A Little Broken (9 page)

“I…I don’t want to leave you tonight, Dominick. I’m so sorry for everything, but the thought of walking those steps, and leaving you like this? I’m pretty sure that would be straw that would break me. You don’t owe me anything, but if I could just go with you –”

“Jessie,” he crooned softly, kissing her forehead, “my fragile girl. You don’t have to ask. Come home with me?”

Jessie tried to school her face as a slight pulse of fear mixed with desire churned inside of her. She wanted to go with him, she’d already decided it; something about the way he’d said it both scared and thrilled her. Despite her efforts, he saw the look, and interpreted it correctly.

“We don’t have to do anything. We can talk, or watch a movie, or I’ll just hold you.”

 “Okay,” Jessie answered, and allowed him to usher her back into his car, and take her home with him.

Chapter Fourteen

Jessie sat on the black suede couch in Dominick’s living room, clutching the Yuengling he’d handed her when they’d walked in. He’d gone in the back of the house to change, leaving her to explore if she’d wanted. She chose to sit, allowing her eyes to roam what she could see of his place.

It was big,
way bigger than her measly studio condo. His living room was painted in a soft sand color, with pictures of antique looking far-away places: France, Italy, Spain, all in lacquered frames of modern black. A large flat-screen television was mounted on the wall, taking up one entire wall space, directly in front of the couch. He had all sorts of matching knickknacks spread throughout the room, but what really caught her gaze was a small reading nook.

The nook was offset, in the wall between the living room and the dining area, about the size of a walk-in closet. From where she was sitting she could see a large, teal cushioned bench with pillows strewn on it, and the floor, all in matching colors. Those walls, though, weren’t painted. They were covered in floor to ceiling book cases, every shelf completely full.

Jessie found herself touching the bindings on the shelf closest to her, before she was even aware she had moved into the room. It was like he’d magically plucked the image out of her head; the dream she’d once had, in what seemed like a lifetime ago. There was even a tiny step stool in the corner, to help reach the books on the highest shelf.

“There you are, I was worried,” Dominick said, coming up behind her. He had changed, now wearing a pair of sport-like shorts with a plain white T-shirt, no socks or shoes. He’d also either showered or washed his hair; the gel was gone, and it was slightly wet, making his curls tighter against his face.

“This nook is amazing,” she breathed, still in awe. Her fingers traced the books; he had all the classics: Austin, Hemmingway, Steinbeck, Dickens. He had Stephen King, George R. R. Martin, and Anne Rice. He also had authors that surprised her: Laurell K. Hamilton, J. R. Ward, Kim Harrison. Even independent authors were mixed in there: Lindy Zart, Selene Chardou, and Tiffany Stevens. “How do you even have this?” she asked, motioning to the room.

“I like to read, and I like everything. It’s rare that I find anything I don’t really like. I’m assuming you like books?”

“I used to,” Jessie answered, not elaborating. She looked longingly once more at the small piece of heaven before walking back to her beer and the couch. She tried to sit elegantly, but the dress just wasn’t having any of that.
Why had I thought I liked this silly thing?
she asked herself for about the tenth time since leaving the gala.

“I brought you some things to change into, if you’d like,” Dominick said, not pressing for more information. He had some folded articles of clothing in his hands, in varying shades of blue.

“I would love to, but –” she stopped, looking down at her costume. She decided to tell him the truth. “I’m going to need help if I change, I’m not sure if I can get out of this corset by myself. I sort of did some impressive acrobatics to get in it by myself, and never really thought about the ‘getting out of it’ process.”

Dominick smiled at her gently. She was sure her nerves were showing, just by asking for help – without asking for help, of course. She didn’t think she could flat ask him to help her undress.

“Stand up,” he told her.

Doing as he instructed her, he moved behind her and she felt the main tie loosen. With precision, he pulled on each section, allowing them more string, causing the back to widen. After minutes, she felt cool air on her bare back.

“I’m going to go get us a snack from the kitchen, any requests?” he asked, stepping back from her.

