Guarding the Broken

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Guarding the Broken Page 14

by Kirsty Moseley


  I stared at the door for a full five minutes, not knowing what to think. I knew only one thing for sure – next week we were going to be pretending to be boyfriend and girlfriend, so we were going to have to get this little sexual tension speed bump out of the way before then.

  Deep down, I knew he wouldn’t quit his job before the allotted time was up, which meant I had eight months of his presence to cope with before he would poof into a puff of smoke and the problem would be solved. We needed to set some ground rules if this was going to work and then maybe, just maybe, I could get through the eight months unscathed.

  Chapter Eleven

  I sloped off to my room and showered, scrubbing all the sweat off me from the workout. When I was out and dry, I pulled on baggy combat pants, a V-neck top and a pair of Converse. Scraping my wet hair back into a messy bun, I took deep breaths, struggling to find the courage to talk to Ashton again. With shaky legs, I made the five steps from my bedroom door to his, hesitating outside before knocking. As I waited for him to answer, every instinct in my body was telling me to turn and run as far away from this guy as possible, because he was the only one that seemed to be able to make me question my ‘don’t get close to people’ plan.

  He opened the door with a polite smile, but that quickly fell from his face when he spotted me. I gulped awkwardly. “Hi. I’m thinking that maybe we should talk,” I muttered, picking at the skin on the side of my fingernail. “Want to go for that walk or something?”

  His answering nod was a little stiff. “Yeah. Come in, let me just get some shoes on.” He walked into his room, pushing the door open wider in invitation. I hugged myself, barely stepping over the threshold as I watched him push his feet into a pair of sneakers before tugging on the bottom of his jeans and clipping something black to his ankle.

  I frowned at it. “What’s that?” I asked curiously. Without answering, he pulled the material up, exposing an ankle holster and black handgun. The air rushed out of my lungs as I recoiled. “Holy shit, Ashton! You could shoot your foot off!” I cried, horrified.

  He laughed humourlessly and shook his head. “I have the safety on,” he replied, standing up straight again. “We really should arrange for you to have some shooting lessons so that you know how to handle a gun.”

  My eyes were trained on the bump at the bottom of his jeans. “I don’t want shooting lessons.”

  He shrugged, picking his cell phone from the side and pushing it into his pocket. “I would’ve thought you’d want to know how to defend yourself,” he countered.

  “I don’t like guns,” I admitted, “and why would I need to learn how to shoot, anyway? I’ve got you and that idiot Dean for that.” I smiled weakly, trying to alleviate some of the tension that was in the air.

  He smiled in response and motioned towards the door. “So, why don’t you like guns?” he asked, putting his hand on the small of my back as we walked through the house.

  I winced. “Carter liked guns. I’ve seen a lot of people get shot.” I immediately tried not to think of the other reason I didn’t like guns, the thing that made me so terrified of guns that it would wake me up in the night. He groaned, and his hand closed over mine tightly. I shook my head, not needing to look at him to know that he felt sorry for me. “Don’t worry about it; I just don’t like the thought of guns, that’s all. The noise scares me,” I added, shuddering.

  “Well then, I definitely think you should go for some lessons. You should get used to the sound so it doesn’t scare you anymore,” he suggested. I had a feeling that if he was there with me then I wouldn’t be scared anyway, but I didn’t want to tell him that.

  We walked out of the house, and I immediately turned to the left. We had extensive grounds here at the lake house and a few minutes’ walk away, there was an old play park that I grew up using. I could probably use some pleasant and familiar surroundings while we had this conversation.

  As we left the house behind us and strolled across the grass, I took a deep breath, knowing I needed to start sooner or later. “So, I need to talk to you. Um... I don’t really know what to say or how to say it, so I’ll just go for the truth, okay?” I offered, looking at him from the corner of my eye. He nodded, watching me intently, his eyes a little apprehensive. “Okay well, I don’t want anything from you. I can’t be with you again like this morning. I just can’t do that, so there’s no point in you thinking any differently.” I frowned because of how uncomfortable this conversation was. “I really enjoyed what happened this morning, I’m not gonna lie about it. That really was my first time in so many ways, so thank you. I just… I don’t want that to happen again.” I actually didn’t believe a word of what I was saying. Physically, I did want it to happen again, but for the sake of my mental health, I needed to set the boundaries because I couldn’t cope with the guilt of it afterwards.

