Chapter 8
LANDON - NOW
Although it would be a faster trip to take Alice downtown to get her clothes, I opt to bring her to Fair Heights instead.
It’s half an hour west of San Esteban, but I think her chances of being recognized are much slimmer.
The last thing she needs is to get mobbed by reporters while trying to pick out new underwear.
Not that I’m thinking about her underwear. Or the fact she isn’t wearing a bra. I try not to notice, but it’s impossible not to. So I do the next best thing, and resolve not to stare.
I also resolved not to pry, but there are a few things I need to know.
“Did you sleep all right?” I ask her when I pull onto the freeway.
She gives me a shy smile. “You already asked me that.”
“Oh. Right. I guess I’m putting off the important question.”
“Which is?” She keeps her focus forward, on the freeway in front of us.
“I hate to ask this, but, do you believe Brayden will get violent? Has he already? I know some people at SEPD, and we should file a report.”
“I don’t think he’ll get violent.” She shakes her head, looking lost in thought. “He never has before.”
“Okay. I don’t mean to sound judgmental, it’s just that if you left without any of your clothes. I worried that he hurt you.”
“I don’t have any clothes—that’s why I left with nothing.” Her voice is soft, drowning beneath the sounds of my car engine and the road. “Like, I mean, I don’t own any clothing, not anymore. He and Jericha threw everything out.”
I’ll come back to the he and Jericha part later. But right now, my brain is snagging on no clothes. “You mean you’ve been home from the hospital for, what, almost a week? And all you’ve had to wear is that?”
She shrugs. “He’s been busy.”
Too busy to buy her clothes. Too busy to make sure his wife is comfortable.
Part of the reason I notice she isn’t wearing a bra, is because she has the most gorgeous, bountiful tits I’ve ever seen.
But after listening to women talk, I know such a chest is a mixed blessing.
Well-endowed women struggle with everything from back pain to unwanted attention to devastating body dysmorphia.
Not to mention the difficulties with finding comfortable bras that offer adequate support.
And her husband, the man who promised to love and cherish her, through good times and bad, has let her go a full week without taking care of this basic need? Clothes are bad enough, but she is probably hurting on top of all of it.
I’m tempted to turn around, hunt the guy down, and force him to feel even a fraction of the pain Alice must be going through. I doubt he could make it thirty seconds without breaking down and blubbering for mercy. Fucking asshole.
My original plan was to take her to a big-box department store, but I toss out that idea. We won’t find good bras there. The next best thing is Angeli’s in downtown San Esteban, but again, we have problems with Alice’s current popularity, and recognition.
Navarre, a luxury department store in central Fair Heights, is my new destination. When I pull into the parking lot, Alice turns to look at me with her bright, blue eyes. “I thought we’d just grab a few things at a discount store.”
“I want to make sure you have clothes that make you feel good, and fit you right.”
“I’ll pay you back—”
I shake my head. “Nope. Let’s go.”
She seems self-conscious, walking into the upscale store while wearing that ugly yellow sweatshirt and pants. The first thing I do is usher her toward a rack of skirts and matching tops. “Grab whatever you like. I’ll pay for it and then you can wear it while we shop.”
“Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?” She sticks out her tongue.
“Wonderland, you could be prancing around naked in this store, and I wouldn’t be embarrassed.” Jealous and turned on, but not embarrassed.
Her mouth opens in a small O of surprise. I want to touch her lips with my fingertip and see what she does. Instead, I clench my hand into a fist.
The skirt and top she chooses are made of a soft fabric that has me wanting to touch her.
Still no bra. My mouth waters every time I accidentally flick my gaze down to her chest. I could bury my face there and bite and lick and suck at all that gorgeous flesh.
I wonder how sensitive her nipples are, how much pleasure it would bring her when I pinch and tug.
I shake my head, trying to clear my debauched fantasies. I’m here to help her, not corrupt her.
I steer her toward the intimates section and a perky sales lady who wears a tape measure draped over her shoulders. “I’ll wait back there.” I jab my thumb over my shoulder. “Get at least four good bras.”
“But they’re expensive—”
“I don’t care how much they cost.” My voice is gruff, but I won’t let her argue with me on this. “You need them, so you’re getting them.”
I pass my credit card to the sales lady. “If she likes it and it fits, make sure she buys it.”
The sales lady gives me an approving smile and whispers, “Swoon,” as I walk off.
Hearing Alice giggle in response puts an extra spring in my step. I used to love listening to her laugh, which happened more before she met Brayden.
While I wait, I browse more clothes. She’s picked out a couple pairs of jeans, which I have draped over my arm, and a few tops.
Nothing for running. She used to love running.
I wander over to the athletics department and gather up some fitness gear.
She’ll need to try on shoes to find the best fit. Sports bras, too.
I take my selections to the counter and head back toward the intimates section. Alice is walking away from the counter, grinning at something the sales lady said. She brandishes my card like she holds the winning hand at poker.
“You gonna give that card back? Or buy some more pretty underwear with it?” I ask.
“How do you know it’s pretty?” She puts a protective hand on top of the Navarre bag looped over her shoulder.
I want, so, so badly, to peek into the bag. “Because you have good taste.”
She blushes.
