A thick unsettling feeling washed over me; like some sort of darker shadow over my soul than the one that was already there. I hadn’t had one flashback since the night I met Lainey. Somehow, without me knowing, my uncontrollable compulsive thoughts of her brought a splash of color into my dark world. Like the colors of the rainbow, bleeding and seeping out of the darkened night sky. My obsessive behavior towards her filled that gaping hole that contained all my deep rage. She was like a medicine to me. She was like the fire I had just set on my books; her flames engulfed me and brought me to ashes. Charred.
Was it as simple as the way she looked, or, as simple as just wanting to unravel the mystery of Lainey? And what would I want to do with her after all my needs were fulfilled and my questions answered? What would I do to her when my darkness wanted a piece of her too?
I awoke almost a whole day later, on the floor of my kitchen with dried blood all over my hands and chest. Brilliant sunlight was filtering in through my French doors, harshly lighting my cold skin. I was shirtless. Across the palm of my hand was a deep gash that looked red, angry, and still slick with slowly clotting fluids. Thick shards of bloodied crimson stained glass lay across the floor, under me, across from me, inside of me. The strong urge to rub the blood between my fingers was maddening. To touch the life flowing out of my skin, the thick red liquid that once surged through my heart; this is how I cope now. Reliving my nightmares. Reliving my past. Touching my thumb to the rest of my fingers, I swirled the congealing mess around, pain hit me instantly as the sharp bit of glass still embedded under the skin of my palm dug itself deeper. It throbbed a fiery burn up my wrist and arm, making me clench my teeth in anger. My throat was parched, blood pounded in my ears and my body felt coiled tight; ready to spring.
I looked down enraged, wondering what the hell was happening to me. Did somebody steal my cock to sell on the black market? Leaving me a pussy. What the hell was I letting my own mind conjure up for me? I needed to get over this insanity. I pulled the piece of glass out of my palm and smeared my bloody hand against my pants, ignoring the bite of pain.
Throwing a shirt on, I stumbled blindly out of the house. Bright sunlight hit my eyes like a prizefighter and almost, almost knocked me on my ass. Lumbering to my truck, I climbed in vaguely, wondering if I might have still been drunk from the previous binge I accomplished undertaking the night before. I highly doubted it.
I had one thought in my mind.
Bagels.
Fresh bagels from a bakery, with butter and coffee. Maybe a few pots full. My stomach lurched and rumbled as I drove a good twenty-five minutes from my house to the nearest place to eat.
Like a grade-A jackoff, I parked in two spaces, not wanting anyone near my truck, and stormed into the diner, fists clenched. Sitting in the booth nearest the exit, always nearest the exit, with…3 waitresses, 11 faceless customers and 2 exits, I nodded at the waitress who in turn gave me bulging eyes and a downturned mouth. Getting a fucking bagel should be easy, but not here, not with me. These people knew of me, heard of me, and they were terrified of me. The dangerous recluse that never comes out in the daytime, isn’t he crazy? Didn’t he kill people? Didn’t he die? Didn’t he go insane? Isn’t he horribly disfigured like that Mel Gibson character in that movie? Didn’t he spend years in jail or an asylum, blah-blah-blah, just give me a fucking bagel and coffee, and no one will get hurt.
The waitress actually snorted loudly, walked over to my table, and crossed her arms.
Before she could form a simple thought in her most likely one-celled simple mind I growled out, “Coffee. Toasted Bagel. Butter.”
The twit clucked her teeth like a monkey and walked away.
My head started pounding. People walked in and out of the front door letting a cold draft breeze against my arms. My eyes attacked each and every person who walked in.
This was a fucking bad idea.
The rattle and clink of a coffee cup against its saucer brought my attention to the presence of the waitress spreading my order out on the table in front of me. “Can I get you anything else, sir?” she said with a sneer.
“Solitude,” I snapped back.
