Discovering Stella (26 page)

Glancing down to the
top of
her
cleavage, I raised
my
hand and ran
my
fingertip under the seam of
her
bra, subtly grazing the skin of
her
breast.
“No,
I
don’t
want
you
wearing only this. I
don’t
share
what’s
mine.”

“Mine?” she asked, uncertainty in
her voice.
Shit! Probably not the best choice of words. But fuck, I want her to be mine and I’m tired of ignoring it.

“Yeah
...
that’s
if
you
want to
be.”
I
removed
my
finger
from
her
bra
and
placed
it
on
her bottom
lip.
“Do you?
Because
there’s
noth
ing
I
want
more.
We
can
go
slow,
Princess. No pressure. No
rush.”

“I
do,”
she
said with a
nod,
“but
I really
need
to
try this dress
on.”

Smiling — because she just said she was mine — I reached
for
the dress without
taking
my
eyes from hers and threaded
it
over
her
hands. The black material fell
over
her
head and face, so I pulled
it
down completely and then kissed
her
hard, fast and like a man possessed.

“Lawson!” she shrieked, then dropped
her
hands
over
my
head, jumping
into
my
waiting arms and wrapping
her
legs around
my
waist.
“We
...
can’t
...
do
...
this
...
here,”
she said between frenzied kisses.

“Who says?” I
bit
out
hungrily.

A
voice
sounded from the other
side
of the curtain.
“Ah
...
hey,
hon.
Sorry to break
it
up in there,
but
Chic Express has a
‘no
sexual relations in the change
room’
policy.”

Stella quickly pulled
away,
covered
her
mouth with
her
hand then gently punched me in the
shoulder,
indicating I should
put
her
down.

I
didn’t
fucking want
to,
so I shook
my
head and mouthed
no
.

“Sorry,
ah
...
he was just helping me
...
um
...
get this dress
on,”

Stella stuttered, turning the shade of a red Ferrari.

“Well,
as
long
as
that’s
all
he is helping
you
with.”

I waggled
my
eyebrows and lifted the dress strap from
her
shoulder.

She
swatted
my
hand away and wriggled
out
of
my
hold
before
taking
a step back.
“Yes.
We
will
be
out
in a minute,
thank
you.”

I stepped
closer,
immediately swallowing the distance she’d created, distance I
didn’t
bloody like.

“Stop
it!”
she
whispered,
stepping
backward
yet
again,
her
shoul
ders
now
firmly
planted
against
the
wall.
“You’ll
get
us
thrown
out.”

“One
more,”
I declared.

“One
more
what?”

“One
more
of
these.”
I tilted
her
chin up and pressed
my
lips to hers, this time kissing
her
slowly.

Not
wanting
to, but
knowing I had
to,
I separated from the kiss and stepped back,
taking
in
for
the first time the dress she’d tried
on.
“You
look stunning. I think
you
should get
it,”
I said, strangling the words, before turning and exiting the change room to
avoid
being charged with
an
act
of
indecency.

*
 
*
 
*

After
Stella emerged from the change
room,
she’d been unable to look the sales assistant in the eye.
It
was funny
as
shit.
But
what was also amusing was when I offered to pay
for
the dress and she adamantly pushed me
out
of the way and
told
me to piss off.

Now on
our way back
home,
the two of us sneaking sideways glances at each other and smiling like kids, I
couldn’t
be
happier.
“Wanna kick back and watch a movie tonight?” I asked,
chuck
ling when she poked
her
tongue
out
at me
for
stealing another look at
her.

“Depends,”
she answered, shrugging playfully.
“You
might have bad taste in films.”

“Well,
if
you
think
I’m
going to
sit
and watch
some
sappy chick flick, think again.” I had to ease
my
foot off the accelerator
due
to a tractor moving slowly
on
the road up ahead. The bloody thing was hogging the entire lane.

“So let me guess
...
you
would want to watch something like
Predator
or
Fight Club
?” she asked sarcastically.

“I
didn’t
say that. I just
don’t
want to watch
Little Women,
or
some
shit like
that.”

Frustrated by the tractor driver blocking
my
way,
I kept
my
distance so that I could eventually speed up and pass him when the time was right.

“Who said I’d want to watch
Little Women
? I
wouldn’t.”
H
er
tone was
slightly nervous.

I quickly glanced in
her
direction to see why she suddenly seemed wary.
“How
‘bout we ditch the movie altogether and just watch each other?” I offered mischievously. In actuality I was
all
for
that idea, and
more.

Ready to pass the
tractor,
I
swung
out
just a little to
double-
check that the road ahead was clear to overtake.

“What are
you
doing?”
she asked, her voice
suddenly saturated with panic.

“Passing this selfish
prick,”
I snapped
my
head in
her
direction. “We’ll be
here
all
day if I
don’t.
The arsehole
shouldn’t
be
taking
up the entire
lane.”

She
shifted and gripped the seat with what appeared to be
some
serious fucking
apprehension.
“Lawson, please
slow
down!”

“Stella, I need to speed up to pass him.
It’s
fine.”

“No,
please
don’t.”

