To Hold and to Heal (BWWM Interracial Romance) (8 page)

             
“Oh!”

             
His voice was so soft she almost couldn’t hear him. “It's why I didn't come sooner, Nice. I had surgeries and physical therapy.  A lot of surgery. A lot of physical therapy. They didn't think I would ever walk again.”

             
“I'm so sorry,” she said, at a loss for words.

             
“No! Don't be sorry. Not you. I didn't lose anything. Your brother lost his life.” His tone was urgent.

             
“It was an accident,” she said, wanting to reach out to him, to comfort him.

             
He hung his head. “One that could’ve been avoided. By me.”

             
“All accidents can be avoided. That’s why they’re called accidents.”

A heavy silence hung between them. “How did you survive the accident? They said my brother died pretty much instantly.”

             
He nodded. “He did. We had a deal. If anything happened to either of us we would make sure the other’s family was okay. So he agreed to check in on my Mom and Dad and I would look after you.”

             
“Look after me? I'm an adult,” she said, feeling somewhat insulted. “I'm the one that's been taking care of all of this,” she reminded him, spinning her finger around in the air.

             
He shook his head. “You don’t understand. My parents are adults too, but this wasn't just about, you know, helping you. It's about making sure they're not alone. Sam wanted to make sure you're not alone.” He leaned forward, reaching for her.

             
She put her hands up to ward him off and he sat back, defeated. “So that's why all this is happening. I’m just a debt to you.”

             
“No! No, that's not why this is happening! I don't know why this is happening. We each just wanted to make sure that there was someone out there that they could call on Christmas. To check in with. What I feel for you, it's not that.”

             
“You don't want to call me on Christmas?” 

             
“No, I want to be with you on Christmas.” His statement was simple.

             
“You don't even know me, really. I'm just a face in a crowded bar.”

             
He shook his head. “That night in the club? I had no idea you were the person I was here to see. You had on way too much makeup and that dress was downright trashy.”

             
“Hey!” She started to protest and he held up his finger to stop her.

             
“But you didn't carry yourself like you were wearing a trashy dress. And I could see the real you underneath all of that. You were so sure but so unsure at the same time. And when I kissed you it was like I had never kissed anyone before.”

             
He stood awkwardly and came over to where she sat. He sat next to her, wrapping his arms around her in one fluid motion. She brushed her fingertips over his sweaty brow, “You're hot. Can’t get used to the Southern heat huh?”

             
He nodded, and then kissed her. She opened her mouth for him without being prompted. He sighed and she bent into him, his hands trailing over her skin, slipping under the edge of skirt to feel her bare thigh then higher over her hip. She moaned against him, her fingers gripping his shirt.

             
She ended the kiss, rubbing her nose against his.

             
“Now tell me about yourself. Tell me whatever you think I need to know to make it alright for me to feel like this,” he said. “But, not here. Maybe somewhere with air conditioning?”

             
Before she could answer her stomach growled loudly, causing him to laugh. “And somewhere to eat for you. Have you eaten at all today?”

             
She ran through her day quickly. “No,” she said sheepishly. “There wasn't time.”

             
He stood and held his hand out, helping her to her feet. “Come on then, tell me where to go.”

             
She smiled and they left the gazebo together hand in hand.

Chapter Five

             
The first five minutes of the car ride to the restaurant was spent arguing over the radio. After a heated discussion regarding who was actually in charge and what the other could stand to listen to they finally settled on the local pop station. Nice rolled her eyes and made gagging noises in her throat. Alden laughed. “This was the agreement!”

             
The cold air-conditioning blasted against her skin. She shivered slightly and rubbed her hands over her arm. Alden reached over and touched her bare thigh. “Too cold?”

             
Heat shot through her, radiating from his fingers to her center. He ran his hand over her leg slowly, keeping his eyes on the road. She shivered more from his touch than the cold this time. “It's a bit chilly in here for me.”
             

             
He nodded and moved his hand away to turn the air down. She immediately missed his touch. “Where are we headed?” he asked.

             
“To a Chinese place,” she said, reaching forward and changing the channel on the radio.

             
He smiled down at her hand before grabbing it and kissing her knuckles, “Do you really want that? We'll go wherever you want. What's your favorite place?”

             
“We're already driving! And I don't know. I don't really eat out much.”

             
“Well there has to be somewhere you want to go.” 

             
She shook her head. “No, I've never really thought about it. Never had time to think about things like that. Always been too busy taking care of Dad and the bar.”

             
His hand returned to her thigh. “Then I'll pick. We're not getting Chinese.”

             
“Where then?”

             
“It's a surprise,” he said, looking at her out of the corner of his eye. Her stomach grumbled again. “Don't worry it's not far.”

             
Half an hour later they were pulling into a large parking lot. “This place? This is your surprise? Somehow I was expecting something a little different.”

