If You Stay (17 page)

Pax is seriously pissed.  He is flexing his hands so tightly that his knuckles are white.  I gulp and try to figure out how to calm the situation down.  I hate conflict, but I hate even more that he has misunderstood.

“I didn’t attack you,” I begin.  “I was just curious about who was trying to reach you.”

He raises an eyebrow angrily. “Really?  If you were that curious, then why didn’t you just ask to see my phone?”

I am flabbergasted and stumble around for something to say as the wind whips my hair around my face.  “Because in a relationship that is built on trust, people don’t ask to see each other’s phones.”

“Yet you really want to see mine, don’t you?” he challenges, his eyes spitting.  “Because you don’t trust me.”

He digs in his pocket and pulls out his phone, turning the screen to me.  There are 57 unread text messages. 

“Here you go.  Look to your heart’s content.”

“Holy shit,” I breathe.  “Did you see how many there are?”

And they’re all from one number.

“Who is it?” I ask hesitantly, afraid he’s going to yell again.  He shakes his head. 

“It’s Jill.  I told her that I’m not going to see her again and that I’m not going to supply her habit. But from these texts, it looks like she’s desperate and she’s begging for it.”

“But you don’t have anything to give her, right?” I ask slowly.  He’d told me that he dumped it all out. 

He stares at me harshly. 

“I didn’t lie to you,” he says abruptly.  “I said I dumped it, and I dumped it.”

“Have you seen her since you had that conversation with her?” I ask slowly.  It just doesn’t seem normal that someone who had been rejected would be this persistent. Unless they were insane.  “Is she crazy?”

He shakes his head again.

“No, she’s not crazy. She’s just a desperate addict who needs help.  I should have cut her off long ago, but I was too much of a dick to care.  And no.  I haven’t seen her.”

As he speaks, his phone lights up again, with yet another text.  58.  He rolls his eyes and I eye him uncertainly.

”Shouldn’t you at least answer her?”  

“No.  It won’t do any good.  She’s desperate.  She’s not thinking logically so it wouldn’t matter what I say.  I’ve seen her act like this before.  She gets hysterical and there’s no reasoning with her.  Fuck this.  I’m not going to let this stupid wench cause problems with us.”

He raises his hand and I flinch.

He freezes, as hurt washes over his face. 

“What the fuck? Did you think I was going to hit you?” he asks, his voice both wavering and furious.  “Do you really think I would ever hurt you, Mila?”

He stares at me, waiting for an answer, but I don’t know what to say.  I doubt that anything I say would help so I just look at him limply. He shakes his head again.

“I was just going to get rid of this.
 Fuck
, Mila.”

He throws his phone into the lake.  I watch it sink into the frigid depths and then turn to him. 

“Pax, I –“

“Don’t,” he snaps coldly, turning his back on me to take the wheel.  “Just don’t.  I can’t talk to you right now.”

He fires up the engine and guns it.  The force of it throws me back onto the sidewall and I grip it with freezing hands.  He’s pissed and I know there’s no reasoning with him.  He needs to cool down.

We speed toward the shore and after each swell we crest, we land hard on the surface of the water.  It’s bone-jarring. 

And as we speed along, I get more and more pissed. 

“What makes you think you have the right to be mad at me?” I shout above the wind.  “I was curious, that’s all.  I have a right to be curious, Pax.”

He doesn’t answer.  His hand just pushes the throttle even more and we speed faster. 

I grit my teeth. 

“Would you slow down?” I demand.  “You’re going to kill us both.”

No answer.

He doesn’t slow down.

I grit my teeth again but before I can say anything, we hit another huge swell. And this time, before I can think or move, we come down hard. 

Only instead of staying inside the boat, I am thrown right over the edge, right into the frigid, churning waters of Lake Michigan.

Chapter Fifteen

Pax

“Fuck!”

I barely have time to react before Mila is gone, over the side and into the icy water.  I kill the motor and turn about, scanning the top of the choppy water.

“Mila!” I shout as I rush to the side.  “Mila!”

She’s gone.  I can’t see her.  The gray water churns and spins, creating frothy whitecaps that lap onto the side of the boat.  There is no sign of Mila among the depths.

Holy shit.
 Without another thought, I dive in after her.

