Remembering Phoenix (13 page)

“Truth.”

“What is your worst habit?”

He grins at me deviously. “Do you really want to know?”

I shrug.

“Lately it’s been doing nothing but wondering what it felt like to touch every inch of your body.”

My pulse races at his confession. My mind suddenly starts wondering what it would feel like to touch every inch of his—perfect, tall, lean, muscle-clad—body.

“Truth or dare?” Slayter asks.

I shake my head, trying to rid my mind of its thoughts. I can’t think like that. I’m not ready to do that with him, because it wouldn’t be just a fuck. I wouldn’t sleep with him just to feel numb. I would feel everything so deeply. That thought terrifies me.

I need to move on from what he just said and pretend like it didn’t happen. “Dare.”

He inches his face closer to mine. The heat from his breath caresses my skin. His closeness is all consuming. Every muscle in my body screams to run, but I can’t, because there’s one very prominent thing telling me not to, and it’s barreling in my ribcage.

“I dare you to kiss me.”

Well, this dare backfired on me.

“What are we, fifteen?”

His eyes narrow. “I feel like a fifteen year old right now.” He smirks. “Now, I believe I gave you a dare.”

We stare each other down for several moments. I really don’t want to do this.

Who am I kidding? Yes I do.

It’s just a dare, right? That’s it. A dare. One single dare that will mean absolutely nothing. It’s not like I’ve never kissed him before.

I wink before slamming my lips against his. He grasps the back of my neck with one hand, the small of my back with the other, and pulls me onto him. I kiss him with everything I’ve got. I get lost in him, lost in the moment, and I forget everything.

The hurt.

The anger.

The sorrow.

Our tongues mesh, his lips so soft against mine. My hands crawl over the hard ridges of his abdomen, and up his chest. I nip lightly at his bottom lip. A carnal groan escapes from deep within his throat.

My pulse drums in my ears, completely overtaken by the moment. My fingers slide along the nape of his neck. Tugging at his hair, I urge the kiss to deepen. There’s no need to make this stop. There are no voices in my head screaming to run. I’ve let myself go, and it’s far too late to turn back now.

With one final swipe of his tongue, Slayter pulls my face back from his. Our breathing is labored, our gazes locked on one another. It’s a mixture of stormy grays and vibrant greens clashing together in a fury of passion.

“I dare you to go on a date with me.”

I giggle nervously. “It’s your turn for truth or dare.”

“Change of rules.”

I put my finger over my mouth like I’m contemplating the question. “Only if you tell me some truths on this date.”

His eyes soften, a small grin pulls at his lips. “Then consider it a date.”

It’s been a week since I last saw Slayter. We’ve talked every day. Mostly text, sometimes phone calls. It’s been nice. Easy, even. As much as I wish I didn’t, I missed him. Between my photoshoots and his work, we haven’t been able to make good on my dare of going on a date with him.

Until right now.

Slayter grabs my hand, squeezing it slightly. “You nervous?”

I nod. I have no clue what he has planned next. We grabbed Whataburger earlier, because that’s what I wanted, and then he said he had other plans, too. He’s left me in the dark, though.

I look over at him in the driver’s seat of his pickup truck. He’s in traffic, so looking at me isn’t an option. It gives me the opportunity to just watch him. The way his jaw ticks every few seconds. How he subconsciously chews on his bottom lip when he’s concentrating. The way his hair is wild and unruly, yet magnificently
him
, in spite of him having it all together. “Stop staring at me. It’s rude.” He smiles without looking my way, and I instantly snap my head back, facing forward.

“Sorry,” I mumble, a bit embarrassed at being caught.

“Charlie…" The way he says my name is so authoritative it shocks me.

“What?”

“Loosen up.” He shrugs, a smirk curling up on his lips.

“Excuse me?”

Pulling off the road onto a patch of land, Slayter throws his truck in park. Turning his body towards me, he repeats, “I said loosen up.”

“Yeah, I got that,” I snap back, slightly annoyed.

“I didn’t mean for it to piss you off,” he says, regret washing over his face. “I just meant that you seem like you get so inside of your head, so caught up in life and the problems that come with it, and you never get to actually live and enjoy the small moments.”

He just completely described me to a tee. It’s as if he’s known me much longer than the time he has. He’s rendered me speechless. I look from my hands to the steering wheel over and over, because I can’t bear the thought of looking at him when he’s figured out the real me. The light of day hides my demons, veiling the things I try so hard to not let consume me. When the darkness of the night creeps upon me, all my insecurities, all my guilt and sadness, strangle me like a constrictor, consuming me with the utmost tenacity.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” he asks. But he already knows the answer just as well as I do.

I finally muster the courage to look up into his eyes, afraid I’m going to see a man wanting nothing to do with the broken, fragile woman sitting in his passenger seat. A man who finds my issues far more trouble than what he wants to deal with.

