Incredible Us

by Deanndra Hall

  My heart’s still tender from the night before. “I can take you.”

  Her eyes swivel to mine. “You said if I needed to go to . . .”

  “Yeah, but this is different. They’re going to anesthetize you. You may need someone bigger and stronger than Trish to help you into the car, into the house, that kind of thing. And I’d love to go with you.”

  Her eyes light up just a bit. “You would go with me?”

  “Of course! If you want me to.”

  “Oh, yes, I do. Please. I’d feel so much better if you were there.”

  “Then I’ll be there.” Desperation has set in, a desperation to help her and shield her, to keep her safe and comfortable. I don’t want her to go through this alone.

  But Trish would be there. Why would it be necessary for it to be me? Now I’m feeling desperation, but of a different kind. I’m getting too attached to this girl, and I know I need to back off, but I can’t. She needs me, and I need her. Why? I didn’t need her two days ago – I didn’t even know she existed. There’s so much confusion in my mind, just rolling around and making me question everything.

  “But Dave?” Yanked back into the present, into the kitchen with its pots and pans and dishes and towels, I look around to find Olivia standing at the sink instead of sitting at the table, staring out the window instead of looking at me. “If you don’t want to go, it’s okay.”

  I snap back, “I said I’d go. Why wouldn’t I go?”

  “I just don’t want you to feel obligated. I’ve already imposed so much on you and your time.” She looks like she’s folding in on herself. Was I thinking out loud? Did I say something really stupid?

  My coffee cup makes a thud on the table as I set it down and stand at the same time. Only five feet separates us, but in that moment, it’s about six feet too many. Resting my hands on the sink on either side of her, I breathe into her hair as I quietly reiterate, “I’ll be there. I want to be there. With you. Nowhere else will do. Got it?”

  She wheels quickly and our faces are less than an inch apart. Before she speaks, I see her swallow hard, and then I watch her lips tremble as she says, “Got it. Dave, I . . .”

  My lips crush hers and all I can think about is my next breath into her. Any common sense I might’ve had withers, dries up, and blows away, and I run one hand around behind her waist, up her spine, straight up her neck, and into her hair, where I grab a handful and pull her head back to break the kiss. I look down to find her looking back up at me, her eyes lit up with lust, and I hover over her like a cloud. There’s no thinking or wondering or deciding, just this moment with this young woman and a need that’s rising up inside me unlike anything I’ve ever known. My mouth covers hers and I pour myself into her like water into a glass while her arms wrap around my waist and tighten. Time stands still; it’s just the two of us, and the rest of the world falls away to leave us standing here in this split second in time. Unable to control myself, I feel my body press into hers, press her into the edge of the counter behind her, and I give her hair a tug just to hear her moan into my mouth.

  And then the ringing of my cell snaps everything back into place and I’m left wondering what just happened, how much of my mind I just lost, and why I’m standing in my kitchen, kissing a girl who’s less than half my age, a girl who’s lost everything and trying to find herself with all the odds against her. Without turning loose of her hair, I reach into my pocket and draw out my phone, but I don’t look at the screen before I growl into it, “Hello?”

  “Dad? You okay?”

  Clint’s voice draws me back into the room, and I release her hair and pull my body away from hers. “Yeah. Everything’s fine. What’s up?”

  His voice drops to not much over a whisper. “I need to talk to you. Is Olivia there close?”

  “Yeah.”

  “It needs to be away from her. Can you step outside?”

  “Yeah. Hang on.” I kiss her forehead and ignore the confused look in her eyes. “I’ll be back in just a second.” When my feet hit the porch deck and the door closes behind me, I breathe out, “Okay, what’s going on?”

  “Steffen struck up a conversation with someone at the bank, someone who works for him. Her husband is a police officer, and a fine, upstanding police officer at that. When he mentioned that someone he knew had been brutalized by the cops, this woman said her husband had told her there was an investigation going on into some cops who’ve been sexually assaulting homeless women.”

  “Shit.”

