All I Ever Needed

5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Luke

I’m sitting in Eva’s living room. It’s small. Tidy. Everything is so in line with the other things around them, it brings me immediate calm.

The past forty-eight hours have been an utter shit show. And that’s putting it mildly. I have no way of reaching Adam to let him know where I am. But more than that, I have no real fucking clue where I actually am. So, at some point, I’ll have to find my bearings and find him. Once I figure out how.

When Eva invited me in for coffee, relief flooded me. I kept it hidden, I think, but she was right. There was a nose wrinkling stench following me wherever I went. The shower she let me take was unlike anything I’ve experienced in recent years.

Two words.

Water.

Pressure.

I now feel relaxed as I wait for my clothes to dry, sat with only a towel wrapped around me. We’ve made some small talk and already had one cup of coffee, but I admit, I was a little uncomfortable at first. It’s one thing navigating social interactions with a woman as gorgeous as Eva, but when she walked in and immediately spilled her drink all down her front when she saw me, things got a little awkward.

She needed a shower, she told me, but I have no doubt that my being here is what’s keeping her hidden in her bedroom .

A dart of worry strikes my calm. What if she’s fallen or passed out in the shower due to her injury? Maybe that’s why she hasn’t come back yet.

Hearing her cough, I stop being a twat and rub both my eyes.

I am seriously pushing my luck with her. I’m in her debt. I broke her car then made her drive herself home in it after getting stabbed . Now I’m in her safe space, basically naked.

I need to get out of here.

And go where?

Standing from the sofa, I decide on another cup of coffee whilst I wait. The dryer indicates I have thirty-eight minutes left until I get my clothes back. Then I can make myself decent.

I boil the kettle then scour the cupboards for clean mugs. Once I find them, I realise each one is hand crafted. Each design so grippingly different, they’re unique in their own way. One is a man and a woman standing side by side in Paris. Another is of a sunset. The one I pick up has two birds sitting side by side. I stare at the image, its beauty grabbing me.

“Need the milk?”

I jump on a turn, barely managing to keep both hands on the mug as I catch sight of Eva standing at the doorway. Her cheeks are flushed, her lips pink. Her hair’s still a little damp, but I heard the hair dryer a few moments ago. She’s glowing. Like when the sun first breaks through the darkness and all your fears begin to fade away.

“Sorry. Thought I’d help myself. Wasn’t sure how long you’d be.”

She graces me with a warm smile but doesn’t look up when she moves to the fridge. I watch her grimace as she leans forward, reaching for the milk, her wound clearly hurting her.

“Let me help you.” I hotfoot it over to her, my tall frame towering over hers as she closes the fridge door and begins to slowly stand straight.

I take the milk from her hand, watching her emerald eyes leisurely make their way to mine. Eva swallows, and I catch the way her chest quickly rises. She must feel whatever is happening between us.

Like I’m back on rec time catching the last of the sun’s rays for the day, I soak up the way my body instantly warms. The small prickles from every hair on my arms beginning to stand on end the longer we stare at each other, makes a shiver skate down my spine. I don’t know what it is about her, but I’m so aware of her. My body seems to be drawn to her. When I feel my dick unexpectedly twitch, I cough. “How’s your cut?” I ask to distract myself.

Those dazzling greens of hers drop to my mouth. Fuck. “Perfect,” she practically whispers, her soft voice doing nothing to help my situation beneath the towel. Then she’s shaking her head, no longer letting me see the beauty that was seconds ago holding me hostage. She flusters, one hand smacking her face. “I mean it’s fine.” Cautiously she steps around me, aimlessly fiddling with her hair. She seems nervous. “I need to redress it. Would you mind?” Eva’s eyes flick up to the cupboard behind her.

“Sure.” I breathe out and make my way over to her.

This time she steps aside, making way for me.

“What do you need?”

“Top shelf. There’s a medicine box. Could you grab it? I don’t think I can manage standing on the step for it.”

I nod before opening the door and pulling down the obvious medicine box. “Is it just you here?”

“And my housemate, Jamie. She’s at work.”

“I see. Is she as short as you?”

Eva laughs, but the top of her head only reaches my chest. “No. She’s tall like you. It’s her job to get the things that are high up.”

“So, no need to leave this on the side in case you need it again?”