  He hadn’t said a word since I’d started speaking. The silence hung in the air as I kept my gaze firmly on the ground. The swing set of the park came into view, so I headed over to it, plopping myself on the seat, knowing I needed to continue. I was only half done with my prepared speech.

  Wordlessly, he stepped behind me, giving me a little push on the swing. I cleared my throat, grateful that he was behind me and unable to see me cringe as I set the rules. “As of next week, you’re officially my boyfriend, so I think we need to set some rules and stuff,” I stated, making the word boyfriend sound like a dirty word.

  “Yeah, good idea,” he agreed quietly. His tone was a little hurt and defeated, but I didn’t know how to help that.

  “Okay, well, hand holding is fine,” I started, “and I don’t mind if you put your arm around me or hug me. But I don’t want you touching me in a sexual way.”

  “No sexual touching. Got it,” he confirmed, his voice coloured with amusement. I laughed nervously, leaning back as my swing propelled forward again. Silence hung in the air for a minute and then he spoke again, “Alright, if you’re done with your rules, there are a couple of things I need clarification on.” He walked around to the front of the swings, his lips pursed in thought.

  Is there something I hadn’t thought of? “What’s that?”

  “Kissing?” He raised his eyebrows in question.

  My eyes widened. “I don’t-” I shook my head, not wanting that to happen again. Kissing was classed as sexual touching in my book; it was the start to something that really couldn’t happen again.

  He sighed and raked a hand through his hair. “Anna, we’re gonna need to kiss in public occasionally. Couples kiss…”

  I nodded in agreement. He was right there; if the boyfriend façade was going to hold, I was going to have to kiss him a couple of times, at least in the first few days. “Okay, yeah I guess.”

  “What about dating?” he asked.

  Damn it, I didn’t think about that either! “Yeah, of course, that’s fine. We’ll say we have an open relationship, and then that way you can still see other girls,” I agreed, nodding. That way he could still live his life whilst stuck guarding mine.

  He burst out laughing, shaking his head. “I didn’t mean me dating other girls!” he choked out, chuckling wickedly.

  For some reason my stomach unclenched when he said that. Although it shouldn’t have, a small amount of jealousy had settled over me at the thought of him being with someone else. “What then?”

  As my swing propelled towards him, he reached out, gripping my ankles and gently pulled me to a stop as he crouched down in front of me. I sucked in a breath through my teeth, knowing that I might have to rethink the rules we’d just made. Even that little action was sexy as hell, yet it wasn’t sexual at all. I had a feeling it was just his hands on my body that kept sending me over the edge.

  “I meant us dating,” he clarified. “We’re supposed to be a couple; couples go out together, don’t they? Movies, dinner, dancing. Do you dance?”

  “Yeah, I dance. Well, not really anymore, I mean, I don’t go anywhere to dance so…” I trailed off, lookin
g at the floor. I used to like to dance, but that was the old Anna that was confident in her body, the happy-go-lucky girl that liked to giggle and smile up at the sunshine and eat picnics with her friends.

  “So maybe if we ever go out somewhere I might get to dance with you,” he suggested, raising one eyebrow in question. I bit my lip and nodded. I wasn’t anticipating going to parties, but I didn’t want to explain that to him right now. All I was interested in was trying to make it through college without being kicked out again. A boyish grin crept onto his face. “So, I can take you out on dates and dance with you at parties, as long as I don’t touch you sexually. But I can hug you, and kiss you occasionally?” he checked, grinning, seeming like he was struggling not to laugh. “It sounds like we’re an old, married couple.”

  I chuckled and nodded. “You’re old, I’m not,” I joked, raising my foot and putting it on his chest, pushing gently. Where he was crouched on the balls of his feet, I caught him off balance and he fell back onto his ass, laughing. I giggled wickedly as he stood up and dusted the grass and dirt from his behind, before taking the swing next to mine.

