Adrenaline Crush (11 page)

Of course he swears he won't let anything bad happen while she's gone.

Finally, Mom and Dad pull out with no plan beyond “heading west.” The perfect vacation for them. Jay and I stand side by side on the deck waving as they back out of the driveway. Mom places her palm on the windshield, making it look like she's being abducted by Dad. Which, I suppose, she sort of is.

“Okay, looks like I'm in charge while Mom and Dad are away.” Jay elbows me jokingly. I smile up at him for a beat before slipping inside the house. An unease seeps between us as we stand in the living room arm's-length apart. The quiet blasts the alarm that we're
alone, Alone, ALONE
and it feels like we should be heading straight to my bedroom.

Our make-out sessions haven't really come close to the big S.E.X. But Jay is the most serious boyfriend I've ever had and things have definitely been on an intercourse trajectory.

What the hell were Mom and Dad thinking leaving me home alone with my boyfriend?
Maybe they just can't wait to be grandparents or something.

“You okay?” Jay is watching me and I notice he's inched closer.

I nod and lean over to grab the remote and flip on the television. We sit down on the couch together, but he must sense the change in dynamic with no supervision, real or imagined. He plays with his earlobe nervously, and I release the Velcro straps on Son of Frankenfoot before realizing this may be misinterpreted as some sort of kinky erotic foreplay.

“Ankle's sore,” I explain. “The doctor was a little rough examining it.” Jay springs up to ease my brace off and give me a massage. He's extra-gentle with my exposed scars, not wanting to rub too close to where the damage is worst. When his hands begin to work their way up to my thigh I tense, and he drops back down to the portion of my leg that's actually been injured. He mentions taking me to eat at my favorite bistro later as he expertly kneads the arch of my foot. It feels so good I close my eyes and let out a groan. His hands freeze.

Opening my eyes I see him smirking at me and realize my moans sound a little too much like “Dyna's porno sound track.” “Sorry.” I blush.

He laughs as he continues massaging. “I understand you've been through a lot, Dyna.” He leans in closer. “I will absolutely wait until you're ready for us to be intimate. And then probably wait beyond that because I don't want to spoil what we have.” His eyes search my face. “But if you keep making those noises I'm going to have to go upstairs and take a cold shower.”

I clamp my lips shut in a display of chastity that makes him laugh. It's as if he just read my mind and put all my fears to rest. There couldn't be a more perfect guy to be with for my first time. Tender, caring, gentle. I reach up and caress the side of his smooth face a moment before leaning back on the couch.

“Maybe I'll talk to my mom about going on the pill soon.” I hold my breath waiting for his reaction.

He looks at me and frowns. “One of my sisters got really depressed when she was on the pill,” he says. “It was awful. Plus, it increases chances of blood clots. Dyna, your body has been through so much trauma. I wouldn't feel right about it.”

“Well, I don't think they make a pill for guys and I can't trust a condom on its own.” I think about the way one small defect in a flimsy rubber membrane could screw up my whole life, and I realize something. I sit up. “Hey, wait a minute. Did you bring one with you?” I accuse.

“What?” Jay's green eyes are wide.

“A condom.” I reach over and start digging at his jean pockets. “Did you bring protection?”

“Dyna.” He tries to stop my hands. “Come on. I wouldn't do that.”

“You had to consider the possibility, Jay. I mean, come on. Parents out of town. Place to ourselves.”

“Okay, yes, as a matter of fact I did think of it. And that's why I purposely didn't buy anything. I figured if things got out of control, taking a drive to RiteAid would slow us down. Give us a chance to get our heads on straight.” He rubs my arm. “We've only been together a little over six weeks, and that's if we count the ambulance ride as our first date.”

“Oh, that totally counts,” I tease, starting to relax again. “I just don't want you to have the wrong idea about me. Despite my mad skills at dirty-word Scrabble, it just so happens I'm a virgin.”

I try not to be hurt when Jay isn't able to cover his surprise.

