by CJ Daly
I raised brows at this bit of news.
“How you feeling?” he changed the subject.
I took a breath, assessing. Ecstatic he was here, for one. Kept that bit of
intel to myself. “A little sore and a lot of achy,” I answered.
“Imagine how you’d feel without the meds.”
“Don’t wanna.” I sat up and winced from the effort of moving my head.
“When did you get here?”
“I never really left,” he revealed. “Just sat on the couch watching sports
with your father until he stumbled to bed. Then came in here.”
“Oh.” I was sure there was more to the story; better not to ask questions.
“How long have I been out?”
“About three hours. It was time to see if you could wake up. How’s your
stomach?”
“Holdin’ steady,” I said, giving it a little reward pat.
“Good, I’m glad.”
“Me too.” We seemed to run out of words, so relegated ourselves to staring
until I remembered my dream. My forehead creased. “Pete, how did it go with
your meetin’? Are you in trouble? I saw the tickets for Daddy and Andrew.
They’re supposed to leave on Monday . . . but I guess they’re not goin’ now
on account of my injury.”
Pete snapped off the lamp. “I’m not in any trouble, Kate. Whatever gave
you that silly idea? The Academy isn’t a punitive place,” he stressed, busying himself by smoothing my covers. “We only hope to gain a gifted boy like
Andrew because we sincerely believe it’s the right place for him . . . You’ll soon
see all this worry was for nothing.” His face returned to mine with a smile
that didn’t crinkle his eyes.
• 380 •
Even in my half-drugged daze, the false ring to his tone was unmistakable as a ten-carat cubic zirconia presented at a backyard wedding. My eyes
widened. Who was talking just now? A mouthpiece for The Academy? He
didn’t sound like Pete . . . at least my Pete. I leaned away from him, repelled as if an alien just inhabited his body.
“In regards to the tickets,” he went on with his ambassador impersonation,
“I’m sure we can postpone Andrew’s visit . . . in case you need more time to
heal.”After a moment of soaking up my accusatory stare, Pete rubbed at his
forehead as though he had the headache. “How’s the goose egg?” He made to
change the mood, picking up the wilted pea bag to inspect my head. “Down
to a regulation-size chicken egg now.” He smiled winningly at me. “We’re
making progress.”
I arched a brow. “Are we?”
“We are,” he affirmed, his eyes conveying a strong telepathic message—
one I chose to believe. So I nodded and lay back on the pillow, too tired to
argue for once.
When I awoke next, it felt like my head was in a vice. And that vice was slowly
and steadily tightening. Tortuous. I groaned, feeling the urge to hurl again.
“Pete!” He was there immediately, handing me a pill. I needed the help; the
pain was awful. Apparently, the painkillers had left the building, and a gang
of angry squatters had moved in with their hammers, tearing the membrane
of my skull down from the inside. I swallowed it down, wincing from the
movement.
“How bad is it?” he asked. “Scale of one to ten?”
I whimpered and threw all my digits at him, tears leaking from the
corners of my eyes. He handed me another pill. I took it without question.
The state I was in, I was thinking the more pills the better.
“I’m sorry, honey—I didn’t wake you up when your meds wore off because
I had so much trouble waking you up before. I had to see if you could wake
up on your own.”
I had nothing but groans to say to that. While waiting for the pills to
take effect, Pete methodically rubbed my back. I knew I was beginning to feel
better when the sensations coming from my back were more pronounced than
the throbbing of my head, and when the circles began to feel more sensual
than soothing. I drew in a deep, shuttering breath.
“Better?” He brushed some hair back from my temple.
I nodded my head—a good sign. The wonderful, smooth feeling was
• 381 •
coming back, the pills sanding down all of life’s rough edges for the moment.
I looked up at his spectacular face and noticed he looked like a photocopied
version of himself.
“You look tired,” I said, copy-catting him to brush the errant lock from
his forehead. My fingers itched to touch his mouth. Instead, I continued
reciprocating the good vibes by stroking my hand down the length of his arm.
Pete immediately froze. “What are you doing?”
“The same thing you were doin’ two seconds ago,” I replied.
He removed his arm from my hand. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
I faced him with a face with no shame. “Why ever not?”
He stood up, abruptly. “Because I don’t.”
His clipped tone wasn’t much of a deterrent to me in my current state.
“Name one good reason why.”
“You’re on narcotics for one.”
I pouted, feeling bereft with him gone from my bed. Had to get him
back. “Don’t leave!” I pleaded. He drew in a breath, debating. “Please . . . I’ll
be good. I-I just don’t wanna be alone. Please. ” I threw the puppy-dog eyes at him. Pete’s eyes were unreadable in the dim light, but I heard him sigh
and lower himself back down on the edge of my bed, warily, as though he
might have to spring up at any moment. My body’s cravings weren’t satisfied.
Hmmm. What could I do? I scooched over and threw back the covers—an
invitation . . . that backfired. He sprang back to his feet.
