Forever Sheltered (21 page)

I grabbed her hair and held it fast, and then I could tell she was going to come again. God, this was something unbelievable, addicting. I reached for her, circling that hot nub, and now she was crying out, pushing against me, and I just let it go, emptying into her. It was such a different feeling, and I had to think if I’d ever done it like this before, skin to skin. If so, I didn’t remember it.

She was sucking in air, gulping, and I could sense something had changed. She was emotional, touched by something. I pulled out of her and turned her around, holding her tight. It was like that night on the beach, when she’d gotten defensive and angry and pushed me away. I needed to figure out a way to prevent that this time.

I backed up and sat in one of the chairs, dragging her onto my lap. She curled up on me, breathing fast, making little sounds of distress.

“Hey, hey, I’m here. I’ve got you.” I wrapped her up in my arms, holding on tight. I feared the worst, that she’d shove at me and stomp out, no shirt and all. That one of these times she’d decide enough is enough and just quit.

I held on to her, smoothing her hair. She wasn’t crying, just making these noises, and breathing. Post-traumatic stress, maybe? I had to stop diagnosing her. Just be.

The chair swiveled, so I rocked us back and forth until she began to quiet down. I tried to stay relaxed. I wanted to see her through this to the end. She would not push me away this time.

Gradually her breathing slowed. After a while I realized her respiration was even, so I dared to look down. Her hair was everywhere, and her eyes closed. The alcohol, I thought. It had done its job. She was asleep.

I shifted a little so that we rested together more comfortably. The party was still loud outside. This was just about the craziest thing I’d ever done, sex with a girl I had known only a little while at a stranger’s house.

But Tina was nothing like anyone I’d ever known. A set of total opposites. Tough. Bitter. Unorthodox. Sexy. God, the way she’d wanted it so rough.

But then also vulnerable, sensitive, gentle.

I was going to fall so damn hard for this girl.

Chapter 37: Tina

I hadn’t counted on a hangover to beat all hangovers when I volunteered to babysit.

Gavin turned from the mirror. “Tina, I have to say it. You look terrible.”

Unlike me, he looked pretty stunning in a black tux, even if the pants trailed over his white socks.

“Thanks, mister. You look awesome.”

Manuelito sat in my lap, licking a lollipop. Corabelle was working today, and Gavin had his three-year-old son. I told them I could tag along to help out while Gavin got fitted for the wedding. I hadn’t thought about how it would be the morning after the bachelorette and I might not have my head on straight.

“Dude, you’re rockin’ that!” Gavin’s friend Mario came out of his dressing room. “But not as good as me!”

Mario twirled in his tux. He was the best man. His dark skin offset the black even better than Gavin’s. Too bad he couldn’t last two dates with a girl. I hadn’t quite pegged the problem yet.

“Tia Tina?” Manuelito showed me his lollipop. He grabbed his tongue. “Hurt.”

I took the sucker from him. A tiny piece of the wrapper was still on it, creating a little bump in the surface. “Wrapper,” I said. “Let’s just get a new one.” Concentrating on trying to pry a tiny piece of paper from a half-eaten sucker was way too much for my pounding head.

I pulled a new one from my bag, unwrapped it carefully, and handed it to the boy. Normally we would color or build Legos. But today I could barely hold myself upright.

“You need to rehydrate,” Mario said, laughing. “I should have gone to that party. Especially in this.” He spun around in front of the mirror.

“Those actresses would have spit you out like three-day-old gum,” Gavin said.

“Nah,” Mario said. “I’d be on the cover of some salty tabloid.” He ran his hand through the air with each word of his headline: “Rich movie star elopes with hot garage mechanic.”

I stifled a laugh. “Mario, you do dream big.”

Gavin punched him in the arm. “You find a date for the wedding yet?”

“Someone will come along,” Mario said.

The seamstress, an energetic girl who couldn’t be much over twenty, came in. “Anyone ready for a hem?” she asked. Her sleek blond hair was tied up in a bun.

“I’m ready for anything with you,” Mario said.

And that’s when I got it. Too eager. Too pushy. Only a narrow swath of girls would go for that, and they weren’t interested in long-term stuff. One-and-dones.