I really can't blame him. He didn't know much about me beyond my wild reputation when we started hanging out. And it feels good to have such an open discussion about our boundaries, rather than the typical grope-fest that usually goes on until I have to get firm with a guy and shut him down. This feels like the most healthy, mature relationship I could ever imagine.

And I'm happy knowing Jay will be my first.
Now it's just a matter of when.

 

14

Harley has been having fun teasing me about the way I constantly grab at the hand rest as he flies like a demon to and from Ulysses with the doors off his Jeep. Still, I'm not even a little bit surprised when I walk out of the center on Thursday and discover he isn't waiting for me. He probably tried to squeeze in a little skydiving since the weather is gorgeous. I'm left standing alone like a loser in the middle of the parking lot.

“Good workout today,” Pierce says from behind me. I turn around and smile. The two of us got into yet another competition, and with my ankle brace wrapped tight I was able to hold a steady 60 RPMs on the exercycle. I'm still a little high from it.

He asks, “Where's your ride?”

I check my phone, but it's just as clueless as I am. “My folks are away and my big brother isn't exactly super-reliable.” Leaning on my birchwood cane, I do a few deep knee bends so I don't stiffen up.

Pierce offers, “You're welcome to wait at my house. I'm right through the woods.”

I falter before deciding. “Sure, I'll just text my brother a message to pick me up there. What's the address?”

After all, I have been wondering how far the walk is to his house
. But if this is so completely innocent my heart probably shouldn't be beating quite this hard.

*   *   *

Despite their unevenness, our footsteps are quiet as I follow Pierce along the twisting trail. I breathe in the rich scent of things growing and things decomposing and I smile up at the tangled leaves woven into an archway overhead. I have always adored trees from every angle, but this is my favorite.

The undersides of trees.

I am connected to something greater.

I've stopped walking and pull my attention from above to find Pierce watching me. I feel exposed.

“Just looking at the trees,” I say, tracing a root with my cane.

He nods and looks up. “I get it.”

We start moving forward again, and after about ten minutes we enter a clearing of high grass that leads to the cropped backyard of a stone house. We're greeted at the tree line by a wirehaired beige mutt lurching awkwardly toward us through the tall grass. I can't figure out what's happening to make the dog flail back and forth like that.

Then I see and swing to face Pierce. “You have a three-legged dog?”

His grin is wide and genuine. “This is Anders.” He grabs the mutt behind both ears and playfully ruffles his head. When he lets go, the dog limps to me and nuzzles his nose deep into my crotch.

Pierce scolds, “Anders!” as I stagger. He grabs the dog's collar and drags him out of my personal space. “Sorry about that.”

I laugh. “Where'd you get the name Anders?”

“‘The Steadfast Tin Soldier.' By Hans Christian Andersen.”

I nod, trying to remember the story and thinking it has something to do with toys.

“My mom was on my case to get a helper dog after she read some article about soldiers committing suicide. I'm sure she imagined some nice golden retriever keeping me from offing myself after Afghanistan.”

“It is
really
hard to be sad around golden retrievers.”

Pierce laughs. “Yeah, well, instead of going to the pet store I headed straight to the pound, and as soon as I saw him I knew he was the one.” Pierce rakes his fingers down Anders's back. “I was still getting used to my missing leg at the time, and he seemed totally cool with his.”

I reach down to pet Anders and he immediately flips to his back as if to ask, “But have you seen my belly?” I laugh. “He does seem to have a great outlook.”

We scratch Anders's belly together for a moment before heading to the house. As we reach it the back door swings open and a thin woman steps out wiping her hands on her jeans. “How was therapy?” she calls before looking up. “Oh, I'm sorry. Hello. I'm Eva, Pierce's mother.”

Pierce steps between us. “Hey, Mom, this is Dyna. Her brother's late to pick her up from Ulysses so I said she could wait here.”

“Of course.” She gives me a smile, but it doesn't reach her eyes until she turns them back to Pierce. “Do you want some lunch?”

“We're fine, Mom,” he says, as he leads me into the house.

