Elise
I woke up to nothing. No smell of pancakes wafting into the room. No footsteps outside my bedroom door, or hushed conversations about the kind of day I would be having.
I just turned eighteen and nobody noticed. I didn’t dwell. I was used to being invisible, and I wasn’t going to even begin to hope that something like my birthday would miraculously have Mom and Aston caring for me all of a sudden.
I got out of bed, had a shower, let my hair air dry as I changed into warm snowflake leggings, a black sweater and a plaid winter coat. I fed Tuck and he meowed me out the room. I didn’t give him the normal pats, mostly because I was gloomy and he sensed it. “Sorry, little guy,” I apologized. “Just not feeling too good today.”
I grabbed my brown messenger bag, went downstairs and ate my cereal. Then I got up, set the bowl in the dishwasher and left the house. I looked over my shoulder when I did and found Tuck’s face in the window, watching me leave. He pawed at the screen, and I winced as it tore beneath his claws. Yet another one to replace.
I walked to the bus stop in the freezing winter cold, sat down on the cold bench and waited. The light drizzle slowly picked up, and the wind whipped past my face, stinging my cheeks until they were numb. That improved Elise washed away into the drain. Today was going to be tough, and I felt myself cracking. Those negative emotions from before wrapped its poisonous fingers around my throat, trying to pull me under.
I watched cars pass by, and all I could think about was my father and what he would have done for me this morning. What kind of surprises would he have had in store? I saw his face, his blue eyes, his wide smile and crooked canine teeth.
In under a second, I fell apart.
I looked down on the ground and sobbed on the fucking bench in the rain. I hadn’t sobbed like this in a long time, but I’d seen this one coming, and there was no use fighting it. It was that kind of ugly cry that smears your mascara and has your nose running like a tap. My shoulders shook as I let it out, closing my eyes as the rain continued to pelt, drops growing bigger, soaking me to the bone. It was very fitting, very needed for my body to feel as miserable as I was on the inside.
And then the rain suddenly stopped, and I thought that was strange because I could still hear it all around me. My eyes opened to a pair of black boots. I blinked rapidly, and my eyes slowly trailed up the body of a tall man in denim jeans. A brown leather coat greeted me next, followed by a broad body and a face that smiled sympathetically down at me.
I blinked. He had a beautiful face, and very deep brown eyes.
Doctor Crowe.
He stood with an umbrella over us, and then he offered me the handle. “Here,” he said. “You can have my umbrella.”
I just stared at him for a moment. Did he recognize me? Surely not. It’d been months since he’d stitched up my hand, and he would have had a thousand more patients since then.
I shook my head. “No point, I’m already soaked, but thanks for the offer.”
I looked back down at the concrete sidewalk, waiting for him to go. To my surprise, he sat down on the bench next to me, keeping my head shielded from the rain. I stiffened as he got comfortable, sitting close enough that his side pressed against mine. I knew he was doing it so we were both out of the rain but still…What the fuck?
I felt a little annoyed. I wanted to cry alone in peace, and now that plan was botched to shit because this man was too much of a fucking gentleman.
I should have just taken the ugly umbrella.
We didn’t say anything for a few minutes. I kept my eyes averted to the sidewalk, though I was itching for a reason to look at him. I settled for the free hand that rested casually on his thigh. He had long fingers and dark tiny hairs on his knuckles; those fingers had worked like a magician when he’d patched me up. He was twirling a set of keys, and I frowned when I spotted a car key.
“Why are you doing this?” I asked, and I hated that my voice came out rude. I didn’t mean it. I just really needed to ugly cry and he was stopping me.
“Am I offending you by keeping you dry?” he replied, smirking at my confused face.
“You don’t have to keep me dry. I see your car key. You can go wherever it is you’re going. The bus is coming in a few minutes and I’ll be fine.”
His eyes searched my face, and then he said, “I have a long list of shit that will ensure I have a first class ticket to hell. I don’t want one of those things to include walking past a pretty girl crying at a bus stop in the pouring rain.”
I just stared at him. Was this guy for real? And why did I feel good that he called me pretty? I hadn’t been called pretty in a very long time. I hadn’t been the centre of anyone’s attention (in a good way) in a very long time either. Not since… Aston, and I hated him at the moment.
“Okay,” I finally whispered, awkwardly. “Well… thank you, I guess.”