“No, thank you. She can get it.” Slowly, Eva comes to stand by my side. The smell of strawberries from her shampoo hits my nose, the sweetness of it making me want to shut my eyes and bask in it. Jesus. I need to get a fucking grip. Her dainty hands unlock the box, take out a few dressings and some tape, then she’s shutting it again in a hurry. “You mentioned this side of the wall? Earlier, I mean.” With a pained expression, Eva begins lifting the edge of her t-shirt, one hand removing the fresh bandage as she tears back the packaging with her teeth.

Stepping forward, I take it off her then look down, lifting the bottom of her plain white t-shirt, helping place the new bandage on her. I have to hold my breath when I see her underwear. Her skin is soft, the curve above her hip causing my eyes to venture higher and higher until I’m dangerously close to looking at her chest. With a shaky clearing of my throat, I press the pad gently to her, then look up at her, the tips of my fingers flexing, acutely aware I want to feel more. “Tape?”

Without looking, Eva picks up what I need and tears off a strip. “What wall were you talking about?”

I frown, taking care not to hurt her. I’m afraid if I tell her, she’ll panic about me being here. “It was just an expression,” I reply, holding out my hand for another strip of tape.

She tears it off and passes it to me. “Are you obsessed with Game of Thrones or something? Or let me guess, you have no idea what I’m talking about.”

I lift a small smile at her jest, still looking at what I’m doing. “Actually, Little Warrior, that I do know about. And no, I hated that show. It was the others who loved it.” Me? I couldn’t wrap my head around all the dragons.

“Others?”

Damn.

I place the last strip of tape over the edge of the bandage then put the roll on the kitchen counter. We find ourselves staring at one another again. There’s a softness behind her eyes. An attentive edge urging me to speak. I can’t think of another excuse, so I give her some of my truth. “The men I lived with.”

I watch her swallow. Her neck quivers and my delusional brain doesn’t allow me to look away. With a small intake of air, Eva shakes her head side to side, slowly figuring me out. “Where?” she asks, but I can tell she already knows.

All things considered; she hasn’t kicked me out yet. She let me drive her home after I found her. Perhaps she’s now trying to look after me? After all, she did let me use her shower and is washing my clothes. Unsure how this will go down, I allow my shoulders to drop as I say, “I lived behind bars, Eva.” My tone is soft, my voice not dark or threatening, yet Eva’s face understandably falls.

“Is that why you slept in my car?”

I give her a nod.

“Are you on the run?” Her back stiffens like she’s ready to fight if I tell her yes .

I can’t stop the smile from cracking on my face, but it isn’t funny. “No, I’m not on the run.”

“You broke out from prison? ”

Not really. “I didn’t break out, but I did get released early thanks to some good lawyers. Guess you could call it a pass.” I watch her swallow again. I can’t work out what her next question is going to be, so, I get there first and tell her, “Regardless of where I should or shouldn’t be, in,” I turn and look at the machine still spinning, “twenty-six minutes, I’ll be out of your way and you can forget meeting me.”

Eva stares through me, the cogs inside her head whirring. Without a word, she tracks backward, and I think she’s going to run away. Not that she’d get far with the wound she has. Instead, one hand lowers and she pulls out a chair at the table.

Her bum plonks to the seat with a gentle thud. “What the hell am I doing?” I know she isn’t speaking directly to me. She closes her eyes, one hand to her head, and all I can think to do is turn and carry on making the coffee I started, like some sort of chump.

I make two cups then turn slowly to look at Eva. She’s staring into space, her eyes momentarily zoning out. There’s no way to explain what happened when I was just a kid. The recent flashbacks I’ve seen are enough to give anybody nightmares.

Shooting my mum because she didn’t protect me.

There’s no way of putting the hurt I felt when she threatened to harm my sister and brother the same way she did me, into words. So, I place the coffee on the table and wait for her to speak. I’ve come to learn it’s just easier this way.

Seconds feel like minutes. Minutes drag like hours. We both sip in silence, but I’ll give her the time she needs to process what’s going on here. I’m a stranger. A convicted, stranger. And now I’m here, sipping coffee half naked in her house. She has every right to feel worried and confused. Not that she needs to be around me. Of course, I can’t tell her that because she’ll think I’m fucking crazy.

When she eventually looks up, I place my coffee on the table, giving her my full attention .

“When I was a kid, I found a bird that couldn’t fly.” That wasn’t what I imagined she was going to say. “A cat must have had it or something. Its wings were all broken and torn. I remember the noise it kept chirping, like it was calling for someone. When I looked in the hedge row it must have come from, I found its nest, four tiny birds inside.”