“No!” I lurched for him. “Don’t go . . . I’m about two seconds from fallin’
asleep, and I can’t bear the thought of you sittin’ up in that cold chair all night starin’ at me sleep.”
He was undecided, peering down on me as though a scorpion were
wrapped in the pink sheets.
“Please, Pete?” I used my best little girl voice. “What’s the harm in that?”
“What’s the harm indeed?” he muttered, but seemed to be caving. After
releasing a sharp gust of air, he snatched up a pillow, and crawled onto bed . . .
Yes! —with his back to me— No!
I was lying on my side (the only way with a newly-formed speed-bump on
the back of my head), facing him and thinking So this is spooning? Satisfied, nope. I wriggled closer.
“What are you up to, young lady?” Pete demanded in his best grown-up
voice.“Nothin’ . . . just breathin’,” I amended, breathing in his heavenly scent.
His body heat radiated out to me, making me aware—I was half naked. So
• 382 •
close . . . yet not close enough. Some pent-up frustration streamed from my lungs.
“Goodnight, Kate,” he said sternly.
I was drifting along the lines of sleep and wakefulness and contentment
and mutiny for a few more moments. “Pete . . .” I breathed into his back.
“Go to sleep, Kate.”
“Almost there,” I chirped. For some reason, his curtness didn’t bother me.
“Just wanna ask you somethin’.”
“What is it?” he grumbled.
“Turn around.”
“Not a good idea.”
“I jus’ wanna
see your face,” I said, a little slurry at the edges.
He made a big show of sighing before turning around to face me. Our eyes
met in the witching light peering through the lace curtains. And as I stargazed
into his fathomless eyes, the muscles in his face began to loosen. “You had a
question?” He was trying for annoyed but didn’t quite make it there.
My lips curved. I nodded, my eyes moving to his mouth.
He stiffened and threw back the covers. I countered by yanking him to
me. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Kate,” he warned, but he allowed me
to pull him back down.
“Not playin’ games,” I said around a loopy smile.
“You have three seconds to ask your question, or I’m leaving.” A heaping
dose of resolve was packed into that threat.
“Okay, fine.” I’d finally worked up to his level of annoyance—beginners.
He was only acting annoyed. I leaned in closer, staring directly into his eyes.
“How old are you, real y?”
Caught off guard, Pete froze, eyes going wide with surprise tinged
with something else that should’ve frightened me. All this happened in a
nanosecond before he closed the shutters to his soul. “Old enough to know
better,” he said.
After this pearl of wisdom and a sigh, he remained facing me, eyes closed,
lips parted. I took this as a green light to do the thing I’d been wanting to do
for a long, long time. The most natural thing in the world—pressing my lips
against his to test their firm fullness.
“Kate . . .” He gently tugged me backwards. “You’re not in your right
mind.”
I sighed and resigned my head back to the cold pillow. “’m never in my
right mind when I’m ‘round you.”
He chuckled, put his mouth to my ear, and “I know the feeling” tingled
• 383 •
all the way to the base of my spine. I squirmed closer, slung an arm around his back, and pressed into him. Mmmm. Nice. “You’re testing my self-control,”
he said, but he didn’t move.
“Good.” I pecked him on the lips. “You have too much of it already.” My
fingers began to explore the planes of his face, and were just moving to trace
the sharp angle of his jaw, when he snorted and took my hand.
“Not where you’re concerned,” he said.
“Coulda fooled me.” I ran my free hand through his hair, feeling the
texture that waved its way through the softness. I took a breath. “I guess I’m
plain terrible at this seducin’ stuff—not really sure how,” I admitted lamely,
dropping my hand with a voluminous sigh.
“Coulda fooled me,” he whispered then gave in to run one hand along
the curving shape of my body, pausing on the hill to grasp the jut of my hip.
My breath hitched. Our eyes locked. I tugged at his shoulder, my lips
already parting. But Pete closed his eyes against me and dropped his hand. He
let out a throaty growl and rolled onto his back, one hand splayed above his
head as if in half surrender. I almost growled back. Instead, I took advantage
of his belly-up position by leaning over his exposed neck to do my own deep
breathing. Sighed with deep satisfaction. I kissed the side of his throat, feeling
slightly silly. Was that okay? I was so sure and unsure at the same time.
“Kate . . .” he growled.
“Hmmm?” Suddenly, I had a very strong notion our bodies should be
horizontally attached, so tried to attempt that very thing. That wasn’t so
bad . . . was it?
“What are you up to now?”
“Umm, layin’ on you. No wait . . .” I changed my mind; that sounded
stupid. “Huggin’ you?”
Pete chuckled, deep in his throat. I could feel the vibrations hum their
cheerful way into my heart as I managed to straddle myself across the
controlled cadet without any more protest. I had him pinned now, and we
faced each other in the dark. “What am I gonna do with you?” came up at me.
