Twelve
I wake when a persistent nudging digs into my lower back.
Snapping one eye open, it takes me all of three seconds to realize that unrelenting prodding is Sam’s erection pressed into my lower back. His lulled, heavy breathing displays that he’s sleeping, but it’s not uncommon for him to get a little frisky when sound asleep.
Under normal circumstances, I would reach underneath the blankets and wake him up to a nice surprise. But now, I’m afraid I’ll lose a finger if I try. I also feel guilty after what I saw last night. But Sophia did say for him to remember we should try and revert back to our normal routine. So maybe a little action under the sheets isn’t a bad place to start.
Rolling over slowly, I gasp when the light streaming in through the curtains draws attention to his dark stubbled jaw line and parted soft lips. Looking so at peace, I can almost forget that underneath that tranquility lies a man who loathes me.
However, focusing on the mission at hand, I nervously lift the sheet and slide my fingers underneath. I don’t dare make a sound, afraid he’ll wake and tell me to stop. I rest my hand over his boxer briefs, his hard-on hot and demanding.
With cautious fingers, I slide them up and dip under the waistband of his briefs, biting my lip as I feel the soft curls coil underneath my touch. I stroke his length gently, my eyes glued to his face, waiting for any signal that he’s awake. He still appears to be asleep.
I lean up on my elbow, as this gives me more leverage to take control. I never miss a beat. I continue stroking up and down his shaft, increasing the speed and pressure as I feel a tingle beginning to build low in my belly.
His flesh is hot, scorching hot, and I feel empowered that it’s hot because of me. As I rub over him, a soft moan passes through his lips, but his eyes remain squeezed shut. He stirs, but I assume he’s lost in a wave of pleasure and happy to give over total control.
I cup the heavy weights beneath his length, rolling them gently while rubbing my thighs together, completely turned on. A sated sigh passes from both our lips as Sam arches his back, pushing himself into my palm.
“Oh, babe, that’s it,” he growls, his voice raspy and coated with desire. As I run my pointer over his tip, he howls, undulating. “You’re fucking incredible, Alicia. I’m almost there. You always know what I like.” His words instantly extinguish my flame.
I remove my hand from his underwear at lightning quick speed, shaking it out as I suddenly feel dirty. When his eyelids flicker and a scowl replaces his pleasure, I jump out of bed and run straight for the door.
I can’t stand to witness the apathy in his eyes when he sees it’s me, and not his ex-girlfriend, Alicia, jerking him off. I yank open the door and slam it shut behind, resting my back against it as I try and recollect my thoughts.
Rapping my head against the wood grain, I hold back my tears. He doesn’t remember anything about me. Not my touch, my love, my entire being—nothing. I’m a stranger to him. A stranger he’d rather imagine was his ex-girlfriend.
Pushing off the door, I take a steadying breath and sigh when I see Thunder trotting down the hallway. Samuel has hardly acknowledged him, and I know the feeling all too well.
“Hey boy,” I coo, rubbing his head. “How about we get you something to eat?” He barks in consensus.
We both amble into the kitchen where I grab Thunder’s food and make my way out the backdoor. As I serve up his tinned food, I feel inadvertent tears approaching. I can’t remember a time when I’ve been more miserable. My childhood feels like a walk in the park compared to what I’m currently going through.
Thunder happily eats his breakfast, while I’m seconds away from losing it. I knew this would be hard, but I feel like I’m being torn to bits. I’m treading with caution, afraid I’ll hurt Sam and his progress, but what about me? He doesn’t seem to care that he’s hurting me time and time again.
A tear slips past my crumbling walls, and I angrily wipe it away, frustrated at how hopeless I feel. When Thunder yaps excitedly, I lift my head to see Saxon jog up the driveway. He’s topless and in black running shorts, which sit low on his slender waist. Images from last night flood my brain, and my cheeks heat hotter than the flames of hell.
His broad chest is tattooed with what appears to be an hour glass sitting over his heart with two huge wings extending up across his collarbones. Gazing down, I see he has cursive writing coiled around his ripped flank. I shouldn’t stare, but I can’t help it. He is pure masculinity—raw, ripped, and ruling.
