Page 13 of In You

Mistakes Were Made

Caleb

Okay, so that probably wasn't the best judgement call on my part, getting her flowers. I thought it'd make her feel safe, give her something pretty to look at, but obviously I know jack shit nil about women.

Especially this woman.

Seeing her disappear through the bathroom door, the first thing I do is call Colin as I head to the utility closet to grab a broom, a dustpan, and a mop.

"Hey, man, it's late," he answers. "What's up?"

"Hey, I don't have much time to talk. Listen, I uh…I need some help."

"You okay?" Colin asks.

"Not exactly…" I hesitate, really not wanting to get into this with Colin, but I need the reference he can give me. "I need the name of that psychiatrist friend of yours. The good one."

"Alexander?" He whistles. "Fuck, you’re finally going to get some help, huh? I'm proud of you."

That takes me aback. "What?" I scoff irritably. " No, motherfucker-"

"Oh-"

"It's not for me, but it's still just as important, if not more. Can you send me his contact information, and then let him know I'm going to be calling him? It's urgent."

"Sure, man. I'll have it to you right away." He pauses, and I peek my head around the hallway, seeing the bathroom door firmly shut. "You know Caleb, I really think you should look into trying to get back into therapy about…you know. It's not good that you're leaving that untreated."

I head quietly down the hall, feeling my chest tug when a muffled sob comes through the door, distracting me, and my dead heart tugs again for this beautifully damaged woman who I wish to God I could pack up and take to the hospital.

The last thing she needs is another person holding her captive. But I can't let her go.

She's seen me. Knows what I've done.

Self-preservation, along with something else I can't quite name, flickers high and unyielding inside of me, throwing me off-center.

"No time for that now. Thanks for your help.

Talk to you later." I hang up with Colin and then work to pick up the flowers and glass, being careful to not cut myself.

I stay as silent as possible, not wanting her to feel like I'm eavesdropping.

I stop in the middle of mopping as a thought hits me.

It's depraved, but I couldn't care less right now.

I just need to see.

Eyeing the bathroom door, I lean the mop against the wall and sneak off into the bedroom next to the bathroom she's in.

Going into the closet, I pull aside some hunting jackets I have there, and then find the spot in the wall that slides open.

Looking through the small crack, my heart does that thing again at the sight of her sitting on the floor with her knees pulled up to her chest and Tink in her lap, licking her face.

She shudders as she sobs, my eyes go lower. Her calves and ankles look so petite and delicate and it brings forth an innate desire in me to protect her.

It's so fucked up, but my cock strains tight against the zipper of my pants for the first time in several months.

I pull away from the closet and stand there for a second, holding my hand up. My face falls with disappointment, and I lower my arm back to my side as my eyes flicker aimlessly around the room as I think.

I'm too big. Much bigger than Calvin.

I can't do anything about my size, but I know enough to keep my distance so she knows I won't hurt her. But what's my plan? Am I just supposed to keep her forever?

I don't know. But what I do know is that for some fucked up reason I want this woman.

Every broken and damaged inch of her. And not only do I want her, I want her to be mine.

I want to scrub that man's scent and memory from her body until I'm all she has left.

Until she doesn't even know who the fuck Calvin Figureira is, much less what he did to her.

And I would.

If that goddamn doctor wasn't on her way I'd have Tamryn damn near drowning in the bathtub, impaled on my cock while I clean her from the inside out. I let out a low groan and put my hand to my jaw, scrubbing as my heart rate picks up.

I should have left her there.

I should have turned my ass on my heel and walked out the door when I had a chance.

She never would have known, not for real.

But when she stood there in that doorway of the dining room, looking lost, stuck like she couldn't even figure out how to inhale her next breath much less make her next move, the shit was just so tragic that I made the decision for us.

Mistakes were made. I'm man enough to admit that.

My phone vibrates with the psychiatrist's contact information, snapping me out of my musing.

When I open it I also see verification that my IT guy wiped all the video footage from Calvin's home.

Heaving a sigh, I open a dresser drawer and rifle around, finding a muscle shirt that looks like it'll be too big on her, but it's about the only thing I have in here that she can maybe fit.

I don't bother with giving her a pair of my briefs.