  I smiled over at him, only just realising how much I’d missed just joking around with someone and laughing. For the last three years I’d barely interacted with anyone, choosing to make myself a recluse as I rejected my friends and family. It was nice just having someone to talk to for a change.

  His smile slowly faded as his shoulders tightened, so I knew we weren’t done yet. “What now?” I prompted.

  He sighed and looked down at his hands. “I have one last thing I want to talk to you about.” I waited for him to speak again, wondering what else I could have possibly forgotten. I thought I’d reasoned it all out before knocking on his door, apparently I was wrong. His eyes came up to meet mine again. “I hate your nightmares.”

  I snorted. He knew nothing of my nightmares. “Join the club.”

  He nodded, his eyes not leaving mine. “I have two options for you, both of them are okay with me so you can choose,” he continued. “One of them I’ve suggested already. I change my sleeping pattern and sleep while you’re awake. It’ll just be like me working nights,” he suggested.

  I frowned, shaking my head adamantly. “No. What’s the other suggestion?”

  He sighed. “I sleep on the floor in your room. Or we could get one of those pull-out sofas or something. For some reason, you seem to sleep better if I’m in the room.”

  The reason was obvious to me. His snoring. And yes, I did sleep better with him there. It was almost as if I could still sense his protective presence while I was asleep, and that stopped me from going to that dark and terrible place where my memories taunted me in the form of nightmares.

  “I guess a sofa bed might work,” I agreed.

  A satisfied smile pulled at the corners of his mouth as he nodded happily. “Once we get to our apartment, we can order one. Until then, I’ll just sleep on the floor,” he agreed. I opened my mouth, about to suggest that he could just sleep on the bed with me until we ordered a sofa bed, but then I remembered what had transpired between us this morning and my lips pressed together tightly. “Are you all packed and stuff for college?” he asked, changing the subject.

  Packed? I hadn’t even started. “Not really. It won’t take long to throw a few pairs of jeans and a few T-shirts into a bag though.” I shrugged, using my feet to start my swing off again.

  His gaze swept over me as he nodded. “Have you always been a tom boy?” he questioned. “Not that you don’t look good, of course, because I’m pretty sure you could make a used garbage bag look hot. I was just wondering.”

  “Um… well, first off, thanks for the weird compliment,” I joked, blushing profusely. I tugged on the bottom of my shirt, fingering the material that I purposefully bought three sizes too big. “It’s just easier for me this way. If I wear something fitted then guys hit on me, and I just can’t… I don’t deal well with it.” I shrugged.

  He reached out, taking hold of the chain of my swing and pulling me to a wobbly stop. “You have me now. You don’t need to worry about guys hitting on you. You could dress in whatever you wanted.” He pulled his cell phone from his pocket, glancing at the screen. “It’s only just lunchtime; want me to take you shopping?”

  I raised one eyebrow at the offer. He was right, with this new arrangement and him attending school with me, I wouldn’t need to worry as much. Maybe I could buy myself a few new things. When I was younger, I was always a girlie girl. Like any carefree sixteen year old, I liked summer dresses, skirts, shorts and heels. A small smile tugged at the corners of my mouth when I thought about having a tiny piece of me back again. Shopping sounded like a nice idea.

  “Okay,” I agreed, nodding gratefully. I looked out across the grass, seeing the house in the distance. “Race you back?” I challenged.

  He frowned, looking over at the house too. “That’s not fair, I’ve seen you run,” he protested.

  I shrugged. “It’s my favourite way to exercise,” I answered. I said the words but my mind flicked to my morning workout with him in my bedroom. I definitely had a new favourite now. I blushed at the thought. He looked at me curiously, making me blush harder as I worried that he knew what I was thinking. “Maybe you should try running with me sometime, it’ll build up your stamina, you’re a bit lax.” The heat in my cheeks flamed hotter as I realised I’d unintentionally just flirted with him.

