A Girl by Any Other Name (22 page)

“I’ve had my fill of it. It didn’t always help me very much, though, since no one believed what I

was trying to say.”

“I’m so sorry I put you through that.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about, Sylvie. I understand why you did what you did. I just wish

you had given me some choices in these decisions you made.”

“You were sixteen, Cal, and I knew how protective you were of me. I knew you’d only get

yourself hurt. In fact, you did and that’s my fault too.”

I tilted her chin up. “You didn’t do that to me.”

She swallowed. “Let’s not kid ourselves. We both know what an amazing quarterback you were.

You’d be playing for the Cowboys right now if you hadn’t followed me to my house. Hell, if you’d

never met me you would have been better off.”

I brought my face close to hers. Our lips were almost touching, but not quite. I felt the warmth of

her sweet breath against me. “Don’t ever say that again. Sylvie, you didn’t shoot me. None of that is

your fault and I have never once been angry with you about it. You made me a better man. You gave

me a reason to pray, and not just think of myself anymore. You helped me through my worst days and

made my best days even brighter. I don’t ever want you to think any differently. Don’t cheapen what

we had with guilt, okay?”

She exhaled deeply. “I feel the same way, Tex, but you have to do the same. You couldn’t have

done anything differently that night. I don’t think anyone else would have done all that you did for me

and not just that night either.” She hugged me. “Does it still hurt?”

“No,” I answered quickly.

“Be honest with me,” she whispered, running her fingers through my hair.

“Sometimes,” I admitted. “What about you?”

“No, I had to have a few surgeries and physical therapy, but I have full mobility now. I think, in

some ways, I got the better end of the deal that night.”

“I don’t think so, sweetheart. You didn’t have anyone there to help you through it. You lost your

father. I imagined you waking up alone and scared.” I smiled at her, rubbing her back. “You know, I

never cried for you, at least not on the outside. I figured if I cried, it meant I was accepting your death.

I was so lonely and lost, but I knew whatever I was feeling had to be ten times worse for you, and I

had to be strong so I could find you again.”

She lifted her head, staring into my eyes. “Not for me, Tex. You never have to be strong for me.”

It was then that I cried. I tried to do the muffled, stifled man cry and swallow it back, but I

couldn’t. It was almost ten years’ worth of pent-up sorrow aching to get out. She held me, wrapping

her arms around me. “I missed you so much,” I choked.

“Me too,” she whimpered. We sat like that for a long time, locked in each other’s arms, weeping

for the lost and lonely paths we’d walked…alone.

When I had exhausted my tear ducts, I gently pressed my hand against her ribs. The same spot I

had placed my palm on that night. “May I?”

She knew what I wanted and she nodded in response. I lifted the fabric from her waist. A

discolored, white scar lay across that area, marring her otherwise perfectly smooth flesh. I rubbed my

finger against it, tracing its path. There was nothing sexual about it. I only did it because we were

connected, and her pain was mine to bear.

“You can’t expect me not to feel guilty if you do.” Despite the distance and time, she still knew

me so well.

“It’s not just about this. I wasn’t there for you after. Where did you go, sweetheart? Who took

care of you when I wasn’t there?”

“I went to live with a foster family in North Dakota. My foster dad was a local police officer

and he knew who I was, so I felt safe. They were very nice people. When I turned eighteen, though, I

decided to leave. I didn’t want to endanger them either. I enrolled in college at UCLA. My father had

some money saved, plus witness protection gave me money too.” I put her shirt down. I traced her

lips with my finger. “You were always the most beautiful girl, Sylvie. I always wondered why you

hid that from people, but I felt special because I saw it so clearly.” She parted her mouth, sucking on

the tip of my finger. She reached for the hem of her top, readying to remove it, but something she’d

said really bothered me. She had left everyone she cared for in order to protect them.

“I still have a few questions.”

She gave me a pleading look, but I wanted—no, I
needed
—to get this all out now that we had

started.

She sighed and moved away from me, sitting on the other end of the couch. She held up her

empty wine glass, and I chuckled as I refilled it. “What else can I possibly tell you?”

“Do you think I don’t want to make love to you?”

“Make love?” she said, changing her annoyed expression to one of amusement.

“Okay, have intercourse, fuck you, sex you up, play snake in the jungle. Jesus, girl, your mouth

tastes so fucking incredible that my whole body is hard for you, but I need a few minutes and a few

more answers.”

She pouted.

“What’s going on with you? You were never this sexual when we were in high school.”

“I was restrained with you because I had to be. I’m restraining myself right now in fact.”

I smiled, pouring myself some wine. “I assume it’s no coincidence that you were in my class.”

She gave me a coy smile. “No, I’ve been following you.” I stared at her in shock, but she shook

her head. “I’ve been following your career, I should say, from the Internet. I’ve been stalking you. Do

you know what the girls say about your class on the chat boards?” I shook my head. “They refer to

you as the sexy Southern professor.”

“I didn’t realize I had that nickname.”

“Yeah, you’re kind of a legend in these parts, Tex. The front row girls call themselves the Cal

addicts.”

“I’m only interested in one girl being my fan, because I’m completely addicted to her.”

She smiled approvingly at my reply. “Anyway, the registrar’s office said your class was very

popular, and it was in a big lecture hall. At least seventy-five people had registered for it. I figured I

could sit in the back, and go unnoticed by you.”

“Girl, are you smoking crack? You think I wouldn’t notice you?”

She started laughing, no doubt remembering how many times I’d made that remark when we

were kids.

“I thought my disguise helped somewhat. I look different too.”

“Not that different.”

