Unfinished Hero 02 Creed (34 page)

Creed, being Creed, kept right on giving.

“Right back at ‘cha, baby.”

Okay, shit, God,
shit!

I loved this man. I knew it but way back when, being young, I didn’t understand.

Now I did.

I
so
did.

It was time to steer us into waters that didn’t include me possibly bursting into tears and blubbering like a big girl.

“So, you’re the boss tonight, what’s the plan? Are we gonna sleep all oiled up or are we gonna shower before we go to sleep?”

“Sheets are fucked up. We shower, we gotta change them or we’ll get oiled right back up again.”

This was true, so I gave him the info he needed to make his decision, “I know one thing, I’m not changing sheets tonight.”

Creed smiled. “Then we sleep oiled up.”

That worked for me.

He rolled to his light, I rolled to mine and I barely had it out before I was hauled back to the middle of the bed, tucked close to Creed.

My body, tired out, relaxed, loose, felt sleepy. My mind didn’t.

I was thinking of him following me for a month and wondering, if the roles were reversed and it was me who found him again, how I’d feel. What I’d do. How difficult it would be to stay remote and not approach, especially if I discovered he hadn’t left me of his own free will but had been coerced into it.

“How’d you do it?” I asked his throat in the dark.

“Do what?” Creed asked back.

“Follow me, watch me, go through my shit and keep distant? If it was me –”

His voice held a hint of humor and a hint of hardness when he cut me off. “You would have shot me.”

I tipped my head back and grinned at his shadowy face. “Yeah. But if I figured it out, if I learned it was as it was, I wouldn’t have been able to do it.”

His arms around me pulled me deeper into his warm, hard body as he replied quietly, “If it was you, except for the scar, I haven’t changed. Got older but not changed. There wouldn’t be a reason to delay approach. You…” he trailed off and didn’t speak again.

“I changed and that freaked you out?” I guessed.

“You did and you didn’t but the way you did meant my approach needed to be cautious. That tough skin, those sharp edges, both of them you had in a way a man could work a lifetime and not break through, proceed with caution and still get sliced to shreds. I wanted you back and I needed to find the right way to finesse that. When I went through your house, I saw you’d kept my necklaces so I had hope but I knew I couldn’t go gung ho. I had to understand what forced the change in you and I had to get that from you so I could form a plan.” His hands slid up my still slick back. “Which is what I did.”

And I was glad he did.

I pressed closer and said softly, “It killed.”

His hands stopped moving so his arms could wrap around tight. “Yeah, watchin’ you. Followin’ you. Goin’ through your stuff. Knowin’ your life didn’t go as I was promised it would but something went down that was not good, yeah. It fuckin’ killed.”

I closed my eyes and shoved my face in his throat.

“It’s also over,” he went on.

“It’s over,” I agreed, holding him close.

“And bottom line, it meant you weren’t in Kentucky livin’ a good life without me but open for an approach. It might have sucked for a while but now we got the future we both didn’t think we would ever have, so it was worth every fuckin’ minute.”

I didn’t experience what he did, watching me, following me but I suspected he was right about that too.

“Yeah,” I replied quietly.

“Yeah,” he repeated, gathering me even closer.

I lay in his arms and knew I’d been giving. I knew I’d let him in. I knew he understood this and it was making him happy.

But I didn’t know if he understood it all.

So I gave it to him.

“Creed?” I called.

“Right here, baby,” he whispered.

Yeah he was. Right there. Now and forever.

Now and forever.

I tipped my head so the bridge of my nose rested along his jaw and whispered back, “No matter what’s in our future, no matter if our luck stays good or turns back to shit, from this moment to your last on this earth, know down to your fucking soul I love you. I trust you. You make me happy. There’s been no one but you and there never will be. Okay?”

I felt him lift his head then I felt him move so he could bury his face in my neck and his voice was gruff when he murmured into my skin, “Okay, my Sylvie.”

I drew in breath then reached with my lips to brush them against the skin of his neck.

