Chapter 8
eight
Sierra
N o matter what I might find to say, no words of comfort are going to make Luke feel better. All I can do for now is hold him. Even though he shrugs off my first attempt, I don’t stop trying until he eases into my arms again. After his episode I’d held him this way as he cried. If he found any relief then, I pray he does again and this fresh round of tears will clear some of his pain.
Losing someone you love is probably the hardest emotional trauma a human faces. I don’t know if he realizes he also shouted my name last night. Deep in his heart he must sense how much I care. I will do my best to be strong for him.
Once he’s calm again, I encourage him to shower while I prepare lunch. He joins me in the kitchen looking as refreshed as possible with his pain filled, red-rimmed eyes. Still, he’s the most attractive man I’ve ever cared about. Guess love will color a person’s perceptions.
He sits at the island and pokes at the food on the plate I set before him. Covering his restless hand with mine, I say, “If you don’t feel like eating that’s okay. Last night and this morning were rough. Give yourself some grace.”
He grimaces and pushes the plate away. “Rough is an understatement, Sierra. The memories haven’t hit me that hard in a long time.” He takes a deep breath. “Thank you for trying to help.”
Hoping I did more than just try, I leave my desires and my love for him out of the equation. “I want to help. Now. And in the future. I haven’t been through what you have, but I’m a good listener.” Offering him the choice of more—or less, I continue. “I’m also good at keeping secrets. The importance of sharing is always modified by how much the people around you need that information.”
His tight features relax into a slight grin. “A need to know basis?”
“Exactly. The when and how much you share is totally up to you. Just remember I’m here for you. Whenever you need me.”
“Thanks. Your words feel more honest than hearing them from the therapist I was forced to see.” He shakes his head and stares out the window. “That sounds like I’m ungrateful. I am grateful, just haven’t shown it. The doctors and therapists. The guys in my crew. They all tried to help and I shut them out.
“I’m nothing more than a failure, Sierra. That’s all I have to offer. No one should be saddled with me and my… issues.”
He won’t believe me now if I tell him he’s not a failure. Nor will he accept that I’ll never be burdened by him. I’m still searching for an appropriate response when he speaks again.
“It’s not just my sister’s death. I failed in my promise to her. The promise I made seconds before?—”
“What was that promise?” I interrupt to ask before he retreats into the memory again.
Sitting straighter, he holds my gaze. This is a good move in the right direction. “I promised her I’d take care of her son. He was almost three. But I was so out of it from pain and grief. I wasn’t dealing well with the hand shit. My duty to Kyle got lost in the shuffle of my agonies. His father took him. I suspect more for any settlement or insurance money he could get rather than because he loves his son.”
“It’s horrible, but not uncommon. A few of my foster homes were like that. They took in kids just for the money and made sure we knew that’s all we were good for. It’s no wonder so many kids have no self-worth.”
“Once I’d gotten myself more or less—mostly less—together, I contacted the bastard. He refused to let me see or even talk to Kyle. Now I’m afraid my sister’s son doesn’t know who I am. Screwing up my promise to Tiffani is big failure number two.”
“You probably shouldn’t keep a list like that.”
“Because it’s not healthy?”
“No, because you’re not a failure. You did what you could for both your sister and Kyle. I don’t want you to believe I’m just saying words, giving platitudes, but you made your promise to your sister and so she must have died with a sense of peace. She knew you’d be true to your word.”
“That’s just it. I haven’t been.”
“Luke, you can’t control everything.”
Staring at his prosthesis, he mumbles something I don’t catch then stands and stalks toward the couch. Once he’s plopped onto the cushion he lifts his gaze to me. “I have one more confession. One more failure.”
When I sit facing him, I say, “You don’t need to tell me anything else.”
“Yes, I do. Sierra, I don’t understand how it happened but in just these two days, you’ve become… important to me.”
Important? Hmm, that’s a start. I scoot a little closer and nod. “What does that mean to you?”
“You deserve to know something about me.”
“Okay, enlightenment time.”
“I’m serious.”
“Honey, I know.” Wishing I could take back the endearment, I bite my lip to keep from saying anything more.
Something shifts in his eyes, the way he’s looking at me. I feel the caress of his gaze and my lips tingle with the memory of last night’s kiss. I want that again. And so many other things.
“When I was a teenager I made the decision to remain… uh, chaste until I got married.”
My eyebrows arch with surprise. So not what I expected him to say.
“No specific reason, the idea just felt right for me. There aren’t many who know I’ve never had sex.”
And he’s telling me. This could go so many ways when I tell him my truth. “I can’t say I’ve been so virtuous. It’s been a few years though. Just so you know, I don’t consider celibacy a failure.”
“No, it’s not. Before the fire I was dating a woman who I thought might be that special one. The woman I’d spend my life with. The woman who would help me end my vow. After I got out of the hospital, I invited her to my apartment. Brought in a fancy takeaway meal. Created a romantic fire.”
When he glances at the fireplace, I understand now some of his reluctance when I wanted to build a fire.
“We’d made out in front of the fireplace before but when the moment arrived that evening, she shoved me away. I reached for her again, and her face filled with disgust. I didn’t have to ask why. The way she stared at my bandage wrapped stump spoke volumes. Then she added words. ‘Don’t touch me with that. You’re damaged. I planned to tell you tonight I could never love…’.”
“She’s a flippin’ idiot, Luke.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. All she did was speak the truth.”
