Matchmaker 08: August

I wasn't trying to hide my past, and she deserved to know. If we were going to make this work, maybe she needed to know. We'd begin climbing into the mountains soon, so I reached over and took her hand, squeezing it gently, before I had to have both hands on the wheel.

She looked at me and smiled, squeezing my hand in return, before bringing it to her lips for a kiss. I don't know why, but that simple gesture touched me, and Goddammit, I wanted to cry. I clamped down on my emotions. I wasn't going to cry, and I damn sure wasn't going to cry in front of her. She'd been dealt a shitty hand by life, but she'd taken it, run with it, and made something of herself. Compared to that, my piss-ant little problem was nothing.

When the road began to climb and weave, I slowly, and with much regret, pulled my hand from hers and placed it on the steering wheel.

It was raining as I pulled the Explorer to a stop in the garage. My stomach tightened. I didn't want to talk about what I needed to talk about. We stepped into the kitchen and she turned to me, stepping in close. I held her for a long moment before she slowly stepped back.

She held my gaze. "If you don't want to talk about what's bothering you, I understand. It's none of my business."

I heave a sigh. "No. It's okay." I took her hand and led her into the living room, steering her to the couch. I sat down beside her, took another deep breath to summon my courage, and began to speak.

I watched, waiting for Kane to speak. Clearly something was bothering him. Over the past two weeks, I'd caught an occasional glimpse of something, some dark emotion playing over his face, but the flashes were rare and short lived, so I hadn't given them much thought.

His outburst in Granny T's, however, I couldn't ignore. I didn't mind him defending me, though I thought he was a little harsh with our waitress, but his lashing out was so unlike him. In that moment, he'd reminded me of Randal, the man I'd dated for a few months who walked around with a chip on his shoulder, always looking to take offense over every little thing. That had quickly grown tiresome, and when we'd parted ways, typically for him, he'd blamed me rather than his actions for causing our breakup.

Kane looked at me. "About two years ago, I was supposed to get married," he began. I frowned, wondering where this was going and what it had to do with what had happened in the restaurant. "It was a girl I'd known for a long time. I met Candi, Candice, in high school, and we dated until she went to college. While she was gone, we kind of drifted apart, but after she graduated, we hooked up again."

He paused, his eyes defocusing as he replayed memories, his smile slightly sad. "Anyway, we dated for a couple of years, and then I asked her to marry me. She said yes."

That surprised me. I thought this was going to be a story of love lost.

"Anyway, she worked for the Albuquerque PD as an SRO. She—"

"I didn't get that. A what?"

"An SRO, a School Resource Officer. It's a police officer stationed at a school."

"Oh, okay. Sorry."

"It's okay. She was an SRO, and one afternoon, on her way home, she stopped at a convenience store to get a drink. She walked in on an active crime. From what I could find out, the robber panicked when she walked in and shot her."

My heart sank. "Oh, no. I'm so sorry."

He nodded. "Yeah. Three months before the wedding. It was a wild shot. The police don't think he even meant to do it, had squeezed the trigger when he panicked, stumbled over a rack of chips, and fell. Anyway, he shot her and ran. The police never caught the guy. The bullet hit her," he said, placing a finger against his neck, under his jaw on this right side, "and traveled up and came out," he touched his temple by his right eye.

He looked down, said something, and looked at me. "Sorry. It didn't kill her, but it destroyed her jaw, her cheek, and shattered the bones around her eye." He looked down again. "They got her to the hospital, but she was never the same after that."

I waited, but he didn't continue. I wasn't sure what the point of the story was. "Okay," I finally said to fill the growing silence.

He looked up, his eyes haunted. "She was blind in her right eye, and the side of her face..." His face twisted. "The doctors said they could rebuild her face, and replace her jaw, but obviously there'd always be scarring." He looked down again before he returned his gaze to me. "Something happened to her. She... couldn't adjust. Something. I don't know." His eyes were sad. "She seemed okay at first, as long as she was all bandaged up. She couldn't speak, but she'd write these long letters to me while I was gone to work, telling me how much she loved me, how afraid she was, how much she appreciated me staying with her, all kinds of stuff. We delayed the wedding, but later, as she began to heal, she changed. She stopped writing, and then she didn't want to see me anymore, and she said some things, accused me of things that weren't true."