He settled back, kept me close and ordered gently, “Sleep, baby.”

“Right, Creed.”

In Creed’s arms, sated by his lovemaking, knowing I’d wake up to him tomorrow, my mind cleared and as I’d been doing all night, I did as ordered and slept.

A Few More Months

A cool spring evening in Kentucky, seventeen years earlier, Creed is twenty-three, Sylvie is seventeen…

“I hate him.”

Creed’s hand slid soothingly up my spine. “I know you do.”

It was late at night and we were lying in the dark in Creed’s twin bed.

I had not had a good day.

It started with my Mom calling for the first time in ages to tell me she was divorcing her husband and asking me if I wanted to come out to California after I graduated.

To this I told her that I’d lived without her in my life for years, she’d left me to Daddy and the stepmonster and now that she was again facing being alone and lonely and needed me, because she abandoned me when I needed her, I wasn’t available to plug that hole. I used different words but she got my drift and informed me that she wasn’t surprised, seeing as he’d raised me, that I’d turned out just like my father.

Then she hung up.

A totally
awesome
phone reunion with Mom.

Not.

Since I’d called Creed to tell him about the conversation with my Mom before coming over, to make my day better, he drove us an hour and a half into the city so we could have an actual going out date and not be seen.

This made my day better, obviously. It got even better when Creed shared his Mom had a new man and she was spending her nights messing up his house and life which meant our evenings would be clear of her.

He also shared that he talked with a realtor about putting his house on the market. He further told his mother he was doing this and told her she was going to have to pull herself together, find a job and a place to live because he was moving into his own pad.

Since she was drunk and she had a new guy to mooch off of, she didn’t react. She would, when she used her guy up and he sent her packing but by then, hopefully, it would be too late.

I knew I shouldn’t feel that way about Winona Creed. I knew I shouldn’t want, even wish that Creed would scrape her off even before he would do it because we were leaving. I knew it made me not a nice person. But she’d never done anything for Creed, so I figured turnabout was fair play.

After our date, after we made out by my car and after I went home, my day being salvaged by Creed (as usual), it went straight to pot again when Daddy and the stepmonster fighting woke me up.

It was its usual loud and vicious then I heard the thump and I knew from years of experience it was the stepmonster hitting the wall thump not the stepmonster hitting the stairs or floor thump.

So I did what I always did. Got up. Got dressed. Snuck out.

And went to Creed.

Now I was lying on my side in his bed, my cheek to his chest, my arm around his belly, his arm under me, curled around, fingers stroking and our legs were tangled.

“I hate her, too,” I told him.

“Shouldn’t hate her, beautiful. Pity her but no reason to hate her.”

I lifted up and looked down at his beautiful face in the shadows. “She went after him. She broke up his marriage to my Mom. She didn’t get what she thought she’d get but she stayed so she could have what he could give her. She’s a drunk. She’s miserable and there are not enough shoes and purses and jewelry in the whole world to make it worth him treating her like garbage and beating her.”

“She’s got nowhere to go,” Creed pointed out.

“She’s got a brain and legs that work, she can find somewhere to go,” I returned.

Creed’s arm curled tight around me and he pulled me up and partially over his body so we were face to face.

“You see it as easy but your Daddy’s got a long reach,” he reminded me but I shook my head.

“I told you what they were fighting about tonight, Creed. He’s got
another
new woman and he isn’t even trying to hide her. He won’t miss the stepmonster if she went. He’d just replace her. She’s willing to do anything to keep her position and that’s just crazy.”

“Seems that way to you, baby, but it isn’t. It’s bigger than that, what he’s doin’ to her, for years, fuckin’ with her head.” His arm gave me a squeeze. “I get you, how she went about worming her way into his life. That was not cool but the punishment isn’t worth the crime. I remember her, way back then, before she connived her way in and he dragged her down. She was somethin’. Now she’s broken. All she knows is the life she has with him. She has no skills, hasn’t worked in over a decade. She’s got a great house, a great car, great clothes, status in town and your Daddy’s a powerful man. We can look from where we are and say without a doubt the devil she doesn’t know is better than the devil she knows. She’s buried so deep under all that shit, no way she’ll see it that way.”