The gospel I had once preached. Look at me now. Four times with the doctor in 24 hours.

I closed my eyes. I was way over the top on this.

Manuelito tapped my leg. “Tia Tina?”

“Yes, sweetie?”

“Play game?”

“Sure.” I turned him around on my lap. “I Spy? Practice your words?”

He nodded. Manuelito had grown up in a bilingual household, but we liked to work on his vocabulary. “You go,” he said.

“Okay. I spy…” I looked around. I usually kept it easy. “Something tall.”

“Papa Gavin?”

“Nope.”

He looked around. He saw the mannequin but probably had no way to describe it, so instead he said, “
¿Puerta?
”

“Si, Manuel,” I said. “But it’s a door.”

“Door,” he said.

“You know that word,” I said, tickling his belly. “Silly boy.”

He laughed his loud baby-boy laugh. I tried not to think about how he was only a little over a year younger than Peanut would have been. I just held him close, dodging the sticky lollipop, and was glad that he was such a sweet kid since Corabelle had to manage him in her life.

Manuel’s mother lived in Mexico. She had an odd relationship with Gavin, and never even told him about his son until this year. It had been a rough road for Corabelle to learn about it, even if they had been split up all that time.

Gavin’s vasectomy meant his ability to have kids with Corabelle was a big question, if a reversal ever worked. Their situation was tough, but they’d found a sense of harmony with it that I envied. And now they were getting married.

“Book?” Manuel asked. I guessed we were done with I Spy already.

The seamstress pinned both the boys’ pants and sent them back to their dressing rooms to change. My head was still pounding, but I pulled a book out of the bag Gavin brought and read it to Manuel.
One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish.

By the time we got through it twice, the boys had come back out. Mario took off, but Gavin sat in the chair next to me. “Thanks for watching him,” he said.

“Not a problem,” I said. “He’s easy.”

Manuel hopped off my lap to jump up on his father. Gavin swung him up in the air and brought him back down to rest on his knee.

I rubbed my temples. I needed to take something.

“What’s the deal with that doctor? Corabelle didn’t want to leave the party without you, but you totally disappeared.”

“We spent the night in that cabana you told us about.” I didn’t really want to say anything more. Half my hangover was emotional. I totally fell apart after that crazy encounter with Darion. He’d been unlike anybody I’d ever been with. What I asked for, I got. In spades.

I couldn’t figure out which was the bigger mistake. Doing the one-and-done all these years. Or stopping now. My life was in upheaval. I couldn’t stay snarky and distant.

As if they knew I was doing something ill advised, my wrists began to itch beneath the sleeves of my sweatshirt. I didn’t really need the reminder. God, I told him to bareback, even. I hadn’t lied about the doubled-up birth control, but still. Such a couples thing to do. We were strangers.

“He’s getting to you,” Gavin said.

“Maybe a little.”

“You don’t like that.”

“I wasn’t expecting to get involved with anyone.”

Gavin locked his hands behind his head. Manuel dug another book from the bag and flipped through the pages.

“He seems uneasy. Like he’s got a lot on his mind,” Gavin said.

I shrugged. “He’s a doctor. He’d just come off a long shift.”

“Is everything on the up-and-up with him?”

“What do you mean?”

Gavin adjusted Manuel on his lap. The boy leaned back against Gavin’s chest, the sucker stick hanging out of his mouth, and flipped through
Pat the Bunny
.

“I recognized that look he had. That distraction. I just want to make sure you aren’t setting yourself up.”

I pressed my fingers against my temples. “I think he’s got some stuff he isn’t telling me,” I said. “Probably everybody does.”

“You tell him about your history?” Gavin asked.

“He knows about Peanut,” I said.

“But not the rest?”

I tugged on my sleeves. I didn’t go around confessing about my scars. Although all Darion had to do was Google my name to see my old suicide talks. He probably had. He was probably waiting for me to tell him.

Probably wondering why I wouldn’t.

Maybe hesitating to tell me about Cynthia, waiting until I told him about my past.

The more I thought about this, the more I knew it was true. I jumped from my chair. “Thanks, Gavin,” I said. “I know what I need to do now.”

He looked taken aback. “Not sure what I did, but no problem.”