But I don’t. No. Slayter’s stone gray eyes, illuminated by the lone street light, burn into me, reaching deep down to a place that’s been dark and vacant for so long. They’re so full of candor and affection. The air intensifies around us as my heartbeat speeds up with every passing second that his soul pierces mine, breaking off a piece of the wall I’ve built up over the past two years.

“Yes,” I finally answer. “Yes, you’re right. I can’t truly live because the guilt, the pain, it eats me up. I try to be happy, but I never succeed.”

I just removed my dagger. I’m bleeding my truth.

“Don’t try.” He runs the pad of his thumb over the back of my hand. “Just
be.
”

And with those four little words, it’s as if the heavens open up, shining a light I’ve been so longing to have surround me. I feel it. This pull, this twinge of happiness envelopes me in the cab of this truck. I don’t know if it’s Slayter’s presence, or if something inside of me has unlocked, but I feel it. It’s there, and it’s terrifying. But I decide to
just be.
Even if it’s just for the moment, or for the night.

“Okay,” I breathe out as a smile pulls at my lips. I let all my reservations crumble. He leans across the center console, grabbing my face gently in between his hands. He places a kiss on my lips. It’s gentle. Sweet. I breathe him in, letting myself
feel
this uncanny connection between the two of us. I can’t help but wonder what a life would be like with him. One where I was able to be the person he wants me to be. The person he deserves.

His thumb grazes along my cheek as his lips leave mine. A sudden void fills the space surrounding me. It’s quickly gone when he says, “Charlie, I don’t know what you’re doing to me. This feeling, or whatever is going on, is messing with my mind.”

“I feel it, too,” I admit. “And it terrifies me.”

He drops his forehead to mine. “Me too, gorgeous.”

With one quick stare, he turns his head forward, pulling back out onto the highway. It feels like we’re going further and further from civilization, and I wish I knew where we were headed.

Thirty minutes later, Slayter and I end up at a quaint farmhouse on the outskirts of the city. Complete with white plank siding and a wraparound porch, its quietness is completely different than the bustle of the city.

I sit down on the porch swing, gently swaying back and forth for several minutes. The sounds of nature ring through the rolling hills as the cold breeze flows across my body. Slayter steps out of the house, carrying a thermal blanket. The screen door slams behind him as he makes his way towards me. He smiles, and I can’t help but feel a warmth spread throughout my entire body.

He sits down beside me on the swing, draping the blanket over the both of us. “What is this place?” I ask, looking around at the red shutters adorning the sides of the windows. The swing creaks with every move of the chains.

“It was my parent’s house.” His voice is hushed as he gazes off in the distance, sadness washing across his face.

His fingers strum on my shoulder as I sink further into his arms. “I’m sorry about your parents.”

“It’s okay.” He sighs heavily. “I come here to think sometimes. When I need to decompress with everything life throws at me. Work. Personal life. Everything.” He looks down at me and smiles. “I’ve never brought anyone here before.”

The magnitude of his confession doesn’t get past me. Bringing someone to a sacred place is a big deal, and I’m not quite sure what to make of it. Of this. Of us. Of anything. “So, why bring me?”

He pulls the blanket up as it slides off of our legs. “Because,” he shrugs, “I figured you needed a place that could bring you peace. And I wanted to share this part of me with you. So you could see who I am. Where I’m from.”

My pulse thrums in my ears, every fitful beat of my heart is caused by his closeness. This feeling he stirs inside of me is beyond my control, and to say I have mixed emotions about it is an understatement. One half of my mind is screaming to run, leave before it’s too late. The other half is telling me to stay, because finding a connection like this is once in a lifetime.

But maybe that’s the problem.

My once in a lifetime has already been tainted with the blow of life’s fist. Bruised with the memories that have disappeared. Getting close, letting people in, feels like an invitation to have my heart ripped from my chest. Stomped on. Pulverized. Spit out.

But when I look at him, I don’t fear him being the reason for my heartache. Being here with him, staring into to those gray eyes, it calms my soul. He softens the rough wounds I’ve dealt with since that fateful night.

“Thank you,” I whisper. “This place is perfect.”

“Yeah…” His voice fades. He looks at me with an earnest stare. I look away, the intensity too much.

“Can I ask you a question?” He grabs my hand, interlocking our fingers. It’s effortless. It feels
right
. He takes a deep breath, looking away before his gaze falls on me again. “I don’t mean to pry, but when you woke up from your accident, did you forget how to do everything? Memory wise, did you forget your education, how to drive, and everyone?”

“No. The part of my brain damaged was the part that stores personal memory, not the part that stores learned memory. I didn’t forget my math facts, grammar, and stuff like that. I just forgot my
life.
” I pause for a second at how ridiculous it sounds.
Just my life
is absolutely everything. “I’m sure there is a much better explanation to your question, but doctors very seldom put things in layman’s terms. That’s the best answer I’ve got.”

He brushes his thumb up and down my arm. “That makes perfect sense.”