I hated to admit it but Creed was right so I didn’t admit it and just settled, cheek to his chest again.

Creed’s hand started stroking my back again.

Then he asked, his voice cautious, “Your father still freaking you out?”

I knew what he was asking.

Daddy’s behavior had long since stopped freaking me out but he was different lately. Weird. Wired. His eyes bright in a way I didn’t like.

I’d seen it before, for years it had been happening although not frequent. The change. Him being more energetic than usual, happy. Now, it was happening a lot more and sometimes, when he wasn’t that way, he seemed agitated, strung out.

He would also have lots of phone conversations that were on the hush-hush, hidden. He’d jump if you entered a room he was in and he was talking on the phone and he did it like he was guilty or something.

He wasn’t like that. Ever. He had swagger. He didn’t care what people thought about him, the way he acted, what he said. He didn’t hide anything.

Now, he was and the fights with the stepmonster were far more frequent. They never went away but those two had settled into a routine animosity. It was usually only when he came home drunk or she found out he was cheating on her when things got ugly.

It was happening all the time these days.

“Yeah,” I told Creed.

“Wide berth, beautiful,” Creed advised.

I nodded, cheek sliding against his chest.

I could do that. I’d been doing it for years. I could do it for a few more months.

“You know,” I told his chest, “you’ve had this bed since you were a little kid. You should get a bigger bed.”

“I will, in a few months, when we’re gone and I’m buyin’ one for the both of us.”

See?

There it was. Creed making me feel better.

I smiled into his chest.

“Soon,” I began, “we’ll have to open the windows. We lay like this, we’ll hear the crickets. We meet at the lake, we’ll hear the frogs.”

His hand stopped stroking and his arm curled around me as he murmured, “Yeah.”

“Soon after that, no more sneaking. No more driving an hour and a half to have dinner. Just you and me, a big bed, a new puppy then Kara and Brand and a big happy family.”

His arm tightened, he pulled me up and over him so we were face to face again and he repeated a quiet, “Yeah.”

His face was illuminated only by the moonlight but I could still see the hair had fallen over his forehead. I lifted a hand to shift it away and for once, since he was lying on his back, it stayed where I put it.

That almost made me smile but what I had to say made certain I didn’t.

“I have to go back.”

“I know.”

I sighed and felt Creed do the same before both Creed’s arms stole around me. He rolled me so he was mostly on top and he kissed me, slow and sweet.

He was good at good-bye kisses. Great. Fantastic. I’d had a lot of them.

Too many.

I’d be glad when the day came that I got them few and far between.

With clear reluctance, Creed rolled us both out of his bed then he waited until I put my jacket on. We walked, silent, hand in hand out of his house and through the woods to my back gate.

There, as always, he stopped me, turned into me and, as always lately, he bent low, framing my face with his hands and he kissed me light and sweet.

A different kind of good-bye kiss, not as good but just as precious.

“See you tomorrow, Creed,” I whispered.

“Tomorrow, baby,” he whispered back.

I grinned up at him but I knew it was fake.

So did Creed.

But still, with no choice, he let me go and, with no choice, I went.

A few more months.

Just a few.

Then Creed and I would be free.

Tomatoes, Toe-mah-toes

Present day, six days later…

Creed lay on his stomach, hand shoved under the pillows, leg cocked, face turned toward me, eyes closed.

He was still sleeping.

I was on my knees in the bed beside him, watching.

The covers were pulled up to his waist. I knew what lay under them was naked but as I looked that way, all I saw was our lake, our pier and my name in flowers painted on his back.

Lifting a hand, starting between his shoulder blades and trailing a fingertip lightly down his spine, when I got there, I traced my name backwards, starting with the “e”. I knew he came awake at my first touch but I took my time, studying the tat, my finger’s movements. As I finished the “S”, my finger slid across the top of his ass and down, taking the covers with me.