TouchStone for giving (The Story of Us Trilogy) (38 page)

my sister.”

That one forbidden word is enough to snatch away at every syllable I may have considered uttering.

Instead my breath catches at the mere thought of it.

He turns away from me, maybe with shame or embarrassment. I caress his angst ridden face and

turn him to me. “She wasn’t your sister Ayden. You may have loved her
as
a sister but that’s it. It’s

understandable you were drawn to each other. You had a common bond, a shared memory. You were

two lost souls. There’s no shame in that.”

In his eyes there is an ocean of sadness; no amount of soul searching will wash away that pain.

“Now is the time to start forgiving yourself Ayden; you’ve committed no crime. You’re without

sin. Try to forget it and let’s move on, together.”

My directive is met with a crooked smile.

“And … the same thing goes for me. You couldn’t have prevented what happened to me all those

years ago. I behaved foolishly and paid the price. Me. Not you. You didn’t even know me then. Now is

the time for giving; for giving yourself a reprieve.”

I tidy his hair and straighten my back as if preparing to make a speech of sorts. “Ayden Stone, you

are hereby exonerated of any crime. You are free to go and live your life as you please.”

He draws his thumb across my mouth. “Elizabeth Parker, from your lips come the wisest and the

sweetest words.”

I fall onto him, pushing him backwards onto the carpet until my knees are locked in place either

side of his ribs. “These lips are wise and sweet, and good for kissing too Ayden. See.” I softly caress

his lips with mine and extend my target to include his chin and then his neck, feeling the overnight

growth and bristles that remind me of just how unguarded he has been this night. He’s tipping back his

head and falling under my spell.

“Now,” I whisper. “This is what we’re going to do. You’re going to lock away your box of

memories and I’m going to go take a quick shower. Then we’ll curl up in bed and you will sleep

peacefully. There will be no more talk of sisters and skeletons tonight.”

With a look of complete veneration he takes my face in his hands. “Yes, Miss Parker.”

“Good.” I scramble off him and scamper off down the corridor, making my way back to our

bedroom and on towards the bathroom. Quickly, I close the door and flick on the shower. Once the

spray begins to build and flow, I lean against the tiled wall and begin sobbing so mournfully, I think I

will not be able to stop.

When I’m all cried out I hang up my bathrobe and climb into the shower, face first, allowing the

steam and spray to rinse away any residual traces of sadness.

Ayden and I are kindred spirits in every sense; we have both lived a worlds filled with sadness and

inhabited by monsters. Now we have our new beginning, we must make sure we never have to return

to that inhospitable place.

Waking up in Ayden’s enormous bed is something I could get used to but doing it alone is a less

attractive proposition. It’s getting so I’m feeling like an alcoholic in recovery; the draw Ayden has on

me, especially when he’s not around, is unnatural. One kiss is never enough.

Like a falling star I’ve tumbled to earth, no safety net, no parachute; only the expectation of being

caught and claimed as his. This must be what my dad meant when he said he had no desire to love

another woman when my mum passed away. He’d invested so much in her, in them; his capacity for

love left with her. She was his life and that’s all there was to it.

He knew true love, treasured it and kept the thought of it alive with photographs and recollections

which triggered tears and mutually supportive hugs. I miss him so much. My father cherished his

memories, wore them like a badge of honour to be displayed with pride. Ayden has no such emblem to

decorate his world; only three small marbles, a box full of broken knick-knacks, and emotional scars

so deep they may never heal.

I hadn’t realised until now just how much of a pull our past had on us. There I was thinking of

myself and my demon when, in fact, the world is populated with them. Thankfully I have my prince to

protect me.

Where the hell
is
Ayden?

I slip on my cream camisole top and boy shorts and pad out onto the corridor. The marble floor is

warm beneath my feet and the ambient temperature is that of a balmy, summer night, not tropical but

very comfortable.

“Ayden,” I call out, poking my head around corners and getting no reply. His study is empty and

papers are scattered across his desk. A large black folder is open and a map of the Middle East strewn

out over the floor: it’s unusually messy for a man with so much order in his life.

I decide to go down to the gym, maybe he’s working out? Maybe I could have a swim?

I push back the door to the lift and quickly descend to the basement. The corridor illuminates and I

put my weight against the large door leading into the gym. I can hear voices. What I see takes me by

surprise. Two grown men are fighting each other. They’re wearing protective head guards, gloves and

shorts with vest tops and looking very primal for 7.30 am on a Thursday morning. So this is how they

keep in shape: beating each other up?

I plaster myself against the wall and listen in.

“… You’re losing your edge Ayd. You’re getting soft in your old age. This fiancée of yours is

turning you into a fucking pussy cat.” Jake is prodding Ayden with his gloved right hand, provoking

him.

Should I be privy to this conversation?

“I’ll make you eat your words if you don’t shut the fuck up.” Ayden lands a punch against Jake’s

head guard and Jake rocks back a little onto his heels.

“Yeah, right, I’m shitting myself at the prospect. If I were you I’d keep her on a shorter leash. You

should have seen her at the party last night …”

What … what did I do?

“I did, remember?”

Now Jake’s turning to the left and then the right in a kind of dancing movement. It’s fun to watch.

“But you only got the edited version. You asked me to keep an eye on her and I did.”

Liar! You did more than that – you pretended to be Ayden …

“Well, that’s what I pay you the big bucks for.” Ayden catches him with a right hook. “So now you

can focus your eyes on something else, the party’s over.” Suddenly, Ayden takes a step back and

lowers his arms. “So, you want to tell me what you were doing in the bedroom?”

This I’ve got to hear.

“What do you think I was doing?” He lowers his hands and faces Ayden squarely.

“I don’t know but you’re about to tell me, even if I have to beat the shit out of you to find out.”

