Sticks and Stones (22 page)

Kidnapped

Lou woke up slowly, feeling more comfortable than she had in days. Opening her eyes she blinked at the view in front of her. She was staring at a column of tanned male throat and unshaven jaw line. Looking down she realized that she was in her own bed, with her head tucked into what could only be Dylan’s throat. Her body was lying mostly on top of his, with her thigh thrown over him, and her arm draped across his stomach. Thankfully he was still fully dressed and she was still in his t-shirt and tracky-bums, but the reminder of the last time they had woken up like this hit her like a sledgehammer, the remembered pain nearly equalling that of her recent surgery.

She pulled away from him and felt unbidden tears sliding down her cheeks. Why was she so weak? Why couldn’t she just forget the past and move on? And what the bloody hell was she doing in bed with this man again?

‘Hey babes,’ she heard his sleep-laden voice mumble from the other side of the bed. ‘Whatcha doin?’ He stretched and Lou tried to ignore the ripple of his chest muscles moving under his t-shirt. When he sat up and focused fully on her and her tear streaked face his jaw clenched and his tone lost all of its sleepy laziness.

‘Babes, why didn’t you wake me up if you were in pain?’ he clipped, jumping out of the bed and stalking over to her nightstand. Before she knew it an assortment of pills and a glass of water were thrust into her hands, and Dylan was standing in front of her expectantly, like some sort of psychiatric nurse waiting for a recalcitrant patient to take their meds. Despite the fact he had completely misinterpreted her distress, now that she was focused on it again she could feel the ache start to build in her stomach, so she took the tablets with no fuss other than frowning up at him.

‘How did I get up into my bedroom?’ she asked after he’d taken her water away.

‘I carried you. You were completely outers. Didn’t make a peep the whole way.’

‘You carried me? Up two flights of stairs?’

‘Yeah, well you
are
essentially a midget so it wasn’t that hard,’ he replied, sitting on the edge of the bed and smirking at her.

‘Dylan, I’m five-foot-six. You’re just not used to seeing me without heels. Not all of us are overgrown apes like you. Now, firstly, what are you doing here? Secondly, how did you get into my apartment? Thirdly, where is the nurse from the agency I hired? And fourthly, and most importantly, what the bloody hell do you think you’re doing lying in bed with me?’

‘Right okay,’ Dylan began then held up one finger, ‘I brought you home,’ second finger, ‘I have a key, remember?’ third finger, ‘I
may
have fired them,’ fourth finger, ‘I like sleeping with you; you make these weird noise in the back of your throat, kind of like a cat when it’s trying to cough up a fur ball. It’s cute.’

Lou could feel her face getting redder and redder as the anger swept through her. Luckily her voice was starting to get stronger and the painkillers were starting to kick in. ‘I didn’t ask you to take me home; you essentially kidnapped me. What do you mean you fired the nursing agency? I need some help for the next week or so you idiot.’

‘I know you need help Lou and I’ve decided that I’m the one that’s going to help you.’

‘What!’ Lou shouted.

‘Easy babes,’ he said, totally unaffected in the face of her anger. ‘Don’t get excited, it’s not a good – ‘

‘There’s a reason I need a nurse you numpty. I need help with
stuff,
not just the odd sandwich made.’

‘Oh I know you need help with
stuff
, that’s why my mum’s pitching in too.’

Lou blinked. ‘Bronwen’s coming?’ she whispered. The mention of his mother had taken the wind out of her sails anger-wise. Lou loved Dylan’s mum.

11 years earlier
…

‘Send a prayer up to the Lord, lock up your daughters; the prodigal son has returned!’ shouted Dylan as he strode through the pub doors with Mike, Lou and Frankie in tow. Frankie shrank back at the noise and commotion that followed Dylan’s announcement and Dylan moved to wrap his arm around her protectively. The welcome he received was mixture of back claps, profane insults and shots of spirits.

