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“Why?”
He drops his shirt and gazes down at the school-issued instrument. “The last time I was with my mom when she was just my mom and not a prisoner in jail, I was in her room. She was teaching me how to play this recorder.” He lightly taps it on his palm. “I have five thumbs when it comes to this thing.” He chuckles, enhancing the bright specks of blue in his eyes. “I got frustrated because I couldn’t get it. I lied and told Mom I had a headache. She rubbed my head until I fell asleep in her bed. When I woke up, that’s when I heard them fighting.”
“That was the night i-it happened?”
“Yeah.” He hands the recorder to me. “Could you put it back, please?”
“Oh yeah. Sure.” I take it to his bedroom, guilt seeping out from my pores. Everything I put him through, he’s always been honest. Even if it hurts him, he tells me the truth.
Tears rush to the corner of my eyes. The object in my hands holds the last of Lix’s childhood memories.
With every passing day, I learn more about him. He holds the door open for people. He fixes tires for people in the pouring rain on the way home from dinner. He reads a lot. He’s playful and tells jokes in tense situations. He donates his winnings from his MMA fights to charity. And he hangs on to and defends, with his life, a recorder because he’s not ready to let his childhood go. Or maybe it’s his mom—the memory of her. Of what she meant to him.
Perhaps that’s what he was hanging on to when those kids beat him. Maybe it was worth the scar he bears on his chest.
The sacrifices he’s made for a life he had no control over. The ones he continues to make on a daily basis to help others. How can I not fall for him?
I put the recorder back where I found it and close the drawer.
“Did you get it?”
I turn around. He’s leaning against the doorframe in nothing but jeans. “What?”
“The nail.” He moves toward me, muscles and skin feeding my hungry eyes.
I pick up the clippers. “I was just about to.”
“Here.” He holds out his hand. “Let me.” He takes the clippers from me and lifts my finger with a steady hand.
My body tenses, preparing for the pain. Hangnails are the worst.
But I learned something else about Lix Daxon. He’s good at fixing hangnails as well.
I run my thumb over the area. It’s smooth, and the pain has subsided. He amazes me. Now, if I could only fix him. Make his pain subside. Spread the frosting over his cake, smooth out his past, and turn his life into something sweet and savory. I get the sense he doesn’t need that from me. What he wants from me goes beyond his past.
It’s the future. That’s what I see in his eyes—our future. Or a promise of one.
My eyes fall to the cross resting on his naked chest. The one my uncle gave him. It’s ironic how things work out. I pinch it between my thumb and finger.
“Are you happy?” he asks.
My eyes flash to his. “Yes.” I smile, surprised by the question but sure about my answer. “I’m happy being with you.” I release the cross and place my arms over his shoulders. “Are you happy, Lix?”
He gazes down at me through blazing blue eyes. “Ya know, I hear happiness is contagious.” He wraps his arm around my waist. “So I do believe you’ve caught yours from me.”
“Just like you to take all the credit?” I pat his chest.
“Of course.” He smiles. “But that’s not all I’m taking today.”
“Really? What else do you plan to take today?”
“You.” His head lowers. His lips connect with mine, filled with nothing but more promises. “I’ve been thinking about my hands on your body all day.” His fingers run down my arm, casting shivers in their wake. “It’s got me worked up.” He grips my shirt and pulls it over my head. “So I’m going to turn you around, pull your pants down, bend you over the bed, and fuck you from behind.”
I giggle, the thought making me instantly wet. “What about the hands all over my body part?”
“Well, now.” He reaches behind my back and releases my bra, drawing it from my body. “That’ll have to wait until round two.”
I set my arms on his shoulders again. “That doesn’t make me happy.”
