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My heart breaks for him. To lose his family and what was probably his best friend had to be painful. “Tell me what happened?” I pose it as a question in case he doesn’t want to. I can give him time and space to tell me on his own or not tell me at all.
He nods but doesn’t speak right away. I hold him and rub his back, wanting to relax him and make him feel safe. I want to be an anchor for him while he goes back to those old memories like he was for me. Finally, he tells me his tale.
“It was a Tuesday. I had soccer practice, and it wasn’t supposed to rain until after we’d gotten home. But since there was the prediction of a bad storm that would knock out power, a lot of people were on the road, probably to stock up on supplies. My parents didn’t get to me until it was raining heavily, and it was hard to see a few feet out of the window. Ever since they got him for me, they always brought my puppy, Gogo, with them when they picked me up. Gogo was a beautiful mostly black bulldog, with black and white paws, so sweet, always licking me and jumping on me with his little fat, rolly legs.” He chuckles, seeming to think back on the best of his puppy. “He loved me, I know he did. After practice, I would stay at the park for a bit, letting Gogo run around, use the bathroom, try to teach him some tricks. But we weren’t able to that day. The rain was really bad.
“Everything happened so fast. One minute, we were driving on the road, the next, we were pushed off the side, water rushing all around us. I was too young to know what a flash flood was, but apparently, they’d called one in the area. From what I could gather from the accident report I looked at later, my parents were driving over this tiny bridge with what became an overflowing river going under it at just the wrong time, and our small car was no match for the turbulent water.”
I suck in a breath. That had to be terrible. An eight-year-old, scared out of his mind, not knowing what’s going on around him. I pull him closer to me and feel the wetness from his tears on my bare chest. “We got swept over that bridge and hit a tree. The front of our car taking the brunt of the impact. My parents were knocked unconscious. I tried to get their attention, but they wouldn’t wake. They were still breathing, but they wouldn’t open their eyes. I screamed and screamed, but they didn’t respond. My side of the car wasn’t covered in water, so I got myself out of my seat belt, held Gogo tight to me and wiggled out of the window. As soon as I was free, the water swept us away.” Abel stopped, sobbing now and I pull him close to me, kissing his forehead and whispering softly to him. I want him to stop. If he’s going to feel like this, I don’t want to hear anymore.
But Abel is strong—so much stronger than me. After he takes a few deep breaths, he continues. “I kept Gogo in my arms for as long as I could, but with him wiggling so much, it was too hard and I lost my grip. I tried to swim back for him, but I was plucked from the water before I could. I was taken to this large SUV and dumped in the back, shivering and crying.”
He cries more and I pull him on top of me, his legs straddling my waist and his head tucked into my neck. I comfort him, letting him cry out all the pain and hurt he’s feeling while feeling like shit for asking about it. While Abel is strong and confident, he’s also sensitive and gentle. Of course, he would still feel this loss so deeply.
After his sobs and hiccups subside, he finishes telling me about the worst day of his life. “After a few minutes, whoever grabbed me came back and drove off, but he didn’t have my parents or my dog. I think a few times we almost got swept off the road. From what I saw in the police notes, he was a fisherman coming back from a trip a few miles down the river when he heard the warning. It was lucky he was driving past because he saw me struggling in the water. By the time he went back, he couldn’t see the car anymore. My parents weren’t able to get out before the car filled with water and he couldn’t stay any longer to help them since it was getting more dangerous.
“He took me to the nearest police station, and the police took me to the hospital. He gave his statement and left. He didn’t leave a name, so I could never thank him for saving me. He might have felt bad that he couldn’t save everyone.”
That’s the roughest fucking story I’ve heard in my life. And Abel is so good. He didn’t deserve to feel that hurt. Not at such a young age. “I’m sorry, baby,” I whisper to him.
Nodding, he lifts a bit to wipe his eyes, then rests his head on his hands flat on my chest. I try my best to make eye contact, but it’s awkward, so I sit up some so I can see him. “I’ve never told anyone that. Not even Cris. I don’t think he wanted to hear the details. He was already angry because he had to take care of me. He blames me. I gave up soccer because he said if I wasn’t playing, our parents wouldn’t have been out, and they would still be alive.”