‘Let me through you crazy bastards,’ he heard his dad’s gruff voice and the crowd parted to allow him to reach his son. He grabbed the back of Dylan’s neck and gave it a squeeze before pulling him in for a tight hug. ‘Proud of you son,’ he said in Dylan’s ear, his voice thick with emotion. He drew back and studied Frankie who was still tucked into Dylan’s side. Dylan’s father was a big man and a big personality. Tall and broad like Dylan with a well weathered face, salt and pepper hair and a large tattoo of a Welsh dragon over his biceps, he was as physically intimidating as a pub landlord needed to be, but he had a gentle nature which was evident in the way he approached Frankie.

‘You must be Frankie,’ he guessed, softening his tone and earning a small smile from her, unfortunately her shyness had yet again overtaken her and she was unable to actually voice a greeting. As always, Lou was there to rescue the situation. Dylan’s father might not have been what she was used to but, being Lou, she was not in the least intimidated.

‘Mr Griffiths,’ she semi-shouted over the noise around them in her ultra posh crisp accent, leaping forward to press a kiss to his cheek and distracting him from Frankie’s fearful regard, ‘fabulous to meet you. May I say you’re so much more attractive than your son.’ Her eyes were twinkling as she winked up at him, and Dylan’s dad looked very much like he had fallen in love on the spot.

Dylan had to admit that when he had suggested they all go and stay at his family’s pub for the Easter break he hadn’t expected Lou to enjoy it quite as much as she did. It didn’t seem to matter how English or how upper class she was, his entire family and, it seemed, everyone in his town absolutely adored her.

His mam, who had visited Dylan frequently over the preceding year and was well aware of how much Lou was looking after him, was already a huge fan of hers, and it didn’t take his father and even his sister long to fall well and truly under her spell. His sister had been sixteen at the time and very into hero-worshipping her big brother. Much to Dylan’s disgust Lou attempted to put a stop to that ‘rubbish’ as she called it, asking instead about Bethan’s hopes and dreams. Having a beautiful, intelligent woman take her plan to own her own beauty salon in the future seriously was a turning point for Bethan, who being the less academic sibling, had always felt like a bit of failure up until that point.

So, after those few days at home, Dylan’s parents not only credited Lou with their son’s successful start to medical school, but also their daughter’s newfound confidence. For his part Dylan had never seen Lou as happy. She was in her element in the pub atmosphere, joking and setting up a darts championships with the regulars, winning them over despite the differences in their backgrounds, and effortlessly drawing a shy Frankie and an amused Mike into the fun.

At the time Dylan didn’t fully understand the tears in Lou’s eyes as she was enveloped in the hugs from each member of his family before they left. He understood a little more when he learned about her own cold upbringing, but it was only after another eleven years had passed that he could truly comprehend what she was yearning for, and by that stage he was more than determined to see that she got it.

. 

Present day…

‘Yup, there’s no need for you to pay for a nurse, when Mum can do it just as well.’

‘I can afford it Dylan,’ Lou sighed and rested back on the bed. ‘I can more than afford it. You know that.’

‘Right, yes, I do know that,’ he said and, unusually for easygoing Dylan, his voice was laced with steel. ‘What I also know is that I’ll not let you be looked after by ffwcin* strangers who don’t know what you like to eat, what dvds you want to watch, what magazines you read, that you always have to have a box of Bendicks mints in the house and you try to hide it but you feel physically violent towards anyone who eats the gold ones, that you like you feet rubbed but not your toes, that you still have a blanky under your pillow and you don’t like it to be washed very often (rank by the way but each to their own). You might have enough money to hire an entire fleet of nurses, cooks, cleaners, whatever, but you are going to be looked after by people who care about you.’

‘Dylan, we’ve barely spoken for over a year.’

‘That was your decision Lou, not mine.’

‘I – ‘

‘And I understand why you did it. I was a complete prat; I know that. But you’ve had your time to be pissed off with me. It was a long freaking time as well, but that’s over now.’

‘You don’t get to tell me when it’s over Dylan Griffiths,’ Lou said, crossing her arms across her chest. ‘It’s up to me whether I forgive you or not.’

‘That’s fine,’ Dylan shrugged. ‘You decide when to forgive me, but in the meantime I’m not going anywhere.’

Lou was so frustrated she actually growled. ‘You are the most irritating, stubborn, annoying…Ugh…how do you even still have a key? I made you give me back yours before I left for Africa.’

