Page 53 of To Save Him

“Mom, would you double check this problem?”

“Sure.”  It took me a few moments of looking over JR’s math—now pre-algebra, meaning it took me longer to remember how to do the problem—but I was able to tell him after a bit that it was right.

“I’m gonna go work on my blog project now.”

I smiled.  “Cookie?”

“Yeah.”  He grabbed one and then took his glass of lemonade before walking toward the doorway.  “Thanks, mom.”  Before he started walking up the stairs, he asked, “What’s for dinner?”

I sighed and looked through the doorway.  “I haven’t decided yet.”

“Can we have chili dogs?”

Well…that would solve my dilemma.  Mental inventory time.  We had hot dogs and a couple cans of chili.  Maybe not buns but bread for sure.  Onions, cheese, mustard.  “Yes, we can do that.”

“Thanks.”  I heard him run up the stairs while I fetched the cans of chili and an onion out of my pantry.  I chopped the onion and then got the cheese out of the refrigerator so I could grate it.

And then I heard what sounded like a chainsaw out in the backyard.

No.

A lawnmower.

Did Brandon really get it fixed?

I walked out the backdoor to find him standing next to the lawnmower, grinning from ear to ear.  I smiled back, walking over to him.  He shut it off so we could talk and I asked, “How the hell did you fix it?”

“I did a little research.  And then I drained the old gas and poured in fresh.  It didn’t want to start at first but…”

Oh, I had to hold myself back.  I wanted to hug him.  “Thank you.  What do I owe you for the gas?”

He scoffed.  “Don’t worry about it.”  He started pushing the lawnmower back toward the shed.  “Too bad we won’t actually need it for a couple weeks.”  I was following him, trying to think of a reason why we could go ahead and use it right now but came up short.

Honestly, I was acting like a smitten little girl, wanting to bask in his aura.

He wheeled the mower into the shed and then turned around.  And, when he did, he had the oddest look on his face.  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

Brandon didn’t answer; instead, his hands grabbed my upper arms in a vice-like grip.  Before I could tell him he was hurting me, he kissed me.

Hard.

It probably should have felt arousing, but it was confusing.  I didn’t even close my eyes.  They felt stuck open as I felt the impact of him against me.  But his kiss felt desperate, panicked, urgent, and my body soon responded, unable to resist his touch, no matter how rough it was.  In mere seconds, my jeans were unzipped and he was entering me.  It would have been a lot more enjoyable had I been wetter, but I wasn’t going to ask him to concentrate on foreplay.  Not right now.  For some reason, I sensed that he needed this as much as I needed air.  I wasn’t going to deny him something that seemed that important.

About the time my body had actually completely warmed up to the idea, we were done.  Brandon’s breathing was shallow and uneven, his pupils big and dark as he looked at me.  He moved his hands to my face and cupped my jaw, giving me another hard kiss before withdrawing.

He seemed almost like a shell.  I couldn’t explain it.

But I also had this overwhelming urge to hold him close, and I drew him into an embrace, pulling him as tight against me as I could.  I didn’t know what was happening, but I sensed that he needed me more than ever, and I was going to be whatever it was he required.

The light in his eyes changed as we separated, and he blinked a few times, letting me kiss him softly on the cheek before he walked out of the shed.  I ran my hands along the back of my hair, imagining a cobweb stuck to it, before straightening my clothes and then walking back into the late afternoon sun.  Brandon was tightening the lid on the red gas can he’d set on the patio.

It all seemed surreal.

I walked over as he stood up.  “JR asked if we could have chili dogs for dinner, so I’m going to heat everything up.”

He nodded, trying to force a smile that never reached his eyes.  I sensed that he needed time alone so I gave a slight smile back before stepping into the house, wondering if we had potato chips.

Yes, very surreal.

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