The shock of the frigid water knocks the wind out of me and I thrash about, trying to fumble for Mila and trying to keep my lungs from automatically sucking for air.  I’ve never felt such an incredible, bone-shattering cold in all of my life.  Every cell in my body, every bit of self-preservation, is trying to force me to get out of the freezing water. But I’ve got to find her. 

I plunge further down and my body actually goes numb.  I don’t feel it anymore.  I wave my arms blindly in front of me, desperate for some sign of her.  This can’t be happening. Mila can’t drown here, not in the lake that she loves so much, not because of me.  I force my eyelids open and the frigidity assaults the tender tissue of my eyes, but I have to see.  Although the water is so murky in its frigid state that I honestly can’t see anything at all.

I continue to flail about until my hand bumps something hard in the water. 

I grab at it, my numb fingers grasping at something fleshy. 

Mila.  

The down-filled coat is dragging her down and she can’t kick to the surface. She seems to be struggling to take it off. 

I pull her with me and we break through the water.  I shove her hair away from her face. She sucks in air and claws at me out of instinct, trying to get out of the water.

“Calm down,” I tell her quickly, kicking us toward the boat.  “Calm down or you’ll drown us both.”

I shove her up and over the side of the boat, and then pull myself up after her. We both collapse into a heap.  She’s in a pool of icy water on the floor of the boat, her teeth chattering and her lips blue.

“What the hell were you thinking?” I snap at her.  “Are you insane?  Why weren’t you holding on? ”

I strip off the heavy full-length parka because it is soaked and then I look around the boat to see if there is anything to wrap her in, but there isn’t.

“Fuck,” I mutter.  “I don’t have anything to keep you warm.”  Her wet hair is standing up in clumps and dangling down her back and I rub at her arms.  “We’ve got to get back to shore.  Stay over here next to the edge.”

She clings to the side, under the lip where she is partially protected from the wind.

“I’m s-s-sorry,” she chatters.  “I should have held on t-t-tighter.  But y-y-you shouldn’t have been d-d-driving so fast.”

“I know,” I tell her limply.  “I’m sorry, Mila.  It was my fault.  We’ll just get to shore and get you dried off.”

I start the boat up and turn it toward shore, going as fast as I can. The wind cuts through my wet shirt and no lie, icicles form on the hem.  By the time I pull into my slip, my fingers are purple and I’m shivering almost uncontrollably. 

I’m no sooner docked than I am helping Mila out of the boat with numb fingers. She’s stumbling so much that I can tell her limbs are numb, too. So I just scoop her up, figuring I can carry her faster than she can walk.

“I c-c-can w-w-walk,” she chatters.  I shake my head. 

“I can walk faster.”

Her fingers gripping my shoulders are like ice and I shake my head again. 

“You’re probably going to get pneumonia,” I tell her as I unlock the car and settle her into the seat.  For the first time, I wish my car was new instead of a classic. A new car would have seat warmers.

I jam the key into the ignition with frigid, shaking fingers and we make it to my house in just a few minutes.  My guilt makes me drive faster on the ice than I normally would have.

The car is barely in the driveway before I hit the button for the garage so that I don’t have to fumble with the front-door lock.  I am out of the car and to her side within seconds, pulling her out and carrying her through the garage and into the house.

“Your lips are still blue,” I tell her.  “We’ve got to get you in a hot shower.”

“You need one t-t-too,” she tells me, her chin shaking.  I can’t decide if she is just freezing or if she’s in some sort of shock. 

I don’t put her down. I just carry her straight upstairs, to my bathroom.  I set her down on the toilet and turn the water on, turning back to help her peel off her icy clothes.  I can still barely feel my fingers. They are so cold that they almost feel hot against her frozen skin.

“Mila, I’m so sorry.  I lost my temper and I saw red and I shouldn’t have been driving like that.  I’m sorry.”

She nods.  “I know.  It’s okay.  W-w-we were mad.  It’s d-d-done now.  It’s okay.”

I pull off her shirt without another word, then help her unclasp her bra.  She’s not an invalid, but I know how difficult it is to move my fingers, as frozen as they are, so I know hers are the same.  I pull her to her feet and tug her wet jeans off, then her underwear, then point her toward the shower.

“Get in,” I instruct her, as I peel off my own clothes and step into the steam behind her.  She’s under the water now, holding her hair back as the hot water breathes warmth back into her bones. 