‘I…well I…’ Dylan shifted uncomfortably for a minute then stared straight at her, totally unashamed as he said, ‘I made a copy.’

With that, Lou’s temper, which had been hanging on by a thread, snapped. She grabbed the closest thing to her and threw it at his head. Seeing as the closest thing had been a pillow, this action didn’t have quite the impact she was hoping for as it hit Dylan in the chest with a soft thump. Looking at his smirking face Lou could feel the red mist descending. How dare he push her around and think he knew what’s best for her? She snatched up the water glass from her bedside table and hurled it at Dylan’s face. He ducked and the glass smashed on the wall behind him.

They looked at each other in stunned silence for a moment before Dylan’s face broke into a huge grin. He stalked towards her saying, ‘Knew she was still in there. Knew that a bit of pain and major surgery couldn’t take all the fight out of you.’

Lou was too shocked by her own behaviour to speak. What was she thinking? She could have seriously hurt him. So when Dylan bent and kissed her on the lips for the third time that day, she was too distracted to do anything but kiss him back.

‘Hello there? Kids?’ They heard shouted from the living room, causing Lou to come to her senses and pull back from him. His hands were framing her face and hers were buried in his hair as she stared into his green eyes, watching as they flashed with irritation, and then closed slowly before he rested his forehead on hers.

‘Dylan Griffiths, get out here and help me with this shopping.’ There was a lot of rustling followed by an alarming amount of crashing coming from Lou’s kitchen.

‘Perfect bloody timing Mum,’ Dylan muttered as he reluctantly moved back from Lou, but not before kissing her briefly once more, then smiling at her stunned expression.

Lou lay back into the bed and listened to Dylan and his mother banging about, putting what sounded like a colossal amount of food away whilst bantering affectionately back and forth. She sighed, with Bronwen in the mix it was unlikely that she was going to be able to revert to the nursing agency plan in a hurry.

She’d come up with it in hospital after realizing she was going to need a fair amount of help to get through the first couple of weeks at home. Most people would have family to care for them, but with Jimbo in Africa and her mother a complete non-starter in the caring stakes, she was out of options. Frankie and Sarah were at first adamant that they could look after her, but they had their own children to think of, and Lou just didn’t want to impose. Anyway after the first day of arguing with her they both seemed to back off completely, and, with the benefit of hindsight Lou could see that that was more than a little suspicious. The question was why they would be happy to let Dylan look after her, given the way they knew she felt about him since last year? It didn’t make any sense. Gingerly pushing herself up onto her feet she made it to the mirror and barely recognized the pale, haunted face staring back at her. Grabbing a hair band from her dresser she tied the blonde tangled mass up into a messy knot, wincing as the move pulled on her scars. She reached for her makeup bag but her hand froze; no amount of makeup was going to do her any good at the moment.

‘Hey Mother Teresa,’ Lou called from across the living room, having decided that now was as good a time as any for a showdown with Bronwen. Bronwen whipped around to see Lou standing in the doorway of her room and smiled.

‘Beautiful Lou,’ she said moving across the living room to get to her, the tiny bells on her skirt jingling as she went. Bronwen was one of the most eccentric, kind and extremely
Welsh
people Lou had ever met. She had dark hair and sparkling green eyes like her son, but that was where the similarities ended. Bronwen had a petite well-rounded figure and she dressed like some sort of crazy Welsh gypsy with long flowing skirts and an overabundance of scarves. As she drew up in front of Lou her expression changed from excitement to shock, then settled on concern.

‘Oh cariad,’ she muttered, searching Lou’s face, and no doubt taking in the dark circles under her eyes and her sunken cheeks. Lou watched in fascination as Bronwen’s expressive eyes filled with tears as she reached up to tuck a stray strand of Lou’s blonde hair behind her ear. The sight of Bronwen’s uncensored reaction was enough to tip Lou over the edge and she felt her nose sting with the effort of holding back the emotion. Bronwen reached out and pulled Lou in for a tight hug. Maternal affection had been in short supply in Lou’s life and the feeling of being engulfed in Bronwen’s softness was almost too much. Lou’s body bucked with a sob as she held on for dear life. ‘Ah cariad, you give it all to Bronwen now. There’s nothing a good cwtch can’t solve.’