Exposed: Book One of The Love Seekers Series (12 page)

“What? I would never have called you if I had a girl over here,” I growled. Mel was not funny. Okay, maybe that joke had been a little funny.

“No, but you have called during sex before.”

Leave it to her to bring up something so embarrassing. “That was an accident and you know it.”

“Might have been, but listening to you have sex is not something I ever wanted to hear. It’s hard to forget too. Oh, oh, Bryan. Harder. Spank me.” She mimicked the breathless voice of the girl I happened to be banging right after I moved to San Diego. It was over a year ago, and I still couldn’t live that shit down. “Right there. Oh faster! Oh God! More!”

I threw my head back and it banged against the back of the couch before I snapped, “Fine! Fine. If you must know, I’m talking to Emma right now. I told you, we’ve talked a few times.”

“Wow. I…” her voice trailed off.

“I’m just trying to help her. Nothing more than that. Trust me. So don’t go reading anything into it.”

“You know, I give you shit and stuff, but you’re a good guy no matter what your sister says,” Mel snickered, and I could hear the smile in her voice.

“Gee. That’s so nice of you to say.”

“You know you love me.”

“I do. I’ll let you get back to whatever it was you were doing…or blowing. I need to go.”

“K. Behave and have fun talking to Emma.”

“Never. Behaving is overrated.” I stuck out my tongue and chuckled as I disconnected our call, choosing to respond to only the first part of her comment. After my conversation with Mel, if anything, I had more questions than answers. Too bad I didn’t know Emma’s best friend, Gia. Focusing on my computer screen, I decided to let it go for the time being and enjoy my chat with a friend.

Chapter 14

Emma

The more I talked to Bryan, the more I found I dropped my guard and shared a little more with myself. Parts of me I had only shared with my best friend before. This lone man had a knack for making me feel completely at ease, like I could be myself with him. Of course, the fact that we only talked online helped contribute to my comfort with him. We were friends on FaceSpace only, and that is how it would remain for the foreseeable future.

FaceSpace gave us a small level of secrecy and protection. Without hearing his voice, without seeing his face, I remained hidden and separate in a way. FS became our own little world, and no one had to know we were communicating with each other or what we talked about. To some, it probably sounded more like a dirty little secret, however, the things I shared with him, I would not share with others. In a short period of time, he had become my confidant, and I told him things I had not even confessed to my best friend. It was safe. I could share my fears, anger, bitterness, hopes and dreams without worrying he would tell anyone else. For me, typing in our chat window became an electronic journal. That’s what he was: a diary.

He didn’t judge me when I finally told him I was afraid of dying. One of the women, Ruth, I knew from the support groups had passed away. Though Ruth and I had never met in person, she had tried her best to encourage me and others who suffered from myasthenia gravis. In fact, she had made it her life’s mission to spread awareness and to help others who struggled to fight on a daily basis. Finding out about her death had left me shaken, and I had tried to blow Bryan off and forgo our conversation, but he wouldn’t let me. Instead, he stayed online and talked to me for two hours about my friends and some of my fears.

Our conversations never got too technical, but he knew the disease made me weak and I struggled sometimes. He also finally got me to confess that one day I wanted to publish a book. Instead of laughing at me, he encouraged me to pursue my dream. Times like that when my defenses were at their highest, he surprised me with his responses.

Day in and day out I sat at home and was unable to do much. I went out periodically, but taking Curley on a long walk hasn’t happened since I got sick. Everything I did to maintain an active lifestyle, disappeared when the myasthenia gravis appeared.

As time passed and I finally faced the fact that my life had forever changed, I sank into a deep depression, and it finally took my sister calling around and sending me to a counselor before I started to make an attempt at embracing my own life. And then one day Ellie said, “Why don’t you write again? You don’t have to work on a set schedule. You can do it as much or as little as you want, and if your eyes start to see double, then take a break.” Her words that day lit a small spark in me, and I began writing again. Something I hadn’t done in years.

My days were filled with doctors, infusions, playing with Curley, writing, and reading. Yippee. Not really. The number of days I had to use my walker versus my cane had increased, but luckily my doctor decided to try doing IVIG more often. The IV medicine I got had helped me remain independent, however, the doctor decided once every two weeks was not enough for my body. Insurance received the request from my doctor to increase my dosage to every week, but we hadn’t heard back from them yet. I learned that when insurance companies are involved, it always became a waiting game, which sucked for the sick people who depended on them. They held all the power.

