Find Me – Chapter 110

Steve didn’t know her, a random bar skank had been rubbing herself all over him, he lived in a seedy dive, and the look her husband was drilling into her came with a fair amount of malevolence.  But all Kayla could see was the other side of each of those coins.  She’d found him on practically the first try, the bar skank had been unceremoniously dumped, the seediness of his apartment building was tempered with the exact kind of character that her husband had always appreciated, and who cared how he was looking at her, the fact was he was looking.

She couldn’t believe just how perfectly things were going.  

Steve’s attention wasn’t the good kind, but it was complete, and it was solely on her.  That was the first hurdle.  The combination of familiar elements, from Steve’s white tank top to the tattoo peeking out from behind it to his aggressive manner to, especially, his use of the term Sweetness – it all galvanized her to meet the next hurdle –keeping that attention. 

“My name is Kayla,” she smiled amiably but not with the full-on enthusiasm rushing through her body right now.  She stuck out her hand, but Steve didn’t meet her grasp, return her smile, or move a muscle.  Clearly, he wasn’t the least bit interested in her pleasantries.  Rather than be deterred by his blatant show of distrust, Kayla reassuringly raised her eyebrows and nodded her head toward her hand with some quick bobs, encouraging him to go ahead and shake it before shoving it closer to him and adding, “I’m from Salem.”

“Well, that’s real special for you,” he said with a dead quiet.  “Kayla.  From Salem.”  He spoke with a serious creepiness that Kayla remembered from their early encounters when he kept turning up around every corner.  He kept his eye on her as she pulled her hand slowly back to her person. 

“Yes, it’s, ah, south of here.  Ever been there?”

“I’m not here for the small talk, Sweetness. Now I asked you a question, and I expect an answer.  Right now.”

“I just gave you one,” she replied very calmly.  My name is Kayla.  Kayla Brady.”  Steve squeezed his fingers into a fist, his green eye narrowing.  He was trying to intimidate her, and if she were still of her destination awareness, he would have succeeded.  But Kayla knew he would never hit her, even if she was some cryptic stalker to him at the moment.  Kayla turned square in her stool to face him.

“Is that fist supposed to scare me?”

“If it doesn’t, then you’re not too bright.”

“Why?  We both know you’re not going to do anything with it.”

Steve pounded so hard on the bar that both his draft beer glass and her empty bottle jumped with the force.  Then he leaned in very close.  “I’m not gonna ask you again.  How do you know my name?”

“I heard Candy say it.”

“No you didn’t.”

“I mean the bartender, he called you Steve.”

“Barkeep!” Steve hollered. 

The bartender had stopped babysitting when Candy thankfully left and was now at the other end of the bar, so he shouted, “Yo!”

“What’s my name?”

“You mean Patch?”

“Patch What?”

“Smith?  How the hell do I know?”

“Wanna try that one more time?” he now directed back to his wife.

Kayla was out of answers, so she stopped bothering.  “Not really, no.”  She tried to take another lazy drink of her beer, but it was empty.

“Well, that’s just too bad,” he growled as she put it back down.

“Lucky guess?” she sighed.  “You look like a Steve, ok, can we just drop it?”

Steve couldn’t believe what he was hearing.  “We?  What’s this ‘we’ sh*t, baby, what do you think this is, afternoon tea at the Drake?  We are not having a nice little conversation about our daddies’ golf scores at the club.  We  are not on a date having a nice chitter chatter.  Now, I don’t know you, but you sure seem to know me, and I wanna know how.”

“How do you know you don’t know me?  Maybe you just don’t remember me.”

“I’ve never met you a day in my life, and you’re wasting my time.”  Steve leaned into her.  “I don’t like that.”

“Are you sure?” she asked tenaciously.  “Deep down inside?”

Steve reached up to touch the ends of Kayla’s feathered hair, then he opened his mouth lasciviously.  “I’d remember it if I’d been deep down inside of you, baby.”  Steve saw the flicker in her eye.  Her brave face was steadfast, but this licentious leer finally got a bit of apprehension from her.  “But I can promise you, I’ve never been in your tight, little … grip.”  The strangest ruefulness came over him after he said that.  Usually this kind of intimdating verbosity of wit made him feel good, showing everyone who was boss while giving him a protective shell.  But this time it felt wrong.  He wished he could take it back, and the fact that he wished it made red flags pop up everywhere. 

“Yes, well, I didn’t say deep down inside of me,” she said bravely, “I said you.”  Her steadfast calm while failing to ruffle made Steve feel something between rebuked and embarrassed.  He leaned back into his own personal space and regarded her carefully.  When Kayla next spoke it was as if she’d just dismissed the previous exchange.

