62. Reverse-Reverse Cowgirl
reverse-reverse cowgirl
Strider
Mirren thrashes in her chair; her face is contorted in pain. Her mouth opens, but nothing comes out.
She’s asleep. This isn’t pain… at least not physically.
“Mirren. Baby.” I shake her shoulders. “Wake up.”
An arm flails and hits the back of my own.
Dropping my voice, I try again. “Mirren, it’s a nightmare. I’m here. Wake up.”
Her eyes spring open. They’re manic and searching, finally anchoring on my own. “I— I’m sorry.”
The fuck?
“Why are you apologizing?” I release her shoulders and back away, realizing that towering over her might be the all-wrong move when her mind is—or was—playing tricks on her.
“Don’t go.” She extends a hand, and I can read what she won’t say.
“Do you want me next to you or can I hold you?”
“Please.” Her voice is small but clear.
Lifting her from her chair, I take the seat she just vacated, situating her in my lap as she adjusts to make sure her knee is supported correctly. “Want to tell me about it?”
She shakes her head but speaks anyway. “You need to know that I come with this. I don’t know how to turn it off. I would if I could, trust me.”
My phone rings in the bedroom, but I ignore it.
“I hate it,” she whispers as if she’s displaying some weakness.
“I hate it for you. Are they frequent?”
She shrugs and stares down the hall as if she can see into the past. “Too frequent to not worry about them.” Her gaze finds mine. “But I haven’t had one when we’ve been in the same bed. I suspect that won’t always be the case.”
Same. Safety is great, but we both know that her mind will do what it wants. “And when that happens, how do you want me to wake you?”
“I don’t know, but can we keep the conversation open about it and play it by ear? My biggest fear is hurting you.”
“I know you have a hell of a right hook.” I smirk at her, trying to lighten the mood. “I’ve seen it.”
“Yeah. And my left isn’t bad either.”
“Wouldn’t have expected anything less, Freckles.”
She leans up and presses her lips to mine. “Want to go for a walk?”
“Do you?” My face must read panic, because she reaches up with a finger to press between my brows. “What’s wrong?”
“Your face pinched. And yes. I need to keep it moving. I’ll bitch the whole time, but it needs to be done.”
“And are you doing the stairs on your own?” I challenge, setting her on her feet and rising to my own.
Mirren throws her head back and grumbles. “Make you a deal?”
Hands planted firmly on my hips, I throw back her challenge. “Oh yeah, what’s that?”
“I’ll do five on the way up if you carry me down.”
“Counteroffer. You do three on the way down and three on the way up.”
She scrunches her face. If a whine had a face, it would be what I’m looking at right now.
“Fine, but you have to do all the work in the shower afterward.” Her face lightens, and she looks smug, like I just walked right into that trap.
But seriously? She caved, and I get to take care of her in the shower.
DJ Khaled rolls through my mind as I smother down a smile.
“I’ll be right back.” I turn and head down the hall.
“Where are you going?” she hollers at my retreating back.
“To get your shoes.” And to text mom really quickly… Oh, and hit the bathroom.
Fucking prednisone.
Mirren
I make it down three steps before being so sore and cranky I want to cry uncle and crawl back to my chair.
“One more,” the man in front of me says. He can’t see the face I make at the back of his head. This wasn’t our deal.
“We agreed—” I never get the word out. He spins to face me, backs down one step, and extends a hand.
“You’re stronger than that, Freckles. Both of us know that. Besides, I dare you.”
Gritting my teeth, I take the leap. Not literally, but I can do one more. I know I can.
His beaming smile tells me he knows me and he’s proud of me. Turning once more, he positions his right hip so my thigh can squeeze into it. “Tell me when you’re ready.”
“We really should’ve practiced this on flat ground.”
“Well, hindsight’s 20/20 and unless you want to do more stairs—”
I smother his mouth with my hand. “You’re flirting with danger,” I say into his ear as a kiss lands on my palm.
“Jump on, Danger. Let me give you a ride.” He turns his face to hold my gaze, and his voice drops. “I won’t let you fall.”
I know that. I trust him. And I jump.
Note to self: Piggyback rides are way scarier when you’re an adult and stairs are involved. Maybe it was because I was smaller before. Perhaps it was because the big, bad world didn’t look so big or so bad. Or, it could just be that more adults need reverse-reverse cowgirl.
“Squat a little?” I ask once we’re in the driveway.
He does, and I release my good leg, keeping a tight grip on his shoulders to steady myself. “Well, that was interesting.” Next time, I’m taking that fireman’s pole hidden in the closet. Up stairs is one thing. Down is a different beast.
Strider offers his smile the same time he offers his hand. We’re at the street when he says, “I told my mom we’re engaged. I should probably call my sisters too. Actually…” He pulls his phone from his pocket, snaps a pic of our joined hands, and sends a message. “I’ll hear about this.”
Sure enough, his phone rings, and he flips it to face us as a dark-haired woman with a precise long bob comes into view. “What? When? How? Tell me everything.”
“Lo, this is Mirren. Mirren, this is my baby sister, Lorien. She’s a biochemist in Denver. And that’s her fiancé, Liam.”
A man with an impressive beard waves a tatted hand my way. That’s it and that’s all. Nothing more.
“Nice to meet you, Liam and Lorien.”
“I heard that baby sister part, Strider.” Her face reads exasperation, but the love she has for her brother is unmistakable.
“Big brothers, right? We’ll never shake them,” I toss back.
“Right? Ugh. I’m so happy for you both,” Lorien starts, and her fiancé’s hand wraps around her shoulder tucking her in close. “I need to meet you sooner rather than later. And what are you doing in May?”
I look around like I’m on hidden camera. “No plans.” Why does this feel like a set-up?
“You do now. I mean, if you want to. I’m getting married on May fifteenth. Will you be my bridesmaid?”
I’m stunned speechless. Truly speechless. But I’m trained not to show it. I do, however, look at Strider.
His beaming face tells me all I need to know. “I’m officiating, so I’ll be there.”
“If you’re serious…” I say hesitantly to Lorien. I mean, we met today.
“I’m serious.” Her reply is quick and decisive.
“Then I’d love to.”
We talk for a few more minutes and then resume our walk, still hand-in-hand. I tire out before I tell him, but Strider must notice because he turns us around and heads back toward home.
Home.
I hadn’t really considered it outside of the house I grew up in.
But walking these streets with its homes and their under-eave, flickering festive lights and warmth inside like a beacon of hospitality for all who want a cup of cocoa or to sing a carol, I realize two things.
One, there’s nowhere else in the world I want to be.
And two, the man at my side is the reason why.
He has made me see my life as the adventure it is. He has accepted me wholly. Fully. And beautifully adds to the joy of it.
He sees me, wants me, chooses me, and, damn, if he doesn’t challenge me.
I don’t like that at work. I buck it from my parents. I hate it from my brothers. I loathe feeling small and questioned.
But Strider doesn’t make me feel small. Quite the opposite, he empowers me.