And the person I shared all of that frustration with was Bryan. He always seemed to be there when I needed him, even when I refused to share, or hesitated to answer. Somehow, he dragged whatever he wanted to know out of me…most of the time. There were still some things I would not share, could not share. Those would remain locked and hidden in my past.

I foolishly thought everything would remain between us, but it turned out that I had been very wrong.

A couple weeks after we started chatting, Mel approached me, cornering me like a caged animal with no means of escape. The door to freedom stood on the other side of her, and she knew with my lack of coordination, slow moving feet, and inability to remain upright without help, she had me right where she wanted me. Deep down in my bones, I knew she wanted something from me, but there was no telling what that something could be.

“What’s up, Mel?” I decided to go for the casual approach instead of cowering.

Not that I had or intended to cower since we were in my house. OMG! Was this retaliation for attempting to call her on her anniversary? She never said anything about it, and when I apologized, she told me to forget it.

Mel’s memory rivaled that of an elephant’s, which meant, a decade into the future, when everyone else forgot, she would remember, and that’s when she would strike. I remembered when she said, “You never know when it will be, but I will get you.” At the time, she had been talking to Luke’s brother who accidentally spilled salsa over her head at a party. By accident!

“Why don’t you tell me?” Her eyebrow quirked, and she dared me to deny…something. I was not exactly sure what I was supposed to confess at the moment.

“Tell you?” My sad attempt to move around her, forced her to take a step backwards to block the door. Now that my plans were foiled, I moved to the couch and sat down to throw her off my scent.
See, Mel. No escaping today.

“You know.” She stalked me, hovering over the arm of the couch without sitting. The coy smile that lit up her face freaked me out and made me fear the world was coming to an end.

I knew? What the hell did that mean? I knew about a lot of things, but that didn’t mean I could read minds. Was I in trouble? That smile made me wonder if she wanted throw me a party right before she killed me. Yes, Mel could be that scary.

“Why don’t you tell me what it is you think I’m supposed to know, and then we can skip this whole back and forth thing?” I really had no idea what crazy idea she had gotten into her head, and this yoyo stuff was liable to get me in a lot of trouble if I guessed incorrectly.

“I’ll give you a hint.”

“Okaaaay.” The word came out like a long note on a musical staff.

“Navy man.”

“Navy man?” I questioned. Considering I associated with several different Navy men, that clue proved to be of little help. Unless…shit! The only reason she might possibly have for her cat who ate the canary grin, would be if her news, secret, whatever, involved Bryan. My eyes grew wide, my pulse increased, and my hands started to feel wet and dirty.

              She gave me a small nod and her smile grew. “San Diego.”

              CRAP! My suspicions confirmed, I warily broached the subject. “Bryan?” Yeah, I only said one word, but I figured that would open up the can of worms on its own. And it did.

              “Bingo! Give the girl her prize.” She flopped down onto my couch so hard it scooted backwards a couple of inches.

              “What? I mean he and I have talked a couple of times, but that’s about it. He thinks he can give me love advice or some shit, and I called his bluff.” Bryan and I chatted almost daily, but she didn’t need to know that and I wasn’t sure what the sailor snitch told her or what he kept from her.

              “That’s it?” Her smile disappeared and she looked almost disappointed.

              “Yep. That’s it.”

              “Boo. You two are no fun.”

              “What the hell did he tell you?” I demanded.

              Crossing her arms over her chest, she huffed. “Basically what you told me.”

              “Basically?”

              “Well, we were talking on the phone last night, and he asked about you, but wouldn’t tell me much. Then, every once in a while he would laugh, and I sure as hell hadn’t said anything funny. Finally, inquiring minds wanted to know, and I insisted he tell me who he was talking to when he was supposed to be talking to me. Can you believe he said it was the freaking TV? The TV! I called him on his bullshit and said, ‘
Do you have someone over there giving you a blow job? If you’re laughing, then she must be doing a piss poor job of it.’
Or something to that effect.” The glint in her eyes told me she was hiding something.

              It shouldn’t surprise me when she said stuff like that, but my jaw dropped slightly and my eyes grew even larger. Unsure if it was fear over what Bryan spilled, or if it was just a reaction to her proclamation, I asked, “What did he say?”

              “He yelled,
‘What? No! It’s just Emma.’
So I ask you again, what the hell is going on with you two?”