“You know what?  I’m thirsty,” she said brightly.  “Are you thirsty?”

“Why, does the sweet little girl want a sodey pop?”

So much for Sweetness.  “Does this look like a Coke to you?” she plucked the empty bottle by its neck and shook it.  

“It looks a whole lot like liquid courage to me.”  Steve slid off his stool and rounded to the back of hers like a lion circling prey.  Kayla tried to turn in her stool to follow him, but he was so close into her personal space that she didn’t have the clearance with her knees.  He leaned in very close from behind her to whisper in her ear, the total creep that he was today dialed up to eleven.  “Those sweet little cheeks of yours are pinkin’ up real nice from all that alcy-hol you’re pretendin’ to kick back so easy.”  Then Steve blew hard into the back of Kayla’s hair.  There, he thought, that oughtta do it.

Kayla fought to suppress the grin that tried to spread across her face.  She wasn’t the least bit deterred.  That was her husband standing behind her.  That was her soulmate.  He wasn’t acting like it with that classic Steve Johnson Bad Guy move, but the essence of who he was was inside him somewhere, and every word (and intimidating gesture) out of his mouth only fortified her with hope and encouragement. She turned at the waist so that her face was just inches from his, and the green of his eye was like home.  When she spoke, her voice was almost sultry.  “And just what makes you think I’m pretending?”  She blinked her long-lashed eyes at him, and Steve’s dark resolve faltered … because … was she flirting with him?  She held her sideways glance to his eye so fiercely that Steve had to blink several times, himself.  It wasn’t until she licked her lips again, though, that he realized she really was flirting with him – that this wasn’t a put-on.  This girl who came out of nowhere and looked like she should be dating someone named Brad or Julian and who was truly beautiful was coming on to him. He hadn’t opened a door inviting her to do that, she simply walked through it all on her own.

What the f*ck?

Steve narrowed his eye at her.  “Don’t play games with me.”

“I’m not.”  And there was that smile again.  “I just want another drink.”

“And I just want answers.”

And just like that, her husband came through with a way to keep them talking.  “That’s a great idea!”  Steve’s lip rose in a sneer of frustration.  “Let’s play 20 Questions.”

“Come again?”

Every time they played 20 Questions they ended up in a better place than when they’d started, and she reasoned this was going to be no different.  Kayla couldn’t help but smile, and Steve couldn’t help but notice that that smile lit up her face.  “You want to talk, right?”

“I want you to talk.”

“Ok, then we’ll talk.”

“Again with the ‘we’ sh*t?  We got nothin’ to talk about!”

“You’re wrong.” 

This was when Steve started to get very nervous.  She was looking at him with such eagerness.  Like she really wanted him to stay and talk to her.  This was no ordinary girl.  She wasn’t some addict, and she sure as sh*t wasn’t a hooker that saw an easy mark.  She called him Steve.  She knew his name.  And the familiarity coming off of her scared him.  Steve took a step back.

“Go home,” he said.  “You take yourself and your lucky guess home.”  Steve circled back around her, picked up his jacket, and turned quickly to go.  Kayla saw that he was spooked, and she panicked.

“Steve!” she called out very insistently, positively demanding his attention.  He stopped and turned just a sliver of his profile to her.  “Buy me a beer, and I’ll answer a question.”  Steve turned all the way around and sneered, his slicked back hair reflecting the red light of the neon sign behind the bar.  She’d never seen it that way before, and it occurred to her that it didn’t fit him at all. It wasn’t the first time his demeanor didn’t fit him.  She’d spent months seeing her husband through an amnesia-driven façade that didn’t fit him.  This was no different; she saw her husband here, too, through a pain-driven façade that fit him no better.  That was her advantage, and she wasn’t giving up.

Steve stared at the woman he didn’t know was his wife as she sat there on the stool.  She was leaning forward, almost like she was ready to pin him down if she had to.  She was like no woman he’d ever seen before.  Plenty were beautiful, but she was something more than that.  That she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen was beside the point, she was full of substance.  Why was she wasting that substance on this dive in the middle of the Chicago Loop and on, of all people, him?

“Why?”

Kayla smiled and shook her head slowly.  “Beer.”

Steve sat back down on the stool.  “You think you can handle Tequila?”  Now it was Kayla’s turn to ask why, though she thought she probably knew the answer.  Steve reached over the bar and adeptly grabbed a shot glass and the bottle of tequila that was within his reach.  “’Cause I got more than just one question, baby.”

“Wait, if there’s a worm in that bottle, then I’m not going near it.”

“Then you’ve got nothin’ to worry about, ‘cause those only come in the expensive stuff.”

