Saving Amy (13 page)

“That won’t happen. I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Have you completely lost your mind? You’re screwing a patient! You’ve abused your position of trust, of course there’ll be consequences.”

Woah…

“Hold on a second… I’m not
screwing
her, Joanna. She needed a friend and that’s exactly what I’m being. Besides, she’s not my patient anymore.” My heart couldn’t seem to stop itself from doing a little dance. I wasn’t his patient. Did that mean something
could…
I shook the thought away quickly. It would only lead to disappointment.

“I know what’s going on here…” Any eerily long silence followed and I wondered if Richard was as intrigued as I was to hear her theory. “She’s not Kate.”

What’s his dead sister got to do with anything,
my subconscious
hissed.

“Trying to save this girl because you couldn’t save your sister? It’s just not right.”

“DON’T YOU DARE bring her name into this!” Richard roared – and I mean
really
roared. It was the first time I’d ever heard him angry. I didn’t like it.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean- look all I meant was, I know you blame yourself for not noticing Kate’s problems, and maybe you’re seeing this as an opportunity to put things right?”

Problems?
I was suddenly eager to know how she died but it wasn’t the kind of thing I could just blurt out over the breakfast table.

“I want you to leave now,” Richard said curtly.

“There’s no need for that. I can’t lie, I still don’t understand what’s gotten into you – but I
am
sorry I’ve upset you.”

“Please, Joanna… just
go
.” He sounded so dispirited. I’d grown so attached -
too
attached - to his velvety voice (even his Bossy Doctor version), and hearing him sound so sad panged in my heart.

This was all because of me. As much as I’d decided I hated
Joanna –
ugh, even
thinking
her name went through me – I knew deep down that she was right. Richard was putting so much as stake for me… and for what?

My mind began to ache as I frantically ransacked it for answers. I found nothing. I couldn’t think of one single reason for Richard being so good to me. I was nothing special. As far as Richard was concerned I was just a depressed young girl with a screwed-up home life and drug problems.

Problems…

Realisation swiped me across the face and suddenly Joanna’s little rant about his sister started to make sense. The more I thought about it the more I convinced myself that drugs were responsible for her death and now Richard was using me to ease his conscience out of some warped notion that he didn’t save her – but he could save
me.

My insides were reeling and I didn’t know if I felt angry, hurt or guilty. Whatever it was didn’t feel good. It was a nice notion that someone wanted to save me I supposed – or even thought I was capable of saving.
A nice one – but an unrealistic one.
I was too fucked-up – too far gone.

Hopeless.

“
S
orry about that. It took longer than I thought,” Richard apologised, appearing at the doorway and abruptly dragging me out of my musing. He was rubbing his arm and I decided he must do that when he’s nervous too.

“She’s right. You’re risking too much for me.”

“You were listening?” he asked but he didn’t sound annoyed. He sounded…
remorseful.

“I’ll leave tomorrow,” I said, ignoring his assumption. My heart struggled to beat through the crushing pressure weighing down on it, but I knew it was the right thing to do.

“There’s no need for that. If you were listening you’d have heard me say I’m not risking anything. I’ve told you, you are welcome to stay here as long as you need. Nothing’s changed.” But it had. I shook my head – words eluded me. “Where will you go?” he asked sombrely and I was both relieved and heartbroken that he’d accepted my decision.

“I’ll stay with a friend,” I lied, shrugging. I didn’t know where I would go yet.
A cheap motel?
A hostel perhaps?
There must be somewhere…

“What friend?” he questioned suspiciously, doing that censorious eyebrow thing he does so well – and often.

Is it that obvious I have no friends?

“It doesn’t matter which friend. Look, Richard… I can’t begin to tell you how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me – but you’ve done too much already. This was only ever supposed to be temporary. I had to leave sometime,” I replied and I couldn’t be sure if I was trying to convince
him
or myself.

Suddenly – maybe because I was leaving so it didn’t matter if I overstepped the mark - I couldn’t stop thinking about his sister and I was trapped in a fierce battle with my subconscious about whether to mention it or not.

I lost.

“Can I ask how your sister died?” The abrupt subject change caused an unwelcome decline in the atmosphere. Sadness flooded the air and my lungs struggled to breathe it in. Richard straightened his crumpled brow and dragged in a deep, striving breath.

“Kate died of a heroin overdose,” he revealed reluctantly, staring down at his feet.
I knew it.
“But that has
nothing
to do with this. Ignore anything you heard Joanna say. She knows shit about our situation.”

‘Our’ situation?

Even after everything I’d ever experienced in my life I didn’t think my mind had ever been so full. It was painful just to think. I wanted to stay but I
needed
to go. I thought I loved him – if that was an emotion I was even capable of – but I knew he didn’t love me; he just wanted to
save
me. Most of all I was afraid – petrified of falling into my old life when I left. Let’s face
it,
I hadn’t done a very good job of tackling life alone the last eighteen years.

“It’s still best that I leave,” I said as I stood up to make my way to the bathroom to gather my things. I couldn’t prolong this… whatever
this
was, any longer. I was growing more attached to him every day and the longer I stayed, the higher the drop would be when I inevitably fell.

“Where are you going?”

“To get some things from the bathroom. I’ll pack now and then I can leave first thing in the morning.” Tears threatened to burst their banks but I blinked them away. I was upset, overwhelmed and unbearably confused. A thousand different thoughts and emotions were shooting through my mind at one hundred miles per hour and the pain exceeded any blow I’d ever taken to my body.

