Chapter Eighteen
Oakley
I wake up naked and much the same way I did that first day I wound up in his bed. But this time, I know where I’m at and who I’m probably going to see when I pull myself out of bed. Damn it! I did it again. Made an ass of myself and probably embarrassed the fuck out of everyone who knows me.
The door flies open, and Waylon comes in with a tray looking better than any human has a right to. I moan again and cover my face with both my hands.
“Good morning.”
“I’m sorry.” It’s out of my mouth before I can even think things through. “Again. I promise this time I will never drink again.”
He chuckles and sets the tray down beside me. It’s got orange juice, pieces of toast, and painkillers spread out for me.
“No worries.”
“No. You…this is so sweet, and I keep forcing you to take care of me.” I take the pills he gives me and wash them down with the orange juice. “Terry’s going to get tired of plucking me out of the shower all wet, too.”
“Terry didn’t come home with us last night, sweetheart.”
“What?” My brain screeches to a halt at what he just said.
“She didn’t come with us last night.”
“Did I…? Did I wash myself?”
“Some.”
Some? That’s…disconcerting.
“I did your hair for you.”
Oh. I guess that’s alright as long as…Images come back to me of both of us in the shower. Together.
“Oh God! Did we…?” No. We couldn’t have. I would know.
“Did we…?”
Images of him tucking me into the bed come back to me like whisps of smoke. I fight back tears as I look up at him. He takes the tray from beside me and pulls me and the sheet over his lap. He takes my face in between his hands and smiles at me.
“Did we have sex?” I nod, too scared to say anything else. “No. I kept my pants on the entire time. You wanted to get the scent of stale beer off you and asked for my help.”
“Oh my God. What was I thinking?”
“Well, at first I thought you might be confusing me with Terry, but I don’t think you kiss Terry like you were kissing me.”
I couldn’t be more embarrassed.
“So…all we did was…kiss?” I become hugely aware of the fact that I am sitting on his lap in nothing but a thin sheet. And that, apparently, I took a shower with him!
“Well, you did ask me to sleep with you.”
I rear back so far if he hadn’t been holding me so tightly, I would have fallen in the floor.
“Like…sleepover-sleep-with-me?”
“No, I’m pretty sure you were after something a little less PG-13.” Oh, God! I’m going to puke! The wispy memory of me asking him to…
“I’m going to be sick.”
“No worries. I knew you were too drunk.”
Too drunk? What the hell does that mean? If I hadn’t been drunk and asked him to…he would have…? Lucy’s words from last night drift through my head, and I put my hand out to push away from him.
“You…you would do that just to what? Make your sister happy? Help everyone think we really are together?” His brows slowly start to rise. “How many times have you had to ‘sell’ a story, Waylon? How many times do you take drunken girls home with you?”
“Counting you - two. Both times were with the same person! You! Of course, I don’t go out trolling for drunk women to take home. What kind of person do you think I am?”
“I don’t know because I don’t know what’s real and what isn’t anymore.” I jump up from his lap to put space between us, and this time he lets me go. “Maybe Terry was right, and I’m just a means to an end to you. Maybe you have no problem using me.”
“What the hell, Oakley? If I wanted to use you, I would have fucked you last night when you asked me to!”
“Oh my God! I…”
“Fuck!” He grabs my hand and brings it up to his face so he can take a better look. The knuckles are bruised and split in some places.
“Oh God! Did I hit you?”
“No, sweetheart, you didn’t hit me.”
Thinking makes my head hurt, but I try to remember why my hand is like this. It certainly looks like I hit…something.
“You slugged that asshole Tommy.”
“Oh. Well, that’s…not so bad.”
“You started a bar fight, too.” My eyes widen at this newest nugget of information.
“I started a bar fight?” What kind of monster am I? “Am I going to get you in trouble?”
“No, baby. You’re not going to get me in any trouble, but I want to make sure that hand is wrapped and taken care of properly.”
Tears prickle against my eyes, causing them to sting and burn as he swoops me up and takes me into the bathroom to fix my hand. I was such a bitch to him, and yet he still takes care of me.
“Thank you. For everything.” I lean forward and offer a quick kiss. “For taking care of me, especially.”
I kiss him more fully and wrap my arms around his neck. I’m trying to say I’m sorry, but I'm not sure if he can tell that's what I am doing. When I pull back, he runs his thumb over my bottom lip.
“It’s entirely my pleasure, Oakley. Entirely.”
I think he can tell, but I want to be sure.
“Waylon, I’m…”
“There’s no need for that. No need at all.”
“But I was kind of bitchy and…”
“You were right.” I…was. My heart sinks, and I try to keep my face from showing it as he continues.
“We don’t know each other that well yet.
Even if we have known about one another for years, this is different, new, for both of us.
It’s okay to be scared and have doubts and worries.
You bring them all to me, and we’ll take care of them together. Okay, baby?”
I nod. “Okay.”
That was actually better than what I thought he was going to say.
A lot better. I make a silent promise to myself not to let other voices into…
whatever this is between me and Waylon, too.
No more listening to gossip or shit talk.
If I have a worry, I’m going straight to Waylon! I just hope he does the same.