Sure, Ensley told me about how the club works and even told me this a while ago. I just never felt it. Felt the not knowing. It was for her, not for me. But it was for me. With Dryerson. It was real now.
A haunting feeling came over me. Would this be what it was like with him? I would only know what he told me, and I’d have to accept it? Would that make our relationship work? How would it? Could trust be built on not knowing what happens in his life?
My eyes closed, and I shook my head. No. That would never be me. Not because of the not knowing, but because I didn’t get to have a happy ending with Dryerson.
A tear welled in my eye, and I tried hard to push it back.
“Help him and get out of here,” I told myself quietly. “You’re just hurting yourself.”
Heading to the table, I sorted through the plethora of first aid supplies and grabbed what I needed. Some bandages, alcohol, gauze, Neosporin and tape. It didn’t look like anything was too deep, but I grabbed the stitch needle and thread.
Entering the bedroom, the water shut off. Instead of looking at the man, I went to his cut, grabbed a towel off the closet shelf and began wiping it down, trying to get the ash off of it.
“Thanks, Wild Kat.” I jumped at his close voice. “You didn’t have to do that.”
Turning, he was right there, and I had to look up just like every other time. He was so close. So warm. So wet. His hair was dripping drops down his bare chest. He did have a towel around his waist, but it was tented.
Dryerson bent down, our lips so close to one another. He was going to kiss me, and everything inside of me wanted him to. But somehow I pulled away out of his trance and moved to the bed. “Come sit. Let me check you out.”
“You always say the dirtiest things.”
I rolled my eyes. This man was knocking hard on my defenses. Seeing two deep cuts on his shoulder, I started there and put alcohol on them to clean them out. I inspected the wounds for any debris, then gunked it up with meds and bandaged it. They’d heal in time.
“Ensley said you fell off a fire escape?” I didn’t know exactly what I was doing. I was fishing for information, but since I’d thought it maybe I was. Maybe I was trying to see if he’d tell me more. Stupid.
“Yeah. On my back, that’s why it’s so banged up.” He wasn’t lying. His back looked painful with the different colors of bruising forming. There were no large cuts on it, though, but lots of smaller ones. He flinched when I touched it, something I’d never seen Dryerson do. Yes. It hurt him.
Finishing up his back, I resumed my inspection, and Dryerson watched my every move. But I had a focus and needed to stick with it.
I found gashes on his right thigh, and the left had several. Bending down in front of him wasn’t the best position for me to be in because his penis was right there. Right. Freaking. There. Hard—for me.
Focusing on the task, I bandaged him up and tried desperately to not look up at his hardness. It was so very hard.
“Is everyone else okay?” I thought it was a question he could answer.
“Same as us, minus the fall off the fire escape.”
“That’s good,” I murmured, then looked to his face. “That one on your forehead needs to be stitched up. I have the stuff, but I’ve never really stitched someone before.” He had so much blood and ash on him when he’d come in, I didn’t even notice the cut on his head.
“I can do it.” He held out his hand, and I gave him the supplies then moved quickly away from between his legs. Dry went into the bathroom, and the curiosity bug hit me hard.
I wanted to see him. The thought of him doing his own patch job kind of turned me on. Not everyone would just grab a needle and thread and start sewing their body back together. It took a man. A real man’s man to do something like that.
Not a single man from back home would ever stitch themselves up. Ever. And they’d need lots of meds.
Dryerson didn’t take any. He was definitely a man.
I moved to the doorjamb and leaned against it, mesmerized by him.
“Wanna watch?” he asked, sticking the needle into his skin without a flinch and then tied it up like he was a doctor.
“How did you learn to do that?”
“Marines teach you a lot of things. Basic emergency care happens to be at the top of the list of objectives to master.”
Right. Military. Sometimes I’d forgot about that. How, I had no idea. Stitch by stitch, he continued to close the wound. I stayed silent, not wanting to have him mess up because of me.
It was the shape of a lightning bolt when he finished, and I couldn’t help but laugh.
“What’s so funny?” he asked, stepping out of the bathroom and heading to the drawers. He opened one and pulled out some boxers. This wasn’t unusual. I had things here too, just in case.
“I really hope you don’t have a scar there.”
“Why’s that?” He eyed me curiously, but I didn’t get why.
“Because you’ll look like Harry Potter.” I burst out laughing at the thought of him, big strong man’s man, turning into Harry Potter. I doubled over from the hilarity of it.
It took me a few beats, but I was able to control myself and as I looked up at him, his wide smile greeted me.
“A scar is never ugly. It means I survived.” His voice was utterly serious, and the laughter left me in a whoosh. He wasn’t talking about his scars. No, he was talking about mine. “A physical reminder of winning because against all the odds, the body kept going.”
My heart ached and burned. From a moment of happiness to one of pain and sorrow in a flash.
No. No. No. I wasn’t talking to him about my scars.
I left the room without another word, closing the door behind me. I didn’t tell anyone goodbye. No, I left, unable to stop the tears streaming down my face.
My scars were ugly. Horribly ugly. I kept them covered up for a reason.
He’d seen me before the marks on my body, and he didn’t realize how damaged it was now. Nothing like when we'd first met.
Now, I looked like I had been attacked by Edward Scissorhands.
Tears rolled down my cheek.
Then the monsoon came just as I got in my car and shut the door.
Needing to get out of there, I turned my girl on and left.
It still didn’t stop the tears.
10
KATIE
Wasn’t there a song about working all week long I’d heard somewhere? Work… Work … punching the clock… I shook my head; didn’t matter. Only had a half hour left, and my shift would be over for the day.
Ever since Dryerson rubbed my feet a while back, I’d craved for him to do it again. I’d craved a lot of things from him, but it was only in my dreams and fantasies. And that was where they’d forever be.
I’d thought about him often and how he was healing.
Maybe I should’ve called him, but I knew if I did it would lead to more talking.
“Hey, Katie,” the bagger, Danny said from the end of my lane as I ran a canned food item over the scanner, hearing that wonderful beeping sound.
“Yeah?” I asked, not steering away from my task, continuing to get the order through. The woman, Mrs. Donaldson, had two growing boys who, as it appeared, were eating her out of house and home.