“There’re
no
cars
coming,
it’s
safe.”

Ignoring
her
exaggerated state, I pressed
my
foot down
on
the accelerator and sped
up,
pulling
into
the oncoming lane in
order
to pass the tractor.
My
truck revved
loudly,
protesting
my
request
for more power.
Poor
thing was near retirement. I just
didn’t
have the heart to say goodbye to the
old
girl.

“No!” Stella shouted,
her
shrill scream curdling
my
blood.
“Stop!
Pull
over.
I want to get out!”

“Stella! What the fuck?”

“STOP
THE
TRUCK!” she screamed.

Having no choice
but
to
slow
down and get behind the trac
tor
again
for
fear of
her
wrenching the door open and throwing herself
out
onto
the road, I then slammed
my
foot
on
the brake and pulled to a safe stop
on
the road
shoulder.

Stella yanked off
her
seatbelt and frantically climbed
out.

 
“Where are
you
going?” I shouted, completely stunned at the way she was reacting.

She
didn’t
answer, instead
walking
briskly along the
side
of the road toward
home.
What the fucking fuck?
It
was
all
happening so fast, too fast
for
me to understand what the hell was going
on,
so I opened
my
door,
jumped
out
and ran after
her,
grabbing
her
shoulder and turning
her
around to face me. “What the hell was that about?”

Her
eyes flared and she tried to break free of
my
hold.
“Just
leave me alone. I need to get
out
of
here.”

Recognising
her
behaviour of pulling away and withdrawing, I sure
as
shit
wasn’t
about to fucking let that happen again.
She
wasn’t
fleeing
or
pushing me away this time around.
No
fucking
way.
She
was mine.

“We
are
not
doing this again, Princess,” I stated categorically.
“I’m
not
letting
you
push me
away.”

She
let
out
a strangled
sob.
“Lawson, just let
it
go. Please!”

“No
can
do,”
I said
firmly,
shaking
my
head and piercing
her
with
my
stare.

Her
chest heaved and a wave of what looked like fear washed
over
her
beautiful face. “Let me go!” she yelled.

“No,”
I yelled back,
“not
this
time.”

Stella wrenched
her
arm free and pushed me hard in the chest.
“He
killed himself,
all
right?”

What the fuck?
“Who?”

“My
husband,
that’s who. He
got drunk, acted like a cowboy and overtook a truck. The arsehole wrapped himself around a fucking tree!”

No running away

He
killed himself.
He
chose to drink and drive.
He
left
me.

He. Killed.
Himself.

“It’s
his fault he
died,”
I sobbed, collapsing and falling forward
into
Lawson’s
waiting arms.

“Stella,
I’m
so
fucking
sorry.
I
didn’t
know.
I
wouldn’t
have
done
—”

“It’s
not
your fault,
it’s
his. Everything is his fault.
He
ruined his life, and he ruined
mine.”

In that
moment,
I
broke,
really
broke,
emotionally and
physi
cally disintegrating within his embrace.
My
husband had robbed me of the life I wanted to live, deserved to live
...
planned to live. He’d taken something from me that
couldn’t
be replaced.

He’d. Destroyed.
My
spirit.

Tears,
grief,
and
the
burden
of
a
secret
I’d
carried
for
so
long
all
of
a
sudden
amplified
and
exploded.
In
that
moment,
the
painful
reminder
of
what
I’d
had
and
what
had
been
taken
away
through
no
fault
of
my
own
tore
through
my
body,
as if
torment
were
a
living
being
and
just
exhaled
over
me.
But
it
wasn’t
torment
causing
me pain,
and
it
wasn’t
the
reminder
either.
No,
it
was
him
—
my husband
—
he
caused the
pain, still
caused the pain.
He
had
stripped
me of
every
thing I
loved
with
all
my
heart.
He
stole
my
life.

“Shh
...”
Lawson said
as
he held me tight and rubbed large, comforting circles across
my
back.
“You’re
allowed to feel.
You’re
allowed to be sad and
angry.”

“I
know, and I am. The bastard took
more
from me
than
just our happy marriage.
He
took
my
future.
He
took
...
he took so much
more.
I just
don’t
want to feel sad and
angry all
the time. Feeling those things hurts,” I cried.
“It
hurts so much. I
don’t
want to hurt any
more.”

Holding me tight in his arms, Lawson comforted me by the
side
of the road
for
what felt like several minutes before pulling back and wiping the tears from
my
cheeks.
“Come
on,
let’s
go
home.
We
can’t
stay
here.”

He
was right, so I nodded and let him lead me back to the truck where he helped me in like the perfect gentleman — like a knight in shining armour.

*
 
*
 
*

I woke to a feeling of weightlessness and vertigo, soon becoming aware that Lawson had lifted me
into
his arms and
out
of the truck.

“What
...
where?” I stuttered, gathering
my
bearings.
“Sorry,
I
must’ve
dozed
off.”

“You
were exhausted. Go back to
sleep,”
he said soothingly, kicking the truck door closed with his foot.

I tightened
my
grip around his neck and rested
my
head
on
his
shoulder.
“Will
you
lie down with me? I
don’t
want to be alone right
now.”