I kissed Manuel on the head. “See you soon, little man.”

The boy didn’t even look up from his book.

Time to call the doctor.

Chapter 38: Darion

Things were blowing up in my face.

Angela was up at the hospital, dealing with some weekend social worker who was insisting on something more substantial than an illegible signature on the paperwork for the clinical trial of the new drug.

This could not be happening now. Cynthia was doing so great. Despite the spiking fevers that first day, she hadn’t been sick at all, and her blast levels were zero. No circulating cells. It was the best drug I’d seen, ideal for her situation. We were supposed to go back for another round in five days. I could not let anything get in the way.

I might have to confess. I knew I should have gotten that medical power of attorney squared away.

If only my father wasn’t such an idiot, this wouldn’t be an issue. I knew my mother hadn’t been with anyone else. I was in my early twenties when it all went down. I was perfectly aware of her situation.

And if he really thought about it, he knew it too. But he’d gone off half-cocked when he finally came home from Oxford after a freaking thirteen-year absence.

And then that stupid paternity test. The worst part about it was that the same blood test reported that Cynthia didn’t belong to my mother. And THAT was clearly ludicrous. The mutated gene sequence had clearly caused the test results to fail.

It was a known medical fact that it could happen. Nobody knew that better than my father.

I wanted to punch him. Daily. Until he got past his stupid hatred of all the artists and creative types that had nurtured Mom in ways he never could.

I riffled through the files in my study at home, pulling copies of the reports. I stuffed everything in a folder and headed to the hospital.

When I got to the room, Cynthia looked much better. She pushed her IV around the room, skating on her fuzzy socks. She must have worn the nonskid nubbies right off.

“Dary!” she cried. “Look what I can do!” She spun in a circle with the IV pole on its casters.

“It’s like she’s on speed,” Angela said. “Been running around like she’s never been sick a day in her life.”

“I’ll have them run her blood counts,” I said. “She might not need the platelets anymore. Has she eaten?”

“Some. A grilled cheese. Ice cream. She does have mouth sores.”

“I’d expect that.”

“They don’t hurt,” Cynthia said. “Not like last time.”

“Just nothing spicy,” I said.

“We’re on it,” Angela said.

I leaned against the wall, watching Cynthia twirl around the room as though the IV stand was her dance partner. “If her ANC is up, she can walk the halls, go in the courtyard,” I said.

Angela nodded. “She’ll like that.”

“Is Tina here today?” Cynthia asked.

“It’s Sunday,” I said. “She’s at home.”

“Like you should be,” Angela said. “They’re going to wonder why you’re here.”

I held up the folder. “But the family of one of my patients felt threatened that they were going to lose access to the trial.”

“They can’t do that now that we’ve started,” Angela said. “It would be unethical. I just wanted you to know they were still questioning it.”

“I’m not going to risk it. We have to jump through all sorts of hoops to get those chemo bags.”

“What are you going to do?”

Cynthia stopped buzzing around the room.

We shouldn’t be discussing this in front of her. “I’ll just make sure it’s taken care of.”

“That lady is already gone.”

“I’ll go down there tomorrow, then. I wanted to check in anyway.” I tucked the folder back under my arm. “Should I bring you something special for lunch tomorrow?” I asked Cynthia.

“A cheeseburger!” she said. “A real one!”

“Done,” I said.

“When do I get to go home?” she asked.

“I’m not sure, Cyn. That fever was pretty bad, so they’ll want you here to do the treatments just in case.”

“I don’t even remember it,” she said.

I wasn’t surprised. She’d been completely delirious by the time we started getting her temperature down. Among scary things, it hadn’t been the worst. But it was up there.

My phone buzzed, so I checked it. Tina, asking if I would come over.

I’d dropped her off at home in the wee hours, after we’d slept a while in the cabana house. The party was actually over when we emerged, the tables cleared off, the pool empty. There were still quite a lot of cars parked haphazardly out front, but the owners must have all been tucked away in the wings of the house, as the living room had been empty as we passed through.

I tried to convince Tina to drink water and take aspirin to head off a hangover, but she’d crashed as soon as I got her in her apartment. I had gone home and slept a few hours myself before getting the first text from Angela.