Weak for Him Read online

"Oh this is Luketon, my boyfriend," I added, just so no more questions would be asked.

  Mrs. Becky Hanley, obviously thinking she was being cute, whispered loud enough for him to hear, "Oh he's miggghhtttyyyy fine. A keeper if I don't say so myself. So when y'all gettin' married? You're moving back home to raise those beautiful kids you're gonna make, right?"

  I smiled at her, thinking up my next lie before Luke said, "Honey, I know you're tired, but want to help me grab the bags and bring them upstairs?"

  Mrs. Hanley told us on our way out that our room was upstairs, the second on the right. What were the odds that I would be sleeping in my old bedroom?

  Outside, Luke removed the bags from the car and leaned up against the trunk with his arms crossed. He waited for me to tell him what was going on, but I didn't feel like talking.

  "Are you ok?" he finally asked me. "You look a little ill."

  "Yes. No. I mean, yes I'm fine, and no I'm not sick."

  "Are you going to tell me the truth now? You looked like you were drowning inside. I had to save you and give you mouth to mouth before that woman swallowed you whole. Who is she?"

  "I don't want to lie to you. But I don't want to talk about it right now."

  I grabbed my suitcase and wheeled it up the steps. Before we entered, he placed his hand on my shoulder and then opened the door. A fake smile spread across my face, and Mr. Hanley gave me a warm welcome.

  Other visitors checked-in, and together Luke and I climbed the stairs. Although downstairs was unrecognizable, the layout of the top floor had barely changed. Only updated light fixtures, paint, and a new wooden floor made it different.

  Every inch of my room had changed. The window was larger, the floor new, and a chandelier hung from the tall ceiling. An antique wrought iron bed sat against the long wall, and had a homemade quilt draped across it. My bathroom had been updated as well. Bright Tejas tiles lined the stand-up shower and little State of Texas decorations lined the walls, sink, and even the toilet cover. The Hanley's did an amazing job. Impressive to say the least. If I closed my eyes, I could almost imagine that I was somewhere else.

  Luke dropped the suitcases on the floor and plopped down on the bed. He lifted himself up on one elbow and motioned for me to come to him, I did.

  Opening his arms, I crawled into them, and we lay together. Nothing sexual, nothing out of bounds, just a simple gesture that I desperately needed. I wanted to feel safe, and he made me feel that way.

  "I'm not sure what's going on with you right now. But I want you to know that I'm here for you, okay?"

  I wrapped my arm around his stomach and scooted as close as I could to him.

  "So I'm your boyfriend for the weekend?"

  I looked into his eyes. "Yep. Just wait until tonight, when we go into to town."

  "You called it town," he said. "That's so cute."

  ***

  Sprinkles hit the window, causing us both to stir. Riding on the plane, and on my emotional roller coaster, seemed to have worn us both out, but it didn't stop us from taking showers and going out on the town. I laughed at the thought.

  Luke wore a teal polo and a pair of vintage cut jeans. He smiled at me when I stepped out in a black, high-waist button-up dress and a red belt. Two-inch high heels, I wasn't trying to get crazy.

  "You're ready? Already?"

  "I'm not high maintenance."

  He led me down the stairs. The boards that used to creak no longer did. Every imperfection in the house had been fixed. I never thought it would look so well preserved. We smiled at the other guests in the living room area and were out the door.

  Crickets and cicadas buzzed in a harmonic symphony of sounds. They usually did that after a light rain. Luke opened the car door for me, and I shut it before climbing in, and adjusted the collar on his polo. Then I gently wrapped my arms around his neck and thanked him. His arms fit around my waist, and he lifted me slightly from the ground. Once he set me down, I leaned in and whispered in his ear, "I appreciate the gesture to drive, but really, let me."

  The keys found their way to my palm. I slid into the driver's side and zoomed down the driveway, again. Watching the house fade away to nothingness reminded me of the day I left for Vegas. But the house, along with myself, had transformed into something I didn't know. If it could talk, I imagined it would say it didn't recognize me either, but changing was inevitable.

