Coming Home Again (A Coming Home Again Novel Book 1) (13 page)

Shaking my head, I whispered, “I… I
don’t like to be touched.”

He studied me carefully before
commenting, “Then you’ve never been touched right.”

I scrutinized his hand but refused to
take it. “I can’t, Lucas.” Refusing him caused me to ache in a peculiar way,
and I was confused by it. I wanted to make him happy, but I knew I couldn’t in
that moment. That made me mad with myself. I felt worthless.

We sat in a mournful trance until the
sky darkened that evening—silently calling a stalemate.

A few weeks passed before I reluctantly
agreed to meet with a counselor through some outreach organization the college
provided students, but antidepressants and Xanax became my crutch. I’m sure the
counseling might have worked if I had participated honestly. The generic
questions of
tell me how you feel
–
is there anything you would like to talk
about
and
how does that make you feel
– just didn’t cut it with me. I mean really, why on earth would I tell a
stranger about my deepest, darkest secrets? I knew it was a waste of both the
counselor’s time and mine. After dancing around the truth for a few months, I
did both of us a favor and quit.

Lucas was better than any counseling
session. That man is like a salve that immediately eases the constant sting
just by being near. He never stopped offering me his hand over the spring
semester. He was always placing it palm-side up between us on the couch, on the
console between us in his Jeep, or in the movie theaters. He never pushed the
issue but also never gave up in his offering.

More weeks passed before I began
testing the waters—gradually evaluated the feel of his palm with only my
fingertips at first, but would retreat hastily. Lucas never seemed bothered by
this apprehensive dance, but patiently kept at his offering. Eventually I would
let my hand linger on top of his and he was wise as to not try to grasp it. He
seemed content with just letting me do the touching, and I found much comfort
in the warm smooth skin of his hand. For his hand never stole anything from me.
He only wanted to give, and that struck me in a way I can’t even describe now.

This continued to the point where I was
desperate to admit to him why I wasn’t worth his efforts, so he could move on.
He had made it his mission to cure me of my physical contact phobia but there
was no way he could grasp the magnitude behind the cause. Call me drama all you
want, but after the innocence of touch has been torn from you, then we can
talk. Touch made me feel dirty and sick. I didn’t understand a touch that could
be anything but that. It was all I knew. Lucas was so foreign, and I just
couldn’t accept it.

One afternoon after finals were
complete and I knew I would be heading home in a few days, I reached a point
where I had had enough. I hid out in my room that afternoon until I worked up
enough nerve to face him. I found him lounging on the couch, one long leg
stretched over the back of the couch in a boyish manner, scanning a Sports
Illustrated magazine. His USC T-shirt had ridden up, showing off a span of his
perfect abdomen, and I nearly ran away right then and there. He was and is a
beautiful man, but beauty didn’t come with an assurance of good for me. Another
problem. Yes, I have many. We’ve already discussed that though.

Lucas caught sight of me before I could
slide back into my room, halting my retreat. He tossed the magazine on the coffee
table. As he sat up, he patted the couch beside him. “I think you should just
stay here with me this summer,” he said as I eased beside him. “You can help me
with my homework,” he said with a wink. He was taking extra summer courses, but
I was not.

I sat there staring at his welcoming
hand between us, but ignoring its meaning so I wouldn’t lose my nerve. “I’m not
worth this effort, Lucas.” Of course, he began to disagree until I shut him up
with a confession I knew he was not prepared to receive. He needed to know my
phobias weren’t some naïve schoolgirl issues.

I began rambling about being raped in
rapid fire so I wouldn’t back out of the confession. I explained that it was
impossible for me to ever come clean from it. I watched disgust furrow his features
as I told him of the sick nightmare of Evan. It was the first and last time I
have ever uttered the nauseating details of that dark time. It all flowed out
vehemently. I was determined to let him have it all so he would finally get the
silly notion out of his determined head that he could fix me. He needed to move
on and find someone who wasn’t so tainted and broken. It was as though a dam of
hurt burst, and I found myself pouring out the details of Bradley’s accident,
Julia’s battle with anorexia, and Jean’s abusive words and her relentless palm
that seemed to always be ready to slap me back in my place. I told him about
how poor John Paul was drowning in a bottle of liquor. We are definitely a
messed-up bunch if there ever was one.