  “Yeah. Seems they’re working on the case, but there’s no evidence. And Olivia could be the key.”

  I feel my heart start to hammer. “Steffen didn’t tell her anything, did he?”

  “No, but he fished around as much as he dared; he’ll just have to take it slow. We do know who’s spearheading the investigation. I want a picture of him to show to Olivia. If the cop in charge is one of the abusers, then we’ll know that something’s really wrong.”

  “And how can you get a photo?”

  “If Steffen can get the name of the cop, their photos are posted online on the police department’s website. If any of the cops working on the investigation are the guys who brutalized them, we’ll have to get her out of town. If not, we’ll have to get her to talk to someone. Steffen’s working on it, and I’ll let you know as soon as I know something. Trish told me what the doctor said. She okay?”

  “Yeah. I think so. Shaken up and afraid, but okay. Tell Steffen I said thanks and I’ll hang tight until you get more info. I’m not saying anything to her until we have a photo.”

  “Good deal. Thanks, Dad. Thanks for caring about her and taking an interest in her.”

  My mouth says, “You’re welcome. Thanks for being here for her too.” But my brain is screaming, You might not say that if you knew what I was thinking about doing to her. Because now I know, and there’s no point trying to deny it to myself. I want to fuck Olivia Warren. And I want to do it until I know she’s mine. I hit END, my mind still reeling, and wander back into the house.

  The kitchen is cleaned up except for my Danish and cup of coffee, and Olivia is nowhere to be found. Listening closely, I can hear the shower running, and I head to mine. I shave quickly, then step into the steamy embrace of the scalding water, its healing touch comforting and energizing at the same time. Hair washed, I start my usual manscaping, made easier by the fact that I have a raging hard on, rock solid and throbbing. I manage the trim job, but my erection just won’t go away, and I grab my body wash and lather it up. The tension in my spine grows and doubles over on itself as my fingers slide up and down, grazing the tip of the head before they go back down to the base and start all over. I’m wound tight like a panther, and then I see it.

  Movement. And I know that she’s watching me. I don’t have to turn and look; I can feel her there, taking in the view through the shower curtain, and I’m in misery. By the time I’m ready to come, I’m almost frantic, wanting that release that I can’t have inside her, wanting her to see what it looks like to be wanted by me. A massive groan erupts from my throat as I come, forced up onto my toes, my back bowed, pearly ropes of cum splashing onto the wall of the shower and running down in the hot water. That’s the power she has over me. I’m panting, and not just in ecstatic exhaustion.

  It’s fear. I know I can’t do this, shouldn’t do this. Most men would know better, but I feel drawn to her. If it’s out of pity, it’s wrong, but it doesn’t feel like pity. It feels like softness and warmth and something I haven’t experienced in a long time. There’s a peace that rules that bedroom when she crawls into my bed and rests in my arms. It has nothing to do with sex and everything to do with sex. Slumping back against the tiled wall to catch my breath, I see that movement again and I know she’s gone.

  Now she knows. Dear god, what does that mean for me?

  Chapter Five

  It’s been awkward, very awkward. She knows, and she’s been especially odd around me, which is difficult, seeing as how we’
re in the same house. The last two nights she didn’t want to go to the club, so she spent one with Clint and Trish, and the next with Steffen and Sheila. They all told me she was great with their kids, and they were glad to have her. The “other thing” Trish had mentioned was the wounds on her back and ass, and Trish took a look at them while she was there, proclaiming them much better. That’s an improvement.

  She wasn’t able to have anything to eat last night, so Clint and Trish were careful to eat before she got there, and I ate after I dropped her off. When I make it to the kitchen this morning, she’s standing there, looking at the fruit on the countertop like it’s spun gold. “Nothing for you, missy.”

  She shoots me a little shy smile. “What do you want me to fix for you?”

  “Nothing. I’m not going to eat in front of you.”

  “You shouldn’t go hungry because of me. Besides, I’m used to being hungry. It’s no big deal.”