  Living in an oil town meant there were several restaurants open all hours of the night. Although there was nothing high-class like in Vegas, I had the perfect place. Tuscany: where there were unlimited pastabilities.

  The setting, cute and old-fashioned, would be perfect. We parked on the side of the street and walked inside. The bell above the door let everyone know we entered. Little candles decorated the checkered table clothes, and for that moment as I studied Luke perusing the menu, I thought that he possibly could fit in, in a place like this, my home. Where expensive cars, corporate offices, and Elite members-only clubs didn't exist. Only the two of us mattered here while enjoying one another's company with no interruptions or worries.

  "Thank you," I said over the menu that I wasn't really looking at because I practically had it memorized.

  "For?"

  "Planning this. None of the things back in Vegas really matter while we're here. You know? It feels different."

  Luke grabbed my hands and a girl I went to high school with took our order. I ordered my favorite spaghetti and meatballs and Luke had the same and ordered a bottle of Bruno's Cranberry Wine.

  "How did you know that cranberry was my favorite?"

  "Lucky guess, I suppose."

  Minutes passed, and the waitress arrived with a bottle and no cork, and poured the wine into the empty glasses.

  "Oh, hey, Jennifer. What have you been up to? Heard you were engaged and living in Vegas."

  Typical small town rumors laced with typical small town talk.

  "Oh, hey." I couldn't remember her name; how embarrassing. "I've been up to nothing, just working. And no, I'm not engaged."

  Better to squash the rumor while I had a chance. The girl looked at Luke, and I knew what this meant, she expected an introduction.

  "This is Luketon Brand, my boyfriend."

  She took his hand willingly. "Oh a pleasure, Mr. Brand. I'm Julie Jean."

  "Call me Luke, please."

  She giggled nervously. "Where are you from, Luke? Not here, obviously."

  I gritted my teeth. This was how rumors exploded into the abyss. The chatty women only need a little bit of information and the stories would spread like wildfire.

  "I'm from a little town in the U.K. close to London."

  "Oohhh. Well, welcome to Texas, honey."

  She didn't take her eyes from Luke, and I didn't blame her. He looked good. The teal polo shirt accentuated his crystal blue eyes. Any woman around here would be insane to not go for a beautiful, single man like him.

  "Well, if you and Jennifer ever break up, you call me, darlin'."

  I placed my hand close to my mouth and whispered "I'm sorry." He gave a nod toward me and sipped his wine as she walked away.

  "How embarrassing," I said.

  He played along. "I may ring her if she leaves her number."

  "Hardy har har. Just your type, Luke."

  He leaned across the table and asked, "What is my type?"

  "I'd like to think I'm your type," I whispered.

  Luke bit his bottom lip. That drove me wild.

  "I'd like to think you are as well," he said.

  He smiled and sipped his wine. Not having anything else to do, I sipped mine as well.

  "I love the way the cranberry tastes. It's like a tingle, and then an explosion in your mouth. I love that freakin' winery."

  Once the spaghetti arrived, I grabbed my utensils and ate it the way I learned in etiquette training. Spinning the noodles on the spoon until they were completely twisted around the fork, and then taking small bites as not to splash the sauce on my face. Also, I didn't
finish my meal, not because "a lady never finishes her plate," but rather, the hometown portions were much larger than I had remembered.

  At times throughout the evening, I felt like a stranger to my own customs. As if I were a ship lost at sea, finally reaching my destination, but not recognizing it as I remembered. I had changed too much, too quickly.

  Luke paid the bill, and the girl at the counter told me that Abbie was at the restaurant earlier that night. Shit, Abbie. I had completely forgotten to tell her I was home. I'd text her as soon as I got back to the house.

  The headlights reflected from the stone white pavement leading up to the house. I drove slow and parked on the edge of the driveway. Luke opened his hand, and I gave him the keys.