Leaning over boldly, I offered up a challenge: “That’s what I’d like to
know.”
Pete deliberated a heartbeat. As though of its own volition, the hand above
his head moved to my face. And in the same manner, my face moved to fit
the contours of his palm. Using the pad of his thumb, he traced my lower
lip. My breath caught while I waited for his next move—carefully sliding his
hand behind my neck, he drew me to him. He was done with the resisting.
His intent was clear. Like magnets closing the distance, our hungry lips met.
• 384 •
A few skipped heartbeats happened where our mouths sunk together in a long, sumptuous kiss that left me reeling and breathless for more.
I only felt sensation, wasn’t thinking with my brain at all. It was turned
off. Closed for the night while my body took over. I pressed into him, longing
to feel the architecture of his body, his hard against my soft. I wanted to
absorb his heat, the essence of him. And like our bodies, our minds were in
sync because his well-behaved hand strayed under my hemline the same time
my hand raked up his shirt. Strong arms fastened around me, so that our
bodies melded together as we made out like bandits on top of my wagon-wheel
bed. The pleasant humming in my throat turned up to a moan. I heard his
answering groan as he cupped me to him. I felt his careful restraint waning,
his body’s responses heating up despite his best efforts.
So euphoric! —my last thought, right as an overdue surge of dulling
depressant coursed through my bloodstream from my quickened pulse. The
lights started to go out in my body now, way before I was ready. Oh no! . . .
Not now!
“Kate?” stirred my hair as I drooped over him. “Did I hurt you?” I pressed
lazy lips to his hot throat before snuggling up on my favorite place on earth—
his chest. “Kate?” I felt more than heard him sigh in frustration.
“Hmm? Sorry . . . so sleepy,” I slurred.
He chuckled softly, tickling my ear. “You’re hurting my ego here—I’m
pretty sure I’ve never put anyone to sleep before.”
“Mmmm . . .” I was almost gone.
“Guess it’s for the best,” he murmured, slowing the stroking on my back
to a more leisurely pace.
I wanted to argue, but I was down for the count.
• 385 •
34
CAUGHT RED-HANDED
I awoke to the pneumatic drillers in my head again. Opened a peep-eye to
find him still sleeping like Prince Charming, as though posed by Walt
Disney himself: on his back, mouth closed, errant forelock falling over his
forehead, managing to make him look both mischievous and sexy. My heart
studded to a stop with the force of emotion I felt for this boy—this man, I
automatically corrected myself.
Ugh! How could I be in so much bliss and so much pain at the same
time? They seemed to be completely incongruent feelings, but here they were
comingling. Like us.
Apparently, I’d been zonked out half on him with my face smooshed into
his chest, his arms wrapped around me, the beating of his heart in my ear.
This was even better than spooning. I inhaled deeply then couldn’t take it
anymore, the dull throbbing of my head forcing my hand. Da
ng it! I had to get some meds in me before it got worse and became debilitating.
OMG!—Daddy! I sucked in a rush of panic until I remembered what Pete
had said last night about him sleeping till noon. I sure hoped he was right.
Not the boys though. It was Saturday, so they would sleep in a little, but not
much. Sigh. I looked out the yellowing window. Time for the rooster to crow.
And time to get up and scrounge for some meds. With Pete here, I didn’t
want to be so out of it today. I wanted to enjoy every minute, every second I
could. But hating to move so much as an inch, I decided I could withstand
just one teensy minute more of pain, just so I could indulgently stare at him.
So I did, noticing a new smattering of scruff running along his chiseled jaw.
I’d never seen that before; it felt like I’d just discovered gold buried beneath
my front porch. I longed to rub my fingertips against the grain to test its
• 386 •
texture, but I was afraid of waking him—afraid to burst the bubble. Having him here was a dream, one I didn’t want to wake from.
I frowned, wondering again how his meeting went, why he was talking
so weirdly last night, how much longer he would be here. Not long. I could
feel it, like a change in the atmosphere before a storm. Even though I still
had a thousand questions, I would try to temporarily tamp them down so as
not to fight. Despite the differences that manifested our separate destinies,
I still felt completely drawn to him in a way that was both frightening and
natural. But I still couldn’t trust him. No matter how much I wanted to—I
still had my doubts.
Slowly, I inched my way out from under him. He stirred once, sighing
when I moved his arm, but he didn’t wake up. Up on my feet now, I stared
down at him. His chest continued to rise and fall in an even rhythm. I had a
mad urge to take a picture. Settled for a mental one instead then crossed the
hall to use the bathroom. The reflection in the mirror conjured a grimace,
but not a hairbrush—I still couldn’t bring myself to run bristles through my
hair just yet. My head felt like it was thrust into an angry beehive, and I didn’t
wanna stir ‘em up.
After scavenging under the sink, I gulped down a couple of generic
Tylenols with tepid tap water straight from the sink. It was still faucet-
dripping quiet in the house, so I snuck back to my room with the sleeping