I nodded. "I'm sure it was hard for her."

He nodded in agreement. "I'm sure. I tried to ignore it, to still be there for her, but finally I couldn't take it anymore. I told her parents when she was ready, I'd be waiting." He watched my eyes. "It was the last time I saw her. She never called. I stayed in touch for a while, through her parents, but she became a different person. She wouldn't even talk to me. Finally, her mom told me to stop calling."

I waited, but that seemed to be the end of it. "I'm sorry, but I don't understand."

"I know," he said softly. "I told you it didn't have anything to do with you."

"I'm sorry for your loss, but what has this got to do with what happened in the restaurant?"

"Nothing, really. It's just... I feel guilty for walking away. I feel like I should have stayed and fought for her. I think what she was doing was a test, a test to see if I'd stand by her, and I failed. When the going got rough, I couldn't take it, and I walked away from her." He paused, but I could sense he had more to say. I remained quiet so he could ponder his next words. "When that waitress said you didn't look deaf, that pissed me off so much. Who the hell is she to judge you? She doesn't know you. She doesn't know what you've accomplished in your life, and to reduce you to defining you by your deafness?" His lips thinned. "I don't even know her, but you're a million times the woman she'll ever be."

I felt a shiver of pleasure at his words. "What happened wasn't your fault."

He nodded. "I know."

"I'm not talking about her getting shot. I'm talking about her pushing you away."

"Maybe."

"No maybe about it. Kane, listen to me." I waited until he looked up. "When I was learning to talk, I would get so frustrated I'd want to scream. I would literally go home and cry in frustration. But you know what's even harder? Losing something you had. I don't miss being able to hear. I've never heard anything, so I can't miss it, but people who could hear and were going deaf because of disease or injury, many of them were angry. They were angry all the time, and they' lash out at people and say terrible things."

He nodded. "I understand. Candi was distraught , I get that. That's why I should have stayed, but I didn't. I cut and ran."

"Did you? Or did you do as she asked, as she demanded?"

"Semantics," he said with a wave of his hand.

"No, not semantics. She didn't want to see you. What were you supposed to do, force yourself on her?"

"I could have been there for her."

"How long did you wait for her?" He looked down. I touched him on his hand, and he looked back up. "How long did you wait on her?"

"You're the first."

"The first?" I asked, confused. "The first what?"

"The first woman I've been with since she was shot."

"You waited two years?"

He nodded. "It'll be two years in October."

I couldn't fathom that kind of dedication. A few weeks to a month or two after my breakups, I was ready to try again. "Don't you think that's enough?"

He nodded slowly. "That's why I'm here. My friends kept telling me I needed to move on with my life."

"Do you still love her?"

He looked at me and heaved a sigh. "No, not really, not anymore. I keep telling myself she made her decision."

I nodded. "She did."

I left unsaid that I thought she was a fucking moron. Kane waited two years for her. Two fucking years! While I was sorry for what happened to her, I couldn't stand people who wallowed in self-pity, especially if they took it out on someone else. So, she might be blind in one eye, at least she could still see. So, she might have some scarring. I couldn't see Kane loving her any less. Listening to Kane describe her, she reminded me of Randal, and how he was always looking for a slight, always looking for a reason to be mad about his condition. She had no idea what she had with Kane. She'd taken him for granted, and then when he'd stepped up, she'd pissed it all away in self-pity.

I took his hand. "Speaking as someone that can, at least partially, understand what she was probably going through, I can tell you it's not your fault. You need to stop beating yourself up over it."

"I'm not."

"The hell you're not. I can see it in your eyes."

"Well, I'm over it now."

"No you're not, and you won't be until you understand that you can't fix people. They have to fix themselves. Trust me, I know. I've learned to accept my deafness. It's part of me, but it doesn't define me. I'm happy with myself, but I'm not like this because someone made me this way. It's because I made myself this way. Maybe, someday, Candice will accept what happened to her, and she can get over her anger. But she has to do it. You can't do it for her."

"Yeah."

This was one of the rare occasions when I wished I could hear, to be able to hear his voice so I could read his pain. I took his hands in mine. "Kane, look at me." He did. "It sounds like you did all you could."

