Page 14 of Promise Me Never

“You’re going to carry my tampons and birth control?” My dad wouldn’t even buy me tampons when I started my period unexpectedly on vacation. He made me wait until my mom was done at her guest lecture. But here’s this random man I barely know carrying around feminine hygiene products for me like it’s a regular occurrence.

“I’m not going to catch my period through osmosis. Hurry up.”

I sigh and turn with a shake of my head. I don’t get him. I can honestly say I’ve never met anyone like him. At the end of the aisle, past the pregnancy tests and lube, condoms catch my eye. I stop quickly, and he walks into me. His unamused scowl meets mine right before I turn my attention to the display in front of me.

I take my time looking at each package, trying to decide which would be best for my first time. Ribbed for her pleasure? Maybe. I glance at the magnums and immediately pass. I’m trying to break my hymen, not my chest cavity. I grab a box of plain old latex condoms. No frills, just the basics.

With the box in my hand, I look up at him. I know he sees the dare in my eyes. Is he going to meet my challenge, or will I finally win? He raises an eyebrow and opens his free hand to take the box from me. Because of fucking course he does.

After placing the box in his hand, I turn and head for the sunscreen and then the candy aisle. I’m generally well-tempered, but when I’m on my period, if I don’t get chocolate, I’m a snarling bitch. I grab a bag of chocolate-covered pretzels and a bar of dark chocolate before hitting up the checkout.

We make one last stop at a retirement village. He pulls a plain envelope out of the glove compartment and tells me he’s just running in for a moment. Unlike him, I stay in the truck, running my fingers over the puppy’s soft ears until he comes back out and joins me.

“What are you going to name her?” he asks as he pulls out onto the highway.

“I don’t know yet. I’m thinking about Ruthie. Maybe Charlie.”

“I like Charlie,” he says without looking over at me. “Your name’s Eli, so hers being Charlie just fits.”

Six

LUKE

* * *

Every night since the accident, I’ve snuck into Eli’s room just to watch over her. I keep promising myself that each night will be the last, but the harder I try to resist, the more urgent my compulsion to make sure she’s okay. Luckily for me Charlie is a terrible watch dog and didn’t even move a muscle the first night. The most she’ll do is pop an eye open before settling back in to sleep.

Tomorrow she’s going to get the stitches out, and hopefully the doctor will examine her. I was in the room talking to Paul when she came in to ask if he or Jo could give her a ride to the clinic in the morning. He looked at me and asked if I minded taking her while I ran errands in town so he could take a few calls about some cattle, so it worked out perfectly.

She’s been shadowing me on the days where I’m not up fixing fences in the high pasture. As much as I dreaded that, it’s been fine. She actually knows quite a bit, and she’s a fast learner if she doesn’t already have the knowledge.

She talks all the time, though. I can be the biggest asshole, and all she does is make a snarky quip about it. Then ten minutes later she’ll be right back to talking. I’d have to say it’s probably her curious nature because she rarely talks about anything personal, nor does she pry into my life. It makes the time together tolerable.

Having a superficial working relationship also makes it possible to keep the uncomfortable feelings of jealousy at bay when I walk around a corner and see her talking and joking with one of the guys. Sam has a particular way of pulling laughter from her that tightens my chest. It’s a feeling I haven’t experienced in years, and I don’t like it.

In the dark of her room, a part of me long forgotten flickers back to life. No matter how hard I try to ignore it, I feel it. Like an itch in the middle of my back that I can’t reach. Every glance at the pictures of Amy around my cabin fills me with shame for even acknowledging it.

I stand to leave when Eli begins mumbling in her sleep. I can’t make out the words, but her whimper, followed by a moan, makes me stop in place. Then I hear it, my name, clear as day, from her lips. I turn, terrified that she's awake but realize she’s still sleeping. She releases another long, low moan, and it hits me.

She’s having a sex dream about me.

My traitorous dick jerks in my pants as she says my name again. Her feet move under the covers as if she’s squirming. I can’t stop my mind from envisioning how goddamn responsive she would be beneath me.

It hits me like a freight train how invasive this is. I make a hasty exit, cursing my fucking erection and all the forbidden places my imagination is now traveling to. This will be the last night.

* * *

“Do you think it’s going to hurt?” Eli asks from beside me in the truck.

“What?”

“Having the stitches taken out?”

“Not any more than the reason you needed stitches to begin with.”

“Good point.” She taps her tiny, pink painted toes in time with the music playing through my truck speakers. Unless she’s on a horse, she refuses to wear shoes, saying she’ll give up her flip flops over her dead body. Then she scoffs at my warning that they could end up being her cause of death.

“Janey will do a good job taking them out.”

---