  He raised a teasing eyebrow. Clearly he’d noticed. “I have a problem with my stamina?”

  “Oh yeah, definitely,” I joked, winking at him. I nodded back towards the house again. “Race? Come on, Pretty Boy, where’s the inner tough guy? Scared you’ll get beaten by a girl?” I teased, smirking at him.

  He shook his head adamantly. “I’m not scared, I just don’t think it’s fair that-” Midsentence, he suddenly sprang from his swing and burst forward. “Go!” he shouted over his shoulder, chuckling wickedly.

  I gasped, and my mouth popped open in shock as I jumped to my feet too. “You freaking cheater!” I cried, giggling as I sprinted after him.

  “Oh, for the love of God, can we please be done? Seriously, when I suggested shopping, what I actually should have suggested was buying a tin of paint, slapping it on a wall and watching it dry!” Ashton whined, cocking his head to the side and pouting at me.

  I chuckled wickedly. Things had started out fine at first, he’d followed me around, smiling and nodding as I picked up things or tried them on. Three hours later and he was checking his cell phone every ten minutes, grunting in response to my ‘like this shirt?’ questions, and dragging his feet as he walked. I must admit, I did find it entertaining and was stringing out the shopping trip, purposefully picking up everything, silently considering it before setting it back down again. His reactions amused me.

  I looked down at his hands that were laden with my shopping bags and smiled, knowing I couldn’t push him any further. How he’d made it this long, I had no idea. He must have the patience of a saint because I’d been ready to go after an hour.

  “So I’ve found your weakness. You’re a shopping lightweight,” I teased.

  He blew out a big breath and shook his head. “A lightweight would have begged to go home an hour ago when you made me walk past that pizza joint without buying anything. Personally, I think I should get a medal for sticking it this long,” he countered.

  I grinned. “I made you walk past the pizza place because you’d already eaten your way through a whole supersized McDonalds, followed by an apple pie!” I’d never seen anyone eat as much as Ashton did. It was unnatural.

  “I needed the calories so I could carry your bags!” He held up my numerous shopping bags in evidence and raised one eyebrow.

  Finally conceding, I nodded. “Okay, let’s just go home now then, your whining is giving me a headache,” I joked. I’d bought enough new things to keep me going for a couple of weeks anyway.

  He pumped the air with one fist, and a smile graced his face for
the first time in two hours. “Yes, thank you!” he chirped. His eyes flitted over my shoulder and his smile widened. “Let’s get some cookies to take back with us.”

  I burst out laughing, shaking my head in disbelief.

  Once we’d gotten back to the house and I’d hung all of my clothes up, I didn’t want to do much other than just sit and chill, so I suggested watching a movie – and he suggested popcorn.

  After finally seeking out popcorn from the cupboards and microwaving it, I slumped onto the sofa in the lounge, while he looked over the wall of DVDs that we had accumulated over the years. After making his choice, he put it on, turned off the lights and then dropped onto the sofa next to me, smiling wickedly.

  “What’d you choose?” I asked, watching as the trailers started up.

  “Mama.”

  I frowned and nodded, not having heard of it. “Is that a scary one?”

  He chuckled and shoved his hand into the popcorn bowl. “I wouldn’t hazard a guess.”

  Shifting to get comfortable, I twisted to the side and put my legs in his lap because there wasn’t much room. He didn’t seem to mind. In the flickering glow of the TV, I saw him smile as he laid his arm across my legs, scooting down in his seat to get more comfortable.

  As the movie played, he started absentmindedly rubbing my feet and ankles, and eventually was massaging the back of my calves with his hands up the leg of my jeans. Out of nowhere the lights flicked on and I let out a little squeal because the movie was at a particularly scary part and my heart was already racing in my chest.

  My mother stopped short, her hand still on the light switch as her eyes widened in surprise. “Oh! Sorry, I didn’t realise anyone was in here,” she apologised quickly. Her eyes flitted to my legs where Ashton’s hand disappeared up the bottom of my jeans. Catching on to how it probably looked to an outsider, I moved my legs quickly and sat up, clearing my throat awkwardly.

 

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