  See, that right there – that tears me up. The more I know about her, the more torn up I get. “Nope. I’m not doing that to you. When they take you back, I’ll go get something at the vending area in the building.”

  “Okay.” She stands there for a few minutes like she doesn’t know what to say or do while I drink a cup of coffee. Finally, she says, “Well, then, I’m going to take my shower.”

  “Me too. We’ve got two hours, so we should be fine.”

  “Okay. Thanks. Thanks so much, Dave, really. Thank you.”

  Not touching her is killing me, so I motion her over to me, then take both of her hands in mine. “You’re welcome for the millionth time. And I want to help you, baby. I want to be here for you as long as you need me.”

  “I’ll always need you. I’ll never stop needing you.”

  I chuckle. “Oh, yeah, eventually you won’t need me. You’ll get back on your feet, find some handsome young guy, fall in love, and old Dave’ll be history. I mean, I’ll always be here, grandpa to your kids, friend when you want one, but you won’t need me anymore.” I’m trying to laugh it off, but inside, the thought of all of those things makes me weep.

  “No.” She shakes her head. “I’ll always need you. I don’t want those things. I only want . . .”

  I press a finger over her lips. “Go get ready. Dress warmer than usual; anesthesia makes you cold, maybe bring a sweater or something. I’ll see you in a bit.” There’s a hurt look in her eyes that’ll haunt me for the next couple of days – only the next couple of days, if I’m lucky – and I feel a stab of guilt cut through my heart. I’ve gotten too attached to her, and I know it. It isn’t natural. She needs a life that doesn’t have anything to do with me. That’s not what I want, maybe not what she wants, but it’s what she needs.

  When I’m ready and step into the living room, she’s already there, her hair glossy, cheeks rosy from her shower, and wearing her yoga pants, a tee shirt, and sitting with a sweater draped across her lap. She looks so lost and afraid and helpless, and I just want to take all of that fear and uncertainty onto myself so she doesn’t have to feel it. “Ready?”

  “Sure.” She stands without ever looking at me, and I regret that kiss those days before and all that it meant. The trip to the outpatient medical center is quiet, only broken by her asking me questions about particular businesses or buildings along the way. We pass a car dealership. “Lots of cars,” she mumbles.

  “Yeah.” Then I think of something. “Do you drive?”

  “Yeah, but I have no license, of course.”

  “Let’s take care of that. Let’s get your license back.”

  She shrugs and still doesn’t look at me. “Why? I don’t have a car.”

  “But you will.” She just sighs. “You’ll eventually get a car. Do you want one?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. I haven’t really thought about it in a long, long time.” She’s still gazing out, her right temple pressed against the glass of the car window as she watches the world go by. This must all seem so foreign to her now.

  The outpatient center isn’t very big, and neither is the parking lot, but we get almost to the building and she stops right in the middle of the drive. What I hear coming from her is an odd, “Ohhhhh, ohhhhh, ohhhhh, noooooo, nooooo, please, nooooo . . .” I look around and then I see him.

  A security guard. She’s gripping my hand so hard that I think she’s cutting off the circulation in my fingers, and she’s stopped dead and won’t move forward. I lean down to her ear, and say, “Honey, he’s just a security guard. It’s okay.”

  Her eyes are wide and she’s shaking, and that sound comes out again, “Nooooooo . . .”

  “Yes. We have to go in. It’s okay, really.” I think for a second. “Look, just scoot under my arm here and stick to me. I won’t let anything happen to you, you know that.”

  She’s panting now. “Police.”

  “No, he’s not police. He’s just security.” I manage to get her to move toward the building haltingly, and the doors open automatically. He turns to see who’s entering and smiles at me, then frowns.

  “Miss, you okay?” She buries her face in my ribcage and whimpers.

  “She’s fine. She’s just got to have a procedure and she’s a little scared.”

  “Which doc?”

  “Um, Dr. Cavanaugh?”

  “Oh, she’s so nice! She and my wife are friends; my wife’s a nurse, see.” He breaks into a warm smile. “Such a nice lady. And a good doctor too. I’m sure you’ll be fine.” I look around and he says, “Right over there, to your right.”