His upper body is commanding, unyielding, and ordering total control. His pectorals are firm, a featherlike dusting of sleek dark hair running down between the dip of his collarbones, coiling all the way to his navel. His abdominals are an eight pack and his obliques pop, not an ounce of fat on him. His V muscle, my most favorite part on a guy, is like an arrow pointing to what I know is an incredibly impressive package. His shorts don’t leave much to the imagination, either.
When I make no secret of my staring, Saxon comes to a slow stop before placing his hands on his narrow waist and gulping in mouthfuls of air. The action has me shamefully averting my eyes, horrified by my gawking. I did enough of that last night. Thunder drops a ball at my feet, and I’m grateful for the distraction.
As Saxon strolls over to me, I see that he’s slipped on a t-shirt. I’ve probably made him feel extremely uncomfortable. If he were staring at me the way I was just staring at him, I would feel objectified, too. I need to pull it together, as Saxon being here is the only thing keeping me sane.
“Good morning,” he pants, still breathless from his early morning run.
“Morning,” I reply, feeling my cheeks blister.
“Why are you up so early?” The moment he stops in front of me, his signature, robust fragrance catches on the light breeze. My sense of smell cartwheels in delight.
“Couldn’t sleep,” I finally answer. I leave out the fact I was too afraid to sleep in case my very vivid imagination conjured up how his shower session ended.
He grins, the sight brightening up my morning. “Are you hungry?” My stomach growls, replying for me. I place my hand over it, blushing. “C’mon, I’ll make you pancakes. One thing Kellie taught me which stuck was that pancakes make everyone happy.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Well, in that case, you better make double.” He frowns.
I need to put a lid on my woes because I know I’m sick of hearing myself complain. I can only imagine how annoyed Saxon is.
Painting my face with a staged smile, I say, “So, are we going to eat, or what?” But Saxon reads through my façade instantly.
He captures my forearm within his warm palm and shakes his head. I choose to ignore the very vivid memory of his hand on something else. “Don’t do that, Lucy. Don’t pretend with me. Your honesty and the fact you wear your heart on your sleeve is a refreshing change from the bullshit I’ve been surrounded with. No one expects you to be holding it together.” He loosens his grip from around my arm and brushes his fingertip along the apple of my cheek. “Just be you, okay? I don’t want you to be anyone else but you.”
I don’t even know what to say, so I nod. He smiles, a smile which I’ve come to rely on to get me through the long days. We walk towards the house, Thunder following closely behind in comfortable silence. That’s one of the many things I like about Saxon. We don’t have to fill the silence with nonsense. I’m going to try and forget what I saw because I value our friendship too much.
As he opens the door for me, I beam, feeling a sheet of calm envelope me, unlike five minutes ago. That calm gets trampled on, however, when I almost bump into Samuel. He looks incredible in blue jeans, a checkered shirt, and boots.
“Shit, sorry,” he quickly apologizes, steadying me as he plants his hands on my upper arms.
I look down at his fingers, then back up at him, wondering if he’s okay, as he just said sorry and saved me from falling. When a grin touches his cheeks, I’m certain he’s running a fever.
Saxon’s huge frame shadows me, and for some unexplained reason, I subtly shift out of Sam’s hold. I’m still burned from this morning and I’m not comfortable with him touching me as all I can hear on repeat is being called Alicia.
“I was going to make coffee,” he declares, that weird thing called a smile still hugging his cheeks. “Would you like some?”
My mouth hinges open. Is he actually being nice to me? His moodiness is giving me emotional whiplash. I don’t know how much more of it I can take.
My non-receptive disposition must translate into a yes because he moves behind the counter and opens the pantry door to retrieve the coffee. Without thinking, he opens the cupboard above the stove-top and reaches for three mugs.
My attempt at being subtle is downright laughable as I spin to look at Saxon. He’s a lot better being shrewd than I am and nods once, confirming that he saw Samuel reach for the cups of his own accord. Did he remember? Or was it innate? Whatever it was, I can’t deny I’m excited.
“So, I was thinking, how about you show me what you—what I usually do around here?”
“W-what?” I wheeze, my voice displaying my complete surprise.
