Falling Under You: A Fixed Trilogy Novella (1001 Dark Nights) (11 page)

“You need to go there. Let me make arrangements.”

Though Ben had told Dr. Evans he didn’t want to see me, I needed to be there. There wasn’t a thing I could think of that would keep me away.

Boyd was already grabbing for his laptop from the side of the bed. “I’ll book a flight and a hotel. Do you want me to book for Gwen as well?”

“Oh, God. Gwen.” My little sister was older than Ben, stronger, too. But still not as strong as she’d like to think she was. I worried about telling her almost as much as I worried about Ben.

With a shake of my head, I decided she needed to wait. “I’ll call her later. Let me get myself organized first. And, no. I don’t think she should come with me.” I climbed out of bed and crossed to my dresser in search of underwear.

“You want to go alone?” Boyd asked from behind me.

My head was spinning, too many thoughts floating around, and though a clear plan of action was forming—get dressed, schedule a flight, pack a bag, call Hudson—I was barely holding onto it. Boyd’s question nearly made me lose my strategy altogether.

“Not necessarily.” I furrowed my brow, concentrating.
Did I want to be alone?
What I wanted wasn’t relevant, was it? “I guess it doesn’t matter one way or another. I just don’t think Gwen should go. She’s not the most positive influence these days. I don’t think it would be good for her or for Ben right now.”

I stepped into a pair of panties then worked on fastening a bra.

“Understood.” His fingers click-clicked over his keyboard. “I’ll just book for you. Then I’ll arrange a car and help you pack your suitcase. In the morning, I can make sure all your appointments are rescheduled for the week.”

I turned to face him, my jaw slightly slack. Boyd had just taken over more than half of my mental to-do list. It was a little unnerving.

But, also, it was a whole lot of a relief.

I took a deep breath and let a bit of the tension out of my shoulders. “I don’t know what I’d do without you sometimes.”

He’d donned his glasses when he’d reached for his laptop—turned out they were for computer work—and now he peered at me over the rims. “I could come with you. So you’re not alone.”

Time seemed to stand still as I considered. I didn’t even know what to do with his offer. I’d been in these situations before, the kind that were hard and required tough words and a straight backbone. Every time, I’d been the one everyone leaned on. I’d been the one who’d kept things together. It was what I did. I did it alone.

I didn’t know how to do it any other way.

“No,” I said, finally and with finality. “That’s not a good idea. I’ll be distracted. You need to stay here and take care of things at the office.” They felt like excuses for me more than for him.

He ticked his head to the side and stared at me. “I don’t have to be in the office to take care of things there,” he said gently.

My face wrinkled in confusion. I knew what he was saying, just, I didn’t know what he
meant
. Would he come with me as Boyd my employee? Or Boyd my lover? What would it mean to us if I let him come? And what would it mean about me?

Before I could come to a conclusion, he’d set down his computer and crossed to me. He put a hand on each arm and bent to meet my eyes. “It was just an offer. Not a big thing. It’s completely up to you. If you need me most as your assistant right now, then that’s what I’ll be. No explanation needed. Got it?”

I nodded as though I understood and I suppose I did, but I didn’t too. I didn’t understand why the offer was so unsettling. I didn’t understand why I couldn’t just take him up on it. Because while I didn’t have much bandwidth to focus on myself, I was pretty sure I wanted him with me.

“I’ll be right back.” He kissed me on the forehead, startling me into action again.

“Okay. I, uh, need to call Hudson.” Pushing Boyd and his offer out of my head, I crossed to the phone and pressed the speed dial for Hudson.

Even though it was the middle of the night, he answered on the second ring. “Norma. Is everything all right?”

“Yes.” An automatic answer. “I mean, no. Sorry to call so late. It’s…” I took a deep breath, gathering myself before saying his name. “It’s Ben. My brother. He’s made another suicide attempt—”

“I’m so sorry to hear that.” His tone was reserved as always, but I could sense an undertone of compassion. If he didn’t exactly care about me, he did appreciate me.

“Thank you. It’s what it is. I just wanted you to know that I’ll be out for the rest of the week.”

“Of course. When do you want to fly out? You should take the Pierce Industries jet.”