I will never forget him quietly pacing
the floor as I admitted it all, his mouth set sternly and his eyes dark with
rage.

We shared a room filled thick with
silent tension for a long spell until he turned a harsh gaze towards me that I
had never seen him wear. “We live together, Savannah. I thought you were my
closest friend. How could you just keep all of this from me?” His quiet voice
was filled with disappointment.

I tried swallowing the panic long
enough to get out the door. I was desperate for a disappearing act and had
resolved to make my leave and head back to Miss May. As I turned the knob,
Lucas came up behind me, grabbed my arm and spun me around. Instinct took
control, I flinched and braced for him to strike me. I waited with my eyes
clamped shut, but they shot back open when I felt his arms wrap around me. His
embrace begged me to allow him to give me comfort. I allowed it for just a
short time, until my breathing started to become erratic. I pulled away and
eyed him in confusion. I couldn’t understand why he would want to touch me
after what I had just shared with him. Did he not get that I was soiled beyond
ever coming clean?

Lucas placed his palm lightly on my
cheek as he spoke, and I hated myself for not being able to restrain the
flinch. He didn’t let it deter him though and kept his hand gently in place. “I
will never let something so horrible ever happen to you again, Savannah.”
Desperate determination resonated in his tone as his sympathetic eyes assessed
me. “And I will never push you into anything until you are ready. You just have
to be straight with me about things. Okay?”

Lucas never mentioned that night and
the sick things I shared with him ever again. He wasn’t someone who dwelled on
matters for too long. He dealt with them and moved on. I wish it were that easy
for me. I know if I ever needed to talk about it, Lucas would welcome the
conversation—just as he knows I never will.

I know I’ve not told you all the
details of those sick episodes with Evan Grey, and I feel that some things are
best to not be shared. They were dark and revolting, and I’d rather not speak
of it. I doubt seriously that you would want to know, anyway.

Only a few short days later, I had my
bags packed for Bay Creek to begin another summer. I remember the apartment
coming to life with the low murmurings of music while I packed a few last items
stacked on my bed. The slow, melodious song eventually beckoned me to the
living room where Lucas stood waiting, his hands in his pockets and rocking on
his heels slowly as his eyes took in every inch of me, making me shiver.
Curious, I stood a few feet away. I knew he was up to something, but I was not
sure exactly what. He had kept a cautious distance from me ever since I had
made my confession, and I was beginning to think it was finally sinking in that
it was best to leave me alone.

Lucas pulled his right hand out of his
pocket and invited me over. “Come dance with me,” he said softly, without
moving forward. We stood before each other as the song played around us.

I stayed in my spot with apprehension
cautioning me. “What?”

“I said dance with me,” he repeated,
but made no effort to initiate the dance. I knew he was waiting me out. Lucas’s
eyes conveyed an entire message as he confidently waited—
it’s time…let me show you
.

I’m not a romantic and had no clue
really as to what romance meant up until that very day, but for some reason I
recognized the romanticism in that moment between two college students standing
in the middle of their apartment, adorned in ratty T-shirts and jeans. It wasn’t
the scene but the feelings radiating around the space as it mingled with the
sultry ballad.

“Okay,” I said finally, feeling I owed
him at least this moment. I walked over and stood before Lucas as I eased my
hand gingerly into his awaiting one. He held it ever so softly as he slowly
wrapped his other hand around my hip. He led us in a leisure dance. Was I
confused? Yes, but I waited. Lucas never did anything without purpose.

After silently dancing for a while, he
gently threaded his hand through my hair. Panic ebbed at me, and I immediately
tried to disengage myself, but he held me firmly yet tenderly in place.