  As we walked up the steps to the porch, he followed close behind. Before I could get to the top, he pulled my hand to turn me around. My face was so close to his. His breath felt warm on my cheeks. Gently, he tucked my hair behind my ear and bit his bottom lip.

  "You're so beautiful," he whispered.

  I led him up the steps and lifted myself onto the railing as he stood in front of me. My breathing increased, and pulse quickened. Luke leaned in and brushed his lips against mine, making sure not to press. We couldn't break the contract, but instead mildly walked the fine line that Finn had created for us. Instinctively, not caring, I trailed my hands up his shirt and lightly brushed my fingers across his stomach muscles. As his mouth found my neck and earlobe, I swallowed.

  "I wish I would have met you before you signed that ridiculous contract," he said.

  "You wouldn't have given me a chance if I weren't an Elite."

  I lifted my chin toward him and looked into his eyes, full of hope, want, and… lust? He lightly trailed up my neck with his lips. With my eyes closed, I wanted nothing more than to be kissed by him, to feel his lips mingling with mine, fully tasting him. With every bit of strength I could muster without losing my balance, I pulled him closer to me and stood. Returning his nibbles and kisses, but making sure to leave our lips apart from one another.

  "I want to kiss you so bad right now, it's driving me mad," he said.

  "We can't," I said, defeated.

  "I know."

  I took his hand and led him up the stairs to my old bedroom. Before turning off the light, I unbuttoned each button on the black dress until it slid from my shoulders onto the floor. Dark blue bra and panties—a set that Finn had given to me when I first joined the ranks of The Elite—hugged to my body like a glove. Luke smiled and bit that sexy lip, that juicy delicious lip that I wanted to kiss me all over.

  "It's your turn," I said. With his shirt in his index finger and thumb, he did a little twirling motion as if he were giving me my own personal strip tease. I laughed.

  "Shh. They might hear us," he said.

  Off went his polo, and then his white undershirt—nothing but abs and chest, and tattoos.

  "Whoa. Stop right there, mister. You didn't say anything about these. What does that one say?"

  A tattoo under his pectoral muscle read:

  Don't go around

  saying the world

  owes you a living.

  The world owes

  you nothing.

  It was here first.

  –Mark Twain

  He ran his fingers through his thick brown hair and I caught sight of the heart on the back of his arm, and the word "Loyalty" down his side in script, and the two-inch number thirteen set below his belly button on his right abdominal.

  He caught me staring, admiring, all of his beautiful tattoos. Luketon Brand wasn't who I thought he was. That man didn't exist.

  "Turn off the light, and come to bed. We have an early flight tomorrow. There is a little change of plans."

  "We're leaving early?"

  "Unfortunately, yes. But we can come back anytime you'd like."

  I crawled in bed and rubbed my cold skin against his warmth. I looped my leg over his and trailed my fingers lightly over his stomach. His breaths were ragged and slow, and I knew that with every touch he told himself no. Luke grabbed my hands and interlaced his fingers with mine, and I tucked into his arms. Before I fell asleep, he pulled his arm away and set my head carefully on the pillow. In a whisper, he said, "One day, I will have to tell you what each one means. They are all very special to me."

  He kissed my forehead before rolling over. As he turned, the moonlight allowed me to see the feather tattoo on his shoulder that crumbled away into birds.

  Sixteen

  The next morning, I woke up before the sun rose, stole the keys to the car, and grabbed the flowers from the vase on the table. I couldn't tell Luke I was going to the cemetery, and was surprised he didn't wake when I scooted from bed.

  As I placed the car in park, the sun barely peeked over the river. The sky had bits of blue and pink sprinkled around, and wispy clouds that greeted me as if I were the only human alive watching the sun rise.

  The grass, still wet with morning dew, crunched under my feet as I walked past the many headstones leading to my parent's graves. I refused to visit before I went to Vegas the first time. I wouldn't leave again without doing so.

  The flowers looked nice in the grave vases. I should have been more prepared, but tried to push out the waves of guilt. Their pictures stared back at me from the headstone, both marked with the same death date, both next to one another. They would have wanted it that way, I thought. Neither one being able to go on without the other, they were too in love, even after all those years.