“Oh.” For the second time in the last few minutes, a man had offered me assistance in a way that I hadn’t expected. Again, I was taken aback. “Are you sure that’s not too much trouble?”

“Not at all. I’ll arrange it as soon as we’re off the phone. I’ll need a couple of hours. Should we shoot for an eight a.m. takeoff?”

“Perfect. Thanks.” Through the chaos in my head, an interesting thought came through—why was it so much easier to accept help from Hudson than Boyd? Because Hudson was my boss? But wasn’t Boyd my boss too?

I looked up at movement by the bedroom doorway and found Boyd returning, a mug of coffee in his hand. He crossed to me, handing the cup out in my direction.

So Hudson could let me use his plane. But what Boyd could give me was so much more what I needed.

I took the cup. “Uh, Hudson, also, I’m going to bring Boyd with me. Then I can get some of that Peterson project done while I’m there.”

“Don’t worry about—”

“No, I want to work.” I met Boyd’s eyes. “The distraction will be good for me.”

“Are you sure?” Boyd asked when I’d hung up. “I want to be with you, but I don’t want to pressure you into that.”

“I’m not sure what I want you to do for me while we’re there, but yes, I’m sure I want you there.”
Needed
him was more like it.

“Guess I better get home to pack a bag.” He smiled the kind of smile that took loads off a person’s back, and I knew instantly I’d made the right decision.

* * * *

I kept myself together for the rest of the night and through the long flight to the West Coast, never once crying or losing the calm facade I had mastered. Boyd was helpful at every turn. While I wasn’t sure what capacity I needed him most in, he maintained the role of assistant, carrying my bags, directing my next moves. Underneath the layers of stress and tension, I was grateful for his presence, which both kept me sane and knocked me a bit off balance. He was so good at doing things for me at the office—I was used to that—but doing things for me that didn’t involve work or sex? It was harder to grasp.

After we landed in San Francisco, the awkwardness was lost in busyness. Boyd and I separated, he taking our luggage to the hotel and checking us in while I went straight to the hospital. Even though he still refused to see me, I stayed in the waiting room nearest Ben’s unit until visiting hours were over, making sure I checked in with each of his providers and the nurses on duty, explaining what I knew about his medical and mental history to Dr. Evans, verifying that the staff had an accurate representation of his past abuse and depression.

By the end of visiting hours, I was exhausted and hungry and ready to collapse from being awake so long, not to mention the emotional wear of the past day. Boyd, who’d texted me several times, had a cab outside when I left the hospital and dinner waiting for me when I arrived at our hotel room.

As thoughtful as it all was, though, all I wanted to do was sleep. I passed out on top of the bed covers, without taking more than a bite to eat.

When I woke up again, it was dark out. The bedside clock read 4:38. The blankets had been pulled over me—I didn’t know how he’d managed that—and Boyd was sleeping in his clothes beside me, as though he’d fallen asleep waiting for me to wake up.

Carefully, so as not to disturb him, I crawled out of bed and went to the bathroom. I guess I wasn’t careful enough, though, because when I returned, Boyd was awake, ordering breakfast from room service.

“You need to eat something,” he said by way of explanation when he hung up.

“Okay.” I
was
pretty hungry. “Thanks.” I perched on the edge of the bed, not sure what to do or what to say.

Thankfully, he knew. Handing me the remote for the television, he said, “Here’s this if you want some noise. I can get your computer if you want it. Or we can talk. Or I can listen. I can make you a bath. I can take one with you. Whatever you want, it’s up to you. Pretend I’m not here, or use me how you need me. Okay?”

“Okay,” I said again. I didn’t want to talk. And I didn’t think I could focus on work. Really, I didn’t know what I wanted.

I turned on the TV, settling on the first channel that had something that wasn’t an infomercial—some sci-fi show I’d never seen before. We watched in silence.

When our food arrived, we moved to the table, and I picked at my plate, managing to eat half of my omelet before pushing it away.

Then, over a cup of too strong coffee, I opened up—as much as I ever had, anyway, telling Boyd about my childhood, about the father who beat us, about my gay brother who’d taken the brunt of his abuse. I was straightforward and somber, my story concise and undetailed.

