his hands on his knees. “I take it that’s a yes. Hang tight.”
He hops up off the bed and disappears out the doorway. He reemerges in the bedroom moments later with my suitcase in one hand and a tray loaded with food balanced in the other. He flings my small suitcase up onto the dresser and nods. “Figured you might want to put on some real clothes, instead of, well… that…” He motions at me and all I can do is nod dumbly. I crawl completely out from under the covers, drawn to the delectable smells coming from the tray.
With surprise in my voice, I look at Storm and ask, “You cook? Or did you order in?”
Storm shakes his head as he sets the tray down between us. There’s a plate loaded with scrambled eggs, bacon, and what looks like a freshly baked croissant. Beside it is a bowl full of diced fruit and another, smaller bowl that’s brimming with yogurt. Finishing off the offerings is a cup of coffee, a steaming mug full of hot water with a variety of tea bags, and a big glass of orange juice. “Neither,” he muses. “There are lots of benefits to staying in a hotel, including a fresh breakfast buffet every morning. Now, is this to your liking? Because I can go get something else if it isn’t.”
My mouth drops open at his offer, but I shake my head quickly, motioning to the food. “No, no, this looks incredible!”
Storm nods, then murmurs, “I have milk and creamer in the fridge in the kitchenette if you desire either for your coffee or tea? I wish I could do more.”
I just stare at him, my mouth agape. In four years of marriage, Brad has never once brought me breakfast in bed. I call Storm in a frenzy in the middle of the night and not only does he race across town and pull me out of the most miserable night of my life and then give up his bed for me, but he brings me an impressive breakfast, then thinks he hasn’t done enough for me?
Storm frowns as I sit there in shock. “We can go out if you’d prefer?”
I shake my head quickly, grabbing the tray before he can take it away. “No. No, this is great actually. I just, I’m not used to being treated like this.”
Storm cocks one eyebrow and shakes his wild hair out of his face. “Like what? Like you matter? Because I assure you, despite what that lowlife has been filling your head with, Poppy, you matter. And I’m not just saying that to try to get in your pants.”
I giggle softly. “Wouldn’t take much effort, I’m afraid. These shorts are pathetic. Besides, you already worked your way in my pants once. I don’t think you’d have to try very hard to do it again.”
Storm’s eyes slam shut and his hand goes to his groin as he groans. “Don’t put pictures in my head of things I cannot have, Poppy.”
Frowning, I take the breakfast tray and shift it over to the bedside table. Then I scoot down to the end of the bed where he’s perched like he’s ready to bolt. I grab his hands gently and squeeze them. “I’m not going to try to jump your bones again. Last time was you seeing a desperate woman in a vulnerable place and it was totally inappropriate. I do have manners, you know, even if I don’t always act like it.”
Storm’s eyes flutter open and my heart skips a beat when they lock onto mine. He leans in toward me, closing the distance betwee
n us until there isn’t any, only a whisper’s breadth of air. A shiver snakes its way down my body, but before I can think or do anything further, Storm jerks back away from me and shakes his head. “I can’t, Poppy… it doesn’t mean I don’t want to, but I can’t.”
I narrow my eyes at him, watching for any sign that he might be lying or falsifying information, but the look on his face is one of genuine pain. I swallow the lump in my throat and ask, “You can’t… or you won’t?”
Storm looks stricken as I question his motives. He stands up off the bed and looks down at me forlornly, then motions to the tray on the bedside table. “I can’t. Believe me, if I could, I would’ve slept in here with you last night and claimed you as mine, but life isn’t that simple Poppy. Nothing’s ever that simple. Eat up. You are more than welcome to stay here, but I have an appointment up the road in an hour that I cannot be late for.”
My stomach twists as I take a sip of orange juice, watching him as he backs away from the bed. “Oh… meeting someone?”
Storm shakes his head. “Not exactly. I mean, yeah, there’s a someone I have to meet, but it isn’t a pleasure outing, I assure you. I have an appointment with a neurology doctor today to assess the lingering damage that all the concussions I’ve suffered through the years have caused. Today, I find out if I can continue fighting or if it’s time to throw in towel.”
I gasp, nearly choking on the orange juice. Its acidity turns sour in my stomach as I force it down, “What?!? But you said…”
Storm nods with a sigh. “I know what I said, Poppy. I didn’t lie to you, but I didn’t tell you the whole truth.”
He walks back over to the bed with a heavy sigh and flops down on it. “I have what’s known as CTE. Or chronic traumatic encephalopathy. Have you ever heard of it?”
I blink slightly, trying to remember where I’ve heard that term before. It sounds familiar, but I don’t know anyone with it. Then I remember reading about it in some of the books Ms. Bianchi had laying around the ranch. It’s a brain disorder caused by having too many concussions and it was in a book about riding horses and how one has to be careful that they’re not thrown, so that they don’t crack their head on the ground because enough concussions can lead to permanent brain trauma.
I gasp as the brevity of what he’s telling me crashes over me. “If you have it, why are you still fighting? Isn’t it deadly?”
Storm shrugs. “Well, eventually, yeah, but I’m still somewhere between stage 1 and 2, so no immediate concerns. I mean, one more concussion and that’s it for my career, but the real effects of the disease won’t become obvious until I’m older and start going senile. If I’ve mashed my brain up too many times, that’ll happen by the time I’m fifty or so, sixty if I’m really lucky. I’ll probably have full blown dementia before I can have a mid-life crisis. But they won’t be able to definitively diagnose it until they can cut apart my brain…so for now, they just want to keep a close eye on me and check for lesions or swelling or anything that would indicate that the disease has progressed.”
