Page 45 of Fight For Her
She took a deep breath in and released it slowly. “I don’t know. I guess we’ll have to figure stuff out in the morning. But for now stay in your room and stay safe. I’m sure the owners will fill us in more tomorrow. Before I forget, Ginger said to look in the top drawer. You’ll find some candles and matches.”
“They must have had a feeling. Thanks, I’ll see you tomorrow.Love you, Mi.”
“Love you too. Oh, and Ken? Tell Coby goodnight from us too,” she said in a teasing tone before hanging up.
Well shit. This trip got a whole lot more screwed.
Chapter 22
Coby
Kendahl’sfacefellasshe finished her call with Mia.
“What’s going on?” I was sure they were safe otherwise Kendahl would have gone to her friend.
“We’re officially in a hurricane. Mike just spread the word.” She hopped off the bed and went to the dresser to dig through the drawer. Her phone stopped emanating its glow and my pulse picked up. Thank God I was a healthy guy with a strong heart because going from panic attack to being more turned on than I had ever been in my entire life, I was pretty sure anyone else would have needed an EMT.
I heard a scrape and smelled sulfur. Suddenly Kendahl’s beautiful body was illuminated by the glow of a candle.
“A hurricane? Damn.” My first thought was how dumb we all had been for not digging into the weather forecast before we left for this island. But then I thought about Mike and Jill and how much this sucked for them. “I feel so bad for them. Their wedding is all kinds of screwed.”
“I’m sure we’ll figure something out. What’s important is that we all stay safe.” Safe was a word that got thrown around a lot especially in my friend circle. What was safe, really? Yes, I could protect myself or Kendahl from “bad guys” or do my best to watch out for danger, but what happened when my body was the culprit. When the chemicals that flooded my bloodstream sent danger alarms. Darkness meant trouble. It meant that someone was going to be on the receiving end of a fist, and that I wanted it to be me and not her, not Mama.
The flickering of the single candle stole my focus, and I tried to push those thoughts away. “We’ll be okay. At least we have each other.” I searched my brain for something lighthearted to brighten the situation. “And we’re only steps away from a fully stocked bar, so that’s something.”
She laughed. “When life gives you lemons, grab tequila.” We both leaned back against the pillows, and I watched her lips turn down. She pulled on the comforter, bunching it in her hands. I could almost see the unspoken thoughts swirling around her mind.
I reached out to stroke the side of her face. She nuzzled into my hand. “Let me see those beautiful eyes.” I held her chin and turned her head so we were facing each other. The singular flame dancing behind her blue eyes reminded me of sapphires. “What’s on your mind?”
“Too many things.” She sighed and chewed her lip for a few seconds. “This crazy storm, your panic attack,” another beat passed and she added, “what happened after.”
What happened after will live in all my wet dreams for eternity. I stroked her chin. “I’m sorry for freaking out the way I did.”
“It’s okay. I’ve helped Mia get through them before. It’s not something you can control.”
“Thank you. The way you brought me back by guiding my breathing. Incredible.” She was more than incredible. She was perfection. I watched her lips tip up in a small, satisfied grin, and my heartbeat picked up. My girl had a thing for praise. Not that she shouldn’t get praised every second of every day. But it was something to remember when my idiot senses took over.
“Was it the storm? The wind has been scary as hell.” I rolled over onto my back and scratched my chin.
“No, not really.” I squeezed my eyes shut and forced the air down deep. “I’m afraid of the dark. Well not afraid, but it sets me off sometimes. I think the storm added another layer and my body gave me a big fuck you.”
I held my breath waiting for it. The laughter, the teasing, the pull away. What kind of grown man was afraid of the dark? In my time with Amy, I never let her in this deep. She’d question why I always kept the hall light on or owned an obscene number of flashlights. But I’d just turn it into a joke. Anything to hide my insecurities. When Kendahl didn’t respond right away, I forced my lids open to peer over at her. She wasn’t smiling or laughing. She looked calm and contemplative.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Did I want to talk about it? No one had ever asked me that. Talking about it would open up a floodgate of crazy that anyone would run from. That’s what Amy did, but Kendahl wasn’t Amy. She was so much more.
“My father was a real prick. He…” I hesitated. It felt like I was pushing each oversized word through a tiny pinhole. “He was a drunk. A mean drunk. He’d work all day at the mine, then drink all night. Wasted about every dollar that my mother couldn’t hide away on booze and gambling.” I rubbed at my beard again, enjoying the scratchy feeling against my skin. “It was never enough money. Not to feed us or pay the bills. The first time our lights got shut off, I was young, maybe five. I thought it was a fun game. My brother and I played Crazy Eights by candlelight, lying on our bellies on the living room rug.
“But then he stumbled through the door late, yelling for one of us to come help him out of his boots. He didn’t notice the candles burning or the lack of lamps switched on. There was too much darkness in him I think. When he sat down on the couch to try to turn the TV on and it didn’t work, he lost it.” I’d told her enough that she could fill in the blanks. There was no need to tell her that he smashed the TV that night or that he yanked my mother by her hair and screamed at her for wasting his hard-earned paycheck on those spoiled fucking brats instead of paying the bills.She didn’t need to know how Clyde and I hid behind our bedroom door and prayed to anyone or anything that he’d stop. That he wouldn’t come to us next. And that was only the first time our power got turned off. There were countless other times after. Times in the dead of winter when the three of us would huddle around the wood-burning stove and plan who would go through his wallet when he passed out that night.
Her face fell. “I’m so sorry. He sounds like a terrible man.” I could see her fighting with herself, wanting to say more or ask more.
“Terrible is an understatement. I don’t know when the panic attacks became a thing. It was almost like I’d always equated darkness with fear. Mark’s helped me through a lot though with some of the drills in class. When I first started level one, I thought I was such tough shit until he turned those overhead lights off for our first dark drill. I almost pissed myself, but I got through it and each one got a little easier.”
I let loose a breath and turned to face her again. I wanted to pull her to me, run my hands along the curve of her waist, and finish what we started earlier. But that moment had passed.
“Thank you for telling me all of that,” she said gently.
It took most of the energy I had left to smile in response. Quiet blanketed the room. Even without checking a clock, I knew it had gotten late. “So…” I cleared my throat. “You think you’ll be okay for the night?” It sounded like I was fishing for an invitation to stay. “I was going to head back to my room and let you get some rest.”