In the living room I spot a framed photo of Pierce wearing a dark blue uniform. His peaked service hat is pulled down to his eyebrows and there's a spark in his eyes that makes me wonder if it was a cute girl taking his picture. And if maybe he was flirting with her. The Pierce I know looks haunted by comparison.

He tells his mom we're going to wait in his room and gives her a swift kiss on the temple before heading down a hallway.

“Nice to meet you,” I say, feeling graceless as she watches me lurch after the limping boy and dog.

Once we're in his room, Anders heads straight for a doggie bed in the corner and wraps himself into a circle. Shutting the door, Pierce tells me, “My mom's cool, but she would interrogate you into the ground given the chance.” He smiles. “She's a little protective since I got home.”

“Oh, I know how that feels. My mom barely let me out of her sight for weeks after my accident.”

Pierce's room is sparsely decorated and I don't see any sign of his Purple Heart medal. In fact, the only award certificate displayed has gold lettering over an iridescent blue butterfly. “Let me guess.” I point to it. “Ulysses?”

He laughs. “I came back home seriously messed up and that place helped save me. I still keep in touch with most of the folks from my first group.”

He points to his dresser where a group shot of mismatched people sits beside a bigger picture showing a platoon of men wearing Army fatigues. A cigarette points from the corner of Pierce's smiling lips in the Army photo, and instead of remembering everything I know about lung cancer and emphysema and how disgusting smoking smells, all I can think is,
Damn, he's sexy
.

I ask, “No girlfriend photos?” It's exactly the type of comment I would've made to a guy before my accident, but now it surprises me so much I nearly clap my hands over my mouth.

“Ironic,” Pierce says. “My last relationship was basically with photos of a girl.” He settles himself on his bed and gestures for me to join him.

I sit down near the pillows. “So, were these photos you were dating
special
photographs?”

He laughs. “Oh, the girl was real.” He swings his leg up onto the bed and starts stretching as he casually tells me about the girlfriend he hooked up with a few weeks before he was deployed. He explains how being separated so dramatically just made everything more intense and romantic. Pausing to look out the window, he says, “Being in Afghanistan was nothing like I expected, and I found myself clinging to the hope of this girl. Reading her love letters and staring at her photos. Imagining our reunion.” He shakes his head. “In my mind she became more than one person could ever actually be.”

He twists his torso back and forth before going on. “She was obviously upset when I came home all busted up and wrecked in the head, but we still really wanted to make things work between us. Except here's the thing.” He looks at me. “I was completely knocked out by how unremarkable she was. And I don't mean she wasn't pretty either. If anything she looked even better than I'd remembered.”

I squint at the bright light streaming in the window, and at his honesty.

“She just seemed happy enough waiting on tables and partying every night. Sleepwalking her way through life. She never had much to say beyond how much she loved me. When I gave her back her letters and photos we were both devastated.” He rubs his hands together slowly. “But there was no way I could ever get past her being unremarkable.”

The way he looks at me makes me wonder if he thinks I could be remarkable.

I want to be remarkable.

There's a soft knock on the door and Pierce's mom calls, “Care for some strawberry lemonade?” He glances at the ceiling as if he's annoyed but springs from the bed right away to let her in.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I thought the two of you could use a little snack.” She sets a round tray filled with shortbread cookies and two pink drinks on Pierce's nightstand.

“Thanks, Mom.” He gives her an almost imperceptible shrug. She looks at me.

“Hope your therapy is going well,” she says. “Isn't the Ulysses Center great?”

“Yeah, my mom loves it, too,” I answer, and she rewards me with a light chuckle.

“Watching our children suffer is the hardest thing a parent can go through.” She ruffles her hand through Pierce's hair and he doesn't stop her. “I hope your mom is doing okay.”

I think of Dad dragging her on their road trip and answer honestly. “She's getting better.”

“Okay, Mom,” Pierce says. “Thanks for the drinks.”

“Sorry, I'll go.” She turns by the door and pinches lightly at the outer seam of her jeans. “Please let your mom know I'll be happy to listen if she needs to talk.”