“Oh my god,” she breathes.  “This feels so good. It hurts, too, but Oh. My. God.”

Her eyes are closed, but color is returning to her lips.  I breathe a sigh of relief and slip up next to her, under the nozzle to her left.  She’s right. The hot water is more amazing than it’s ever seemed before. 

“Holy shit, that lake was cold,” I mutter as the water cascades over me.  Feeling returns to my toes in a thousand painful needles.  “Fuck, my toes hurt.”

Mila moans in agreement next to me and honestly, we just stand under the water for another ten minutes, with our eyes closed and without speaking, just enjoying the warmth. When the door fogs over and I am no longer shivering, I turn to Mila.

She is naked and wet and gorgeous, but I don’t care at the moment.  All I care about is one thing.

“You thought I was going to hit you,” I say simply.  She looks guilty as she turns to me, her skin a healthy pink now. 

“No,” she protests quietly.  “It was just a reflex.  I just reacted.”

“So you didn’t think I was going to hit you?” I raise an eyebrow.  “Because you flinched.”  She drops her head.  

“I don’t know what I thought.”

I suck in a breath at her honesty and am deflated at the same time.  Reaching out, I tilt her chin up with my fingers.

“I don’t care how mad I am, I will never hit you.  Do you understand?”  I stare her in the eye.  “Not ever.”

She swallows and looks at me and her eyes are so wide and green.  “I’m sorry,” she tells me.  “I don’t know why I would think that.”

And there is something in her eyes that gives me pause. 

“Did your dad hit your mom?”

The question hangs between us and she stares at me.  And then she nods slowly. 

“Not often.  But sometimes. I saw it a few times. He slapped her, she slapped him.  They had a very passionate relationship.”

“Holy shit,” I mutter in shock, before I pull her to me.  “Mila, even one time is too many.  I will never hit you.  I need you to believe that.”

She nods silently, and I see that she’s crying.  And I don’t know if she’s crying about her dad and mom or if she’s crying about our fight on the boat. 

I drag her more tightly against my chest, dropping my lips to her forehead.  She is pressed against me, wet and firm.  I slide my hands around her back, cradling her tightly.

“Mila, I will never hurt you.  Not like that.”

She nods and reaches for me and just like that, we are inhaling each other, like we need each other to breathe. 

Her tongue plunges into my mouth and my hands are everywhere on her body, sliding up and down the smooth wetness of her back, and down over her hips.  I suck her lip into my mouth, pulling it with my teeth.  She whimpers into me and I inhale it, enjoying the sound.

Desperation hangs heavily around us, a consuming need.  I whirl her about, pinning her to the stone shower wall, pressing into her as I plunge into her mouth yet again.  I could taste this girl forever and still not have enough. 

She brings her leg up and hooks it around my hips.  My hands slide up her thighs to cup her ass, her amazingly perfect ass, and she wiggles into me, pushing ever closer.  My dick is wedged against her and I know she feels it. 

Hard.

Wet.

Warm.

“I want you tonight,” she tells me in my ear.  Her teeth nip at my earlobe. “Please, Pax.”

I groan and pull away, looking at her. 

“I thought you wanted to wait?”

She smiles an endearing and wicked smile. 

“Fuck that,” she says.  “I want you now.”

I crush her close again and pillage her mouth, and her lips are so fucking soft against mine.  My fingers slip inside of her and she gasps into my mouth, panting softly.  She tastes like sunshine. 

“You are so fucking beautiful,” I rasp against her throat as I kiss a trail down to her full breasts.  “So beautiful.” 

I slip her breast into my mouth, sucking softly.  She pulls at me, clutching me, thrashing, her hands scraping down the shower stones.  Her breath is coming in pants now, I can hear it, jagged and raw. 

I move to her other breast and suck there; teasing her, enjoying it.  Her skin is wet and soft and when she opens her eyes to look at me, her gaze is unfocused and wild. 

She wants me.
  That notion is almost incomprehensible to me.  She wants me just as I want her.  I groan and bury my face in her neck. 

Her hand is on my dick and it throbs in her hand, hot and heavy.  I want her like I’ve never wanted anything.  I moan and she smiles as she slides her hand up and down the length of me.