“Sophia said to help me remember, I should engage in activities I used to enjoy doing.” When his gaze drops to my braless chest, my cheeks burst into flames.
No guessing what activities he’s thinking of ‘doing.’ Is his change of tune because of this morning? Is he hoping I’ll put out if he shows me that he’s trying? I hate that I’m questioning him. I never would have before.
When he continues staring at me, hopeful, I give in. “Sure.”
The room becomes as bitterly cold as winter. “I’m going to hit the shower,” Saxon declares. I purse my lips, not understanding his sudden anger.
“I’ll see you out there?” I ask with a smile as I turn to face him. “That fence ain’t gonna fix itself.”
I’m greeted with a blank stare and a grunt. And just like that, I’m transported back to being sixteen years old. He doesn’t commit either way and walks out of the room.
I’m suddenly left feeling incredibly guilty and I don’t know why. Samuel doesn’t give me time to digest it, however. “So where do we start?” he asks excitedly. I raise a suspicious eyebrow.
Why is he so animated this morning? Maybe he used thoughts of Alicia to finish where I left off. I clench down on my jaw at that thought. “I too am going to have a shower. How about you go out into the barn and get the horse feed ready? It’s clearly marked.”
Sam nods. “Sure, I can do that. We can have our coffee to go.” Today, he’s Dr. Jekyll.
This is too much. His sincerity and kindness reminds me of the old Sam. A Sam I haven’t seen in a very long while. A Sam I’ve missed dearly. My fear however is, how long will it last? Pushing those negative thoughts aside, I focus on the fact that Sam appears to want to remember. Maybe his session with Sophia wasn’t a complete disaster after all.
Without making a fuss, I leave and scurry down the hallway and into my en suite where I strip off. The hot water feels divine on my skin and I use this time to process the events of this morning. I’m happy Sam appears to want to remember, but why did Saxon freeze up at the thought? Does he not want Sam to remember?
Scoffing at such a thought, I quickly finish showering and head into my room to get dressed. I slip on a white fitted tank and blue denim overalls—my usual farming attire. I comb my fingers through my hair and reach for the straw hat sitting near my dresser. Looking at the minimal cosmetics scattered along the top, I decide to make myself a little more presentable, hoping the effort might encourage Sam’s memory.
Sitting in front of the mirror, I reach for my fair foundation and apply a light dusting to my face. My green eyes look exhausted and restless, so I decide to liven them up a fraction by applying some mascara. Reaching for my cherry ChapStick, I coat my lips and then paint a light layer of gloss over the top. The red brightens up my lips, and gives my pastel cheeks a light glow.
Securing the hat onto my head and drawing my long hair forward to frame my face, I smile, as this is the first time I feel like me. With a small skip to my usual heavy step, I slip into my boots and look forward to a day of hard work and sunshine.
Thunder chases after me as we walk outside and down the back steps. Stopping, I take a moment to breathe in the fresh air and bask in the sunlight, warming my chilled skin. The rays are exactly what I need and I can’t wait to feel the earth beneath my fingers, reminding me that I’m alive.
To my left, I see Samuel brushing Luna, appearing to be at home with the white beauty as she relishes in the grooming. She is a striking horse, and although Sam doesn’t remember her, I know she remembers him. Seeing him tend to her reminds me of the time we purchased her, both falling in love with her elegance and spirited nature.
I’m lost in the past, a place I revisit often, and fail to notice Saxon working on the fence to my right until Thunder tears over to him, barking ecstatically. He jumps up on him, licking his face adoringly while Saxon pats him, grinning.
Looking from left to right, I can’t help but feel exceptionally blessed to have these two remarkable men in my life. Although it took tragedy to bring us together, we’re together nonetheless.
With that thought in mind, I go to work, excited to slip into normality—even just for a day.
* * * * *
As I’m raking out the stables, Cullen, our Alpine goat, bleats, hinting that she’s hungry. Looking over at her enclosure, I see she’s eaten all the freshly laid out hay and grain I put out for her this morning.
“I have no idea why the saying is as hungry as a horse. It should be goat,” I mutter under my breath as Cullen begins gnawing on my pant leg.