Kayla wasn’t so sure about that.  “I-I-I don’t think—”

“You called this party,” Steve said without a shred of humor.  “I’m just makin’ it more interesting.  Now you in or you out?”

“I’m not Little Miss Innocent,” she volleyed right back. 

”That’s debatable.” He held up the bottle so she could see it.  “No worm.”  Kayla peered at it, and Steve added, “I hear they’re an aphrodisiac.”

Kayla raised an eyebrow. “Pour.”

Steve gave her a genuine smile, and her heart quickened just to see it.  She didn’t waste a second and kicked back the amber liquid as soon as it filled her shot glass.  She made a face that confirmed to Steve that she was not the hard liquor type, then she placed it gently back on the bar.  “Ok, ask me something.”

“Who are you?”

“Kayla Brady.”

“No sh*t, baby, you already told me that.  I mean who are you to me?”

“Well, that’s not what you asked.  I answered what you asked.”

Steve huffed in frustration.  “Fine, who are you to me?” he asked pointedly.

“No, no, it’s my turn.  Now you do a shot, and I get to ask a question.”

“You’re not askin’ the questions, here, little girl!”

“I think we’ve established that I’m neither little nor a girl,” she came back smoothly holding up a finger, “so can we go back to Sweetness?”

“No!”

“Ok, baby’s fine, then.”  Kayla was surprised that she was maintaining this string of verbal manipulation, but the unappreciative look on his face right now told her she was on thin ice.  She pushed herself up onto the bar with straight arms, found another shot glass directly over the edge, and then plopped back down on to the stool.  She took the bottle, poured him his own shot, and motioned for him to down it.  No doubt about it, he was pissed.  But his curiosity was so high that he went ahead and drank.  Unlike Kayla’s civilized placement, Steve slammed his glass onto the bar upside down.

“Go,” he growled.

Kayla wished he’d loosen up.  “Are you going to be like this all night?”

“Yes.  My turn,” he growled again and re-filled her glass.

“Uh, I haven’t asked my question yet,” she said arrogantly.

“Oh, I think you did, baby.  You asked if I’d be like this all night, I answered you, my turn.”

“Wait – That didn’t count!”

“Hey, I’m just playin’ by your rules.”

“You don’t play fair,” she crossed her arms.

You don’t play fair,” Steve over-enunciated in a high-pitched mocking voice as he parroted her movements.  Kayla immediately frowned, and Steve immediately hated what that frown did to her face.

“I hate it when you do that.” She said it disgustedly and as if she’d known him her entire life.  It took Steve aback.

“Who are you?!”

“Wait your turn!”

“That’s not my question!”

“Well, then it’s a good thing it’s not your turn yet!”

“The hell it isn’t, baby,” he spat angrily, grabbing her painfully around the wrist as she held the tequila bottle.

Kayla couldn’t help when she was surprised that he was willingly hurting her right now.  His fingers dug into her wrist and arm, and it really did hurt.  It wasn’t surprise that he was a bad guy, she knew that’s who he was today.  But that he was visiting that bad guy on her – that he didn’t know her.  Rationally she knew he didn’t, but she believed with every fiber of her being that their souls loved each other, and that his conscioiusness should have gotten some kind of cosmic infusion of that love.  Mumbo Jumbo, Kayla, she admonished.  Steve didn’t let go, and Kayla didn’t pull away.  Part of her somewhere recognized that her unwillingness to stop him from hurting her was unhealthy.  That she was exhibiting some kind of masochistic, needy somethingness thew emotional red flags all over her inner physician.  But God help her, she needed her husband to touch her, and this pain that she knew she was wrong for wanting imbued her with a misguided kind of comfort.

Steve, however, knew he was inflicting pain on this girl and released her with an abject self-hatred.  He was expecting her to pull away from him the moment he grabbed her, but she didn’t, and he didn’t know what to do with that.  It wasn’t in the script and had no clue how improvise.  So, he kept his grip tight and watched the pain etch her beautiful, blue eyes.  When the look in those eyes became beseeching, like she was silently begging him to love her, he couldn’t take it.  Why did she look like that?  Why was she letting him hurt her?  Why was he willingly continuing to do so?  A lump of black hate formed in the pit of his stomach.

“Either, your question was asked and answered,” Steve finally said in a calmer but serious tone, “or I’m takin’ my ball of tequila, here, and goin’ home.”

Kayla wanted him to grab her again.  Instead she crossed her arms and relented.  “Fine,” she said with an insouciance that Steve didn’t buy.  Then she picked up her glass, saluted him with it, drank, and mimicked Steve’s upside down slam.  Again, she made a face as the liquid burned down her throat.  Why couldn’t they do beer shots?  Why had no one thought of beer shots.  “Ask,” she croaked.

This time he was careful.  “Why are you here?”