The waitress narrowed her eyes at me and snapped a piece of gum in my face. Then she walked away, leaving me to my solitude. Grabbing my knife and opening the little pat of wrapped butter, I began buttering my bagel.
“So, I’m not the only waitress you snap at, good to know,” a whispered voice said. The strong smell of apples, cinnamon, spices, and sexy hit me right in the chest. The butter knife slipped from my fingers, and clanged and clunked against the plate as Lainey slid into the seat across from me.
I had to take a deep breath before I could look at her. When I lifted my eyes to meet hers, she almost blinded me with her beauty. Ah, shit.
“Are you okay?” she asked. The brilliant green of her eyes and the kindness of her question overwhelmed me. It knotted itself in my chest and throbbed.
It took me a moment of staring at her to answer. “Yes.” She had a serene calmness about her, like the lapping waters off a tranquil Caribbean beach. I fucking wanted to dive in. “Why do you ask?”
Her smile was soft and gracious, but her brows wrinkled as she looked down at my hand. I followed the trail of her eyes, and then realized I hadn’t bandaged up my cut, or cleaned the blood off my hands and arms. At that particular moment, my throat lost the ability to remember how to swallow correctly and I ended up choking and hacking on my own saliva. Very becoming. Normally, at this point in a conversation with someone where I see blood, this would have caused me to crumple into a heap of trembling anxiety, rage and self-hatred, lashing out with whomever I was speaking. But for a few moments, I had been staring into those calm green eyes and the panic and rage didn’t come. It was as if Lainey had some sort of superhuman secret ability to help me hold the door to my skeleton-bloody-carcass filled closet closed.
“I cut myself,” I explained.
“I can see that,” she said. Her eyes scanned my face, my hair, my clothes, and then journeyed back down to my hand. Softly clearing her throat, she said, “Do you need anything? Would you like me to get some bandages or something?”
“Fuck no, why?” Did I have the word pussy written across my head?
“Have you looked at yourself in the mirror this morning?” she asked.
Grabbing the aluminum napkin holder, I held it up to my face. Wide blood-shot grey eyes stared back; dried blood was caked across my cheeks and forehead. My hair, God, it looked like I had gotten into a fight and lost. I slammed down the napkin holder on the table and the clasp popped, sending napkins flying across the table. Fuck my life.
Lainey freaking giggled. I watched her, she tried not to, but the napkins and me being an idiot and everything, she couldn’t stop it, and she giggled. The sound of it was jarring, and I found myself wanting more of it, needing more of it.
“It’s too early to laugh,” I mumbled, which was probably the most unintelligent thing I could have responded with, but hey, there I was sitting in a diner with the woman I had been obsessing over for two weeks, wrote two books about, and had blood smeared all over my body. Intelligent conversation eluded me.
“Why? Do you hate morning people?” she asked, smiling.
“It has nothing to do with mornings…it’s the people part,” I retorted, smiling a bit myself. I ran my fingers through my hair, trying to alleviate the mess, but then gave up. “I had a rough night. I didn’t even think to clean myself up,” I smiled wider.
HOLY CRAP. I. WAS. SMILING.
“Mr. Grayson, your charm is showing. You might want to tuck it back in,” she said, standing up. “You seem okay, so, I should go. Enjoy your breakfast.” She started to turn away. I wanted her to stay, but I knew it would be healthier for us both if she kept on walking. Leaning her hand against my table, she stopped and faced me again. “You should really clean that cut, though, Mr. Grayson. It looks deep and you could get an infection or something…”
I w
atched her smooth ivory fingers tremble against the dark cherry wood of the tabletop. My gaze traveled up her creamy arms across her shoulder and along her neck to her face; to her eyes. For a second, the thought of spending time with her overwhelmed me with a strange emotion. I didn’t know what it was; hope maybe? She wasn’t like anyone I’d ever met before, was she? “I apologize for offending you the other day. Please, call me Kade,” I croaked.
She stopped moving away and looked curiously at me. Then a man walked up behind her and placed his hand on her arm, causing her to look away from me and into the man’s face.