He smiled slowly, and god, it was unusually sexy. He hadn’t smiled like this at the hospital. I knew he wasn’t trying to be sexy either. This guy was naturally smooth. I’m sure his ugly cry could turn on any girl with a pulse.
“My pleasure,” he replied.
My pleasure. I scoffed. Too smooth. Shame on him.
“You can carry on crying, if you’d like,” he added. “I know how important it is to get it out, so don’t mind me.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m afraid you’ve ruined the mood.”
“I was hoping you’d say I’d improved it.”
The way he said that made me break into a smile. Goddammit.
“Ah, that’s better,” he continued in that smooth way, his gaze on my mouth. “Smiling suits you better than crying, Miss Wright.”
My eyes widened and my chest did things I hadn’t felt in a while. “You remember me.”
He nodded. “Of course I remember you. Hard to forget the axe-wielding wood-chopper with a fiery temper.”
My cheeks heated. “Yeah, I…Sorry about that.”
He chuckled. “You don’t need to be. You were going through a difficult time, and I can tell you haven’t gotten through the worst of it.”
“I don’t normally cry like this anymore. Today is different.”
“Tell me what’s wrong.”
I looked at him, feeling more warmth at the concern in him. I wasn’t used to anyone caring for me anymore. Naturally my heart sought it out immediately.
I swallowed and shrugged at his solemn face. “Nothing.”
“You’re the furthest thing from nothing, Elise. Let it out so your day gets better from here.”
God, he’d even remembered my first name.
I licked my lips, contemplating his words. This was the strangest encounter I’d ever had, but I was so desperate for attention, I couldn’t help the words that poured out of my mouth.
“It’s my birthday,” I said quietly. “My father died last summer, and I can’t stop thinking of what he would have done for me today.”
He nodded. It was strange. There wasn’t sadness in his eyes, but…curiosity. It felt good not to be pitied, or judged badly. He studied me as the silence took over, and I looked back at him, wondering why he was so interested.
“I know all about loss,” he quietly said. “The pain doesn’t go away, but it gets easier.”
“Not for everyone,” I replied. “My mother…she’s still devastated. She works, and she’s kind of around, but…she’s not really there.”
“Did they have a good relationship?”
I swallowed hard. “The best.”
His gaze softened. “She lost half her life in a blink of an eye. She’ll need more time to heal.”
“I guess.” I glanced at the time, frowning when I realized how late the bus was. I looked at him again. “You really don’t have to be here. I’m sure you have somewhere to be, like the hospital.”
His lips quirked up. “Not the hospital today. I’ll be at a book store half a block from here. My mother owns it, and I help her out when I can. I’ll be a little late, but life goes on. It’s not every day I talk to a beautiful girl at a bus stop.”
Shit. Fuck. Really? Was he trying to pick me up? It didn’t look like it. He said it so casually, after all. And I was blushing. Can you believe it? Blushing!
“I’m not saying that to be suave,” he then explained on a short laugh. “And I’m not desperate either.”
“Don’t worry, I believe you,” I replied. A man that looked like him was far from desperate.
“I say it completely platonically. You’re young, and I have no intentions of taking advantage of you.”
“I’m not that young,” I replied.
“You were seventeen when I saw you last.”
I looked at him wryly. “Do you remember the ages of every woman you tend to?”
“No, but I remember certain things about the really gorgeous ones. I’m only human.”
“Well, like I said, it’s my birthday, Doctor Crowe.”
“Call me Hayden.”
“I’m eighteen, Hayden.”
He smiled warmly. “And I’m much too old for you.”
“Not to talk to.”
“You’re a kid.”
“You say that like you’re forty. It’s kind of creepy.”
He chuckled. “No, but I’m almost a decade older than you.”
“So what?” I challenged on a shrug. “That doesn’t mean anything.”
“I’ve got a career and you’ve got, what? College?”
I bit my lower lip. “High school.”
His body stilled, but he remained cool about it. “High school. Wow. There you go. People would be quick to assume we’ve got nothing in common.”
I scoffed. “People put too much emphasis on age. They also judge like motherfuckers. Screw the system. I’m over it.”
“Over it enough to pick up the axe again?”
I looked away. “That was different. On that note, I haven’t picked up an axe since. I deserve some kudos for that.”
“Congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
“A reformed axe-wielder.”
“There’s a whole group. Axe-anonymous. We hide out in dark alleyways and talk about the good old days we’d butcher shit.”