"Maybe."

I sighed, trying to figure out how to reach him. "Okay, listen to me. If I send you away, I want you to go. It's not a shit test, okay. It probably wasn't with Candice either. You know what you did? You reminded her of what she didn't have anymore. She saw in you happier times, and she couldn't deal with it. I know it's hard to understand now, but you may have done her a favor by leaving."

"You can't know that."

"You're right, I can't, but I've seen it before with people who suddenly became deaf. Some of them wanted to make a clean break with their past. I guess it hurt too much to be reminded of what they lost. I don't understand it, but I've seen it happen."

"Maybe."

"Let me tell you something. I had a boyfriend once, Randal. Like me, he'd been deaf since birth. He was angry all the time, and he would constantly belittle people for the slightest things. I couldn't put up with his shit and left. Why should you be held to a higher standard?"

"Did you love him?"

"No, but—"

"Then that's the difference."

"Why? People divorce all the time, and they were in love once, right? Just because you love or loved someone doesn't mean things can't change. You said yourself, Candice changed. She became a different person. Maybe the new Candice didn't love you anymore."

He held my gaze for a long time. "Maybe. She said she didn't love me anymore, but I didn't believe her. I thought it was more of the same shit she'd been spewing."

"What if she was telling you the truth?"

He watched my eyes for a long moment before scrubbing at his face furiously. "I don't know."

"I think your friends gave you some good advice. You waited for her, longer than most would, I suspect. Unless you're prepared to live alone the rest of your life, at some point you have to accept she doesn't want you."

"I have," he insisted. "Which is why I signed up on Brooklyn's dating app."

I wasn't sure I'd completely convinced him. His hurt ran deep, and it wasn't going to heal overnight, but I could sense the darkness inside him lifting.

"Can I tell you something?"

"Sure."

"I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but I'm glad Candice decided she didn't want you, because I do."

He smiled, the first smile I'd seen since we left Greensboro. "You do, do you?"

I nodded. "Yes, and not just in my bed. I like you, Kane, I like you a lot. The past two weeks have been the best two weeks of my life." He looked down, his face flushing. I touched his hand and he looked back up at me. "Candice was a fool. She didn't know what she had, and she threw it away."

His smile caused a tingle to race through me. "I almost didn't come."

"Why?"

"I don't know. Screwed up again. Afraid."

"Afraid of what?"

He shrugged. "Just afraid."

"And now?"

He smiled again. "So damned glad I came."

"I'm glad you came too."

"Even the first time?"

The crisis was passing, and I grinned at his teasing. "Okay, maybe not the first time, but you've more than made up for that." My smile spread. "And after two years? Who could blame you? If I'd been two years without getting laid, I'd have probably come the moment you touched me. Has it really been two years?"

He nodded, his eyes cast down. "Yeah. You're my first since, well, in a long time."

I didn't know why, but I was inordinately pleased that I broke his dry spell. I smiled to myself. Dry spell? Hell, it was a drought.

"If you ever want to talk about this again, I'm all ears... so to speak."

He chuckled. "No. I'm okay. I don't know why what that waitress said made me so mad, but I'm over it."

"Can I tell you something?"

"Sure."

"I don't need you to protect me—"

"I know," he said.

"Let me finish. I don't need you to protect me, but it makes me feel good that you're willing to stand up for me."

"That's what friends... and lovers... do for each other, right? They stand up for each other?"

I nodded. "Yeah, but I've had men think I'm helpless, so they think they have to do everything for me. I've also had men who were total pricks and acted like they expected me to read their minds because I couldn't hear. You're not like either of those."

"You're the least helpless person I know."

I smiled. He always said the best things. "You remember the second night? You mentioned having me for dessert."

His eyes crinkled as he thought. "No."

I nodded. "You were teasing me about having sopapillas for dessert, and you said you might cover me in honey and have me for dessert. You wrote the word down for me."

"Oh yeah!" he said, his face brightening in memory. "I remember that now. As I recall, we ended up having two desserts that night."

I grinned. "Yeah. But I'm thinking you need to make good on that."