Chuckling, I gently brush her away and go in search of more food. All of our supplies are low, which means I’ll have to take the pickup and stock up soon. This actually may be a good idea for Sam to engage in simple, normal activities such as this one.
Throughout the day, it’s taken every ounce of willpower to stop myself from helping Sam. His frustration could be clearly seen when he attempted to do something, but couldn’t remember how or where the tools or supplies were kept to get the job done. Saxon made it clear he wasn’t helping, which I knew was in Sam’s best interests. But it still was hard to watch.
I guess we both have to be cruel to be kind. But judging by the satisfied smile on Saxon’s face when his brother was cursing under his breath, I dare say he’s not minding the hard love approach one bit. I know Saxon and Sam’s relationship will most likely always be strained, but I think this time together will mend some of their broken bridges. Even if it means they can tolerate being in the same room with one another for five minutes, I’ll consider that a win.
I’m unsure if Sam remembers what transpired between them because the love-hate relationship applies to both Saxon and I. I wish I could ask Sam what he does or doesn’t remember, but I know that’ll just end in tears.
Cullen’s feed is just out of reach, so I climb onto the first wooden railing and lean over the fence to pull it over. However, just as I bend forward to pick up the bag, the fence shakes with an almighty, unexpected force. I yelp, cursing Cullen for ramming the fence and before I can stop myself, I propel forward and brace myself for a painful fall. But the tumble doesn’t happen. A pair of strong hands lock around my middle, stopping me from face planting into several bales of hay.
“I’ve got you.” My body sags in relief when I feel Saxon at my back.
Bent over at an odd and not to mention unflattering angle, I’m grateful when Saxon effortlessly scoops me up into his arms and sets me to my feet. However, when I turn to face him, he doesn’t remove his hands from my waist. Even through my overalls, the heat from his touch burns my flesh. My heart begins a steady climb and I’m suddenly breathless.
He peers down at me from under the peak of his cap, his eyes swimming in something I can’t name. I’m unexpectedly lost for words and I lick my dry lips. The air is humming with an electrical charge which zaps me, and shoots a shiver down my spine.
Am I running a fever? As I draw my palm to my brow, Saxon smirks, a slow, confident swagger.
My palms get sweaty, my mouth gets dry, and I feel hot all over. I tingle. What is happening?
“Are you all right?” Saxon asks, sliding both hands to the small of my back.
No, I’m not all right. I’m quite certain I’m a second away from combusting, and I don’t know why. But when the tip of Saxon’s pink tongue darts out to wet his top lip, I know why. It’s him. I’m breathless, on the verge of hyperventilating, and fairly certain my cheeks are seconds away from bursting into flames because Saxon’s hands are on me. His touch is stoking a fire within me. And…I like it.
Horrified, I jerk out of his hold, ignoring the stabbing in my heart when we separate. This situation is completely unacceptable and I need to leave now. So why do I stand firmly rooted to the ground, unable to tear my gaze from Saxon?
Remembering him in the shower, I recall how commanding and consuming his naked form was. He radiated strength, protection, and control, and I realize I want to be wrapped in that sanctuary because it’s the only place I feel safe.
I feel like I’m drowning. I need to leave. Now.
Just as I turn on my heel, a car’s tires crunch over the pebbles in our drive. Cursing, I storm towards the door as I know whose car it is. Kellie waves to Samuel, who is moving some boulders that have fallen into the shallow stream which runs through our property.
Saxon is at my back, sighing when he sees his parents park their Audi Q7 near his bike. This isn’t really the distraction I wanted, but I’ll take anything I can get.
“Well, today just turned to shit,” he says. “I think I’ll hide in here until they leave.”
I still haven’t said a word, as I’m afraid of what I’ll say if I do. I need a moment to catch my breath.
We both watch as Kellie bounces out of the car, waving Samuel over. Greg appears to be checking out Saxon’s motorcycle, nodding in approval as he looks at the black, shiny beast. Samuel wipes his hands on his jeans before Kellie throws her arms around him, holding on tight.
Has she always been this clingy?
She never made it a secret that she loved Sam, but I’m now curious to see just how she greets Saxon. Will he get the same warm reception? Something tells me no.