I inhale sharply. That’s fucked up to say to an eight-year-old kid. I can just imagine Abel’s little face, after living through the tragedy, having his only family take away the last thing he had for himself. I should have fuckingburiedhis brother. He’s a real piece of shit. “That’s not true.” I try to comfort him, but what can I really say about a fourteen-year-old hurt?
“I know. Didn’t stop it from hurting back then. I know my brother only said it to hurt me. My parents were happy I wanted to play a sport. They encouraged it. So, yeah, I don’t blame myself. Not anymore.”
In a whisper, he says, “I used to feel guilty. Like I didn’t do enough to save them. I felt like I should have stayed to … I don’t know, help them escape.” I open my mouth to speak, but he shakes his head and I clamp it shut. “I know I have nothing to be guilty of. I was eight.”
We’re quiet and I want to make him feel better. At least for a little while. After I wipe his tears and he gives me a brief smile, I ask, “Wanna read a book with me?” It might not work. He might tell me he’s too emotionally drained for a book. Reading is my escape when the memories of what happened to me get overwhelming. That’s all I have to comfort him with.
He sits up, straddling my waist, and I put my hands on his thighs, trying to gauge his reaction. Then he smiles that smile I love so much. “Yeah, Savage. Let’s read. There’s a book I’ve been wanting to check out.”
I slide off the bed and lift him easily in my arms, Abel’s legs around my waist, carrying him to the library. “You know this isn’t necessary, right?” he says with a giggle. I slap his ass and he laughs in a high pitch. “We’re reading, not fucking, you perv.” His voice sounds slightly breathy so I lay off the spanking. I would love to fuck him right now, but he doesn’t need that. He needs to get lost in another world, one that doesn’t have him losing his parents and his puppy. A book will do that better than my cock can. It’ll help both of us more than sex.
Chapter Fourteen
Abel
Afewdaysafterour late-night book date—because it was definitely a date—I step into my room after class and see a white box on my bed. It has a cute purple bow on it, which makes me smile as I pull the card from the top and see what I take to be Savage’s messy scrawl:
I will be home at 7:30. Can you wear this for our date tonight? I would appreciate it and I know you’ll look good in it.
Smiling, I hold it to my chest for a moment. Setting the card on the table so I don’t lose it, I open the box, finding a pair of strappy heels that I immediately fall in love with, a pair of black cigarette pants that are just my size, and a soft, oversized maroon sweater. I sit down and bring the fabric to my nose, breathing in. Lavender. Janet must have washed it beforehand. I hold the sweater to my chest and smile.
And since Savage knows me, at the bottom of the box I find a pair of lacy black La Perla panties. I love them immediately.
Just like Savage to pick out an outfit that I would love and my exact size. I wonder if he snooped in my clothes to find out. Nah, probably asked Janet. That woman is amazing. I’m sure all she had to do is look at me and know.
It’s five forty-five, so I have time to get in the bathtub to soak, manscape, do my make-up and arrange my curls to my liking. I want to look good for Savage. I don’t want to embarrass him while I’m on his arm.
Gathering up all my supplies, I head to the bathroom and get my bath started. I add some oil and bubbles, watching the water rise. When the bath is full, I undress and sink into the deep tub and relax.
I’ve had boyfriends before but none that lasted when I didn’t want to fuck them. None of them took me on a date that I didn’t suggest. They never picked out an outfit for me. None of them went through this much trouble for me and it makes me wonder what Savage’s plans are. With this date, with our last few months, with me.
He didn’t ask me to come with him when he leaves. I had hope that he would want to keep me. I want him to take me away from my life so I can be with him for more than the time I promised him. But I can’t ask him to keep me. That’s weird and I’m sure it would make for some uncomfortable moments when we’re fucking if he says no. As nice as Savage has been to me lately, he won’t tell me he’ll take me with him just to spare my feelings or to keep fucking me.
Should I bring it up tonight? Ask if I can go with him? No, that won’t work. Cris would know who I’m with and will try to find me. And he’ll probably enlist the help of some of his smarter friends and they’ll find me. That will put Savage at risk. He’s trying to leave. He’s trying to get away from danger. Bringing me along will only disrupt his peace.
Sighing, I lean back in the tub and run my cloth over my body. Because of his exit plan, Savage and I only have six months left on our obligation. We’ll have to make the best of it. Maybe starting with these date nights if he wants to have more. And our book dates.