Now Jake is laughing. “You’re welcome to try but I came here for a workout. If I thought we’d be

stop-starting and dancing around like this I’d have worn my dress pants.”

“Just tell me what happened or you won’t be doing any dancing, you’ll be leaving here on a

stretcher.” Ayden rubs his nose impatiently with a padded glove.

With folded arms Jake prepares to disclaim exactly what he was up to in there with me and with

Charlie. Please God, don’t let him embellish anything …

“Okay, seeing as you asked so nicely, I’ll tell you. I went in there to fuck Wonder Woman.”

Ayden pauses to consider his answer and, sensing an opportunity, Jake hits him hard on the side of

his head.

I gasp. Hold my hand to my mouth to contain a deep intake of breath. I’m caught.

“Is that how it happened, Beth?” Ayden breaks the silence and they both turn in my direction.

I step out of the shadows. “Yes, I was in the bathroom and Jake came in with Charlie and I tried to

creep out …” The words dry up in my mouth suddenly. These two virile, stunningly attractive men

with sweat dripping from their chins and vest tops clinging to their pectoral muscles, are looking at

me.
I feel as if I’ve stepped out of the shower naked. I’m blushing brighter than a stop sign, not out of

embarrassment, exactly, but because I’m finding the sight of them in this primordial state very

arousing. The skin above my breasts is flushing and my nipples are protruding through my flimsy

camisole like two raspberries. Shit!

Jake stares at me open mouthed and aghast. “Wow!” He turns back to Ayden. “Now I get it …”

What does he get?

Nervously, I pull my thumb nail to my mouth, unsure of exactly what to say or do next.

“Jeez Ayd, she looks like …”

Out of nowhere comes a body punch of such ferocity it knocks Jake backward across the mat,

preventing him from finishing his sentence. There he sits like a stranded salmon out of breath, winded

and unable to move.

“That’s enough dancing for today.” Ayden pulls off his gloves and the head protector lands on the

floor besides them. “Beth …”

I jump. It’s been a while since I heard him call my name and at a time like this, I don’t expect to

hear it.

“Beth! Come over here, don’t be shy.” He reaches out to Jake and pulls him up into a standing

position, mumbling something that sounds like, “Don’t say a fucking word.”

I move towards him having received my cue, unsure where exactly to put myself or what to say.

“Beth, you’ve already met Jake?” I nod and look across to him bashfully. “Come over here.” He

takes my arm. “You can’t walk around looking like that baby.”

What does he mean? I’ve come down here for a swim. I didn’t know Jake would be here.

“But I …”

“Here.” In a single movement he lifts off his vest top. “Let’s put this on you.” He pulls the

oversized top over my head and drags it down over my breasts and shorts, dressing me hurriedly as

you would a small child. He leans into my left ear. “So responsive but so little self-control,

remember?” I take some solace from his smile.

From across the other side of the room, Ayden’s phone rings. “I’ve got to get this.” He heads off

towards the bench presses and leaves me alone with Jake standing a couple of yards in front of me.

He’s regaining his composure; his eyes are searing through my layers of clothing and coming to rest

on the edge of my shorts.

I turn to leave.

He picks up Ayden’s gloves. “Why don’t you have a go?” He winks, remembering how annoyed I

was with his party antics.

“I don’t box.” I roll my eyes, disinterested.

“But you wouldn’t mind going a couple of rounds with me though? I’ll be gentle with you.” He has

no right smiling at me like that. “Here, put them on.”

I take him up on his offer. Who knows, I might even get a couple of punches in. He pushes on my

right and then my left glove. They are heavier than I imagined and I feel clumsy and awkward wearing

them. I notice Ayden watching out of the corner of his eye; there he stands bare-chested and covered

in sweat. He’s distracting.

“Jay – the head guard.” He points to it on the floor.

Jake nods and picks it up and plonks it unceremoniously over my bed-head. I stand frozen to the

spot; my heavy hands are pulling my shoulders down and the helmet has forced hair over my eyes. I

look foolish. I feel foolish.

Jake is looking at me as if I’m straight out of kindergarten, belittling me with his eyes. “So? Go

ahead, hit me.”

I try but he swerves left and right like a pendulum. I can’t hit him.

From across the gym Ayden is watching, carrying on a conversation but not taking his eyes off me.

He seems in a hurry to conclude his call. I’m grateful when he brings his business to a close and

returns to me. I need to be coached or rescued, or both.

In a sympathetic gesture, he leans in and kisses my flushed cheek, feeling the heat from it on his

lips no doubt. “End of round one,” he states, taking hold of my wrists and tapping the gloves together.

“If you want to hit him, then you’re going to have to put your weight behind your punches.” He lifts

up my right arm and I look into his eyes. There is affection there but it’s masked by seriousness; he

wants me to fight back. All at once, I realise, this is not about a play fight with Jake, it’s about

something more: a fight for survival. He’s giving me a boxing lesson.

“Now see this arm?” I nod and the head protector slips over my eyes.

This is beyond ridiculous …

Ayden pushes it back and repositions it as best he can. “You’re not pushing it into a sweater Beth,

you’re flooring someone with it. Plant your feet on the ground and take a swing at him. Go ahead.”

He turns me in Jake’s direction and takes a step back.

Ever playful, Jake beckons me Matrix style. He’s revelling in my helplessness. I hate it.

I land a punch on his chin, without making any impression at all. He’s broader, taller and stronger

than me. He taps my head softly, as you might a kitten trying to grasp a piece of string. I remember

my coaching: ‘feet on the ground, weight behind punches …’ I launch a blow at his chest and it hits

home.

“That’s it,” Ayden calls out. “Like that. Hit him again.”

I would if I could …

“Now that’s not very ladylike, is it? More like the Bat Girl I remember from last night: now she