“I don’t think they’re going anywhere.” I observe Greg pulling out grocery bags from the trunk. “The sooner we get this over with, the sooner they leave.” I’m surprised that I actually mean it.
Saxon turns his baseball cap around and nods.
Kellie’s curious eyes swing our way as she zeroes in on us walking up the hill towards her. I suddenly feel guilty. I feel like she knows that moments ago, I was freaking out over Saxon touching me, which is ridiculous on all accounts.
“Thank you,” I whisper, afraid Kellie might hear.
“For what?” Saxon questions.
Turning to look at him, I smile, thankful when he returns the gesture. “For saving me,” I reply, meaning that in every sense of the word.
He appears taken aback, but composes himself a second later. “Always.” Why do I feel like that word bears the weight of so many different meanings?
And just like that, those overwhelming feelings return.
“Lucy, you look well,” Kellie says, indicating she wants a hug. Her warm welcome has me snapping back to reality and I embrace her loosely.
“Thanks, Kellie.”
When we pull apart, Kellie doesn’t hide her distaste at seeing Saxon all sweaty and dirty. And he doesn’t conceal the fact that he enjoys seeing her squirm.
“Kellie,” he gushes, opening his arms wide. “What a surprise.” Before she has time to protest, he throws his arms around her, rubbing his sticky, filthy body all up against her white pantsuit. His smug face is priceless and I stifle a laugh behind my hand.
She subtly breaks out of his hold, but the damage is done. Her outfit is now smeared with flecks of dirt and grime. She appears as if she wants to yell but stops when Greg walks over, beaming. He’s no doubt happy Saxon initiated contact, even though that contact was premeditated to make a mess.
“You look right at home, son.” Greg is blatantly obvious, implying he wishes this was a full time gig, and on his farm, working alongside him and Sam at Stone and Sons.
Saxon’s broad shoulders raise, but drop when I inhale a deep, panicky breath through my nose. I can’t take any hostility. My head isn’t in a good place. I want to play happy families for just one night.
“What’s on the menu?” Saxon asks, reaching for a paper bag from Greg’s hands.
Greg reads the derailment loud and clear, but doesn’t make a fuss. “Your mother wanted to make all of your favorites.”
“Of course she does,” he replies sarcastically, curling his lip when he glances over at Kellie, who is dabbing at her lapels with a wet wipe.
If Greg picks up on his sarcasm, he doesn’t show it.
“Right.” I clap my hands. “Who wants coffee?”
Both Saxon and Samuel surprise me when their lips tip up into that same mischievous smile. This was going to be one long night.
* * * * *
October 1st 2004
Dear diary,
Tonight, I met Sam’s parents. They invited me over for dinner and no matter how nervous I was, I knew I had to go.
The Stones are one of Montana’s richest families, as they own one of the biggest wheat and barley farms in the West. I wanted to dress nice, as the few times I’ve been over there, I’ve always felt underdressed. Mom said my floral baby doll dress was pretty and appropriate, so I wore that with my black flats.
When Sam picked me up, I was so nervous. But the moment I met Gregory and Kellie, I instantly felt at home.
We sat down to a feast of every vegetarian dish I could ever wish for. Samuel didn’t appear too pleased by the no meat menu, claiming he’d convert me one day soon. Just as we were about to begin, Saxon, Samuel’s twin brother came home, not hiding his disgust at seeing me in his home.
I should be used to this reaction, as Saxon hardly hides the fact that he hates my guts. The thing is, I don’t know why. I’ve tried on more than one occasion to talk to him, to try to find some common ground, but he doesn’t want anything to do with me.
It upsets me that he feels that way because being Samuel’s twin, I really want to try and get along. But he doesn’t feel the same.
Dinner was pleasant and comfortable, apart from Saxon sitting through the entire evening with his ear buds in. If it weren’t for Sam holding my hand underneath the table, encouraging me to answer his parents’ questions, I think I may have been mute.
The night was fun, even with Saxon scowling at me. Although, when I pulled a funny face at him from across the table in secret and I saw a ghost of a smile touch his lips, I knew underneath his animosity lies something…more.
I don’t know why he hates me, but I’ll make it my mission to find out.