Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Calida’s announcement makes me smile. The fact that she’s noticed human customs and even more, that she took notes, is touching. The rose bush is completely ridiculous and I have no idea what I’ll do with it in the morning, bu, for now, I’m going to embrace the gesture.
They’re taking care of me, I suddenly realize. No one other than Betsy and Annemarie, in my memory, has ever attempted to take care of me. It’s nice.
I try not to dwell on my lack of memories for family. I try not to think a lot about my parents – who they were, where they might be. Do I have siblings? Why am I like this?
I go out of my way to not consider it often.
Largely because it hurts. And, through therapy and some self reflection, I’ve realized that’s where my desire to publish comes from.
I want to be remembered. I don’t need to be important, or famous, or rolling in money.
I just want to not be forgotten… the way I’ve forgotten.
Wow. An attempted sexual assault really brings out my melancholy, huh?
Putting those thoughts back in the metal box in my brain, I smile at Calida and offer my hand. She happily trots over and butts her nose against it, purring softly. She seems quite pleased with herself and it’s hard to remain locked in my own feelings when I have a fucking dragon to pet.
“Thank you,” I say. Flint meets my eyes from the kitchen, where I assume he’s getting Calida’s dinner. “Thank you.”
He smiles in the delectable way of his, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
He combed my hair. I had taken the longest, hottest shower of my life. I scrubbed my skin until I thought it would peel away into ribbons of nothing, drifting down the drain with my sense of autonomy and self. Until it hurt.
When I had stepped out of the shower and saw the pile of clothes, complete with clean underwear, on the sink, I almost broke down again. Most men, at least those I’ve met, would have foregone the underwear in hopes of getting lucky. Hell, they probably wouldn’t have even offered pants.
Let’s be real. They wouldn’t have thought to offer clothes at all in hopes that I’d have to exist naked, in nothing but a towel, to get my own damn clothes.
Not Flint. He had my favorite pants, a long-sleeve tee, clean underwear, and even a sports bra waiting for me.
Something, some instinct or feeling, had me turning away from the shirt he had selected and sneaking out of the bathroom anyway to snag one of his behemoth t-shirts from the dresser instead.
Never mind that the thing hits my knees and I look ridiculous.
It’s soft and safe and most importantly, it smells like him.
Like home, a voice in my mind had whispered, but I’d chosen to ignore it.
The smell of leather, tobacco, and the wild scent of the woods surrounded me, and I immediately felt my body relax. So yes, I stole his shirt.
He'd been so sweet. Combing my hair. Not in a transactional way. Not in the way too many would have done it – as an action to elicit a favorable sexual response. He had done it as a way to take care, to help. To have that contact, as innocent as it was. It had steadied me in the deepest recesses of my soul. There are still good, strong, sweet… males, I guess… somewhere in existence. It helped to dampen the roiling fear, to know that I have a huge, strong male in the vicinity. It might be a fallacy, especially given how my evening played out, but it helped. I hardly expected Brett to show up in the night to complete his mission, but I won’t lie and say that having Flint here isn’t adding to my sense of security.
Now I’m sipping on the tea he went through the trouble to make, and spooning up the soup that he ordered. It hits my stomach like glory, warming places that have felt frozen these past couple of hours. Was it really that long ago? This night has felt like it’s lasted eons.
Flint comes back, presenting Calida with a full pizza, just for her. She slips, trying to hurry to the plate, but not gaining any traction with her feet. Her ass slides, hitting the table and causing the dishes to jump. So it's not only human girls who go gaga for pizza. Ma'am – same.
She finally gets where she’s going, as Flint and I share another smile.
He’s turned on one of my comfort shows. I know he’s going out of his way to do anything he can to make me feel better, and it’s working.
While part of me is still quaking in terror and I’m fighting back the shame that, intellectually, I know isn’t mine to bear – I do feel better.
His extra care, combined with the sense of normalcy, is all helping.
