Page 17 of In You

The Savior

Caleb

When I finish putting the food on the table, I grab the plates and water glasses, then set Tamryn's utensils close to her left hand so she can easily grab them. I dump a generous spoonful of potatoes on her plate, and then put a chop on there.

I clear my throat and then flick her a little look. "Hang on, sweetheart," I say just as she dips her spoon in the potatoes. Looks like success to me. "I gotta cut your chop up for you."

Before she can say a word, I slide her plate to me and cut it quickly, removing the bone and then taking it to the back door where I whistle for Ringo then toss it to him.

When I get back to the table, she's spooned a bit more gravy on her plate and then tops the entire meal off with pepper.

Tink sneezes, bringing a smile to both of our faces.

Something about my sister's poodle settles her, and I'm so thankful. I have a feeling that if Tink weren't here that things would be a lot more strained.

I'm a little awe struck because this is my first time seeing her smile. And though it's a tiny, self-conscious one, it's so pretty it makes my heart beat like crazy. In an effort to distract myself, I take the bone from my chop and then put it to the side before looking expectantly at Tamryn.

"May I grab Tink from you so I can give her her bone with her dinner?" I ask, purposefully softening my voice so I don't startle her. "You need your arm free if you want to eat. Unless…" I tilt my head at her. "Unless you're okay with me feeding you. I can do that if it'd help."

I obviously shock her. Her dark eyes go a bit wide, and she flushes the most beautiful shade of rose as she rolls her lips. "No…I…Uhm…" she trails off, looking uncomfortable. Maybe even slightly bashful.

My hand relaxes on the table as my eyes roam her face. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Can I feed her?"

I give her a little grin, wipe my fingers on my napkin and stand up. "You sure can. Here, let me show you where her food and things are. Come look."

Keeping what I consider to be a safe distance, I wait until she stands up and then motion with my hand to the other side of the kitchen where I have their dog bowls set up in a cabinet.

"Oh, I've never seen anything like this before," Tamryn says breathlessly. She sets Tink down gently and runs her fingers over the intricate humming birds hand painted into the wood. "It must have taken hours to paint. I love hummingbirds so much."

At the sight of her beautiful fingers with oval nails, I clear my throat and then fold my arms.

"Thank you. I made this cabinet myself, and my sister painted it. She was quite the artist."

"You made this?" she asks hesitantly.

"Yes."

"It's…good. You did a good job."

She flicks a slow look up at me, and I try to not let myself be too excited when I see that she's let me just a bit closer than I've normally been, but for some reason, my close proximity doesn't bother her at the moment.

I take a deep breath and reach forward, opening the double doors of the cabinet.

"The bottom shelf is for Ringo's food, and the middle shelf is for Tink's food." I point. "See? She gets this much." I hold up the little scoop. "And I normally give them both a can of soft food, too. Just at night though, not in the morning."

I turn my head to look at her, but her eyes are transfixed on the three small rows of wine in the top of the cabinet.

"Do you want a small glass?"

"No, I don't drink," she says quietly.

"Good to know," I say, winking at her. "You can give Tink her food now if you'd like."

"Okay, thank you." She takes Tink's scoop carefully from me so our fingers don't brush.

Bending, she puts a small amount in her bowl, followed by the can of soft food I open.

By the time she's done, I'm sitting back down at the table ready to dig into my first real dinner in a couple days.

When she comes back over I push her chair back for her with a foot, and ignore the cabinet doors lingering open behind her.

"After you," I say, gesturing to her plate.

She rolls her lips, tucks her curly hair behind her ear, and then picks up a fork.

Stabbing it into the cut up pork chop. I watch her lips, riveted as she puts a small bite into her mouth and chews.

"It's good," she says quietly, her brown eyes big and wide, a bit glassy with nerves, and probably a bit of pain I'd imagine.

My cock strains against my zipper at her vulnerability, wanting nothing more than to take her in my arms and take away the pain and the abuse.

As I watch her eat, I foolishly imagine we're seeing each other.

I fantasize we're here purposefully. That I'd invited her here for dinner after meeting her out in the city, and that she's nervous because she knows we're about to have sex for the first time, not because she’s reeling from a horrifying situation.

