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It doesn’t help that she was sweet to me just now, or that she didn’t even blink when she saw the scar on my face, up close. I don’t understand what’s going on. After the accident, I saw up close and personal how my scars—appeared to women. Heather and I had been together for over a year. Looking back, I’m not sure I truly loved her, but I was happy. I thought it was a good relationship.
I was obviously wrong.
I can still remember the first night home after being in the hospital for weeks. Heather thought I was sleeping, and I heard her talking to her mother about how she was too young to be tied to a hideous monster. How she couldn’t stomach looking at me. I can remember those words as if they happened yesterday and in some ways they’ve become deeper scars than the ones I wear on the outside of my body. They’ve made me retreat from the world, and they’ve colored how I interact with everyone—including Ophelia.
Ophelia is a mystery. She doesn’t seem to mind my scars—at least the ones she’s seen.
What does that mean?
I shake my head and then quickly set about changing the sheets on the bed. I’ll have to try and figure this out later. Once I get the sheets changed, I move to the kitchen. Ophelia probably doesn’t feel. like eating much, but I need to get her to eat a little—just enough to keep her strength up.
With that in mind, I start making a fruit plate, figuring that will be light on her stomach and I make a small bowl of canned chicken noodle soup, just because that seems like something she should eat.
“I… uh…”
I turn to look at Ophelia. She’s standing at the door, looking a mixture of shy and maybe a little lost. Her hair is still wet, and I frown.
“You need to dry your hair, Sunshine. You’ve been really sick.”
“I uh… didn’t want to upset…”
“Ophelia? What’s wrong?” I ask, seeing the confusion and the change in her.
“Braden, I don’t understand what’s happening here. The last time we talked, I was pretty sure you hated me.”
“I was an asshole,” I admit.
“Gee, does that mean you don’t think I threw myself at you?” she questions, a touch of her personality shining through her pale face.
I smile, because it sounds damn good to my ears.
“How about I promise to throw myself at you later?”
I watch her plush lips open into a perfect, tempting “o” shape. Her eyes dilate as what I said hits her.
“I am really back in my van right now, aren’t I? I’m in my van, unconscious with a high fever and dying.”
I laugh, the sound rusty to my own ears, but it feels damn good. I walk away from the bar where I have Ophelia’s food gathered and close the small distance between us. I wrap a curl of her hair around my finger, staring at it.
I became a fireman because I was drawn to the beauty in the flames. The color and hue as it raged. I wanted to control it, to prevent it from wreaking havoc and destruction. After my accident, I realized how foolish I was. I should have known something that wild you couldn’t contain, couldn’t harness. I should have known it would unleash its fury on me. Ophelia’s hair it’s more beautiful than any flame, so many different hues dancing in just one small strand. It captivates me even more than any flame ever has.
“Braden?”
“What are you doing?”
“Wondering if you’re going to burn me too, Sunshine.”
“I don’t understand,” she whispers.
“I know. Can I kiss you again, Ophelia?”
“Now I know I’m dreaming this and I’m really back in my van dying.”
“You’re not dying, Sunshine.”
“I’m not?”
“No, honey, you’re here with me, where I’ve wanted you to be ever since I pushed you away that night in the rain.”
“You have?” she breathes, clearly surprised. I watch as her teeth bite into her bottom lip, her blue eyes studying me, trying to understand—and I don’t know if I understand myself.
“Constantly.”
“If what you say is true, I’ve been here all this time, why haven’t you kissed me?”
“Because I knew the minute I did, I needed you to be alert enough to say you wanted me to kiss you.”
“If I say yes, does that count as begging?” she asks, making my smile deepen. The smile feels different. It pulls against the scarred skin on my jaw. I can’t remember smiling before Ophelia. That sounds lame, but I know it’s true just the same.
“How about you stop worrying about that, and I beg instead.”
“You beg?” she gasps.
“For one more taste of your lips, Ophelia, I’d get down on my hands and knees.”
“Shut up and kiss me, Braden, before I wake up.”
My smile turns into an all-out grin, right before I lean down and take her mouth in a kiss full of pent-up hunger.
