All She Wanted (2) (13 page)

Briggs

I needed to move.

I needed to do something other than
stand in the doorway of her bedroom.

“What do you need, Charlie?” I had
asked.

She didn’t respond at first, she just
kept staring at me as if I was wearing the answer on my forehead.

I asked again.

“Charlie, what can I get for you? Want
me to find you a pain reliever that can help you sleep? You should also ice it
again,” I looked around her room, “Maybe I can find something to prop your arm
up-”

“Briggs…” She took a deep breath.

I waited, watching an inner-battle take
place inside her. I was certain a big part of her wanted to tell me to leave—tell
me that she was fine—not that I would listen. I knew she wasn’t fine, and as I
searched her face again, I had a feeling it was for reasons beyond the pain in
her wrist.

“Sure—thank you. The meds are
downstairs and there’s some extras pillows in the hall closet to the right,”
she said.

I found the extra pillows easily, and then
searched the medicine cabinet downstairs in the kitchen. It was not only stocked,
but well organized (thanks to Mrs. Julie). I carried a glass of water, along
with the pain pills, into Charlie’s bedroom. She hadn’t moved an inch.

“Here you go. These should knock you
out. I also brought you some extra ibuprofen so you can take it first thing in
the morning. You may even want to set your alarm—it’s better to stay ahead of
the pain,” I said.

She nodded absently; putting the pills
in her mouth before washing them back with the water I brought her. She worked
to scoot herself back with her good hand, but bumped her bad arm in the
process, wincing in pain.

“Charlie, stop. Let me help you,” I
said.

I pulled back her blankets, helping her
lay down before propping her arm up on the extra pillows. If I had ever thought
Charlie smelled good before, her bedding was the embodiment of that blessed
scent. She flinched as I pulled the blankets up to her waist.

“Did I bump it?” I asked, concerned.

“No, it just hurts all on its own,” she
said, trying to smile.

“I’m sorry, Shortcake—I’m sorry for
chasing you through the mud, too.”

I smiled back at her as she laughed
softly.

“Will you…” she began.

“What?”

“Will you…stay? Just until I fall
asleep, I mean?”

The vulnerability in her face matched
the softness of her voice. I swallowed hard.
 

This was dangerous for me;
she
was dangerous for me.

This kind of proximity to a woman had
only ever ended one way. Charlie wasn’t just
any
woman
to me, though.
She wasn’t a part of my past, and I would never allow her to be.

I took a step back from the bed—my eyes
landing on a temporary solution:

A chair.

Charlie

I had been nervous to ask him.

But the fear was already starting to
creep in, like an old bad habit. I knew if I didn’t change its course and
distract from it soon, the nightmares would claim me again tonight. They would deprive
me of sleep by robbing every droplet of peace that I had accumulated over the
last seventeen years.

When Alex left, it triggered something
inside me—uprooting memories I had long ago buried. I didn’t want to spend my
time and energy trying to figure out why they were back again, my mama had
stolen enough of that already.

Briggs walked across my room to my desk
chair, turning it around, but not moving it an inch closer before he sat in it.

I felt a pinched of hurt, wondering why
he would choose to sit so far from me, but his distance didn’t lessen my need
for a distraction.

“Will you tell me about your parents?”
I asked, feeling my eyelids grow heavy.

He slid his elbows down his thighs,
stopping to rest them on his knees, and took a deep breath.

Briggs

I was surprised at her question, but I
was even more surprised that I was willing to answer it.

Where do
I start?

It was like trying to direct someone
out of a traffic jam—unless they were familiar with the side streets, it was a
wasted effort.
  

 
“Angie
and I were born in Boulder, Colorado. My mom was an attorney and my dad was the
VP for a local bank. From the outside we were a perfect family. Nice house,
nice cars, two nice kids and a nice golden retriever. But it was far from nice.”

I looked up and she nodded for me to continue.

“It’s hard to describe the chaos,
Charlie, but that’s what it was…chaos. No structure, no discipline, no care. Angie
and I were our own family unit from as far back as I can remember. They would
fight, scream, cry, yell for days on end, and some days they wouldn’t come home
at all. They worked all the time, but they played too—without us. They gave us money,
of course—there was
always
enough
money, but that’s about all there was. Our material needs were met, but not
much else. They were so absorbed in chasing after their dreams, that they
didn’t even notice when we stopped following.”

“Where are they now?”

