Saving Charlie (Stories of Serendipity Book 9) (16 page)

Les hadn’t been this sick in his life, ever. Some part of him wanted to call his mom, just to hear her voice, see if she had anything he could do. But another part of him was aware that Charlie was sick too, and since he’d been hogging the toilet, she was slumped in the bathtub.

After resting awhile, he managed to get himself to his feet. When he looked into the shower, he saw Charlie sleeping almost peacefully in the corner of the shower stall, curled up, not touching her mess. He lifted Charlie up under her arms.

They stumbled to the bed, collapsing on top of the covers. Les had the presence of mind to get the waste baskets in the room and put them on either side of the bed before he collapsed next to Charlie, exhausted by his efforts.

Charlie was aware she’d been moved, but didn’t care. She just wanted to die. Every pore hurt. In the small bed, each time her fevered skin brushed against Les’s she flinched, unable to bear the sensation of touch. At one point, she leaned over the bed to wretch, not having the energy to go back into the bathroom, and found a trash can there. She clutched it greedily in her hands, tugging it into the bed with her. It was her security the rest of the night and into the morning.

Later, with sunlight streaming into her eyes and drenched in sweat, she realized her fever had broken, and her stomach, though still upset, didn’t feel like it was completely revolting anymore. Her eyes were slits against the offending light as her eyes tried desperately to adjust. Les’s legs against hers weren’t unpleasant anymore. In fact, as she ran her foot up and down the hairy appendage resting against hers, she thought they actually felt nice.

“Mom said Ginger Ale would help a little, so I got you some.” His gentle voice spoke in her ear.

“You called your mom?” She turned to see he’d not only called his mom, but he’d showered and dressed. He was lying next to her fully dressed in shorts and a tee shirt. Next to that, she felt like a pile of what she’d been spewing out all night long.

He had the grace to look sheepish. “Yeah. I’ve never been so sick in my life. I had to, you were indisposed.”

She reached over for the can on her bedside table and opened it, taking a ginger sip of the sweet carbonation. It flowed down her raw throat and a spurt of energy flowed through her instantly.

“I’ve already booked the room for another night. I figured we’re making good time, we can take a day off to recuperate from whatever happened last night.” He sounded sleepy, and he snuggled into her back.

“I need to shower.” As soon as she had the energy to get out of bed, that was. Although the soda was actually helping.

“I cleaned it out, so it’s all ready for you.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s not like you had a choice. I was being selfish with the toilet.” His hand grazed up her arm. “Are you feeling better?”

“I don’t feel like putting a bullet in my brain anymore, but I could sleep another year,” she yawned. “What time is it?”

“Two-thirty.”

She lurched out of bed, still weak on her feet, and carefully stepped to the bathroom. A shower made her marginally better, and after putting on clean clothes, she slid back between the sheets next to Les, who turned to her in his sleep. She allowed him to envelop her in his warm scent and succumbed to sleep.

Charlie couldn’t remember when she’d slept so soundly. She could always attribute it to the cleansing effects of illness and exhaustion, but something told her that Les’s arms wrapped around her all night might have had something to do with it, too. As she awoke, his soft snores in her ear were soothing in a way she’d never realized was possible. His breath on her neck and the weight of his arm were comforting presences. And his foot resting on top of her ankle was doing strange things to her insides.

Before Les, the last man she’d actually spent the night with was Adam, when they’d been married. Again, she was struck by the similarities between the two men, although Adam hadn’t been much more than a boy when they’d been together. And she had been a mere child.

Was a relationship with Les doomed to the same fate as Adam’s? Or was he right? Had she matured enough to do it right this time? She had no idea how to do what was necessary to hold up her part of the ‘bargain’ known as a relationship. But feeling the strong presence of Les in her bed, she realized she wanted to try.

“Be patient with me,” she whispered, clutching his hand in hers. To her surprise, he squeezed her hand.

“Always,” a sleep-laden voice replied.

From Charlotte’s journal — February 2000

The Man used to always call me his diamond in the rough. It came from the Disney movie, Aladdin. That was a movie my parents had on VHS, and they played it for me a lot when I lived with them. Mostly to keep me in my room while they got high in the other part of the house. But I used to love that movie. I didn’t even really mind The Man calling me that, at first. But later, after I saw his mean side, I knew what he was doing by calling me that, but I didn’t dare say anything about it. It was his way of telling me I’d done good. I accepted it as praise, even though it was another way to use me.

I wish I could see the benefit in continuing to write about this shit. I’m twenty-one years old for fuck’s sake. I’m over all that shit. But the shrinkage says, and if I want out of this hell-pit, I have to do what shrinkage says.

I miss Adam. I wonder if I’ll ever wake up and not miss him. I guess eventually, I will. But if I had him, I might not be this fucked up. Oh who the hell am I kidding? He left because I’ll never not be fucked up. He saw it. Why can’t I?