              Her confession did two things to me. First, my stomach dropped hearing that he said I was “just Emma,” and second, I instantly went on the defensive, because I still felt uncertain about what she heard from him. “We’ve talked a couple of times, like I said. He thinks he can give me advice on catching a man. Which we all know is complete and utter bullshit.”

              “Why do you say that?”

              “Since it’s true?” Sarcasm dripped off my tongue like acid, and the only thing missing was the word,
‘duh.’
Bryan may have helped me a little, and while I have made some strides, I still struggled to embrace all of his lessons.

              Her eyes narrowed, and her expression switched from the neutral façade she had adopted after calling me “just Emma,” to an expression that made me wonder if she would murder me on the spot. “What the ever lovin’ fuck does that mean?”

              Rolling my eyes, I refused to cower in front of her. I would do it later in the privacy of my bedroom after she left. “It means, unless a guy is desperate, he wouldn’t want someone who has MG and has to use medical equipment to get around.”

              She practically snarled, her lip pulled back revealing her pearly white teeth. “You’re sick, not fucking dead!”

              “I know. Believe me, I know that better than you.” On the verge of tears, I fought for control and shifted my gaze away from her. I refused to allow her to see me on the precipice of losing it again. In the past, I had broken down in front of her a few times, and I hated it when people saw me emotionally weak and vulnerable. It was bad enough they saw me physically struggling. I didn’t care if they were family, friends, or strangers. It was hard to let anyone see that part of me.

              I felt the couch shift to the left of me, and then her arm wrapped around my shoulders right before she pulled me in for a hug. Unable to hold back the tears any longer, I cried on her shoulder. Talking to Bryan and allowing him to start breaking down my walls, had left me emotional and easily flustered. I blamed him for my current condition.

              I wasn’t sure how long I cried, or what Mel whispered to me as I balled my eyes out, but I remembered her rambling something to me. And when I finally pulled back to wipe away the last of my tears and snot, I blubbered, “Sorry.”

              “Not your fault, sweetie. But it looks like Bryan still has some work to do.”

              What? Was she joking or serious? In my limited experience, even though Bryan managed to break through some of my defenses and get me to talk to him a little, he was far from a love doctor. Did she really think he could help me? Or was this some sort of joke because now she knew about his nefarious plan? Yes, I called it nefarious.

              Sniffling and swallowing excess spit and snot, I shook my head. “He’s just being nice to one of your friends. I think he honestly believes he can solve all the world’s problems. You really need to have a talk with him about his over inflated ego.”

              “If Bryan didn’t want to talk to you, he wouldn’t. Stop selling yourself short, and if he says he can help you find a date, then he can.”

              “I don’t want a pity date!” I barked as tears threatened to engulf me again.

              “He’s better than that, and would never do that to you or anyone. He’ll help you attract someone of your choosing, and I promise, it won’t be a pity date. But honey, you have to stop doubting yourself. You are a beautiful, smart, and amazing person. Any guy would be lucky to have you.”

              “But no one wants me.” My reminder came out as a soft whimper.

              “You just haven’t met the right one yet.” I started to argue, but before I could utter one peep, she covered my mouth with her hand, quickly pulling it away when the liquid running out of my nose touched it. Swiping it across my jeans, she told me, “Trust me, will ya? Online dates and the losers your sister’s friends hook you up with are not the right ones. People lie online and pics aren’t always accurate. The good looking men online are assholes that can’t get a date any other way because no woman wants them. They are not good enough for you. I secretly have a theory they all have small dicks too, and you deserve someone better than a small dicked egocentric prick. As for the others, Ellie’s friends don’t know you from Adam, and are probably afraid to mention your disability. The guys are begging for dates and are shallow enough to think they are going to meet a model through their friends. Sorry honey, but neither one of us are model material. We like food too much.”

              I snorted with laughter, nodding.

              “See, much better. Look honey, men are assholes. You have to weed out the bad in order to find the good, and the really good ones don’t come around every day. You’ll find your prince and he’ll accept everything there is about you. He won’t care one iota if you use a walker or if he has to spoon feed you. His dick will get hard when he has to bathe you, regardless if it’s because you can’t bathe yourself or just because you want him to do it. He’ll love you for you, and he’ll see the beautiful person you are both inside and out. He’ll look beyond the cane, the walker, the illness, the bullshit, and see you for you. And if I know Bryan, he can help you see who you truly are, who your friends and family see, when they look at you.”