             
He grinned. “What's the matter? Don't you like games?”

             
She looked out the window at The Arena, a multilevel game-filled complex. She had been there only once, just out of high school but not since. She slipped out of the car into the heavy night air. Alden met her on her side of the car and reached for her hand.

             
“This is our first date. I'm going to buy you dinner and then I'm going to attempt to win enough tickets to get you a stupid stuffed animal,” he whispered into her ear.

             
She looked up into his smiling face. His green eyes were alight with mischief. “The last time I was here, I went bowling,” she said, looking back at the building.

             
He started walking. “We can do that. I'm afraid I’m not very good. But,” he turned to her. “I would love to watch you play. I can keep score.”

             
She felt the heat of a blush run up her cheeks. Damn it! She was always forgetting about his leg. Shaking it off she asked, “How did you even know about this place?”

             
“Found it when I was looking for somewhere to have a drink the other night, but I thought it was a little rowdy for my mood.”

             
She giggled. “So you went to the gayest of gay bars instead?”

             
He smiled. “I thought it would look a little less, I don't know, strange? To be a lonely guy sitting at a bar.”

             
She tilted her head. “You would have fit in perfectly at my bar. Why didn’t you come there?”

             
“I knew where your place was and meeting you was exactly what I was trying to avoid until I was ready.” He held the door open for her letting her hand go as she slipped inside.

             
“And look how well that turned out for you,” she replied.

             
They settled on the fancier of the five restaurants inside of the building. The tables were topped with white tablecloths and candles. Alden pulled her chair out for her before sitting down himself. They ordered quickly and then were left alone.

             
“So, what do you want to know about me?” Nice asked.

             
“Normal stuff,” Alden answered, smiling.

             
She rolled her eyes. “Come on, I don't know what say. Give me specifics.”

             
“You're not very good at this are you?” he asked teasingly.

             
She picked up her water glass and took a sip. “No, I'm not. I don't ever do this. I don't go on dates. I don't have time. That night you met me was the first night I'd been out in like months. So no, I'm not good at this. I'm really bad.”

             
“What do you do for fun?”

             
“Fun? I don't think I do anything for fun. Oh god, I'm so fucking boring!” she cried, dropping her head to her arms. Alden was laughing. “Don't laugh, this is really sad. I have zero personality. I told you I was bad at this.”

             
He reached out for her hand. His eyes were locked on her. “I don't think that. I just don't think anyone has ever asked you.”

             
She felt butterflies in her belly and she squeezed her thighs together against the subtle heat that was gathering between her legs.

             
“Baking!” she suddenly yelled out. “I like to bake. And I’m pretty good at it.”

             
He turned his head to the side, like a dog searching for meaning. “Baking?”

             
“Yeah, I took two whole classes on how to bake and decorate cakes and things when I was younger. With my Mom. I used to do it a lot before Sam passed and my Dad got bad and I had to take over. It's silly, I know. I miss it sometimes.”

             
“Why don't you do it anymore?”

             
“Are you kidding me? My dad goes on benders and drinks everything in the house vaguely resembling booze so there goes all my vanilla extract. And then there's the cost of ingredients just so I can play in the kitchen. Not worth it. Can’t afford the time or the money.”

             
“But it makes you happy,” Alden said, releasing her hand and settling back in his seat.

             
“Puppies make me happy too, but that sure the hell doesn't mean that I should get a dog,” she responded.

             
“I have a dog. It's this really big stupid mutt. My parents got it for me after I came home from the hospital. They thought it would encourage me to walk.”

             
“Good Lord! What were they thinking? You weren't ten,” she said, laughing.

             
“That's what I said! I think they meant well.”

             
“So you don't like the dog?”

             
“No, I love my dog. He's really stupid and I think he grew much bigger than anyone thought he would, but he's good company. For me, the hermit.”

             
“So what did encourage you to walk?”

             
“Bedsores,” he said with a deadpan expression. She twisted her face into a sickly expression. “I'm kidding! But I’ve already talked enough about myself. It's your turn. So, we've got baking. What else makes you special?”

             
She blew air out of her mouth. She was blushing, she could feel it. Talking about herself wasn’t something she felt comfortable doing. “I don't know what to say!  I told you! I'm boring.”

             
“You're not boring,” he said. “You run a bar. That’s pretty unusual.”

             
Mention of the bar and all of the problems that went along with it sent a cold spike into her stomach. “Could we not talk about that?”

             
Alden nodded. “We'll talk about whatever you want to talk about.”

             
“That's not fair. I mean, to you. I just don't know what to say.”

             
He laughed. “This is strange.”

             
“Why?”

             
“Because three days ago I didn't know what to say to you. And when I finally did work up the courage to talk to you, you were the confident one.”