Instant calm descends on the kitchen. The space that was moments ago crammed with uncertainty and doubt, lightens as I watch Eva tell her story. “When I told my dad, he said we should try to help it. So I did. I fed the baby birds every hour. Padded out their nest with twigs and leaves where their mother couldn’t. I drove my parents crazy scavenging the garden for worms and insects. I got so desperate to make sure she didn’t die because her babies needed her, I begged my dad to take me to the pet shop, just so we could buy some meal worms to feed them.”

A small chuckle leaves me. I’ve known this woman for a few days, yet the way she speaks, the way she’s taken me in, I can believe every word. I lift my mug to my lips, taking a sip before placing the mug back down. “Did the mother bird make it?”

Eva’s lips purse with a sad edge to them. “No.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, feeling a bit odd.

Eva laughs. “Why?”

“I don’t know. Just felt like the right thing to say.”

We both smile at the other, the conversation skating on the edge of cute. “And the chicks? Did you adopt them as your own?”

“Yes, actually. I did.” She laughs, looking down at her mug, twisting it on the table. Eva studies the picture of the two birds on the front. A few moments tick by where I simply watch her thinking. She’s silent, her eyes darkening.

Most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

“Did you know that once certain birds have bonded, to separate them would be cruel?”

“I did not know that,” I say on a small laugh.

“My dad told me that. He also told me the birds’ time was up,” her eyes flit to mine, “but I couldn’t give up on them. I couldn’t let them die because I wasn’t capable of looking after them. I felt like it was my duty to help them. ”

We’re eyeballing each other. “I’m not sure that’s all on you.”

Eva gives a mild shake of her head like what she’s saying is ridiculous.

I don’t think it is. “What did you do?” I ask her, making her look at me.

“I took them inside and carried on looking after them.”

Taking another sip of my drink, I notice her expression. She looks sad all of a sudden. “And did they survive?” I ask seriously.

“No. They didn’t. When they died my dad took me to the beach so that I could say goodbye to them. We sat on the sand and watched the sunset together. It became our thing.” Eva sips her coffee, thinking wistfully. “That day was special to me.” She then frowns. “Also learned a very valuable lesson.” It’s like she says the last bit to herself.

I don’t speak but tilt my head, waiting and wondering what she could have learned from caring for a bird when she was a child. “What was that?” I ask gently.

“Guess.” She quips a brow seemingly trying to lighten the mood.

I indulge her because seeing her face light up considering she isn’t sure she should have let me in here, feels nice. “That becoming a vet wasn’t for you?” Eva graces me with a condescending look which only serves to make me smile more. “I’m sorry,” I quickly add, wiping away my grin by running a hand over the stubble on my face. Which reminds me. I need a shave.

“That was a rubbish guess,” she throws at me sarcastically before continuing, “But no. It was the first time I learned that it doesn’t matter how much you help someone, sometimes, they can’t be saved.”

Leaning forward, I place my elbows on the table and cross my arms.

Eva’s eyes drop to my bare chest, then back to my face.

Years of complying with prison initiatives and incentives to demonstrate my good behaviour, largely consisted of narrative therapy and scenario-based innuendos dressed up as storytelling to help us talk about traumas we may have faced. I know what she’s doing. Seen it a million times before. Yet with her, I know this is more than a formality. More than ticking boxes and going through the motions of the system. She cares, and for the fucking life of me, I want to know why .

Ignoring the luscious way she quickly tries to lick her lips without me noticing, I ask, “You think I need saving, Little Warrior?”

She shrugs, suppressing a grin. “Maybe.” There’s a twinkle in her eyes now.

Lifting my mug, I take the final swig of my coffee, slightly amused.

“Why do you call me Little Warrior?”

I place the mug back down. “I…” It takes me a beat to think about how to word it. “I guess because the outside world doesn’t seem too dissimilar to the inside world.” Eva frowns. “I’ve seen men get hurt, Eva. I’ve been hurt myself.” Her lips pinch. “But I’ve never seen someone get hurt and still put another human being first. I know you know who did that to you,” I point to the area where her fresh bandages now are, “but my guess is you didn’t tell the police who it was.”