I imagine what her lips taste like, what her skin feels like against my fingers.

How her taste will coat my tongue.

I haven't had my mouth between a woman's legs in so long that I'm almost afraid for the next woman I get my hands on.

I tilt my head, wondering why I'm kidding myself.

It has to be her. Because the alternative means I kill her.

I can't bring a woman here with Tamryn held captive, that's fucking crazy thinking.

"Oh goodness, this is delicious, Caleb," she says, attacking her food with more vigor.

Knowing hardly nothing of her situation except the fact that I saved her from Calvin, and the few things I’d gleaned, my mind begins to race with the desire to want to learn more about her. But until I'm able to, I'll watch, and learn her mannerisms.

Though it's quiet, I'm oddly relaxed in her company. I sit back in my seat as we make our way through our meal silently, and just watch her enjoying the fuck out of her food. The last meal I'd shared with a woman was my sister. Two years ago right before she died.

I've missed this, sharing a meal with another person.

Every now and again Tamryn's eyes will flick to mine, and she'll stop chewing when I grab a knife to cut my food.

However for the most part, she keeps her eyes on her plate as she eats, not exactly surprising after the amount of abuse she'd been through, and the reasons as to why she's here to begin with instead of recovering at a hospital.

The responsibility to rehabilitate her weighs heavily on me.

I have to heal her, to get her through whatever is happening.

I can maybe handle a Tamryn, or even a Camilla, but I have no fucking clue how to handle the both of them fighting for dominance over her spirit.

My eyes roam the little table, seeing I've neglected getting either of us something to drink with our meal. "I'm going to get you a glass of water," I say, getting up and grabbing two glasses and the pitcher of water off the counter.

Standing on my side of the table, I set her cup down in front of her, and as I'm pouring, I watch incredulously as she leans over her plate and then spits the half chewed pork out of her mouth and gags.

"Oh my God!" she gasps, spitting again and getting a disgusted look on her face. Her eyes snap to mine, looking betrayed. "You fed me swine?"

I'm so stunned the water pours onto the table before I catch it's overflowing and I curse, putting the pitcher on the table and then hurriedly reaching for a towel as it's beginning to drip into her lap.

I swipe up the water, ignoring her cowering against the chair as I lean over and crowd her space, trying to make sure the water doesn't get all over her.

I look up briefly in apology, seeing her face is completely washed out. Almost gray.

"Tamryn, I am so sorry-"

"My name is Camilla!" she says in a small voice, sniffing. She starts crying as she takes a napkin and wipes her tongue with it before downing the water in record time. "Oh God, I'm going to be sick."

She launches out of her chair and stumbles over to the trash I never finished taking out and vomits everything up.

"I don't care what you're doing. Get your fucking ass on Colin's plane, and get to Montana now!" I roar into the phone, not caring I have a world renowned psychiatrist at the other end.

I'm out in the shed in the dead of the night, sweating, and pacing back and forth as acute panic swells inside me.

I've seen and dealt with a lot of fucked up things in my life, but never anything like this.

Never. This takes the cake for me. I'm so bewildered I'm about to make a call to Frank.

Get him off that fucking island to come help my ass because I'm clearly in way over my head.

After she threw up and then spent another solid three minutes dry heaving in a panic, I made Camilla a turkey sandwich and prayed to every God in the universe and beyond that Tamryn didn't make an appearance and feel betrayed that I threw away the smothered pork chop dinner I made special for her.

Goddamn it.

"I'm on my way to the airport now, Mr. Bowers," Alexander Richardson’s smooth voice comes through the phone, doing absolutely fuck all to calm me down.

"I'll be there as soon as the plane lands.

I won't even stop at the hotel. Tell me what happened," he continues, acting as if he doesn't have an absolute psycho yelling into his ear.

For all we know, he's about to be treating me too.

My hand flies up to grip my hair, proving that point. "I don't even know what to fucking feed her, Alexander! Every time I think I might have a grasp on one little thing, she fucking flips!"

"What do you mean flips?" he replies in a calm tone. "Describe it to me."