  My father would have stolen the moon for my mother and delivered it with a bow if he could have, and vice versa. Love. The word seemed so foreign.

  I knelt down in front of the headstones and looked up at the heavens. The clouds continued to move. The sun hung a little higher while the sky faded from pink to light blue. I stared for minutes without blinking, feeling nothing but blankness.

  Would a person ever get over death?

  Death.

  It seemed so unfair to every living thing. But something I would have to accept. Everything died and became a part of the universe, and the stars. Eventually, we would all be dust and nothing that we did in life would matter.

  I knelt down and picked at the grass that had barely started to grow. They had only been gone for a blink in time.

  "I love you both so much. Every day that you aren't here, I feel like something is missing. I hope. I hope that if you can hear me that you know that I love you. Did you see the house? It's exactly how you always wanted it, down to the wall being removed from the living room to open up the space."

  I laughed to swallow down the tears. I wouldn't cry. I couldn't cry. Crying was a sign of weakness, and I refused.

  "You didn't warn me that it would be this hard. Sometimes I feel like I can't go on, and that I don't want to."

  I took in a deep breath, trying not to lose it.

  "I want you to be proud of me."

  I stood, and dusted off my wet knees and touched the headstones before walking away.

  Little, yellow butterflies fluttered in front of me as if it were a sign from my parents telling me they loved me. And if it wasn't, I would take it as if was anyway. On the way back, I stopped at Davis Donuts and picked up a few maple bacon donuts and kolaches. Mr. Davis, the owner, gave me a grin, wished me a safe trip back to Vegas, and refused to take my money. Typical.

  I walked up the steps where Luke sat in a rocking chair drinking a cup of coffee.

  "Good morning," I said.

  "Morning, love," he said, and then glanced down at my wet, grass-stained knees. I handed him the bag, and forced him to eat the best damn bacon donut in Texas before we went upstairs for our bags.

  On the way out the door, I hugged the Hanleys goodbye and thanked them for the beautiful job they did with the place. Once our luggage was packed in the trunk, Luke hopped in the car, waiting before starting it.

  "Are you going to tell me where you really went this morning?"

  "Will you tell me what
the thirteen symbolizes?"

  "Touché. I will tell you, but you first."

  "I went to the cemetery."

  "To?"

  "Take care of some business that I've been putting off."

  "It's the day I was born. March thirteenth."

  "Will you tell me about the house we stayed in?"

  "Tell me about the Mark Twain quote."

  He smiled a devilish grin. "You are bound to find out more about them one way or another, aren't you?"

  "I think it's a fair trade."

  "My mother read a lot of Mark Twain to me when I was a kid. That quote symbolized every harsh thing that's happened to me in life while reminding me of her." He paused, and then continued. "The world owes me nothing. I'm nothing more than a small footprint. I know it seems that I've had things handed to me on a silver platter, but… it isn't true. I want you to know that."

  "Wow. That's powerful. And I didn't. The longer I'm with you, the more I realize how much I don't know about you."

  "I could say the same about you. So. Carry on. Tell me."

  I sucked in a deep breath.

  "I grew up in that house. The room we slept in, that was my old bedroom."

  Luke didn't ask any more questions. He didn't need to, and I respected him for not prying.

  "I didn't know, you know. I'd have never brought you here if I would have," he said.

  "I know. Your intentions were where they needed to be. I get it. It's no big deal. But next time, I think I'd prefer a beach."

  Laughter filled the car. Beaches, we both hated them.

  "I want to bring you to London. Have you ever been there before?"

  I shook my head.

  "I want to walk through the streets of Paris with you, let you experience my tourist city since I've already enjoyed yours. We can watch the Eiffel tower light the night sky, and drink wine. I want to take you through the heart of historic areas. It isn't the same as the States, you know. It's almost magical. I want you to experience it all, the Seine River, the Notre Dame Cathedral, the things most only think exist in fairy tales."

  "I'd like that."