She’s looking at me like she’s slightly offended. Her eyes squeeze as she looks down, almost embarrassed. No, not embarrassed, just, knowing. “I’ve been told it’s one of my flaws.” Tucking her hair behind her ears, she rests her elbows either side of her mug on the table. “What about you then? What’s your flaw? Except, you know, from being in prison.”

She says it more calmly than I think even she thought she was capable of, but her clear redirection tells me I’m right. She protected whoever hurt her. Me? I think I’d have killed them. “Honestly? I don’t know yet. Probably too perfect to have flaws.”

She grins happily. “So it was your perfection that got you locked up?”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

I know she’s trying to make light of it, but a memory intertwines itself around my brain, blackening everything before me. The first night the faceless man called me perfect after he’d tied me up and taken photographs of me. Utter perfection. Those were his heinous words.

Fuck .

These pictures of my past haven’t surfaced for years. They only started again once I got out and saw my bracelet, then just now with Eva. I absentmindedly try to remember where I put it down after my shower. Bollocks, I left it in her bathroom next to a picture of her and her friends.

“At least your flaw won’t wind up leaving you feeling lost afterwards. ”

Eva must have missed my mental blip. Or maybe I kept it under wraps like I’m so used to doing now. So used to doing so in fact, I don’t even know that I am doing it.

Wait. She said lost. “Do you need saving?” I question, unsure of what she’s trying to say as I mentally catch up.

She turns serious when all I want is to see her smile again. Anything to distract me. “I think I just want a happy ending.” I smirk, and she eye rolls me. “I didn’t mean like that,” she chirps, her cheeks flushing crimson in a flash. “I mean one where everyone gets the ending they deserve.”

That sounds nice. “You’ll get yours,” I say confidently. Eva is pure. I can see that straight away.

An incredulous laugh escapes her. “I hope so. The universe can be cruel sometimes.” She sits back in her chair, clearly contemplating her words.

“Meaning?”

Uncertainty dances across her gorgeous face. “It doesn’t matter.”

I swipe my hand through my hair, glancing at the machine. My time here is almost up. But sitting here, talking to her, I already know I don’t want to leave. Conversation with her is unlike any conversation I’ve had recently, even if she doesn’t want to share. “It’s obvious you care about others, Eva.” I turn my head to her.

“Well, it is my job to. One of them, anyway,” she says, a slither of pride now showing itself.

“Two jobs? Wow, okay, Wonder Woman. What is it that you do?” I ask, seeing her face light up instantly.

“I am kind of like a superhero,” she chimes, and I grin at the light way she mocks herself. “By day I run my dad’s restoration shop, taking in people’s art and restoring it for them. And by night, I watch men like you drink themselves into a state. The two are complete worlds away from each other, but money’s money, right?”

Rather than acknowledge how evil money really can be, I bite my bottom lip. “Ah, Little Warrior, I highly doubt I’m like any man you’ve met before.” I don’t mean to sound so self-assured, but seeing Eva nervously blush again has me smiling. “But art?” I say, trying to stop the reddening of her cheeks. “You any good at it?”

“I should be, it’s what I studied.” She laughs. In my silence, she adds, “I restore pieces and hand them back.” Eva then looks at her hands. “I don’t know, there’s something magical about it. Powerful, even. It warms my heart.”

Seeing the good in her compared to the bad I know exists, makes me let loose a huff of breath. “Why do you do both jobs?”

“When I’m not in the shop, that’s when I work at the bar.” Her shoulders lift as she rests her chin in her palm, her elbow resting on the table. “It sounds silly, but I want a bigger space to be able to offer art therapy, as well as a gallery. I’m almost at the point where we can afford to get things started.”

Oh? “We?” I question. “You and your…”

Eva smiles to herself. “My dad. Well, it’s more for him, than with him.” I must look surprised. “What?” she asks, her face wrinkling with slight embarrassment.

Her inner beauty shines through so brightly. “No, nothing. I mean… how is it possible to have so much goodness and be so wise at the age of?” I drag out the word.

“Twenty-eight,” she says, filling in the blank. She laughs a little, and I’m taken back to the first time I heard her do it. “It was my dad’s dream for us to open an art gallery together one day. These are all his.” She points to the various paintings dotted around the room. “They’re his world, and I guess, now mine. When he’s painting, he feels seen. But in reality, he’s lost in himself.”

“Lost?”