Francine, the man-girl.
“Hello there, Kade.” He glossed his eyes over my state and cringed. Instantly turning his eyes back to Lainey, “I’ve paid the check. Are you ready?”
Lainey’s lips pressed together tightly and her narrowed eyes moved from him to me, and back again. She shook her head as if to say she didn’t quite understand what he was going on about, then locked eyes with me again. “You’re sure you’ll get that looked at?” she asked pointing to my hand.
“I’ll meet you in the car, sweetheart,” Francis interrupted tightly, stomping away like a child. Lainey bit her lip to stifle another laugh and shrugged her shoulders.
Sipping my coffee I looked up at her and nodded, “I’ll be fine.”
Her lips opened as if she was about to say more, then she just pinched them together, nodded a goodbye, and walked out the door.
Dropping my head in my hands, which hurt like hell, I squeezed my eyes tight. I needed to stay away from her. I needed to stay away from her.
I needed to stay away from her.
Rummaging in my pocket, I took out my wallet and threw a fifty down on the table, grabbed my bagel and walked out of the diner. Fran’s smart little car was just pulling out of the parking area and onto the main road.
Yeah, I was going to follow her. Staying away from her was not an option. I would have to staple myself to the damn seat to stop myself from running after her.
Tearing out of the lot, I trailed them for a few miles, hiding myself behind a few other cars.
Fran dropped her off at a grocery store. Psycho me followed her in.
I hid in aisle five, grabbing a box of Band-Aids and a giant box of double stuffed Oreos; she got coffee. She caught me near the cash registers when a group of local elderly jackasses nodded my way and started grunting loudly about the hermit being out of his lair.
“Oh my goodness, is that him?” One ancient fossil hissed. “Dear God, it’s the Devil himself!” To add to the disgust, she made the sign of the cross over herself. That made me laugh. Out loud.
The mother next to her, actually covered her daughter’s eyes from looking at me. “Don’t look at him, Becca. Just ignore him and he’ll go away.”
“Is he really the devil, Mom? But, he was holding a bag of cookies!”
Goddamn small town bullshit. I growled at them and bared my teeth; I mean I might as well let them believe all the shit that’s said about me, right? “The cookies are for all the monsters I keep in my basement,” I whispered and winked at the little girl.
Laughing, Lainey shoved me past the harrumphing townies. Pulling me by my coat sleeve, she dragged me to the first aid aisle and loaded my basket with peroxide, gauze and other shit I didn’t need. I stared at her as she looked thoughtfully at the items. “That should be enough to help you.” Her thick dark lashes swept up and her green gaze met mine. The beginning of a small smile played on her lips and a faint blush covered her cheeks, “Stop making these people afraid of you. You’re just fanning the flames. You’re no more the devil than I am Mickey Mouse.”
Glancing at the crowd of people still gawking at me, I blew them a kiss. “Sorry. Momentary lapse in judgment.”
Chuckling and shaking her head, she left me standing there staring after her, my eyes hungrily eating her swaying form.
Jetting after her, I walked through the group of rubberneckers and loudly greeted them all a devilish good morning. I promised myself to buy a pair of horns online for the next visit to town. Placing my basket near the cash register in the line behind Lainey, I watched as she bit back her laughter, paid for her coffee, then walked out of the store.
I threw a hundred dollar bill at the cashier and threw my shit in one of those irritating plastic bags that you could never find the freaking opening to, and have to lick your fingers and use friction and the Jaws of Life to open. Telling the cashier to keep the change, I ran out of the store as Fran was driving down the road.
I followed them back to her trailer park and waited. Exiting my car, hidden behind another trailer, I stood on the threshold of the woods that surrounded her little home. Watching, transfixed, I could barely breathe, thinking that lanky bugger might have his lips on hers. The thought tore me apart. Then Fran walked out. Sweet relief flooded my body as she stood by the door and waved to him. No kiss goodbye. When his car was out of view, she leaned the back of her head on the doorframe and dragged her hands over her face. Within seconds, she let her hands fall limply to her sides and she looked out into the shadows of the trees. She looked as lost as I did. I blew breath into my hands, trying to find warmth, and watching her slowly close the door, robbing me of my view.
