LWLU – Icy Survival

The hallway was silent.  For long moments, no one looked at anyone else as the implications of Michael’s words set in.  Jane was the first to speak, her voice sounding foreign against the silence.

“Just great.  You’d better keep your whore away from me for the rest of the weekend, Burrows.”  She disappeared into her room and slammed the door.

Michael cleared his throat after she was gone.  “I need to talk to you, Bro.”

He glanced at Jane’s door. “Not really a great time.”

“I know, but I still need to talk to you right now.”

Lincoln sighed.  “Just let me get dressed and I’ll meet your downstairs.”

Once he’d disappeared into his room, Michael took a final sip of his coffee and turned a casual eye to Sara.  “Getting dressed might not be a bad idea for you either.” Without waiting for response or reaction, he started down the stairs.

“I wish you wouldn’t let him get to you like that.”

Sara turned her attention to Paul.  “Is it that obvious?”

“Yeah.”  He moved back to her and pulled her into his arms.  “What isn’t obvious is why I woke up alone in bed.”

She let herself enjoy the wave of warmth and security she found in his embrace.  “I was trying to brush my teeth and get back into bed before you realized I was gone.  I wasn’t counting on Jane waking up the house before I got back.”  Or running into Michael, she added silently.

His arms grew tense around her and he nuzzled her temple.  “I wish you had made it back to bed.  I had plans for you, Angel.”

“Mmmm…”  His lips moved against her ear and neck while his hands moved low down her back until his fingers reached the silky fabric.  She melted into his touch before stiffening.  “Paul.”

He sighed and pulled away.  “I know…I know.  It would be in bad taste to do anything right now.”  His eyes flicked over her.  “But you’re going to have to put some real clothes on if I’m going to control myself.”

She considered that for a moment.  Did she want Paul to control himself?  There was something appealing about the idea of letting him make her forget about Michael and his cruel behavior.  She could avoid much of the coming awkwardness by spending the better part of the day in his bed.

Hell, even an hour spent under him would go a long way to taking the edge off the next two days.

But it wouldn’t be fair to him.  To either of them.  Not right now.  Not with Jane on the warpath.

“I’ll go get dressed.”

She had just begun her descent when his words caused her pause.  “Hey, Sara?”

She turned to meet his gaze, wordless.

“That shirt looks better on you than it ever did on me.”  A grin was on his lips, but something feral colored her eyes.

Did he have to look at her that way when she was trying to show some restraint?  Doing the right thing was going to be harder than she thought.

Somehow, Sara made it down the stairs without turning back to jump Paul.  That had to mean something.  The sheer amount of desire she felt for him couldn’t be normal.  Other than Michael, she’d certainly never felt this way about another boyfriend.  In retrospect, she’d only felt that way about Michael because he was her first.

So why couldn’t she let go of him the way he’d let go of her so long ago?

Her foot struck something on the way to her room and she glanced down.  The damned black bag.  Not wanting to deal with it, she opened the hall closet and kicked the bag inside.  Whatever time Michael spent looking for it was time he couldn’t spend harassing her.

As she dressed and brushed her teeth, Sara formulated her plan for the rest of the weekend.  She’d never be alone.  It was that simple.  As long as she was with Paul or Roni or Nika, Michael wouldn’t have the conversations with her he seemed to force when they were alone.  He wouldn’t dare kiss her, press her back against the wall, move his hands over…

“Stop it,” she ordered her reflection in the mirror, pretending not to notice the excited flush to her cheeks.  Michael was her past.  Paul was her future.

Now she just had to make it through her present.

Rather than leaving the solitude of her room, she retrieved Paul’s gift from where she’d left it and sat down on the bed.  She opened the book to the beginning of the first chapter with infinite care. ‘In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I’ve been turning over in my mind ever since.’  Sara could relate to those words – except, it hadn’t been her father with the advice; it was her mother.

To this day, she could still hear the soft, sage words of her mother when she confided in her upon her return after her birthday that she was in love.  “When you give your heart to another, give every piece of it.  Just make sure the boy you give it to can handle having it.”

Too late, she discovered Michael couldn’t handle it.

Letting the pages fall closed, her eyes fell on the lavish inscription left by a previous owner of the book. ‘I loved you then.  I love you still.  The hollows of your heart, let me fill.’  She wondered about the previous owner of these pages and who must have written those words before giving it as a gift.  What depth of feeling must have been stirring under the surface as those words were penned?  Would anyone ever feel that about her?

Her eyes wandered down to the simple message written by Paul. ‘Even though this is your birthday, being with you is a gift I receive each and every day.  No gift can ever make us even.  No words will ever be enough to show it.  I love you, Sara.’

Yes, Paul could fill in the hollows of her heart, if she let him.  He was someone who could handle receiving her heart.  Could she give him every piece of it?

Sara put the book away and left her room.  The lower level appeared deserted, as though everyone had chosen to spend the morning in their rooms rather than revisit even a moment of the earlier awkwardness.  Her gaze fell to the window looking out over the back of the property and her feet were compelled to move to it.  The peaceful beauty of the grounds was ironic in contrast to the frazzled tension within the home.

“That’s not a good idea, Mike, and you know it.”  Lincoln’s words drifted to her from the kitchen.

“I know, but…I have to say something.  She needs to know.”

“Does she, bro?  Or do you need her to know?  There’s a big difference.”

“I don’t think there is.”

“Look, Sara’s happy with Paul. Why can’t you accept that?  There are some things she doesn’t need to know.  Not this weekend.”

“But the baby…Linc…”

The ice adorning the tree branches outside crept into the house and found refuge in Sara’s veins.  Baby?  No.  That could only mean…

Nika came bounding down the stairs behind her.  “Hey, Sara.  What are we looking at?”

A moment later, Michael and Lincoln poked their heads out from within the kitchen, horrified at the prospect of having been overheard.  Sara fixed her gaze on the lone leaf clinging for survival to the icy and barren tree.  As the leaf gave up hope and swirled to the snow-covered ground, she met Michael’s reflected gaze and, like the leaf, gave up the last thread of hope to which she’d clung.

Nika was pregnant.

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