Can’t deny it, though. Watching him level Brett did wonders for my sense of wellbeing, too.
I’ve spent hours studying this man’s body, but he spends so much of his time as a soft, squishy, cinnamon roll that it’s easy to forget he’s more than that.
I forget that, despite not discussing it in detail, he is a powerful warrior.
A predator, in his own right. Just because he’s got all the hardness of a piece of saltwater taffy when he’s here with Calida and I, doesn’t mean that he’s a pushover.
Tonight was a stark reminder of that. Not that I mind.
I mull that over, choosing to focus on Flint, his defense, rather than Brett’s ugliness.
Tomorrow is soon enough to focus on the next steps when it comes to that asshat.
Flint and I finish our dinner in relative silence, letting the noise from the television fill the space.
He sits close enough that his thigh is pressed against mine.
Any other night, the heat of his body on mine would have sinful thoughts flowing through my brain, the electric current between us enough to speed both my heart rate and breathing until I felt honor-bound to jump him.
The man is perfection and, on any other day, I would be thinking about unwrapping him like a candy bar and sinking my teeth into that perfect ass.
Tonight, though, the warmth and weight of his leg pressed against mine is just a comforting reminder that I’m not alone. That, for the first time in my extremely limited memory, I’m not alone.
I have someone, two someones if I include Calida, who will sit with me at my worst, just to make sure I know I’m not alone.
When we’re finished, Flint collects the debris from dinner and handles it in the kitchen. He cleans up the mess of dirt clods from the flowers Calida brought home, without my asking. Did I mention the perks of an unexpected roommate?
Calida is snoring on a pillow we purchased for her a couple weeks ago. Occasionally, she deems it worth her presence, rather than crowding me in my own bed.
As I finish my tea, a wave of anxiety hits me.
We both really should go to bed. I’m sure Flint is tired and probably has a lot of feelings about what transpired.
My tendency to dream vividly coupled with todays weird hallucinations, the added stress, Brett…
fuck, I would do almost anything to not sleep tonight.
“I think you should probably get some rest,” Flint says. Is he reading my mind?
“I … I don’t want to,” I reply softly.
Flint studies me, then seems to survey the room.
I sigh in defeat. He’s right. We both need rest. As much as it should be allowed, the world doesn’t stop moving, responsibilities don’t disappear when something catastrophic happens. If I wrote a strongly worded letter regarding this absolute necessity, who should I send it to?
I go to the bathroom to get ready for bed.
Not that there’s a lot to do, but I should probably finish my skin care and brush my teeth.
Gods know that I can’t afford a dentist appointment.
As I’m singing the ABCs in my head, I hear some scuffles outside the door, but with the faucet running, I assume it’s just Calida.
Probably rushing to my bed to stake dibs on the larger part of the mattress.
I finish my bedtime routine. Coming out of the bathroom, I stop, in shock.
Flint has moved the coffee table into the kitchen and drug my mattress to the floor, laying it in the space between the couch and the TV. He’s piled my pillows and multiple blankets on top of it, creating a cozy nest.
“I thought we could watch one of your movies,” he says, seeing me hesitate at the threshold.
My heart is in my throat. No gesture has ever meant more than this one. He knew, somehow, that sleep was a worry. So he did what he could to prolong this evening, just the two of us, even if I’m a wreck internally.
“That’d be great,” I manage to choke out.
He seems shy, then seems to come to some conclusion. “Don’t worry,” he blurts. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”
I study him. He seems nervous, like he’s not sure he made the right move. On any other day, I’d be happy to tell him he made the right-est of moves but, right now, I can’t find the words.
He hasn’t slept on the couch since we started sleeping together. Did what almost happened tonight change the way he sees me? Does he find me disgusting now?
I swallow thickly and don’t say anything. Shame makes my throat tight.
While he selects a rom-com on my various streaming options, I slowly walk to the makeshift bed he’s made for me. I snuggle into the mound of blankets and pillows, making myself comfortable. It’s so warm and snug. Flint settles on the couch while Calida continues to snore on her pillow.