He rises, walks to the island and keeps his back turned to me. “I’m… I’m not a whole man. My body was damaged along with my soul. How can I expect a woman, hell anyone, to accept me as anything but damaged?”
“Everyone has damage.”
“Damage. Baggage. I fucking know that, Sierra. You wouldn’t believe what I’ve already—” He makes air quotes. “Worked through.”
“I would if you tell me.” I sit on my hands to keep from getting up and reaching for him. Damn it. This man needs comforting. More than any thoughts and prayers or psychological babble, he needs a human to touch him. As often as possible. But not right now. It’s too soon. I’ll only chase him further into himself. I’ll remain patient as long as it makes sense. Then I will hold him. Touch him.
Because I want this man with every cell in my soul.
As though he’s fighting invisible chains, he faces me again. “Sierra, why are you still here?”
This is an easy way to ease some of the tension vibrating in the air between us. I grin. “You know the reason I came to Alaska.”
His nod is cautious and his hair falls over his eyes. Staring at me through the strands, his frown deepens. “I don’t know what you can find to grin about in all this.”
That makes my smile grow wider. “Luke, honey, the reason I’m still here is because I like being here with you. I want adventures with you. And now I’ve decided my next adventure is going to be taking your v-card.”
His mouth opens then closes. He presses his lips to a thin, flat line before insisting, “No.”
“We’ll see.” I stand and close the distance between us. Without giving him the opportunity to pull away, I rest my palm over the spot where his prothesis attaches to his arm. I expect him to jerk from my touch but he doesn’t. That’s progress.
His arm starts to tremble. His tone is harsh and filled with emotional gravel. “There’s nothing sensual about a metal claw. It’s not meant for pleasure.”
“Then take it off.”
He freezes then slowly slides his arm away. “You have no idea…”
“You think your missing hand will gross me out during sex? Think again, Luke.”
Movements sharp with anger—good, at least he’s showing some real emotion—he removes his claw and holds up the cotton-sleeve covered stump. “Take a good look, Sierra. Without a hand I’ll be touching you with this.” He rips off the cushioning fabric to expose the red scars of his deep burns. “Look close. You’ve seen the damage. Is this what you want against your skin?”
“I’ve had that part of you against my skin. I’ve stroked and massaged. You know the only thing that bothers me about your stump is how poorly it’s healed. How much pain you have.”
He gives a bitter laugh. “Caring about how the damn thing heals is one thing. Being touched by this in an intimate moment? How can that not be distasteful. I am not whole. I have nothing to give a woman.”
In hope of helping him heal, it’s time for me to pull out my personal pain, one of my secrets. I know all too well what it’s like to believe there’s no potential for healing. Some days dealing with those emotions still feels impossible. Like I’m still the broken seventeen year old who believed her life’s dreams had been stolen, dissolved with the pain of a harsh beating. Of being raped. I also know those despairing days won’t last. I’ve been able to put the anguish back where it belongs and move forward. This positive outlook has brought me more success and joy than I’d imagined possible.
Now it's become my purpose to help Luke find his way through the miasma of his pain and insecurities. Whether he ever returns my love or not.
“Well, we are a perfect pair then, Mr. Not A Whole Man.” That freezes him in the middle of replacing the prosthesis.
“Perfect?”
A flash of interest brightens his sky-blue eyes and I nearly cheer for the slight expansion of his dark pupils. He can protest all he wants. The subtle signs his body exposes lets me know there’s interest there. Maybe even desire.
“Yeah. Because I’m not a whole woman.”
The stifling silence in the cabin grows as I return to sit on the battered couch. The ancient springs groan with my movements as I hug one of my pillows against my chest. Even with my brave words, I still need a little comfort sometimes, too.
Luke remains standing at the island, staring at me, trying to analyze what I meant without asking. I’m not going to make this easy for him. I can wait him out.
He turns toward the kitchen door and, expecting him to escape the cabin, my heart drops. Closing my eyes, I lean my head back against the furniture’s high back. He may run now, but I won’t let him hide for long.
The air stirs and I open my eyes to him holding out a beer. “Peace offering?” I ask as I take the bottle.
He shrugs and sits on the coffee table facing me before taking a draw from his beer. “Talking is thirsty work.”
I chalk up another small victory. He hasn’t shut me out. Yet. I lift my bottle in a salute. “Thanks.”
He stares at his prosthesis, opening and closing the claw. “I don’t understand.”
“Understand what?”
His gaze finally lifts to mine. “You look… perfect. A perfect woman, I mean.”
It would be easy to focus on his unknowing compliment, but that won’t help him understand. “Whole and complete?”
“Unlike me, yes.”
“Not every missing part is visible.”
“I don’t understand.”
Of course he doesn’t. He’s a man. “One of the things many believe makes a woman is the ability to have kids.”
He nods slowly.
“My junior year in high school was rough. The home where I’d been placed also housed a trio of boys ready to be aged out of the system. They wouldn’t leave me alone no matter how many times I said no. I was walking home after staying late at school one Friday when they jumped me.
“First they beat me because I’d turned them down. Then brutally raped me. I don’t know who found me. I was unconscious when they got me to the hospital, taken to surgery, and woke up a couple of days later. My uterus had been damaged beyond repair so the doctors gave me a complete hysterectomy. Now I’m missing those important woman parts.
“I’m damaged. Not whole.”