Whispered Prayers of a Girl

His jaw is tense when he says, “Goodbye, Gwendolyn.”

For as long as I remember, everyone has called me Gwen. This is the second time he’s used my full name, and I have to admit, I love the way it sounds when he says it.

I give one last smile before opening the door and climbing inside. I breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth before starting my truck. Looking out the passenger-side window, all I can see is his torso and arms. As much as I want to see his face again, I know it’s best that I don’t.

“You ready to go home, girl?” I ask the puppy beside me, putting my finger through the slats and rubbing a tuft of fur.

The yard is big enough that I don’t need to back up, so I put the vehicle in drive and pull away. I make the mistake of looking into the rearview mirror and see Alexander still standing there, watching me drive away.

At first, it’s just one tear that falls, but it’s quickly followed by several more. How is it that one man I hardly know can affect me so strongly? It’s not just me though. I know he’s had an impact on Daniel and Kelsey’s lives as well.

As soon as his house is no longer in view, I pull over on the side of the road and let the tears fall, knowing I need to get this out of my system before I get home.

Chapter 12

Alexander

Later that night, I lie in bed with sweat drenching my body and my muscles tensed. The sheet, covering me from the waist down, is tangled in my legs, and I kick the damp cloth away.

I just woke from a dream. One that I’ve had before, but still leaves me gasping for breath every fucking time. It was of me watching my wife and little girl die. I fucking watched them die and did nothing to stop it. I heard the screams and cries and pleas, but still did nothing. I remembered the heat and the smell of my flesh melting, but the pain of that doesn’t compare to the pain of watching my family die right in front of me. In tonight’s dream, the screams and cries were louder, filling every part of my soul. Even now, as I lie here, I hear the echo of them. Tomorrow is Christmas and the day after will mark four years they’ve been gone.

I shift on the bed and a wave of vanilla scent filters through the air. Without looking, I grab the second pillow beside me and bring it to my nose, then breathe in deep. I’ve washed the sheets but not the pillowcases yet. They smell like Gwen and I’m not ready to wash away her scent yet. It’s fucking pathetic, but I don’t give a damn. Every single night, when I lie down, I grab her pillow. It helps with the dark places my mind likes to wander to as I’m trying to drift off to sleep. I don’t lie on the pillow because I don’t want my scent to override hers. It sounds creepy as fuck, but damned if I’ll stop. I know eventually the scent will fade, and I’ll have to wash the pillowcase, but until that time comes, I’ll keep it right here beside me.

I cling to the pillow tighter, using it as a shield to ward off the memories wanting to force their way into my mind. For once, I don’t want to remember my ultimate failure. I want them to stay hidden in the back of my mind and let the memory of touching Gwen, kissing her, feeling her warm skin against mine and the soft strands of her hair between my fingers, come forward.

I think back to earlier today when I told her I wanted to know what it felt like to kiss her. I only meant to lay my lips against hers for a brief moment, but when she opened her lips and offered me her tongue, there was no way I wasn’t taking it. She tasted so damn sweet, like cotton candy and cake rolled into one. I knew before my lips even touched hers that she would taste good, feel so damn good, but fuck if I knew it would be as amazing as it was. I wanted to devour her mouth and never come up for air. I wanted to kiss her and kiss her until she begged me to stop.

I roll to my side, taking the damn pillow with me like some lovesick fool. My eyes land on my phone on the nightstand. The lateness of the hour is the only thing keeping me from grabbing it and sending her a message. Earlier, when she got out of her car and looked around, I sat on the porch and just took her in before making my presence known. She looked so pretty standing there, like something fresh and beautiful, and it took my damn breath away. I could look at her for hours.

When she heard the creak of the chair as I stood, and our eyes met, I tensed, ready to stalk to her and pull her into my arms. I was surprised at the need to touch her, taste her. When she was here during the snowstorm, the need gradually grew, but I was able to ignore it. But as she stood there staring at me, that need slammed into me like a freight train. Then, when she walked up the steps and stood before me, it took every bit of strength I had to keep away

from her.

I lost the will to fight when she came to me when I burned myself. The hot soup didn’t really hurt. The curse slipped past my lips more out of habit than any real pain. I’m used to not having much feeling in my hand, or the rest of the right side of my body, so when she touched me and I felt it, really felt it, the need to feel it again overrode my need to keep away from her. Then when she looked at me with eyes that held so many emotions, need being one of them, I knew right then I wouldn’t be able to hold back. I only needed her permission, and when she gave it, I took what I had been dying to have, even knowing I had no right to want it.

It hurt so fucking much to touch her, even at the same time it felt like heaven. The kiss didn’t last near as long as I wanted it to, but way longer than it should have. It’s better for everyone if Gwen stays far away from me. I can’t take the chance of my darkness marring her life.

Taking one last deep breath into the pillow, I let it go, and I swear my heart fractures. I sit up and swing my legs to the side. There’s no way I’ll be able to get to sleep again tonight unless I wear my body out to exhaustion. Getting up, I pull on a pair of jogging pants and make my way to the utility room, the click-clack of Gigi’s nails on the floor following me.

I flick on the light, then head straight for the weight bench, while Gigi goes over to her pups and gives them a few sniffs, her motherly instincts forcing her to check on them. I don’t use the weight bench as often as I like, getting most of my workout through working with and caring for the horses.

An hour later, my body is finally worn out and sweat drips down the sides of my face. I know I’ve pushed myself too far when I feel pain in my lower back. Since the accident, I can’t do near as much as I could before.

I sit on the floor, my knees drawn up with my elbows resting on them. My eyes land on the motorcycle, and I remember Gwen’s words from earlier.

“I didn’t take you for the type of guy that rides motorcycles.”

I smile. There are a lot of things Gwen doesn’t know about me. But then again, there are a lot of things about me that are different than they used to be. Back when Clara was alive, and before she got pregnant, we would take at least one day a week and just ride. She’d sit behind me with her arms encircling my waist and we’d let the road take us wherever it wanted to. When she got pregnant, those trips stopped, and I haven’t been back on the bike since. I was actually thinking the other day about selling it, but now that Gwen’s shown interest, the thought isn’t as appealing. And that’s trouble, because I don’t need to think about Gwen being on the back of the bike with me. I don’t need to think about Gwen at all, but it’s impossible to stop.

I get up and Gigi and I leave the room. The pups push their way through the door behind us, and I’m just too damn tired to fight with them. Hopefully the house won’t be destroyed come morning.

I stop and grab a glass out of the cabinet for some water. Spotting the bottle of Jameson, I grab it and set it on the counter. The need to drink away the memories of Clara and Rayne and Gwen has me opening the bottle and pouring a couple inches in the glass. I turn and lean back against the counter.

I’m lifting the glass to my lips when my eyes land on the notebook with the crossword puzzles in it. I meant to give it to Gwen earlier, along with the small box of carved wooden animals and the earrings. But then I kissed her and all thoughts of anything other than the taste of her lips fled my mind.

I lower the glass, suddenly not wanting it. I pour the whiskey down the drain, rinse the glass, then refill it with water.

I run through the shower, ignoring my body when it comes to life as images of Gwen pop into my head. I glare down at my dick when it begs for attention as I lie down in bed and vanilla hits me again. I think about tossing the pillow across the room, but I know I’ll only get up to grab it again in a few minutes. It’s like I’ve become addicted to the smell.