The next morning, they hit the road early, feeling well-rested and fully recovered. They had made good time up until the illness, so taking a day off for rest hadn’t put them in too bad of position as far as making it home in time for previous obligations. The time in the truck was spent in much the same way as it had before: debating merits of music, telling stories, and laughing. Only now it seemed more intimate. The conversation didn’t necessarily take an intimate turn. Charlie didn’t suddenly feel the need to spill her guts to Les about her past, but she would catch Les staring at her mouth or legs occasionally, and he kept his hand across the back of the bench seat, and he twiddled with her hair, touching her nearly constantly. It was nice.

They were passing a sign for White Sands when Les tugged gently on a piece of her hair. “Let’s stop here for a little bit and stretch.”

She agreed and when they pulled into the national monument, Charlie was overwhelmed. “Wow…It looks like a beach with no water.”

Les climbed out of the truck and walked into a pristine patch of sand, unmarred by footsteps. She laughed as he proceeded to mess up the unadulterated landscape by doing cartwheels and whooping. She watched his transformation with blatant amusement and a little bit of jealousy. He was so carefree in almost everything he did. It was breathtaking to watch this grown man play in the desert like a child.

“Hey, Charlie! Come here!” He called her over to where he was making a snow angel in the sand, flapping his arms and legs wildly. She couldn’t help herself. She stood next to him and fell back with a thud, making her own angel in the sand.

She was close enough that her hand brushed Les’s when she flapped, and he grabbed it and clasped. She turned her head to look at him and saw his face breaking into a smile that matched her own.

They gallivanted around, Les piggy-backing her around the park, having sand fights, and stealing kisses. Charlie couldn’t stop the giddy feeling erupting from her. Her entire adult life, she’d tried to stay away from being a part of something like this, and now that she’d finally let herself do it, she felt like a teenager. She wanted to touch Les all the time, walking hand in hand, or better yet, with her arm around his torso. She stole looks at him, and the best were the kisses he pretended to steal from her when she wasn’t expecting them. She was a part of something special with Les, a half of a whole, and the possibilities she allowed herself to ponder filled her with an unfamiliar longing.

They snapped photos of each other clowning around, and themselves together. Charlie couldn’t remember when she’d had more fun, just laughing at herself and someone else.

Les deposited her on a hill, with her back to him and told her not to look until he said so. She closed her eyes and nodded, then with a mysterious grunt, he was gone. She waited, a small smile on her face, wondering what he was up to. When he finally called to her from some distance, she looked.

Les was at the bottom of a hill in an enormous heart he’d made by shuffling his feet in the sand. Inside the heart were the initials, C + L. It was an impossibly juvenile endeavor, and it brought a tear to Charlie’s eyes. She pulled out her phone and snapped a picture.

Back at the truck, she watched, amused, as Les tried to shake all of the sand out of his clothes before climbing into her truck. He stripped off his shirt, socks and shoes before shaking everything out. She ignored the flutter in her belly at the sight of his shirtless chest, and instead poked fun at him slapping at his jeans.

“Are you always so anal about dirt in vehicles?”

He looked at her, his eyebrows waggling, an impish smirk on his face. “Why, Sweetness, did you just suggest Anal?”

She blushed furiously, “No.” Getting into the truck, she was suddenly worried. Did he do that sort of stuff? He seemed so sweet, like a missionary type guy, maybe doggy-style, but anal? Was he into the hard-core stuff? Would he want to tie her up? Charlie didn’t do bondage, in
any
form.

Back on the road, the silence was uncomfortable for Charlie as she tried to wrap her mind around the alarming thoughts racing through her head. Finally, she decided to just put it out there.

“Are you into stuff like that? Anal?”

He snapped his head around, shock evident on his face. “It was a joke, Charlie. I didn’t mean anything by it.” His fingers reached over for a tendril of her hair, and she rested her cheek on his hand.

“I was just checking. I don’t…” she took a deep breath. “I don’t like sex like that.”

His hand drifted down to her leg. “I just like sex, Charlie. And I have an idea if it’s with you, it’ll be amazing, no matter what kind it is.” He squeezed where his hand was on her thigh. “I don’t need all that other stuff, blindfolds and toys and stuff. I just like your basic sex.” Just the image in her mind of the two of them together had a warm pool of moisture coating the inside of Charlie’s panties.

“So, you’re a missionary man?”

He chuckled and adjusted his crotch while an adorable blush crept up his neck. Charlie liked that the conversation was getting to him, too. “Missionary, cowgirl, doggy-style, I like it all, but I like using the correct holes, and have never felt the need for aids in the bedroom.”

Charlie heard the exhale of relief from her mouth, as well as Les’s soft chuckle, but she couldn’t concentrate on the relief she felt, she was too busy tamping down the images of Les making love to her in ways she didn’t really want to think about right now. Oh hell, who was she kidding? She
totally
wanted to think about them.

“So what’s the timeline?” she managed to ask, even though she wanted to pull over and straddle him right here on the highway.