  “Thanks so much. Come on, honey, it’ll be all right.” I manage to get her shuffling that way.

  “Have a good day!” he calls after us. I hear her whimper again, and I just tighten my arm around her.

  When the door to the suite closes behind us, I feel her sigh and relax just a little. We choose seats by the window so she can look out, and I go up to the desk and check her in. They make me pay up front for her procedure – it’s not cheap, not by a long shot, but she has to have it and it’s the only way it’ll get done. I don’t want her going to some free clinic or something. If they see her wounds, they’ll probably start asking questions and then alert the police. We can’t have that. She’s tapping her foot nervously on the floor until I get back and sit down beside her. Taking her hand, I whisper to her, “They said it’ll be about fifteen minutes. Need anything?”

  “Yeah. I need to go to the bathroom.”

  “I think that’s it right over there.” I watch her go and hope she comes back out or I’ll have to go in and get her. But in about four minutes she’s back and sits down beside me. She still never really looks at me. “You okay?”

  “Yes. No. I don’t know.” She looks away.

  “Olivia.” She still doesn’t look at me. “Olivia, look at me.” Her face meets mine but her eyes don’t – they’re still focused on the floor in front of her. “Eyes up here, babe.”

  I’m instantly sorry I did that. The sadness there takes my breath away. What the hell have I done to her? I’ve got to be the biggest idiot on the planet, but I can’t help the feelings I have for her. Still, I shouldn’t have acted on them, and now I’m sorry. I’m sorry I did what I did, and I’m sorry that I couldn’t help it and I’d do it again. “Olivia?”

  Her eyes rotate downward again. “What?”

  Soft as a feather, I whisper into her ear, “I love you. You’re going to be fine.” Before she can reply, they call her name from the front.

  I walk to the door with her, thinking she’ll be going back alone, but the nurse who greets us tells me, “Oh, you’re welcome to come back with her if you want.” Olivia’s eyes plead with me, and I just let the nurse lead me back with her to a small waiting cubicle. “Gown on, opening down the back. Grippy socks on. You can put your hair back if you want, but they’ll put it in a cap back in surgical prep, so it doesn’t matter.” She looks toward me. “You need to keep up with her personal things. They should be fine, but it’s just best if someone looks out for the
m. If you need anything, there’s a restroom to your left outside the door, and the vending machines are to the right, then turn right down the hallway.” She looks back to Olivia. “Any questions?”

  “Will it hurt?”

  “The charge nurse will go over it with you, but you’ll have some cramping and a good bit of bleeding for awhile. She’ll be in to talk to you in just a few minutes.”

  Chart in hand, the charge nurse comes in almost immediately. She starts asking the usual questions, and she gets through name and age before she says, “Address?” Olivia looks at me, and the nurse gives me an odd look.

  “Eighty-three twenty-nine Hollingsworth Street.” She looks at Olivia, but before she can say anything, I add, “We just moved and she’s had a little trouble remembering the address.”

  “Yeah. It’s kind of long. Eighty-two forty . . .”

  “No, honey. Eighty-three twenty-nine.”

  She gives me a weak smile. “Oh, yeah. Thanks.”

  “That is kind of a long address. Okay, phone number.”

  “Lost my phone. Can you take his?”

  “Sure.” I give her my phone number.

  “Okay. So you’re responsible for her care?”

  Damn. I hadn’t really given it any thought, but I suppose I am. “Yes.”

  “We’ll go over aftercare following the procedure. There may be things that will be found or change during, and any instruction I give now could be wrong. So let’s just do it once.”

  “Suits me.”

  “Well, then, Dr. Cavanaugh is only running about fifteen minutes behind, so it won’t be long. Just sit tight and they’ll come to get you in just a few minutes.” She pats Olivia’s leg and leaves the cubicle.

  “I suppose you should get into your beautiful gown and your cute little socks and get ready, huh? I’ll step out and . . .”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “I think I should.”