“Of
course,”
he replied, pressing his comforting lips against the
top
of
my
head.

I savoured the feeling
as
Lawson carried me to
my
room and gently laid me
on
my
bed where I scooted
over
and rested
on
my
side, inviting him to take the place behind me. The bed dipped and within seconds I felt the warmth of his embrace
as
he wrapped his arms around me and pulled
my
body flush with his. “Thank
you,”
I whispered, closing
my
eyes, truly grateful
for
him being there.

He
squeezed me tighter and nuzzled
my
head with his nose.
“No
thanks
needed, Princess.
I’m
here
for
you.
I’m
all
ears
...
and a decent punching bag if
you
need to lay
into
someone.”

“Yeah,
well, I think
I’ve
used
you for
that enough
as
it
is.”

“You
can
use me however
you like,”
he said with a
tone
of playfulness.

Sucking in a deep breath, I closed
my
eyes and slowly let
it
out
again. I needed to apologise to him.
“I’m
sorry.
I’m
sorry
for
being crazy a lot. I was never like
...”
I paused, opening
my
eyes so that I could explain. “Before the accident, I
wasn’t
like this. I was
normal.”

“Stella,
you
are normal.
There’s
nothing wrong with you.
You’ve
suffered a pretty fucking huge loss.
But you
gotta deal with it.
You
can’t
keep running
away.”

“I
know I need to deal with it.
I’m
just so angry. I hate him, and because
of
that I hate
myself.”

“Tell
me something,” he said
cautiously,
while gently trailing his finger up and down
my
arm. “When
you
left Melbourne to come
here,
did
you
tell
anyone
where
you
were going and
for
how
long?”

“I
told
my
best friend that I needed to get
away.
That’s
it. I just wanted to leave, leave everyone and everything
behind,”
I sobbed, knowing
it
was a terrible thing to have
done.
“I
don’t
want any of that life. I
don’t
want the
reminder.
I
can’t
deal with
it.”

Lawson sighed. “Ignoring a part of your past
doesn’t
mean
it’s
going to go
away.”

I shuffled to loosen his
hold
and rolled around to face him, draping
my
leg
over
his
hip.
It
brought the two of us
together,
body to
body,
face to face.
“I
know
that,”
I said
sincerely,
sniffling
as
I stared
into
his vivid
light-blue
eyes.
“For
the past year and a
half
I’ve
been ignoring
...
pretending
...
dismissing what he did,
but
no matter
how
hard I
try
to bury him, he never stays gone.
He
is everywhere. In everything. I
can’t
take it. I hate
him.”

Lawson gently wiped a tear off
my
cheek with his thumb, the action so
tender
and
...
loving. “When was the accident?”

“The thirteenth of September
2013,”
I blurted
out,
the date permanently etched
onto
my
brain.

“Do
you
want to tell me what happened?”

I sighed. “Sure, I guess.”

Shifting
my
focus
to
a
spot
on
the wall, I
felt
less
vulnerable.
Looking at that
blemish
was
easier
than looking at him — the
blemish
couldn’t
judge.
“Tristan,
my
husband,
had
gone
to
a
mate’s
place
to watch
a finals game
of
footy while I was
on
shift at the
hospital.
They both drank
too
much.”
I paused, needing a
moment
before
meeting his stare.
“Tristan drove
home
and crashed
into
a tree
when
he
tried
to
overtake a truck.
He
died
instantly.”

“He
made a mistake, Stella. A bad
one.”

“Don’t
defend
him,”
I
bit
out
harshly, diverting
my
gaze.

“Hey,
I
wasn’t.”
He
held me
tighter,
as
if he feared I would get up and flee the room. Strangely enough, I
didn’t
have the urge to do that this time.

“Just
don’t
try
and tell me
it
was
an
accident.
It wasn’t.
He
got himself
drunk
and hit the tree, and
he’s
fucking lucky he
didn’t
hit another
car
and
kill
its occupants
as
well. Then again,
he’s
dead, so
it
wouldn’t
matter to him, would
it?
No,
it
only matters to the ones left
behind.”

“Okay,
I’m
not
defending
him.”

“Good, because he
doesn’t
deserve
it.”

Our eyes searched
one another’s,
the atmosphere surrounding us tense. I hated always feeling
on
the
precipice
of rage and despair,
as
if I had a switch that could be flipped
or
nudged with
one
simple
tap, and once tapped,
all
hell would be let loose. They were
horrible
emotions to confine, let alone attempt to
control.

Lawson smoothed
my
hair behind
my
ears, the
motion
distracting and softening
my
rage and assisting
my
breathing to harmonise with his. “Do your parents know where
you
are?” he asked
quietly,
breaking the silence.

“No.
Dad is busy and Mum
couldn’t
give a
shit.”

“I’m
sure
they’re
worried about
you.”

“Well,
you’re
wrong. They
haven’t
even
sent
me a text asking
how
I
am.”

He
furrowed his
brow,
and I could see that he
didn’t
under
stand
how
that could be. “So
who’s
been
calling
you? Who do
you
keep ignoring?”