Convincing myself it wouldn’t be a good idea to knock on her door, and would probably creep the hell out of her, I trailed back through the woods to the place I hid my truck and drove back to my house.
It was the first time, except for that pompous awards dinner, that I had been out in the daytime for that long in months. I drove home in a daze. Fucking bloody hell, welcome to the world of crazy. I had lost all control.
I was well aware that my behavior was stalker-like and beyond inappropriate, yet I could not demonstrate a reason to stop. I wanted to know all about her, everything she did; everything she was. I sat in my den with none of the lights on, staring into the dimness of the room, scrutinizing my thoughts. Trying desperately to find order in the jumbled chaos of my mind.
I wanted to pursue her, make her laugh again, and get to know her.
My brain was well aware that she would undoubtedly have no intention of returning any attention to me after the way I treated her.
Was her skin as soft as I wrote it to be?
Showering and cleaning my hand was a chore, as my delusional mind had me being a normal undamaged man, ready and willing for a relationship with this person I truly knew nothing about. I tried to focus on the facts. I tried to concentrate on the reality that I was not in a healthy place to offer even the remotest of friendships with her. Was I truly this sick and twisted inside? Was I really trying to talk myself into believing I could trust and offer something other than my written words and ideas to someone?
When dusk softly overshadowed the sky, my hand was neatly bandaged and I was dressed impeccably. Swallowing the hard knot in my throat, I walked out of my house and climbed into my truck. All my sick tangled thoughts of the day came to one conclusion: I just wanted to get to know Lainey. Let her make her own choices about me, because my mind would not rest until I understood the strange spell she had over me and why since the day I’d met her, I had not suffered one uncontrollable flashback.
Driving to my brother’s bar, I cringed at facing my actions. How will she view me? Let’s get my mind clear. First, I belittled and degraded her. Terrific beginning. Second, I did more of the same shit, but I added some staring and gawking at her lips over a dinner party. I was pretty close to humping her leg that night, and everybody seemed aware of that fact. Next, I was caught peeking into her window as she cleaned her house and performed a dance that I can’t even think about for fear of busting a nut where I sit. Then came the kiss that I attacked her with, which was right after I criticized her yet again, because I was in total awe of her lips. After that, I write two books, each with the main character based on her. Lastly, I followed her; stalking the shit out of her.
Fuuuck, I’m twisted.
The thoughts about my behavior wer
e even creepy to me. By this time, my truck was idling in the parking lot of the bar and I decided just to go home. My infatuation with her was completely one-sided, unhealthy, and without a doubt, would end ugly.
Before I could pull out, Fran’s car turned into the lot.
I blinked as his red taillights flickered through the darkness, and the parking brake light reflected against the bark of the trees surrounding the lot. Slithering down in my seat, I could hear that wanker’s voice laughing loudly as he slammed the car door shut. Straining my ears, I couldn’t hear anything from Lainey. I just watched as she quickly walked toward the bar, probably trying to get out of the frigid night air. When she reached the door, she glanced questioningly towards my truck, then smiled, and slipped into the warmth of the bar.
She smiled?
For twenty-minutes, I listened to the heater fan as it warmed the air in my cab, sitting and contemplating what to do. There was no talking myself out of going in.
She smiled at my truck. So in I went. Seemed like good logic at the time.
I slowly made my way over to my back table. It was almost five, and there was a small crowd for a Thursday night, but my table was empty. My table was always empty, even when I occupied it.
Lainey was behind the bar pouring a beer, when her eyes collided with mine. They stayed on mine for so long that the beer overflowed the cup and spilled thick white foam over the edges and her fingers. It made my body pulse with arousal. Twisted, yeah?