After about fifteen minutes of the movie, I’m becoming uncomfortable with what’s taking place on the screen.
“What’s wrong?”
How does he know?
“I don’t… I don’t want to watch this,” I blurt.
Shit. Usually I love rom-coms but tonight…
The last thing I want to watch is a love story.
Despite the knowledge that what I’m feeling is normal, I’d really prefer to stay away from male and female relationships tonight.
Despite Flint’s influence and presence in my life, I don’t want to fall asleep watching this shit.
Flint immediately goes back to the home screen.
There’s a tense silence.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
“Don’t be. I’ve never been… here… before. I didn’t think–”
He remains quiet. Finally, he says, “What do you want to watch?”
“You pick.” I state, shifting in my pile of blankets. ADHD is in top form and I can’t face a decision right now.
With some scanning through the offerings, Flint finally lands on one of my favorite terrible action movies. Grateful for the distraction, I try to settle down in my little pile of comfort. Alas, it doesn’t seem to be doing it.
Flint, ever vigilant and weirdly, stupidly attuned to me is still sitting up on the couch. “What is it?” he asks, his voice gruff.
I don’t think about my next words, as they come spilling out of my face hole without my permission. “Willyousleepwithme?”
For fucks sake. Get it together, Casie.
There are multiple moments of humming silence. I’m so tense, hating myself, this weakness, the request itself.
I can feel my cheeks heating.
Flint doesn’t miss a beat. “Of course.”
He gets up and comes around to the mattress.
“Wait, really?”
He huffs out a breath. “Yes, Casie. Of course.”
I have a moment of panic. “I meant sleep sleep. Not… you know–”
He stops rearranging blankets and pillows to give me a pointed look. “Yes, Casie. I’m well fucking aware.”
Well, excuse me.
As if he realizes his words were a little sharp, he sighs, and plops his ass next to me.
“Even if tonight’s…” he seems to search for a word “train wreck hadn’t happened, we still wouldn’t be doing anything you don’t want to.
” He takes my hand and brings it to his lips, gently pressing a kiss to my knuckles.
“So… move your ass and make space. Unless you meant you’d be sleeping on the mattress and I’d be sleeping on the floor. ”
How he can make everything inside me melt then immediately turn around and make me laugh.
“I’d never let my knight in shining armor sleep on the floor,” I retort, scooting my butt over to make room at the back of the mattress.
When he tries to lay down, I stop him. Although he’s hot as ever in his black jeans and sweater, he’s going to be a different sort of hot laying down in this mountain of blankets with me. “Don’t you want to change?”
He shrugs. “It’s not a big deal.”
Again, my heart goes completely squishy.
Chivalry isn’t dead — apparently, it’s just Fae.
I reach out and squeeze his hand. “Go change. Really. I insist.” Since arriving here, he either sleeps naked with me or in a pair of basketball shorts.
He continues to study me, assessing whether I’m being the people pleaser I am at my core or if I really mean what I’m saying. And I do. I trust that Flint would never do anything to hurt me or pull some alphahole bullshit like Brett did.
Flint is, in fact, probably the one man I would choose over a bear.
I’m trying desperately to focus on the movie as Flint exits the bathroom.
He cracks the window so Calida can nudge it up with her snoot if needed and turns off the lights.
He double-checks that the door is locked.
My heart does a slow roll in my chest when he places my jug of ice water on the floor above the mattress before he lies down next to me.
After some hesitation, he hooks an arm around my hips.
He doesn’t pull me closer, leaving inches of space between our bodies, but the weight of his arm is a comfort.
Is he trying to respect my space or am I contaminated somehow?
I shut those thoughts away as quickly as I can, blinking away the tears that burn my eyes.
Holy fuck, he puts off a lot of heat. Almost immediately, the temperature under the blanket increases with the heat of his body. Lost in the warmth of him, I think I hear him whisper something, but I’m already gliding into sleep.