“Please… don’t rush into anything. Think about it for a few days – plan where you’re going first.” For a brief moment I allowed myself to believe that he actually
wanted
me to stay.
Don’t be so ridiculous. He feels sorry for you,
that’s
all,
my annoying as hell subconscious bellowed and it pained me that this time I was forced to agree.

I felt physically weighed down with the overpowering urge to run away. Away from Richard and all the bewildering and damn right painful emotions that accompanied him. It was fight or flight time, and any ounce of fight I ever held was knocked out of me years ago.

Brushing past Richard, I continued on my way to the bathroom.

“Amy, please…” he called after me. His words darted straight into my heart, momentarily stopping me from breathing. Ignoring him, I carried on walking, but then he grabbed me by the elbow and pulled me to a standstill. “Please don’t go.” There was such desperation in his voice – like he was begging. Or maybe I was just seeing what I wanted to.

“Joanna’s right. This just isn’t right. Nothing makes sense anymore and I don’t know how much more I can take!” Wow, it was all spilling out now. I’d quickly turned into a desperate, emotional wreck – crying pathetically into my hands. Pulling out of Richard’s gentle grip, I tried to walk away.

“Stay.
Please
. Please don’t leave.”

“Why the hell not?” I turned and yelled at him – my overloaded mind finally exploding.

“Because I don’t want you to!” he shouted –
actually
screamed. Suddenly nervous, I turned to face him and he was knotting his fingers in his hair. His expression was pained – crumpled. My mouth dropped open, rendering me speechless.

What is he saying?

I watched him open his mouth to speak but all that came out was a sigh. Then, before my eyes had chance to register his movement, his hands were cupping my face and he was just inches away from me. Instinctively I rose onto my tiptoes, bringing my tiny five feet two inch frame a little (
very
little) more level with his six plus feet.

“Please, stay with me,” he pleaded.

Before I could reply I felt him on my lips. My breathing hitched to an almost painful level and all of my senses sprang to life. I inhaled his scent – tea-tree shampoo and expensive cologne. I tasted the sweetness of his breath mixed with the saltiness of my tears. I twisted the hair on the back of his head – which felt rough from whatever styling product he used – with my eager fingers. I listened to his harsh, wanton breath against my throat and I intermittently peeled my eyes open to absorb every inch of his beauty.

Holy fuck…

“Come with me,” he whispered, releasing me from his embrace and taking my hand. He led me down the hall, past the bathroom and to the room at the far end – his bedroom. Every nerve ending in my body stood to attention.

Is this really happening?

The window blinds were partially closed and soft beams of light filtered through the gaps, shimmering onto him like a spotlight. We stood unnaturally still – our chests rising and falling exaggeratedly, gazing at each other. My eyes soaked up the delicious sight of him as I watched him undo the buttons of his white linen shirt tantalisingly slowly before throwing it on the floor beside him.

This was the third time I’d ever seen him that way and unbelievably he seemed more stunning each time. His pale skin, his perfectly toned muscles… Tentatively I reached out and stroked his smattering of auburn chest hair – something I’d been dreaming about for what seemed like forever.

Could I actually be asleep?

Staring intently into my eyes he pulled me in at the waist. His hands travelled slowly, teasingly down my quivering body until he reached the hem of my blouse. My arms instinctively raised themselves in the air as he pulled it upwards and lifted it over my head. I closed my eyes when I felt his silky lips on my throat and let out an involuntary moan. My heart was throbbing – if it beat any harder I was sure it would escape through the walls of my chest.

I wanted to touch him back but I was frozen – completely lost in the sensation. As his chaste kisses travelled along my neck to my shoulder, I felt him unclasp my bra and then slide it painstakingly slowly down my arms, following its path with soft little licks.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered as him thumbs grazed my nipples while he kissed me all the way down to my bellybutton.

I opened my eyes and he was gazing up at me – his intense green eyes blazing with desire and I struggled to breathe. Gently, he tucked his thumbs into the waistband of my jeans and slowly peeled them down. I clumsily stepped out of them and flushed beetroot-red when I almost fell on top of him. A hint of a smile teased his lips and straightening himself up, he backed away a step – staring at me.

I was completely naked – exposed. He was still wearing his pants and I felt awfully self-conscious. His body was beautiful – defined and cared for. Whereas mine was thin, neglected and covered in hideous scars. I felt completely unworthy being stood before him like this. Ashamed, I bowed my head.

“What’s wrong? Do you want me to stop?” he asked, concern washing over his delectable face. Then he positioned his finger under my chin and raised my head so I had no choice but to look at him. After studying my eyes for a few brief seconds he dropped his head and I watched, bemused as he lifted my
hands which
were covering the scars on my legs; I didn’t even realise I was doing it.

“Don’t hide from me, Amy,” he murmured and I gaped, captivated and slightly confused as he dropped down to his knees. Slowly, tenderly, he ran his fingers over my scars and then, unexpectedly, he softly kissed each one in turn. As he did, his face crumpled in anguish as if he were trying to draw out my pain with his lips.

Holy shit.
It felt like my insides were about to explode. My breathing was loud and rapid and my heart pounded so hard it physically ached.

“Each and every one of these should be a reminder of how strong you are. You should look at them and remember what you’ve been through, and feel proud that you’re still here – still fighting.”

That was it. I couldn’t resist any longer and I fell to my knees – desperate to touch him. Wrapping my arms around his back I pulled him closer. I clutched his hair and drew his face towards mine, kissing him hard and wanting on the lips. His tongue brushed mine and I couldn’t seem to prevent the whimper that followed. It was incredible – the feel, the touch, the taste of him… It had never been like this before – the lust, the eye contact… the pure sensuality of it all. At that moment I idly, and shamefully, realised this was probably the first time I’d ever been sober too.