“Not people, I hope.”
I looked at him straight-faced. “Maybe.”
He stared hard at me for a moment, and then he burst out laughing. His smile was so infectious, I found my lips moving on their own. This Bomer doppelganger was great value.
“You’re trouble,” he muttered light-heartedly.
“I’m really not,” I replied seriously, still smiling. “By talking to me, you have no risk of being converted to axe-wielding-ness.”
“Is that even a word?”
“Who cares?”
He tapped his key on his hand now as he studied me. Moments passed, but it was surprisingly not awkward. This guy was fun to talk to. “You look older than you are.”
I raised a brow and teasingly replied, “Are you saying I’m aging badly?”
“No, but…it’s there in your eyes. You’re drowning.”
I shrugged and swallowed the lump in my throat. “It hasn’t been easy, but I’ll be alright.”
He waited a moment. “You were a dancer.”
This time I froze. I stared at him in shock. “Are you stalking me, doctor creep?”
He smiled again and shook his head softly. “No, but I saw you at the studio when I used to pick up my sister.”
“Who is your sister?”
“Stephanie. She wasn’t in the same class as you, but you guys were let out at the same time. You used to walk right past me and got picked up by your boyfriend.”
I sighed glumly and bitterly said, “He wasn’t my boyfriend.”
“His loss.” He paused then and his eyes softened as he stared at me. “Do you still dance?”
“No.” My answer was quick and emotionless.
“Why not?”
“I danced when I was happy.”
“Maybe it’ll make you happy again.”
“No.” My word was final. Dancing was another lifetime ago. It was a stupid hobby anyway. I was good at it, but I’d never get far with it. There were no promising job opportunities knowing how to shake your ass and hips. Dancing instructors in this town didn’t even get paid most of the time. It was volunteer work, so that dream of mine went straight out the window, landed in a fire pit and burned away. I was living in the house of reality, and god, it was a constant dose of shit and vomit.
“That’s a shame,” he said. “You should fight for the things you love.”
“What if they walk away?” The question slipped out without thought, and I cringed a little afterwards.
“Well, what’s that re-used quote again? You let something you love go, and if it comes back, it was meant to be.”
I raked my teeth over my bottom lip, thoughtfully going over his words. “What if something I loved the most felt like an obsession more than anything?”
His gaze went distant. “Sometimes I don’t know the difference.”
“You obsessed with someone, Doctor?”
He chuckled and looked at me with crestfallen eyes. “I think we all have someone that got away.”
Holy shit, he was sad. In a blink of an eye, I saw a wave of deep, broken emotion flood him. Then it vanished and he gestured down the road. “I think your bus is here.”
I followed his gaze to the bus turning a corner and coming our way. Disappointment tugged inside of me. I would have liked a few more minutes with him.
Sometimes you just know in the first meeting with someone that you’re going to hit it off with them. They just mesh with you like they’ve known you all their lives. This guy was like that. He was comforting and friendly. He was someone you’d shoot the piss with after a hard day. I really liked that feeling.
Plus, he was flipping gorgeous to look at. Every girl needed to have a hot friend. That one that just hanged around, that you banged with after every breakup, or cried in their giant warm arms as they stroked your back and made horrible jokes.
Yeah, I needed one of those.
I gathered my bag and he stood with me, still shielding me from the rain because he was a fucking gentleman and all. I glanced back at him and smiled, preparing for the good bye that was about to leave my mouth when he suddenly took my hand. His skin was warm and soft. I tensed in surprise as he gently wrapped my fingers around the handle of his umbrella.
“Take it with you,” he told me, stepping back into the rain. “You’ll need it more than me I think.”
“Thank you,” I said, lingering there for a moment longer.
He dragged his teeth along his bottom lip, his eyes dancing along my face with thoughtfulness. “You intrigue me, Elise, and that’s not the norm for me. You’re also really goddamn beautiful, you know that?”
Even if I did know that, I didn’t think I’d feel any less pleasure than I did hearing him compliment me.
My mouth fell open. “Thanks –”
“Happy Birthday,” he cut in.
The bus doors opened, and the driver yelled out for me to hurry along. I stepped on, scanned my bus card at the front and looked back out the window as the bus took off. He was already walking, hands in the pockets of his brown leather jacket, his head held high. He was watching the bus until we were out of view.