“Divorced. Mom’s in Colorado, and last
I heard, Dad was somewhere back East.”

“You don’t talk to them?” she asked
with quiet wonder.

I smiled sadly, keeping my voice soft
as I saw her eyes blink with sleepiness. “No Charlie, we don’t talk. It’s
better that way. There’s not much left that hasn’t already been said, and I’m
happy with the family I do have…even though most of them aren’t blood relatives.”

Her eyes closed then, and her breathing
slowed with a heavy calm. I stood to make my exit. The meds had obviously done
their job. As I neared the doorframe, I paused, watching her. She looked so
peaceful.

Despite myself I quietly walked over to
her bedside and pushed back the hair resting on her face. I leaned down then
and brushed my lips against her forehead.

With that one simple act, my heart was
gone, my fate sealed.
     

No other woman would ever compare to
Charlie Lexington.

She was the only one I wanted.

Charlie

As it turned out, I didn’t need an
alarm.

My wrist woke me up about thirty minutes
before I could take my next dose of pain medication. I dragged my stiff body to
the restroom—which proved to be interesting. Managing menial tasks while one-handed
was quite a talent.

How is
it possible that my wrist feels worse today?

As I finished up, I stood in front of
the mirror, gasping at the frightening reflection that stared back at me. At
least it was consistent with how I felt. I looked down at my wrist, which was
throbbing with a whole new level of intensity.

This
better not really take a week to heal! I have stuff to do…how will I get
dressed, or compose Tori’s processional, or work at the office?

I wanted to scream in frustration, but
it was too early for that. Instead, I cried. And it wasn’t a trivial cry, it
was my
ugly
cry
—the one that spurt big, fat, pitiful tears while contorting my
face like a fun-house mirror. I didn’t care, though. It had been a long time
since I had let myself cry like this—and with no one home, I could be as dramatic
as I wanted. Living in such close quarters at school had left little room for
an anti-humiliation tear-fest.

This ugly cry was long overdue.

I remembered when my mom had first
talked to me about hormones. She had put her hand on my shoulder, “Charlie,
some days a woman just needs to cry—even if there doesn’t seem to be a good
reason for it.”

There were times my tears had started
for one reason, but by the time I was finished crying, I had convinced myself
that they were a result of something entirely different. I wiped at my face,
clearing my dripping nose and wet cheeks with the sleeve of Angie’s t-shirt.

There was a knock at the bathroom door.
I jumped, wincing as my wrist jerked away from my body in surprise.

“Charlie…
are
you okay in there?”

Oh my—no
way! This isn’t happening!

Silence.

Could
someone just shoot me, please? I cannot answer him! Not after…

“Charlie?”

“I’m okay,” I croaked out.

Except
for the fact that I look like an idiot sobbing in my bathroom. Wait—why is he
even in my house?

Suddenly, my mortification made a U-turn,
heading toward anger instead.

“Why are you even here, Briggs?”

“I…I stayed downstairs. I didn’t want
you to…be alone if you needed something in the middle of the night and couldn’t
get to it.”

Urgh!
Why does he have to be so nice to me?

“Oh.”
Way to sound grateful, Charlie.

“Are you gonna come out of there?” he
asked weakly.

“It depends.”

“On?” he asked

“How long you’ve been standing there.”

Silence.

Silence.

Silence.

“Wow…
lying
would’ve been so much better, Briggs.”

He laughed, “Open the door, Shortcake.”

I did.

Briggs

I woke up to the sound of a door
closing somewhere upstairs.

It took me a second to remember where I
was and why I was there, but then my mind drifted to Charlie.

Lately, almost all my thoughts had to
do with Charlie.

As I started up the stairs I was about
to call her name so she’d know I was there, but then I heard her crying.

Angie used to cry like that.

When she thought I couldn’t hear her, or
when she thought I was asleep, she would cry. I dealt with the rejection from
our parents in other ways, but crying was how she coped. I knew now that if she
hadn’t, it would have changed her—hardened her. But though I could reason
through Angie’s tears, Charlie’s were different. Knowing that she was just on
the other side of that door was like smelling the smoke without being able to
extinguish the flames.

I hated it.

I also hated feeling like a stalker.
 
 

My relief was instant when she opened
the door to face me.

She stood there with her bedhead hair
and red-rimmed eyes, Angie’s clothes still hanging on her loosely, yet she had never
looked more beautiful to me.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” she said, staring at the floor.

