I Found You. Jane Lark

I looked up again, as my lips compressed.

      His brown eyes looked hard into mine, but he didn’t push for more.

      He looked down at my hand. “It’s clean. I’ll bandage it up.”

      When he let it go, I left my hand lying on his knee. His legs were parted and his sweatpants were loose, but his top was tight, it hugged his abs and the pectoral muscles of his chest as he leaned to the side and picked up a bandage from the first-aid box.

      He was beautiful, but unlike Declan there seemed to be beauty inside him too, it wasn’t just a surface thing. He was helping me.

      I wanted to turn my hand and grip his thigh. But that would be the wrong thing to do. I knew that. But I was really good at doing wrong things.

      Voices inside me encouraged me to do it. I didn’t. The cocaine was still clouding my view.

      He straightened and his fingers gripped the back of my hand more firmly. It sent tremors running up the nerves in my arm.

      His other hand laid the bandage over my palm and his thumb pressed down on the dressing he’d used to cover my cut, securing it, then he began winding the bandage round my hand.

      I shut my eyes.

      His touch was doing stuff in my belly, making it clasp with need. I wanted sex. I hadn’t wanted it with Declan anymore, but I wanted it with Jason Macinlay. Sex was the best escape from the things going on in my head. It had never even really mattered who I did it with. I just liked it, and I’d always found a guy who’d give me a place to stay in return for it. They just generally weren’t the right guys.

      I’d never even liked Declan. And the feeling had been mutual. But we’d connected in bed. He liked things wild, and wild played to my crazy. God, had I really done that stuff with him? I needed something better now.

      I opened my eyes and watched Jason Macinlay concentrating. He wound the bandage round and round, pulling it tight to stop the blood; watching what he was doing, not watching me.

      I felt hot, and the tingle in my tummy slid to the point between my legs. I was sitting naked in a tub beside this guy. When had I decided to undress? I didn’t know him. Really, my head was stupid.

      Yes I did, he was Jason Macinlay, from Oregon, and he’d already given me more respect than Declan had done in the last year.

      “How old are you?” I asked.

      His brown eyes lifted and met my gaze again.

      He was feeling more relaxed, I could tell, his breathing seemed more normal and his muscles less tense.

      “Twenty-two. You?”

      “Twenty-one.”

      “That’s too young to want to end your life, Rachel Shears.”

      I shrugged, my lips compressing.

      Of course he wanted to know why I’d been there, but I didn’t want to talk and I couldn’t remember half of it anyway. His eyes said, ‘what happened?’ I didn’t answer.

      He smiled, not his stunning smile of a few moments ago, but a closed lip smile that said, okay, so you don’t wanna talk, I understand.

      No one understood me. I’d learned that the hard way.

      Mom would’ve said she did, when I was a kid. She didn’t, and I hadn’t even seen her in years. I didn’t even know why I was thinking of her today. I hadn’t thought of her in months. I hadn’t spoken to her since I was fifteen.

      Maybe I was thinking of her because I wished she’d been a proper mom and had taught me how to clean a wound like Jason Macinlay.

      “Drink your coffee, and don’t get that in the water.” He stood up, letting my hand go.

      I reached for the mug of coffee with my good hand. It was already lukewarm, like the water. I started to feel cold again, and shivered.

      “Run some more hot water. I’ll leave you to it.”

      He walked out then, and left me, shutting the door behind him.

      I used my bandaged hand to turn the water on.

      The bandage was neat and tight.

      I lay back in the water, and let the heat seep into me. But it wasn’t just the warmth of the water which was penetrating my body. I could fall for this guy, Jason Macinlay. That was another thing I was good at, jumping from one guy to another. It was what I did best.

      ~

      “Hey,”

      “Yeah, I know it’s late. I’m sorry, I…”

      I woke in bed, hearing Jason Macinlay whispering in the room next door.

      He’d changed the covers on the mattress while I’d bathed. The sheet and duvet cover smelt fresh and felt crisp.

      I’d rather he’d left the old sheets on, it would have felt more comforting. I’d missed his scent from his sweatshirt. He’d thrown that in the washer, too, like I’d marked it and he needed to wash me off it.

      Declan must have washed all the blood off by now, mine and his. I was gone from his life. That poisonous relationship was over.

      “Something happened, Lindy. I couldn’t call earlier. But I’m calling now.”

      The door was shut between the bedroom and the living space.

      “Yeah, I know.”

      I rolled over and listened more intently, I could even hear him breathing between the words.

      He sounded defensive.

      “Look…” The pitch of his voice dropped. “I found a girl on Manhattan Bridge, Lind. She was trying to jump. I couldn’t just leave her.”

      There was silence for a moment as he breathed. I imagined this Lindy speaking at the other end.

      “I brought her home.”

      Silence.

      “Yeah, well, I didn’t know what else to do.”

      “Lindy, leave it, she’s no risk.”

      “I’ll be fine.”

      “Yeah, honest, I’ll take care. I can look out for myself.”

      “I know this is New York.”

      “Yeah, right.”

      “Look, I’m going to go. I don’t want to wake her.”

      “She’s sleeping in my bed. I’m sleeping on the floor.”

      “She won’t.”

      “I won’t.”

      “Look Lindy, I’ll call you tomorrow, normal time. I’m going to go now, and don’t worry.”

      “Yeah, I love you, too.”

      “Yeah, tomorrow.” He sighed, like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

      I needed a drink. I threw the covers back and got up, then knocked on the door leading back into the living space.

      He didn’t answer; he couldn’t have heard, but I didn’t like to just walk in. I knocked more loudly.

      “Yeah?”

      “You decent?”

      He laughed. It was low and heavy. “Yeah.”

      I opened the door.

      He was sitting on the floor, gilded by the moonlight streaming through a floor to ceiling window which lit his living room. His arms were about his knees as one hand still gripped his cell and his head was bent a little forward.

      He looked defeated.

      “Sorry.” I didn’t even know why I apologized, I just