Giving her a break, I accept my credit card and grab her hand. “I put everything on the counter over here, but I want you to try on some shoes. Something for everyday, something a little dressier, and a pair of running shoes.”
She pauses, forcing me to stop walking.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Oh. I, um, I’m not a runner anymore?” She shrugs.
I’m an ass. She was kidnapped while she was on a run. The thing is, running was her stress relief, and it was what got her through the worst of her grief after her parents died.
The shiny black running pants are soft in my hands. Maybe, eventually, she’ll want to run again.
“You might want to do other exercise,” I finally say.
“How about we get these things, but no pressure to wear them, obviously. We’ll just have them in case you want them.
Cody and I have a home gym, and a bigger one at the office.
You can use either of those, anytime. Or we could sign you up for the gym down the street from our apartment building if you’d rather go there. ”
She eyes all the clothes piled on the counter. “I feel bad that you’re spending all this money.”
“And I feel good that I’m spending all this money.” I knock gently into her shoulder, grinning.
“Well, maybe we should get you a few things, too.” She reaches behind me for a faux-fur coat and starts draping it over my shoulders.
I let her do it, and laugh when she finds a lady’s fascinator hat to hold up above my head, like she’s evaluating the look.
“Well?” I ask. “Am I presentable? Can I be introduced to a king and queen?”
“I think you are the queen.” She starts to laugh and covers her mouth.
I grab her hand back. I don’t want her to hide her face—I want to see every brilliant smile. Her laughter fades as she blinks up at me. Her gaze jumps down to my mouth, then back to my eyes.
Does she want to kiss me as badly as I want to kiss her?
I’m still holding her hand. Her fingers are soft. I rub her knuckles with one of mine. I could touch her for days.
Something flickers in her blue eyes, an uncertainty. She’s pulling away.
I let go of her hand.
ALICE - THEN
Every week, I looked forward to group therapy. And it wasn’t because of the emotional release, or the way I could commiserate with other people who lost loved ones. Those would be “pure” reasons to look forward to therapy.
No, my reasoning was completely impure.
It was because of two men. The two hottest men I’d ever met in my life. Cody and Landon. I’d spent far too many hours thinking about them, especially during church services. I would never get to a higher level if I kept my consciousness on such filthy fantasies. But I couldn’t seem to stop.
The elders at Seven Blessed Days were already annoyed that I was attending grief counseling in the rec hall of another church, a lesser church. But Elder Wattle wasn’t available, and I needed to do something to keep my thoughts from descending into utter despair.
Apparently, my brain had two settings. Grief, and lust.
I wondered if Cody or Landon would ever fall for me, and which one I would prefer.
Cody seemed more playful and mischievous.
Landon, more serious. It seemed unfair that they were two men.
Why couldn’t all that goodness be put into one man, and then he could fall in love with me, and I wouldn’t have to choose?
When I walked into the rec hall, they were already sitting, waiting for the meeting to start. Just as Cody waved me over to sit next to him, another lady took the spot. He shot me an apologetic glance and made a funny face.
I made a funny face back. It was amazing how special he could make me feel with something as simple as this. We were in on a private joke, just the two of us.
Inderjit started the meeting with a generic call to gather, listen, and sympathize. He went over some quick orders of business, like the rec hall being closed for painting next week, so we would resume in two weeks. Then he nodded at Landon. “Landon, do you have anything you’d like to share today?”
“I—” Landon cleared his throat. His gray eyes darted in my direction. Was he looking at me? Or was he simply looking around, and his gaze happened to land on me briefly? “Yeah. It’s been a year since we lost Nessa.”
Since we lost Nessa? Who was this we he was talking about? Was Nessa his daughter? Was he married? He and Cody were just friends, they said, but what if they used to be together, and had adopted a daughter?
Had I been lusting after married men? Seven Blessed Days would have quite a lot to say about that if they ever found out.
Not for the first time, I was grateful the elders couldn’t monitor my thoughts.
I forced my mind to quiet so I could listen to Landon. One of the rules in this group therapy was we aren’t allowed to pry for curiosity’s sake. Anything shared, was shared willingly, voluntarily. We could ask clarifying questions if we’re confused, but not much else.
I hoped he would elaborate.
He continued, “I loved her so goddamn much. I always will. We were going to marry her.”
Holy…heck. Not a daughter. They were going to marry her.
Cody was nodding next to him.
He could only mean he and Cody were going to marry Nessa.
My world tilted in a new way, topsy-turvy, like the poles got taken out and stuffed into the equator. The entire axis, gone. The rotation, wrong.
“People always talk about it getting easier.” Landon chuckled. “I mean, how many times per meeting do we hear that it gets easier?”
“So many times,” someone muttered.
“The truth is, it does get easier.” Landon slid his hands down his thighs, like he was calming himself.
“But sometimes I don’t want it to. When I feel like my heart is thinking I can move on, I remember all the pain of losing her.
Cody and I couldn’t cope. We still can’t, some days.
But the idea of moving on, finding love again, doesn’t seem as repulsive as it did before. ”
Finding love again sounded repulsive to him? I eased back in my seat, pressing my spine against the curved metal. My pulse whooshed in my ears. Frantic waves, trying to escape the confines of the ocean.
My fantasies fragmented before my eyes. I could never be enough for two men. Certainly never enough for two men who loved someone as much as they loved Nessa.