Off the Record (Off 3)

I can't get over the extreme damage that has occurred. Most buildings are nothing but a pile of matchsticks. Yet, in the middle of the destruction, you'll see a building that amazingly was left untouched. The selective power of a tornado is frightening.

"Have you done this sort of thing before?" Ever asks.

"This is my first tornado. But this will be the third time I've helped clean up after a disaster. I helped after those two hurricanes hit Florida back to back two years ago. But the destruction was nothing like this."

"How is this all being coordinated? I mean, how did you even know that volunteers were needed?"

"There's a government agency called AmeriCorps. They coordinate and lead volunteer efforts."

"I can't even begin to imagine what it's going to take to clean this up and rebuild."

I couldn't imagine it either. The tornado ended up killing seventy-two people and left thousands of others injured or homeless. Our job while here was to help clean and stack debris for refuse trucks to haul away. There's no way that individual homeowners have the ability or manpower to clean the rubble up from their properties so they can rebuild.

We pull into the parking lot of a high school football stadium. I see my teammates, Darius and Tyler are here already. They both went with me to help clean up after the hurricanes and were always up for a volunteer opportunity. They were good guys that way.

There's a large military tent set up and several school buses. We head into the tent where we fill out some forms and sign waivers. Then we are loaded on a bus and driven into a neighborhood that was flattened by the hurricane. I make introductions between Ever and the guys, but we don't talk much on the way there. We are just too stunned by all of the carnage we see.

I look at Ever, who is sitting next to me, and her eyes are wide with horror. I reach down and pick up her hand. She doesn't take her eyes off the window, almost so entranced she can't turn away. But she squeezes my hand and holds it all the way until the bus stops.

After a viciously hot and back breaking day, Darius, Tyler and I swing by Ever's room to pick her up. We had agreed to get cleaned up and head out to a nice dinner before we hit the sack. We are all exhausted beyond measure.

I knock on Ever's door and after a few minutes it opens. Ever is still in her work clothes, dirt smudged all over her face and she looks like she's been run over by a freight train. The main thing I notice is that her eyes have lost their sparkle.

"I'm not going, guys. I'm just too exhausted and sore to even walk down to the car."

I feel terrible. The work today was brutal. We had to haul lumber, bricks, cinder blocks and tree branches. We had to separate out electronics and metals from the rubble and place those in a separate pile. We had to gather papers and personal documents that were spread everywhere. What we couldn't gather in our hands, we were given rakes to make piles. The temperature had skyrocketed which was made worse by the fact we were all wearing long sleeve shirts and jeans for protection. On top of that, the masks that we wore over our faces did nothing to stop the smell of rotting food and animal carcasses, which had you threatening to throw up constantly. This work was not for the weak of back or fair of stomach.

Several times I had to make Ever put on sunscreen, as I was afraid her fair skin would blister under the hot, Oklahoma sun. She was working so hard, she would forget to take breaks and drink water to stay hydrated. I feel like half the time I was running after her to shove a water bottle in her hand.

And now she stands before me and she looks like a feather would knock her over. We had been working for almost nine hours straight minus a short break for lunch.

I look over at Darius and Tyler. "You guys go ahead. I might catch up with you later."

They nod and leave.

I walk into Ever's room and shut the door. She just stares at me, practically swaying on her feet.

"Did you drink that last Gatorade I got you on the way back to the hotel?"

"No," she whispers and sits on the edge of her bed. She's covered in dirt and grime, and she smells like she had just completed her assignment of living homeless on the streets, yet she still looks remarkably beautiful to me. She was such a trooper today.

"Drink your Gatorade," I order her and head into the bathroom. I run her a bath and make it as hot as I think her delicate skin can handle.

When I return to the bedroom, she's still sitting in the same spot, just staring at the floor. "Ever...drink your Gatorade."

"I'm too tired to move," she groans but I notice a small smile on her face. "Can't I just go to bed?"

I walk over to her and pull her from the bed by her hands. "Now...you're going to drink your Gatorade and take two ibuprofen, then you're going to get your ass in the tub while I get us some dinner from room service. And if you don't do it, I'll pour the damn Gatorade down your throat and strip you myself to put you in the tub."

"If I wasn't so sore," she mumbles, "I'd take you up on the offer to strip me."

A pleasurable thrill runs up my spine at those words. It's the first candid moment we've had about this underlying attraction we have for each other since that kiss.

That amazingly perfect kiss.

The thought of stripping Ever down is way too tempting but I chase it from my head. I push her gently into the bathroom and close the door behind me.

By the time Ever emerges from the bathroom trussed up in a fluffy white, hotel robe, I have room service laid out. I got us soup and sandwiches, which Ever attacked the minute she sat down. I also got us a bottle of wine. It will help her sleep tonight.

"Today was surreal," she says. "I don't know that I'll ever see anything as horrifying again."

"It's pretty bad. We won't even make a dent while we're here."

"I guess every little bit helps. I assume they'll be cleaning up for months and months."

We're silent for a while as we continue to eat and I pour her a second glass of wine after she finishes the first. I break the silence with something that has been on my mind. "You told Kyle your mom was sick. Was it cancer?"

Ever nods at me while she takes a sip of water. "Breast cancer. Five years ago. She had a double mastectomy, chemo and radiation."

"But she's okay now?"

"Yes. For now. She's made it to the five year mark and that's a big milestone. But I still get nervous every time she goes in for a checkup."

"You were what...fifteen, sixteen when it happened?"

"Just turned sixteen."

"How come you didn't say anything when I told you my mom died of cancer?"

Ever shrugs and takes a sip of wine, holding the savor on her tongue before swallowing. "I don't know. It was horrible you losing your mom at such an early age to cancer. I guess I would have felt I was rubbing your nose in the fact that my mom survived."

Wow. That's an incredibly thoughtful action on her part. Not that I would have taken it that way, but it proves to me something I had long suspected. Ever is a very caring person.

"Must have been tough watching your mom be sick like that. I'm lucky I don't really remember too much. I only have good memories of her."

Ever smiles at me. "We should all be so lucky. That's nice that you have nothing but good memories of her."

Pushing back from the table, Ever stands with a groan. In fact, she can't stand fully up but is bent over slightly.

"Is your back hurt?"

"Yeah. I think I'll just try to get some sleep and hopefully will feel better in the morning."

I stand and walk into the bathroom, grabbing a fresh towel. Walking over to the bed, Ever watches me with curious eyes. I hand her the towel and turn my back on her. "Take your robe off and put the towel over you. I'm going to give you a massage and work on some of those sore muscles."

She doesn't say anything but I can hear her obeying me. I see the robe hit the floor next to my feet, and soon after she says, "I'm ready."

I kind of expected her to balk at my request but I'm glad she didn't. I've been itching to

get my hands on her again, and while this massage is purely for medicinal purposes, it doesn't mean I'm not going to enjoy the hell out of touching her skin. I only hope I can do it without her noticing the boner I'm sure to be sporting by the time I'm done.

She's laying on her stomach with the towel draped over her bare bottom, resting her head on her arms. Her back is nothing but an expanse of creamy skin that's delicately arched. I can see the curve of her breasts just below her shoulders and I want to skim my fingers across them to see what they feel like.

Yup. Boner has commenced.

Mentally shaking those thoughts away, I start on the arm that is closest to me, gently massaging from her shoulder down to her fingertips. I even take the time to massage each joint of her fingers. I'm always amazed at how small her hands are in mine. She seems fragile and I make sure I'm extra gentle with her.

When I'm done with that arm, I tuck it by her side and crawl on the bed to reach her other arm. I pay it the same care, smiling at her small groans of appreciation.