My gut clenches with his admissions. “Storm, if it’s so dire, then why are you still fighting?”
He looks at me pointedly and reaches his hand up to my shoulder, resting it there for a moment before he slowly traces one fingers along my collarbone, stopping briefly in each place where it was broken just a few months ago. He clears his throat and looks up at me, “It’s who I am, Poppy… I’m a fighter. Are you telling me that if Brad hadn’t forbidden you from going back to that ranch, that you wouldn’t be there now, trying to break the horse that threw you?”
I gulp because he right. He’s absolutely right. I sigh heavily and scoot closer to him, grabbing both of his hands in my own. “Can I come with you?”
Storm nods and squeezes my hands. “Yeah... yeah, that’d be nice actually. In case it’s bad news. I’m hoping with all I’ve got inside me that it’s good news, but it could always be bad. They could tell me that my career is over and then I’d have to reset my board and start all over.”
I nod slowly, because I know exactly how that feels. “Let’s see all the moves through before you admit defeat. You’re willing to wipe the board clean when you’re only in check, but the game isn’t over until fate tells you ‘checkmate’.”
SIXTEEN
Storm
It’s mid-afternoon before the doctors are done yammering on with their medical mumbo-jumbo. For a group of people so worried about the condition of my brain, you’d think they’d have dumbed down all the jargon they used. Big words like dementia pugilistica and cognitive impairment are not the kind of words a man like me chews on regularly. I’m a more matter-of-fact kind of guy. Don’t sugar-coat things and don’t use fancy words to describe things. Just tell it to me like it is.
It didn’t help matters that they initially refused to let Poppy accompany me anywhere. I’m well aware of medical record violations and all that jazz, but it’s my brain being discussed. I should be able to have anyone I want present for whatever the news may be. Eventually, they gave in and let her back when I insisted that she’s my girlfriend. Despite the fact that she isn’t anything of the sort, the doctors relented and allowed her to join me in the consultation room along with Joe, my trainer and Pete, my manager slash agent.
They were both quite surprised to hear me throw the ‘g’ word around. Ever since my last one, I swore I’d never put myself in the vulnerable position of giving someone my heart ever again. So naturally, both of them gave me the worried eyes look the entire time the doctors were talking. Between feeling like I was under constant scrutiny and the words that should only be used in a spelling bee, I walked out of that meeting feeling less than confident about my future.
Thankfully, Poppy’d talked me into taking a cab to the doctor’s office, despite it only being a ten minute ride from the hotel. I’m not sure I’d be able to safely handle the bike with my head swirling full of possibilities of what my future may hold. One thing is certain… my brain does show minor shrinkage and permanent damage to some of the structures. The doctors explained that this kind of damage is irreversible, but that further damage can be prevented by retiring in the near future. It was heartbreaking news, but it wasn’t definitive. The doctor didn’t say it was absolutely imperative that I retire now, but it was certainly hinted at. He told me I have maybe another year, tops, to fight, before the damage is going to be severe enough to start affecting my daily cognitive abilities.
Poppy’s delicate hand hasn’t let go of mine since we climbed into the cab following the appointment. My thoughts are all over the place as she tries to comfort me and tell me that things are going to be okay and that I’ll figure everything out. I’m supposed to be comforting her after her jealous ass of a husband threw her out of the house, along with all of her stuff, for catching him cheating. I try to school my thoughts to stop jumping all over the place, but it isn’t doing much good as we pull up to the hotel. I hand the cabbie a hundred dollar bill and climb out with Poppy glued to my side.
Once we’re safely inside my hotel suite, I let myself fall apart slowly but surely. Poppy tries to comfort me, encouraging me to take a seat on the couch in the living area. She disappears into the kitchenette and returns a few minutes later with two steaming hot cups of tea. I blink at her and she hands me one and shrugs, curling up beside me with her own mug of tea. “Whenever the world seems upside down, I like to take a moment and savor something simple, like tea. It’s just water and tea, but it can do so many things. It can calm, it can wake, it can blend… it’s a blank canvas. We just have to tell it what we need from it…”
I close my eyes and inhale sharply. What invades my sense isn’t the tea, though. It’s Poppy, in every way. The very subtle scent of her soap, the faint smell of pineapple from her lunch, and something else I can’t quite put my finger on. I have no doubt that every fragrant tendril in the air is coming from her, though. I squeeze my eyes tighter as I gulp down the tea, letting the heat of it warm me from the inside
. When I do finally open my eyes, Poppy is looking at me with a smirk on her face. “Is it good?”
I nod dumbly, then quickly change topics, looking at Poppy seriously. “Don’t go home to him.”
She gasps, nearly dropping her mug of tea. Instead, she sets it down with unsteady hands. “Where else can I go?”
I motion around the hotel room, “For the next two weeks, at least, mi casa es su casa.”
Poppy shakes her head quickly, “I… I couldn’t ask you to do that….”
Chuckling, I set my own tea down and lean over the middle of the couch, so that I’m invading her space. “You didn’t ask, I offered, but I don’t know if I can sleep on this couch for fourteen days… you’re gonna have to share the bed.”
Poppy tenses as our eyes meet. She scrambles off the couch quickly, shaking her head. “I’ll have to go home to him eventually. He’s going to be livid that I left as it is.”
I growl, the sound surprising even me, as I reach the end of my rope with her pretending like everything is normal between that dolt of a man that she’s married to and herself. I take a deep breath to calm myself and grab both of her hands. “Why, Poppy? Why go back to him? He doesn’t deserve you, not in the slightest. Stay with me…”