She smiles sweetly. “Dementia.” I nod in understanding as she continues, “There’s better treatment out there for him, but he needs more specialist care.” She muses to herself and her eyes turn wistful. “No amount of medication compares to how he is when he’s creating, though.” She shakes her head. “I don’t know, there’s a beauty in the moment. And he’s just always been my inspiration, you know? I’d like to give something back to him if I can.”

I have no need to ask why. Even if I can’t understand it. It’s normal for a child, whatever their age, to idolise their parents. All I can do is say the first thing that comes to mind. “God bless that dying bird. ”

Her lips part, and I wish they hadn’t. The giant O of her mouth makes my throat dry out. “Are you mocking my childhood memory?” she laughs. “That’s the moment I realised I like helping people.” Eyes dazzling, Eva takes me in for a fraction longer than she has all night. “Anyway. What about you?”

“What about me?”

“What was your moment?”

“I’m not sure I have one,” I answer honestly. Flat.

The room suddenly quietens. “Shit. I’m sorry.”

“For what, Eva?” I ask seriously. This woman has taken me in when she really didn’t have to.

“You’ve been in prison, Luke.” Eva cautiously moves to stand, her chair pushing back against the tiled floor. “Of course you don’t have a moment.” Eva shakes her head like she doesn’t like what she just said. Alluding to the fact that because I’ve been inside, all future prospects are diminished.

They’re not. I’ll make sure of it. “So have many men and women,” I reply, watching her as she starts steady steps away from where I’m sitting.

“Yeah, but why? What did you do?” She sounds exhausted.

That, I can’t answer. Won’t. “Eva, I—”

Grabbing her mug from the table, she places it on the kitchen counter. “God, I’m sorry.” Both hands then lift to cover her face. “I don’t mean to be nosy. This is just… you don’t seem like the kind of man who would wind up behind bars, that’s all. I just want to know if I really am that stupid as to let you in my home when I don’t know how dangerous you are.”

The emptiness at sharing your truth and having no one believe you… I’ve felt that before. It hurts. There’s no way to sugar coat a shit upbringing. My mum got what she deserved but I know what I did wasn’t right. Just necessary. Still doesn’t mean I’ll share what happened. “I can’t,” is all I manage before my throat clogs, and Eva’s assessing me in a way I don’t like. I can’t stop my face from tightening and my muscles vibrating. My reaction makes it clear that I didn’t rob a bank or get caught stealing cars. It was far worse.

Her hands freeze, gripping the counter, her body tense as she reads me.

“Have I given you any indication that I want to hurt you or made you feel uncomfortable? ”

Eva’s aura shifts instantly. She doesn’t answer me, but her gaze travels across my face. My unmoving, undeterred face. She knows I haven’t. She’s looking for an excuse to escape what can’t be denied. The reason why I’m still here.

There’s an attraction between us. One that probably is ridiculous, and yet, it’s undeniable. I’ll be damned if I know how to act on it, but I feel it. Whenever I make her laugh or the way she makes me feel deep inside. I like this girl, and I think she likes me too.

Standing tall, the gap between us gets smaller. Eva stops by my side, and I’m left a nervous wreck. Inexperience is irrelevant, I recognise the look now in Eva’s eyes.

Desire.

Seeing her confidence, I can’t take my eyes off of her. Not even when she seemingly waits for me to touch her. Waits for me to probably sweep her off her feet and take her to her bed.

Truth is. As much as I want that. I don’t think I can.

But the look she gives me. My heart sinks. I can’t let her think I don’t want her when I do. Fuck , I do. The way her t-shirt rides up her thigh showing off her delicate seashell skin when she takes another step, has me sweating. She’s unknowingly killing me.

She doesn’t know the one good thing about living behind bars for as long as I did, was the ability to avoid the very thing I think is about to happen. Being intimate.

Intimacy to me doesn’t mean the same thing as it will to the little warrior who’s devouring me with her gaze. Inside, I didn’t have to think about it. Fisting my own dick didn’t come with shame or needing someone. Holding someone. Wondering what love really feels like. It was simply releasing tension after another Groundhog Day.

The word love makes me take a sharp intake of air.

I’ve never known it, nor felt it for myself.

Don’t think I ever will.

I’m not completely clueless, though. I fumbled my way through losing my virginity when I was sixteen with a girl who, like me, felt left behind by the ever-evolving world around us. It wasn’t mind blowing, and knowing what I do know, I’m pretty sure it didn’t even count. But we were what the other needed at the time.

Like now.

Eva needs to know she isn’t a fool for letting me in. I can’t let her think she is.