“Try, Savannah. Please. Just trust it,”
he said breathlessly as his mysterious eyes whirled in gold hues, conveying to
me a promise of safety. He released my hand, glided his fingertips along my
cheek, and curved them feather-soft over the line of my jaw. His touch was but
an intimate whisper across my skin, causing me to ache in such a way I had
never experienced. The gentleness ignited peculiar sensations, causing me to
want to weep. I held my breath, hoping that those feelings would never end.
They felt strange yet alluring at the same time.

Lucas slowly leaned forward, holding my
gaze while caressing my cheek with his warm breath. It was such a ghost of a
kiss that I wasn’t even sure his lips connected to my skin. We danced another
long stretch until he guided my shaky hand to his mouth, placing graceful
kisses of assurance on each fingertip before pressing my hand over his pounding
heart. The strong quick rhythm revealed his desire, yet he took things no
further than dancing and innocently touching me. That heart was begging me to
trust him, and oh, how I wanted to be able to do just that.

With his hand holding mine in place
over his heart, he whispered, “This is me expressing my love for you,
Savannah.” My attention was drawn to the slight tremble skirting along Lucas’s
mouth, giving away hidden emotions he had masked with his cool demeanor. He
licked his full bottom lip as he traced my own with the tip of his index finger
so lightly that it nearly tickled. “Can you feel that?”

“Feel what?” I asked breathlessly
against his fingertip. I couldn’t look away from him. It was like we were in
some trance, and I never wanted to escape it. It was a whole new world in that
moment.

“This is me loving you,” he answered as
he continued to rock us to the rhythm of the song. I vaguely recollect the same
song playing on repeat and we had already danced it through at least a half
dozen times at that point. Lucas was in no rush to make his point. He took
things slow and was conveying so much with each action. I paid close attention
too because I wanted to miss none of it.

He combed his hand through my hair once
again and asked, “Does this feel wrong?”

I answered with a shake of my head. I
surprised myself when I felt my body lean into his touch.

Dropping his hand, Lucas circled around
me. Feeling his protective presence behind me, I demanded my body not to
stiffen when I felt his hand brush my hair over my shoulder. His warm caress
landed softly on the exposed skin of my neck before beginning a slow, soothing
journey across my shoulders and down my arms. He nuzzled into my hair as he
worshiped me simply with his delicate touches. Never urgent. Never aggressive.
He was relaying his message to me in an achingly sweet gesture.

Eventually Lucas circled back around
and pulled me tenderly into his embrace—holding me but barely. He delicately
rubbed away the tension in my back with his capable hands as he whispered into
my ear, “Does this make you feel good?”

I inhaled the clean masculine scent of
him and shocked myself again when I cuddled into the crook of his neck. “Yes,”
I whispered. And it did. I had never experienced something that felt so nice
and so right. It didn’t make my stomach hurt nor did it cause panic to build.
It felt good and pure. I just knew if I could somehow completely bathe in this
pure love, surely I could be cleansed. I wanted the past wiped clean. My body
trembled from that very want.

“This is what love is supposed to feel
like. This is how God intended it.” He paused to press a kiss to my temple.
“Please stop letting the past rob you of this gift God created for us to share.
Allow us have this gift. I want you, Savannah. I want you to let me love you.
And I want to be loved by you.”

Love was something I had very little
understanding about, but the overwhelming desire in that moment demanded I love
him completely. I just didn’t know if I knew how.

The dancing and caressing continued until
finally Lucas pulled my face delicately up to his and tenderly warmed my lips
with his own. His whispered words were breathed over my lips. “I love you,
Savannah.” His emotions were thickly laced in his words so much so he had to
pause to clear it away. “This is what love feels like.” He offered another
delicate kiss only to the corner of my mouth. “It’s giving… and it’s
accepting.” Conveying no more words, Lucas released me. A few seconds of
silence danced between our still bodies before he left me and the apartment.