The urge to reach out to her and pull
her into my arms, was almost unbearable. I clinched my fists closed to keep
from doing it. Her vulnerability was too high and my uncertainty of being able
to let her go was far too low.

“Can I make you some coffee, or were
you planning on going back to bed? It’s just after six.”

“Coffee.”

Good, at
least she isn’t going to hide from me. That’s something
.

“Okay—is there anything you need help
with before I go downstairs?”

She looked up at me, her cheeks
flushing pink.

I cleared my throat.

I’m sure that getting dressed with a
sprained wrist would be tricky, and if it had been the apocalypse and not a just
typical Sunday morning in Dallas, I would have stepped up to the task. Somehow
though, even with years of experience as a paramedic, conducting myself with
Charlie in a professional manner, didn’t feel possible. To date, she had been
the only woman to cause my heart to race when wrapping her injured wrist.

“Do you have a girlfriend you could
call if…?”

Her blush deepened.

Geesh…0 for 2.

“I’ve got it. Thanks.”
 

I nodded, turning away quickly. “Sounds
good.”

Charlie

Did he actually think I was going to
ask him to help me get dressed?
     

I could have died right there in the
hallway—again! His question had only made me evaluate the chores of my day—the
ones I was going to have to manage one-handed.

I could
ask Jackie?

She wasn’t the best choice in friends,
but she was probably my only choice. Everyone else was still away at school.
Jackie went to community college part-time and lived close by, plus it was
Sunday. More than likely she was home—nursing a hangover.

Maybe having a friend over would be
nice today, and maybe an extra hand—
literally
—would
prove helpful?

I walked downstairs after him and
watched him pull out a chair for me to sit down at the breakfast bar. Alex had
never done that. Charm he had, but proper etiquette between males and females
wasn’t his thing. His charm was purely selfish.

“I was thinking I’d make you some
peanut butter pancakes, they are sell-your-soul good,” he said grinning.

Not
peanut butter
.

“Uh…I’m allergic,” I lied.

He spun around. “You’re allergic to
peanut butter? How did I not know that? That’s pretty serious…” he said,
looking miffed.

“Uh…it’s actually fairly mild, but
yeah…can’t eat it.” I shrugged.

He looked at me, nodding with brows
drawn in. “I make a great strawberry crepe?”

“Now that sounds perfect.” I smiled.

**********

Breakfast with Briggs was wonderful, even
if I did have to eat it with my left hand.

“Okay, so…
why
, with all these mad breakfast and care-taking skills of yours,
don’t you have a girlfriend?” I conveniently stared down at my last few bites
of crepe while I asked, but I had been dying to know. Had he just been in a
long-term relationship? Was he only a casual dater?

“Don’t forget my creepy
stand-outside-the-bathroom-door skill,” he said wiggling his eyebrows up and
down. I laughed hard.

“Yes, that’s a skill I’d rather you’d
not cash in on again,” I said. I shrunk down in embarrassment.

His hand gripped my upper arm lightly,
“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, Charlie. I was just worried about you,
but you don’t need to feel embarrassed. I understand that tears are needed sometimes…and
I’m here too if you need someone to listen.”

Though I liked the warmth of his touch,
I was grateful when he dropped his hand. No man had ever said that to me before.
I hated being seen as an overly sensitive, overly emotional drama queen—Alex saw
me that way, although he never cared enough to ask me what was wrong. Not once.
He claimed my tears were my personal business, not his.
 

How had
I been so blinded to his faults?

Or was the
contrast of Briggs the only reason I can see them now?

I smiled at him, “Are you deflecting my
question?”

He laughed, “No.”

“No? That’s not an answer. My question started
with a
why
.” I laughed.

“No I’m not deflecting, and… because I just
don’t.”

I stared at him incredulously. For
being so full of quick wit and easy responses, he was being awfully cryptic now.
“I feel like you living here, while playing the roles of guardian, security and
medic, should constitute more of an answer than that, Manny.”

His smile reached his eyes as he leaned
on the counter, bracing himself with his elbows. He took a deep breath and rubbed
his face. A cold chill ran through me as I remembered my conversation with
Angie in the kitchen yesterday.

“I’ve
wondered for a long time if Briggs would ever stop long enough to let himself
be known.”

“What
did he need to stop?”

“Lying
to
himself
.”

Maybe I’d made a mistake by asking
him—crossed some imaginary boundary line between us.

I was about to say so, when he
answered.