Boyd, on the other hand, listened. Listened without judgment, adding commentary only when he needed clarification.

 And even though I didn’t cry or get emotional, it felt good to finally get it all off my chest. Felt good to finally be
talking
instead of
fixing
. Felt good to be heard.

“So your father is getting out of jail this summer?”

“Yes. Which is fine with me—he doesn’t bother me. But for the sake of my siblings, I wish he would stay locked up forever. You better believe I’m doing everything in my power to make that happen.”

“I believe it,” he said, leaning back in his chair, his arms folded over his chest. “It sounds like you’ve done a really good job with them. They’re lucky to have you.”

I nodded in thanks. I was good at that—good at receiving compliments that I didn’t agree with. Truth was, one of the reasons I loved being praised so much was because I always secretly feared that I was a failure. That I hadn’t done enough. That
I
wasn’t enough.

It was a pointless thing to argue, so I usually said thanks and feigned acceptance.

But this time, Boyd wouldn’t let me pretend. He sat forward, his expression intense. “I mean it, Norma. You’ve done a good job.”

I rolled my eyes. “I haven’t.”

“You have.”

I let out a cynical laugh. “I haven’t. I’ve done everything wrong. Ben doesn’t want to live, and Gwen is too scared to let anyone in, and after thousands spent on the best lawyers in the state, my father’s getting out of jail anyway.”

“But that’s because of flaws in the legal system, not flaws with you. And Ben
does
want to live. He just needs help figuring out how, and you’re showing him. And Gwen’s still young. She’ll change.”

“How can you know that?” I didn’t bother mentioning that Boyd was younger than my sister.

He shrugged. “I can’t. But I can have faith.
You
let
me
in.”

Our eyes met, as I thought about what he’d said.
Had
I let him in? When had that happened? Was it just starting now or was this simply the first I was realizing it?

I was still chewing through those thoughts when he asked, “Do you trust me? Do you trust me to give you what you need right now?”

Yeah, I did trust him. Especially to take care of me. Even more especially, to take care of me with sex. So, I softly said, “Yes,” held out my hand, and let him lead me to the bed.

He undressed me slowly, intently, paying attention to every detail of the process, kissing each part of my skin as he uncovered it. He caressed me, ran his hands all over my body, then went down on me, giving me the sweetest of orgasms.

Honestly, it hadn’t been the most earth-shattering of climaxes—I was probably too distracted and emotionally worn out for that—but it was nice to just feel good for a few minutes.

“Thank you,” I said when he came back up to kiss me, my taste fresh on his lips.

He chuckled softly. “That was only the preparation. Turn over.”

I was curious but had learned to bite my tongue. I rolled over, exposing my backside, which he massaged thoroughly. I was a puddle by the time he paused to undress, all my muscles limp and lax.

When he was naked, he crawled up behind me. “Bend your knees under you.” I followed his directions, raising my ass into the air when he nudged me to do so. He ran his palm over one of my cheeks then slipped his hand down to my cunt where he fucked me with his fingers until I was dripping.

“Good girl. That’s what I wanted.” He continued to quietly encourage me as he trailed my wetness back toward my other hole.

Automatically, I tensed. We’d talked about ass play before, and I was for it—just, we hadn’t actually done anything there yet.

“Relax, baby,” Boyd said, circling my rim with the pad of his finger. “Trust me. Rub your clit while I do this, okay?”

I dropped my hand between my legs and began rubbing the swollen nub, careful not to make myself come too soon. Then I closed my eyes and pressed my forehead into the pillow. I took a deep breath and slowly let it out.

As I pushed the air out of my lungs, Boyd pushed his finger inside of me.

“Oh my god.”
Oh my god,
it felt so…
good
. So different than I’d ever expected, a million nerves firing with pleasure as he rubbed me. Jesus, if he kept this up, I was going to come. Just from this.

It wasn’t long at all before he added a second finger. Then he was pushing in deeper, past the tight ring of muscles, until his fingers were completely buried.

I moaned.

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” He stroked in and out of me as he spoke, not really seeming to expect a response, which was good since I was beyond the capability of forming words. “This would be better if it were my cock right now. You’d get what you really need to release, but I haven’t worked you up to that. We’ll have to settle for this instead.”