Page 52 of Pining for Pierce
I heard Brady sigh. “And now, I think I’m gonna go home. Laurel’s gonna think I’ve forgotten where I live.”
There was a moment’s silence and then Pierce said, “I overheard what Harley just said. Is there a reason you’re worried about Laurel?”
“Only that she’s four months pregnant,” Brady said, and I could hear the smile in his voice.
“Really? I didn’t realize.”
“No. Most people don’t. Obviously, Harley knows because of her job, but we’re keeping it quiet until we’ve told Addy.”
“And when are you gonna do that?” Pierce asked.
“Soon. We were waiting until we knew the sex of the new baby, and now we do—”
“You do?”
“Yeah. We found out yesterday… it’s a girl.” I could only imagine how thrilled Brady was about that, and I smiled to myself as I heard him swear Pierce to secrecy, at least for now, before he wished us both goodnight and walked away.
Fortunately, the doctor didn’t take too long to declare us fit. I think we already knew that, but it was good to have it confirmed, although he warned us we might suffer from bruising.
“You may not notice anything for a day or two,” he said. I noticed his name tag read ‘Dr Hudson Moss’, with several sets of letters after it, and that he was tall, with short dark hair, and a handsome face, although I was more interested in what he had to say. “If it happens, you can just take over-the-counter pain meds, should you need them.”
We both nodded. Pierce was out of bed and standing beside me, holding my hand by that stage, and I looked up at him.
“I’ve got some at home,” he whispered, smiling down at me, and I nodded my head.
After that, he returned to his own bed, closing the curtain while we both got dressed. We’d been told to remove our clothes when we got there, the nurses giving us hospital gowns to put on instead, and although they asked if there was someone who could bring us in fresh clothing, neither of us could think ofanyone. That meant pulling on cold, wet underwear, tops and jeans, which I have to say, was a horrible experience.
The cab stops and I startle back to reality, looking out the window at my parents’ antiques store. It’s dark now, although I don’t know what the time is, and I honestly don’t care. Pierce pays the guy, then helps me from the car, waiting until the driver has pulled away before he looks down into my face, holding me tight against him.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“I’ll be a lot better when I can get out of these clothes.”
“I know the feeling,” he says, smiling, as he leans in and kisses the tip of my nose, before he leads me around the back. I nestle against him, enjoying the feeling of being close, even though I’m still struggling with my shaking limbs. They won’t seem to stop, although I think that might be as much because I’m cold as because of the shock of what happened.
We pass through the rear lobby to Pierce’s door and he lets us in, both of us putting our helmets on the floor at the bottom of the stairs. I look at the first tread, and then the second, my eyes drifting upward on a long sigh.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
“Nothing… it’s just that I never thought I’d look at a set of stairs and feel so defeated.”
He smiles. “Here…” he says, and bends, lifting me into his arms before he carries me up to the second floor. I know I ought to object. It’s only a set of stairs, after all, and I should be strong enough to climb up them. But the thing is, I’m not. And I don’t have the energy to object to anything.
Once we get to the top, Pierce switches on the lights and goes into the living area, putting me down beside the couch.
“We need to eat something,” he says, glancing around. “Although I think the priority should be getting out of these wet things.” I look up at him, nodding my head, recalling mythoughts earlier this evening, when I wondered what might happen between us while we waited for our clothes to dry. It was such a tempting thought, but I feel less sure about it now. I don’t feel any less sure of Pierce, or my feelings for him, and I’m not in any kind of pain. It’s just that I’m really shaky, and I need to be held more than anything. “Give me a minute,” he says before I get the chance to tell him that, and he turns around, going into his bedroom.
I know it’s his bedroom, because I’ve been here before, although not for some time. Not since he moved in, anyway. He usually comes to fetch me, or we meet up after work, so it’s been a while since I’ve stood here. Even so, I take a moment, glancing around properly, to take a look at the way he’s decorated the place. When he moved in, the walls were painted in a very neutral cream. Now they’re pale gray. He’s hung several of his pictures around the place, too. They’re mostly seascapes, and I smile, admiring them. The coloring all goes really well with the furniture. That belongs to my parents, the couch being a charcoal color, which Pierce has accented with bright orange pillows, scattered along its length, and a pale gray throw, which is folded over the back. The table is set to one side, over by the wall, instead of in front of the window, like it used to be, although I think it looks better like this. The kitchen hasn’t changed at all, separated from the living area by a breakfast bar, with four seats on this side. Pierce keeps the place tidy, with very few things cluttering the white countertop. There’s a knife block, and a couple of bottles of oil, and one of vinegar, I think, alongside salt and pepper mills, and in the far corner, a coffee machine. That’s it. My mom’s kitchen is far more cluttered than this, which either means Pierce doesn’t like to cook, or he’s a very tidy man. I have no idea which. And that’s odd. Having known him for as long as I have, I ought to understand him better… but I don’t. And that’s something I need to work on.
No… it’s something I want to work on.
“Here we go,” Pierce says, coming back out of his bedroom, carrying a dark blue robe. He’s taken off his jacket, although his t-shirt is wet and clinging to every muscle as he walks over, standing in front of me. “I’ll go change,” he says. “You put this on. Unless you wanna shower?”
I shake my head. “I don’t have the energy.”
“Neither do I.” He smiles down at me as he dumps his robe on the couch, resting his hands on my shoulders before he bends his head and kisses me just briefly.
His eyes don’t leave mine, even as he walks backwards into his room, although he doesn’t close the door behind him, leaving a small gap. I like that. Being completely separated from him feels wrong… so wrong, I’m tempted to follow him. Except I’m too cold to even put one foot in front of the other, and my legs are shaking, too, so I slip out of my jacket, gasping at the sight of the tears in the sleeves. I didn’t notice them before, but I let my fingers run over the slices in the fabric, feeling the padding below, grateful it was there.