They won't hold up. But knowing she’s going to be bare under my clothes has got me near feral.

I walk to the bathroom door and knock once, hearing the crying cease, and I just know she's holding her breath.

I am too, if I'm being honest.

"Hey, I'm putting this tank here outside the door for you to wear, okay? I'd bet you would feel better if you got out of that dress,” I say encouragingly. “Do you need help?"

"No."

I hang it up on the door knob and then walk away, making sure I'm loud enough so she can hear I've left the hallway. I go to the kitchen and put some fish in the oven and rice in the rice cooker, something simple for her to eat when she's done being assessed.

"Motherfuck." Heaving a deep sigh, I go back to the living room and pour myself another finger of scotch and down it quickly, needing something to take my mind off of the beautiful woman who's getting dressed right now.

The fatigue is getting to me, and the fact I’m supposed to be at least two hours into a deep NyQuil coma is grating at my nerves.

A minute later Tink comes around the corner, the bells of her collar dinging and announcing her presence.

She's followed by Tamryn, who's moving slowly and tugging on the hem of the tank I gave her. I can’t help but stare because she's got magnificent legs.

Just miles and miles of smooth brown skin.

My throat goes dry, and when I swallow it hurts I'm strung so tight.

Fuck me. The hem comes just a few inches shy of her knees, The tank, though big, is revealing enough to show me she's nothing but long legs, lithe arms, small waist, hips that flare out.

My eyes raise to her breasts, framed by her tumbling waves that hang to her waist.

Her breasts jut high and proud against the material. The heavy globes sway as she walks, obviously braless, and though her nipples aren't erect, I can see her puffy areola through the thin material. My jaw clenches, because I didn't know it was possible for an erection to feel this painful.

I don't think there's a drop of blood left in my head.

Oh my God. I know I said I didn't believe in Him, but at the insane thoughts I’m currently having about ruining this woman down to the bone the way I am, I'm sure as shit that I'm going straight to hell.

Probably the very center, hottest layer, if we're being technical.

Silently, I keep my eyes on hers as I reach over and pull the plaid blanket back off the couch, holding it out.

"I uh…I'm sorry. I didn't expect you to take off your bra," I somehow get out through the lump in my throat.

When she doesn't make a move to grab the blanket, I walk very slowly to the chair nearest the hallway and drape it over the back, and then back right on up to where I was, staring at her silently. Willing her to be strong enough to walk the three feet needed to pick it up.

"I didn't have a bra on to take off," she whispers.

A muscle ticks in my jaw as her wet eyes rise to meet mine right when the doorbell rings. She flinches and grabs the blanket, pulling it around her, and cinching it at her neck. I can already tell this isn't going to be easy.

"I'll get it. Relax. Sit there, and pet Tink." I point at the chair. "I'll be right back. That's the doctor."

Thank God for the poodle.

Opening the door, I stand to the side as the on-call doctor comes in with her blonde hair pulled messily up in a butterfly clip, looking more than a bit tired.

I paid a premium to drag her out of bed.

Cost me a fucking grip, too. She meets my eyes as she crosses the threshold wheeling in a huge case behind her.

"Thanks for coming, Doctor Riviera. I appreciate it," I say, closing the door behind her. "Tamryn is just in the living room. I know you probably know this better than me, but keep your sentences short and to the point. She can't handle much dialogue right now."

She nods, shaking my offered hand with a surprisingly firm grip.. "No problem, Mr. Bowers. You know I'll take care of her. Anything else I need to know that you didn't already tell me over the phone?"

I shake my head, quickly dropping her hand.

"No, doctor, anything else she'd have to tell you herself.

We've only been here long enough for her to get changed and acquainted with her whereabouts.

On top of her fragile mental state, I'm worried about her hand.

It's causing her a lot of grief and I don't know how long it's been since she's had medical treatment. "

Dr. Riviera blows out a breath, giving me another curt nod. "Alrighty, let's do this."

We walk in together, and I feel myself melting for Tamryn as her eyes get bigger and bigger the further we journey into the room.

Her knees draw up to her chest just like she did in the bathroom, and she clutches poor Tink to her chest with everything in her.

The only part of her visible right now is her face, and her toes.