“I never meant for you to see me. I was just being selfish. I wanted to watch you. To hear you

talk again. To see you without hurting you.” I didn’t like that she thought she was being selfish by

coming back into my life.

“You only hurt me by hiding who you were.”

“I only did that to protect you, Cal, and I won’t apologize for that. I came here today because of

what you said at the coffee shop. Because I knew that although you were protected from the physical

danger, I was putting you through so much emotional anguish.”

“This is my last question and most important one. Will you stop taking away my choices? I

understand I was sixteen and we have a difference of opinion on the damage my twelve-gauge could

have made that night, but I’m twenty-five now. I can’t stand the thought of losing you again. Don’t

keep anything from me, Sylvie. Even if you think it’s protecting me.”

She was thoughtful for a moment. “Cal, in case you don’t know, people die around me.”

“I will protect you.”

“But that’s just it. I don’t want you to.”

“It’s part and parcel. I’m your Huckleberry. It’s the way I have to have it.”

“So, are you saying you want to pick up where we left off?”

I smirked at her, winking. “Well, honestly, I was hoping for a more physical relationship than we

had, but yes, essentially that’s what I want, except full-on commitment now.”

“It’s been almost ten years. We’re different people now. You might not even like this version of

me.”

I laughed sarcastically. “Are you fucking with me right now? Do you honestly think I don’t know

you? Or you don’t know me? I’m Cal Tanner from Prairie Marsh, and even though you lied to me

about where you were from and your background, you’re still the girl I fell in love with. You’re still

Sylvie Cranston, my best friend, my fishing buddy.” I placed a strand of hair behind my ear before

continuing. “And most importantly…my girl. I need you to promise me that you’ll never block me out

again or run from me. I can’t deal with the thought that you might leave in the middle of the night.”

She winced, and I knew I was being cruel. She had only made decisions based around my safety

and that of my family’s, but damn it, I would not let her go again. “I promise,” she said with

sullenness.

“Tell me specifically what you’re promising, but only if you truly mean it.”

“I won’t run or block you out. I am yours. I always was, Tex.” The last two sentences were

uttered slowly. It drove me crazy.

I stood up and reached my hand out to her. “Come see my bedroom.” She took my hand and

stood, but I decided to pick her up instead. I trailed soft, sloppy kisses over her face as I carried her

into the room, kicking open the door. I leaned her against the wall, not ready to release her. She

gasped, and clutched me tightly.

“Cal.”

“Hmmm?” I replied, wondering if she’d mind if I ripped off her shirt as I placed tender kisses on

her neck.

“Cal, you have my painting.” She patted my back to get my attention. I reluctantly removed my

lips from her neck and put her down. She ran over to it on the opposite wall. “I can’t believe you

have this,” she said, staring at the portrait of her mother.

“It’s not mine. I was just saving it for you. They sent it back to the school after the contest, and I

managed to convince Mrs Peters to let me have it.” I walked over to her and embraced her from

behind. I felt her lean back into my chest. I kissed her head.

“That’s so sweet.”

I moved my hands over her breast, gently cupping her. “I’ve had it with me wherever I went. I

was the only guy at my college with an oil painting in his dorm room.” She giggled, and the small

vibration made my erection ache for her. I moved my hands to the button on her shorts, but she

slapped it away, turning around to look at me squarely in the eyes.

“Caleb Tanner, if you think for one minute I’m going to let you sleep with me while my mother

watches then you’ve got another think coming.”

I shook my head, unable to hide my smile, as this girl stood in front of me with her hands on her

hips, looking so determined.

“Fine,” I conceded. I took the painting off the wall carefully and turned it around, setting it on the

floor. “Better?” I asked.

“Can you take it out of the room, please?”

I shook my head, smiling at my shy, beautiful girl. I took the portrait and moved it to the living

room so it would be nowhere in sight. I walked back into the bedroom where she had her back against

the wall now void of artwork. I stood in the doorframe, leaning against it, watching her.

“Take off your shirt for me, baby,” I commanded.

“You don’t want to take it off?”

“I’d rather watch.”

She crossed her arms and did that two-handed thing girls always did when they took off their

shirts. I stared at the silky pink and black lace bra. It was all I could do not to rip it off her. I

controlled my urge, knowing I needed to take my time. After all, I’d waited almost ten years for this.

All the physical activity I’d done today combined with the emotional drain of the events did nothing

to dampen my desire. But it did leave my body just exhausted enough to make sure that this would be

a slow, steady release of desire, just the way I wanted it. I needed to make it special for her.

“Now you, Tex.”

I obliged doing that one hand behind my back thing guys always did when they took off their

shirts. I took it off so fast I heard the stitching rip. She sucked in a deep breath and sauntered over to

me. She placed her hands on my chest and trailed them down my body, with slow precision. “You

feel like marble or granite,” she claimed.

“It was better in high school,” I replied.

“I don’t think so.”

I slipped my finger under the strap of her bra. “I like this bra. It’s so freaking—”

“Pretty?” she asked.

“Naw, pretty isn’t the right adjective. Sexy, beautiful, hot…just like you. I’m trying to decide if I

want to leave it on or take it off.”

“I vote for taking it off.”

I laughed, and slid my fingers to the back, removing the hooks. I stepped away slightly so I could

watch as it fell off her shoulders. I was glad I did. Sylvie’s breasts were perfect. They were round,

bouncy, fleshy orbs with pink rosebud nipples in the center. I grazed them with my fingers, flicking

her nipples. She moaned out, and I moved my mouth to that area and ran my tongue over it. I sucked

leisurely, giving each one equal attention. Her fingers made their way to my shoulders where she dug

them into my skin with each movement. I reached for the button of her denim shorts, released it and