“Nope, whatever is fine with me,” she answered him, keeping her back to him as she started the inevitable shimmy to get out of the corset. Once free, she sighed in relief. Women from that timeframe definitely had her respect – no way could she wear that every day and be pleasant. She scooped up the clothes and grabbed the tank top out of the pile. It was a man’s a-style tank, and smelled slightly of Dominick. She slipped it over her head, very decidedly
not
focusing on the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra. She made quick work of the hoop and skirt, slipping on the boxers that he’d given her, but disregarding the pajama pants. It was just too hot for them.

When Dominick emerged from the kitchen, big bowl of popcorn in hand, Jessie had already straightened her costume into a neat pile in the corner of the room, out of the way. He moved to sit next to her on the couch, passing over a brown cashmere blanket with soft sheepskin on one side. She arched an eyebrow at him in question about it.

“I like to drop the AC in the house. Once you’re relaxed after having your workout with the dress, it’s going to get chilly in here – hence the blanket.” He picked up the remote, turned on the television, and flipped to what looked like a girly channel. A movie was just starting with some woman who was interviewing for a job at a fashion magazine yet was
so
not dressed the part. While it looked like something she would possibly enjoy, she didn’t want him feeling like he had to watch a chick flick on her account.

“You know you don’t have to watch this right? I mean, yeah, I’m a girl…but I’m not going to force you to watch some girl movie in your own house.”

“This is
The Devil Wears Prada
, have you seen it? It’s actually really good, and I don’t mind. Besides, it’s funny, has good actors in it, and I think you could use something completely mundane and dramatic in its own right to distract you from the things that plague you. We won’t discuss those.” He said it with a smile, showing his teeth, sincerity dripping from every word. “Oh, but I don’t bite. You’re totally going to need to shove over here to share this popcorn.”

“You know, you could just put that giant bowl in the middle. It’s a novel concept, I admit, actually putting it between you and me…?” she answered him, smiling.

“Nope. My couch, girl movie, and popcorn – you have to sit by me. True story, house rules.”

“You sir, are no gentleman,” she answered, pulling a line from their personas of the evening.

“And you, Ms., are no lady,” he responded in kind, following the quote through. “Don’t think I hold that against you – Ladies have no appeal to me.” He winked as he finished, and giggling, Jessie scooted closer to him.

Once she was close, he put his arm around her, the clean scent of his masculine soap filling her, turned up the volume on the movie, and didn’t say anything further. They simply watched the movie, glancing at each other occasionally and laughing at something the dragon lady did, or something that
Andrea
couldn’t do and panicked about. Jessie was comfortable under his arm, feet curled under her. They shared the popcorn Dominick had made, and drank their Yuenglings. By the time the credits were rolling, she was content, completely relaxed, and exhausted.

“What time is it?” she asked, yawning.

“Just after two am,” he answered, glancing at the clock on the wall. “Do you want me to take you home? Or I can give you my bed here. No creeps will bother you. Creeps are only allowed on the couch, so you’ll be completely safe.” He stood, taking the popcorn bowl and the empty bottles to the kitchen. Returning to her, he looked at her expectantly.

“I don’t work tomorrow. If you don’t mind, I think I’d like to stay here?” She’d meant for the words to come out confident, and instead they were phrased more as a question. She continued, “But I’ll sleep on the couch. I’m already putting you out enough; I won’t kick you out of your bed too.”

Dominick looked as though he was going to argue and she held a hand up to stop him.

“Really. I don’t mind. Trust me, the couch is like a Hilton double king to me.” She instantly regretted the words, knowing they revealed something of her personal life. Ignoring his look, she pulled one of the decorative pillows to her, and lay down.

He sighed, clearly resigned. “Okay…do you need another blanket? A better pillow?”

“Nope, I’m good. Goodnight, Dominick”

He leaned over, kissed her hair softly, and turned off the lamp next to the couch.

“Goodnight, Jessie,” he said as he left the room. Hearing the bedroom door shut, she let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

***

Once Jessie was certain he wasn’t going to come back out to check on her, she rose from the couch, taking the blanket and pillow with her. Pushing the heavy coffee table out of the way, she lay down on the area rug and closed her eyes. Facing the soft suede, she felt safe. She was back in home territory, with the added comfort of knowing that Dominick was just in the other room.

