Page 83 of Need

Even though I’d been to his office before, I’d never once thought of where it was physically in relation to where he lived. It was nice knowing. I just wished I could see his building. I could pretend that I could see him, too, and maybe he wouldn’t feel so far away.

He talked to me until finally he said he had a meeting he couldn’t miss. Maybe it was silly, but it made me get that tingly feeling inside knowing he didn’t want to hang up with me either. It was hard to think he might be feeling the same way about me as I did about him. I mean, I was still broken in many ways. What did I really have to offer him? I couldn’t even let him touch me how he wanted to.

I decided to make him a nice meal for dinner. My mom used to spend hours in the kitchen baking with me before she’d gotten sick. John seemed to enjoy my culinary skills, although he didn’t comment much on anything unless it was to tell me I couldn’t do something or go somewhere.

Thinking about my father brought me up short. He’d find me. I knew he would. It might take him days or weeks, but it was inevitable. I just didn’t understand why he’d want to. Did he know I was free now? Is that why he was tracking me down, to make sure I went back to a master that would punish me?

All my kitchen pursuits were forgotten as I slid to the floor clutching my chest. No. Stephan wouldn’t let him take me. He... he couldn’t make me leave. He couldn’t... Air ripped harshly through my lungs as I tried to catch my breath, but all it did was rush right back out, not giving me the oxygen I needed. Stephan. I needed Stephan.

There was no way I could stand. My legs felt heavy, and not in the good way they did after Stephan touched me. It felt as if there were weights attached to them as I crawled across the floor toward my cell phone.

I was having trouble seeing. Everything was blurred through my tears. Wiping them away did no good. My eyes just filled again with moisture, blocking my sight as quickly as I removed it.

Pain surged in my shoulder as I bumped into the end table beside the couch. I nearly gave up and just let the panic take me. It would be easy to let go and let reality fade around me, but that wasn’t what I really wanted, and I knew he expected more of me, too.

My hand finally found what it was looking for, and I blindly hit the number one on the speed dial. “Brianna?” His voice allowed me to take my first haggard breath. “Tell me what’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“I... I need you,” I choked out.

“I’m on my way. You stay on the line with me. Keep talking. Where are you?”

“Home.”

“Where are you at home?” he asked. I could hear him moving around, people passing by him. Then I heard the ding of an elevator, and I knew he really was on his way. He was dropping everything for me... again. I should feel guilty about that, but I needed him too much.

“Living room.”

“Are you able to walk?”

“I don’t know. My legs... they feel... heavy.”

“Okay. Just stay where you are then. I want you to lie back and close your eyes.” I did what he said, feeling the soft plush of the carpet against the back of my head. “Take a deep breath in and hold it.” I tried, but it still felt as if I was gasping. “Now let it out.” A loud gushing sound escaped my lips as I released the breath I’d been trying to hold. “Good. Again. Deep breath in, and hold it. Now release.” With every word, every breath, I felt myself calming, my breathing coming back to normal. “Good girl. Keep breathing. Slow and deep. You’re doing well, Brianna.”

I felt that warmth again at his praise. He kept talking me through my breathing until I heard the door open and him calling my name. “Here,” I said, loud enough that he could hear me.

His face came into view, and I smiled as he lowered the phone from his ear and knelt down beside me. He pulled me into his arms, rocking me. The feel of his solid arms around me was the last thing I needed to relax completely. He was here, and all was right.

After a few minutes, he began to shift us. I held on tight, not wanting to let go. “Shh. It’s okay. I’m just moving us to the chair.” I nodded, burying my face on his shoulder as he picked us both up enough to sit onto his chair. His hands stroked my arms, and his fingers played with my hair just the way I liked it. “Tell me what happened.”

“I was going to make you a nice dinner. You’ve been so good to me and I can’t... I can’t give you what you want.”

“All in good time,” he said, kissing my forehead. “That couldn’t have been what sent you into a panic, though. We’ve talked about this. It will happen. We just have to keep working at it.”

“I know,” I said, taking advantage of how safe I felt here in his arms, in his chair. “It was... I started thinking how I used to bake with my mom and then... then how it was cooking for... John.” His arms tightened around me. “I don’t know why he’s looking for me. What’s going to happen when he finds me?”

His mouth rested against my temple, and I could feel his breath as he spoke. “I don’t know why he’s looking for you either, Brianna. I don’t think we’re going to know until the time comes. As to what’s going to happen... I don’t know that either. We’re going to have to deal with it the best we can when it occurs.” He paused. “I found out today that your father is in town.” A whimper escaped my lips, and my hands balled into fists, clutching the suit jacket he was still wearing. He lovingly caressed my face as he pressed me against his chest. “If you see him, even at a distance, you are to call me right away.”

I nodded and continued to hold tight to him. He was my lifeline, and I was pretty sure he always would be. There was no place I felt safer than when he held me in his arms like this. Sometimes I just wanted to stay here, in his chair, and never leave. The outside world could melt away, and I wouldn’t care.

“You said you’d been about to make dinner. What was on the menu?” he asked, and I knew he was trying to distract me from my thoughts.

“Chicken parmesan. I was going to try and remember the recipe my mom used to make.”

“Are you feeling up to making it?”

I was torn. The original thought behind making it was a thank you to him for everything. It was a small thing, but even the small things I did for him seemed to make him happy. Another part of me wanted to stay in his chair all night. Cooking would mean leaving the perfect place we were in.

Guilt, however, won out. “Yes.” I’m sure my voice didn’t sound very confident.

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