His smile slowly faded. "Covering you in honey?" I nodded. "And having you for dessert?" I nodded again. He held my gaze before pulling me slowly to him, kissing me in that way he had that inflamed my passions like nobody before him.

His lips slowly pulled away from mine. "Should we eat first?"

"Are you hungry?"

"Not for food."

"Me either, but how about for dessert?"

"Always for dessert."

I smiled. "Me too."

He kissed me again as he softly caressed my breast. "Did you mean it, the part about the honey?"

"Have you ever done that before?"

He clamped his first two fingers and thumb together. No.

I smiled. "Me either, but I've been thinking about trying it."

"Suddenly I'm thinking about trying it too."

"Good."

"I'll try not to make a mess."

I smiled "What fun would that be?"

I picked up the plastic squirt bottle from the side table where I'd placed it and drizzled the honey in a thin stream over Meadow's breast, enjoying her soft gasp before I slowly licked the sticky substance off her.

When I'd finished spilling my guts about Candice, we'd retired to the bedroom after a brief stop in the kitchen so I could grab the container of honey. I knew what she'd said was true, that Candi had pushed me away and I needed to let it go. I'd heard it enough from friends and family, but having Meadow tell me... somehow that made it more believable. Maybe it was because she'd lived some small part of what Candi was going through. I didn't know and I didn't care. All that mattered now was Meadow.

We'd slowly undressed each other as we kissed and touched, and now I was making good on my threat to cover her in honey and have her for dessert. I wished Meadow could hear the rain pattering on the roof, it's quiet rattle and the slow, distant rumbles of thunder adding to the eroticism of what we were doing.

I tipped the bottle up and drizzled a little more of the thick, golden liquid over her other breast, making sure I could chase it all up with lips and tongue before it ended up on the linens. Licking the honey off her was sexy as hell, but I didn't want to sleep in the stuff.

"Oh my God..." she sighed as I licked at her, her hands resting lightly on my head.

I made sure her breast was clean before moving to her lips. She kissed me, her tongue dancing with mine. I slowly pulled back from her kiss and tipped the bottle up again, making a cross with the liquid, nipple to nipple and down her belly. I dutifully licked it all away, her taut, flat stomach heaving as I worked my way lower. I thought about continuing down, but decided I was having too much fun tormenting her with anticipation. I returned to her lips as she took them with greed, holding me in the kiss until she had her fill. I spread more of the honey over her breasts, a larger portion, but before I could begin licking it away, she pulled my lips to hers again, pulling me down and smearing the nectar between our bodies.

So much for not making a mess, but I no longer cared. There were three other bedrooms in the house we could sleep in, and I leaned into the kiss. I ended the kiss and attacked her chest with lips and tongue, licking, kissing, and sucking everywhere as I chased the sticky substance. I moved down her body, cleaning her as I went, until I reached her most intimate area. I squirted more honey on her, avoiding her pussy, not knowing if the honey would cause her problems later, but making sure I'd drizzled it all around the area.

Her soft moan as the liquid flowed over her was one of the sexiest sounds I'd ever heard, and I went to work cleaning her up. She liked to watch me feast on her and had propped herself up on pillows so she could see. By the time I was finished kissing her clean, she was thrusting her hips softly, and I smiled at her as I feathered my tongue over her flower for the first time that night.

I'd learned she liked it slow and easy, right up to the moment of climax, when if I went at her hard and fast, her orgasm swelled into what must be a brain-melter. She watched me pleasure her, her hands on my head as her breasts heaved with her panting. The honey on my chest was making me stick to the linens, but it didn't matter, and I smiled at her again as I went about my task.

When her head began to tip back, her eyes closing, that was my cue. I began to lick her harder and faster, my tongue slithering into all her secret places as my lips snapped and pulled. She pulled my mouth more firmly to her, and I increased the strength of my kissing as a shuddering wave passed over her. I held her tight as she bucked and thrust, my tongue busy, until with a hissing groan she relaxed.

I continued to tease her but slowly reduced the force of my kisses as I looked up at her, smiling at her look of satisfaction. She tugged at me, and I quickly kissed my way up her body to enjoy the caress of her lips.

"Now you," she said. She had only one volume for her voice, but it was sexy as hell, especially when we were being intimate, both physically and emotionally.