Emotionally drained from the evening of overload, she fell asleep quickly. The same nightmare rose to plague her. It was like a television that clicked through all the horrific scenes of her life; the first being the nightmare within a nightmare – the one of the apartment door being open, and that horrible fear that her baby was gone.
Channel change
-
Click
. Ryan’s fear as he threw himself down onto the hallway floor.
Channel change
-
Click
. Finding –

She was being shaken awake, and it took her a moment to realize it was Dominick.

“Sweet Jesus, Jessie, wake up!” His voice was hoarse with sleep, but also with an underlying pleading to his tone, telling her that he’d been trying to wake her for longer than just a minute.

Opening eyes still filled with dream tears, she saw concern etched on his face. He was shirtless now, in only his boxers, kneeling on the floor next to her, towering over her. His chest was toned, muscular, tanned. It was distracting, seeing him shirtless, she noted idly.

“I’m awake. What’s wrong?”

“You were screaming in your sleep! You scared the hell out of me,” he said, breaths coming quick. He let go of her arms, placing his hands over his chest as if to keep it from heaving with each breath. “What are you doing on the floor? Did you fall off the couch?”

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “No, I didn’t fall off the couch.”

“Jessie, I’m trying to give you time. I’m trying to give you space, so you can talk to me at your own pace…but you’ve gotta help me out here. Your screams. God. It was like…I thought someone had broken in and I was going to come out to … well, something bad,” he said as he waved his hand to the coffee table, showing a black automatic pistol that he’d obviously brought to ward off the bad things. Jessie wished that the things that attacked her were physical, so his gun would work. But it wouldn’t. She also knew she couldn’t keep
not
telling him about herself. If she were him she would have dropped her after the first shut-down conversation they’d had. She decided to start with the easiest first.

“I haven’t slept in a bed or on a couch in months.”

“But in your apartment?” he questioned.

“I don’t own one, even at my condo. I have a pallet I made on the floor with blankets. Before you ask, it’s not from a lack of money. I don’t expect you to understand, and it’s okay if you think I’m crazy. I just…I went through some… really hard things almost six months ago.  Things I’m really not ready to discuss, not the details anyway.” She was staring at the floor as she spoke, unable to look at him as shame flooded her face crimson.

“What hard things, Jessie?” He grasped her face gently, pulling her face up to meet his. “I’m not asking you details…just give me something to go on here,” he pleaded.

“I… My…” she choked, trying to get the words out. She hadn’t talked about everything that had happened in so long, she wasn’t sure she actually could. “My son d..d..died of SIDS – you know, Sudden Infant Death Syndrome? There’s more, but that’s the short story. I’m… I’m sorry, I’m just not ready for the long story,” her voice broke as she spoke to him, and tears filled her eyes.

“Jessie,” Dominick’s voice was thin as he stopped what he was about to say, and tried again. “Jessie, I’m so sorry. I know that’s not good enough, but it’s all I have. I’m assuming you...you found him, didn’t you?”

“Yes.” Her voice was a whisper now.

“Jesus, Jessie.” The compassion in his voice was threatening to break her in two. He stared at her for a few moments, then without speaking, he lifted her, blanket and all, into his arms. He walked them into his bedroom, and placed her on his bed. Crawling in after her, he cradled her body with his, just holding her. “I’m here for you. I won’t go anywhere. You’re safe, emotionally and physically, with me, I promise that.”

Without saying anything else, just the offer of strong arms to support her, he continued to hold her tightly to his body. He let her cry softly, muttering soft reassurances against her head as he played with her hair. After about twenty minutes, according to the projection alarm clock, his breathing turned even, asleep. She thought hard about getting up and going back to her spot on the floor – or even calling a cab and going back home. In the end, her body chose for her, and she fell fast asleep, Dominick still holding her.

For the rest of that night, if she dreamt, she didn’t know it.