“To see you.”

Steve huffed out an unpleasant laugh.  “So you do know me.”

“One question per turn.”  She turned over Steve’s shot glass and went to pour him another, but he stopped her with a hand on the bottle.  He reached over and grabbed a clean shot glass, and Kayla felt kind of stupid as she poured him another.  Steve went ahead and followed through, two upside down glasses now in front of him.  “Are you working a job right now?”

“I decline to answer on the grounds that it might incriminate me.”

“Thass not a ‘nexcepable answer.”  Steve couldn’t help but snicker, she was getting drunk. 

“I knew you wouldn’t be able to hold your liquor, little girl.”

“Stop calling me that, dammit!”  Steve straightened up.  She wasn’t playing, he could see that she really didn’t like that name.

“Ok, ok, calm down, baby.”

“I mean it!” she shouted.

Steve looked around to make sure she wasn’t drawing attention.  “Ok, sorry.  Sweetness, ok?  You like that one, right?”

“Yes,” she said far more calmly.  “I like that one.”

“Ok, fine,” he said guardedly.

“And baby.”

“Yeahp, got it.”

“And Kayla.”

“I got it Sweetness,” he said with emphasis to appease her.  “Now it’s my turn.”  He poured her more tequila in a new shot glass and watched as she threw it right back without any reaction his time.  “How do you know my name?”

“Hold on,” she said with sudden realization that she’d just been played, “you didn’t answer my question.”

“I took the fifth.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Every court of law in the nation accepts that answer.  You sayin’ you’re above the law?”

Kayla blinked.  The liquor was clouding her brain, she was losing her edge a bit, here.  “Is it Victor?”

“Who?”

“You’d never know he’d become such a gelding.”

“Huh?”

“It’s like‘ees neutered.”  Steve narrowed his eye at her in complete confusion.  “Fine, you win.  Your turn.”

Steve couldn’t help it, he laughed, because she was so funny.  “I said, how do you know my name?”

This time the quick end-runs weren’t coming so quickly.  After a moment where Steve could actually see her sussing out the answer she wanted to give him, she said, “We know the same people.”

Steve’s amusement ebbed quickly.  This was frustrating.  “You’d better start givin’ me details and answering in real good faith, here, ‘cause you’re gettin’ on my nerves.”

“I’m good at that.”

“I’ll bet.”

“I’m good at a lot of things.” 

A beat.  “Say what?”  Kayla darted her tongue out to slowly moisen her bottom lip.  Steve felt his dick start to harden.

“My turn.” 

Steve didn’t bother with the shot glass and just took a long swig directly from the bottle.  He needed it to calm the bulge that statement began to form in his pants.  “Go.”

“Why’re’you sleeping with a smutty girl like Candy?”

That was about the last thing Steve was expecting.  Only it got even weirder, because Kayla’s face took on a jealous, angry quality that he hadn’t seen on a woman as it related to him in a very long time, if ever.  He sensed something territorial in her, something possessive – and truly affectionate – and it made the hairs stand up on the back of his neck. 

“’Cause she’s a really good f*ck.”  It was a knee-jerk reply that he didn’t mean.  But he couldn’t help it, the feelings she was displaying were scaring the sh*t out of him.  Only now her brow furrowed.  He watched as his words seemed to actually hurt her even more than his grip had.  And he felt … awful.

“I … I see,” Kayla replied with a waver to her voice.  “So, she’s … just for sex.”  Steve stared, unable to look away from what she was fighting not to show him.  “I’m not trying to sneak in another question.  I asked, you answered.  She’s a good in bed.”  The pleasant buzz Kayla had going was betraying her, reacting with the amplification effect to remove her ability to control these irrational emotions for a man who didn’t now her from Adam.  She was working so hard at controlling herself that she failed to notice when Steve started feeling the shame.  Kayla took the bottle from her husband and took a direct swig like he had.  “Your turn.”

Steve didn’t say anything.  He found himself wanting to take it back and tell her he hadn’t slept with Candy yet – because he hadn’t – and touch the porcelain skin of her cheek.  But he kept his mouth shut and his hands to himself.

“Hello?  Earth to Steve.”  Kayla snapped her fingers in front of his eye that had glazed over in thought.

“Yeah?”

“Your turn?”

“Yeah,” he returned to focus.  “I want the names of these same people we both know.”

Kayla waggled her finger.  “You did’n phrase it in the formofa quesshion.

He wanted to smile, because she was a cute drunk, but he controlled himself.  “What are the names of our mutual friends?”

“I’ll give you one.”

“If you say Candy, I’m out of here.”

“Hope.”

“Hope?  That’s a name?”

“That’s another question.”

“You’re pushin’ it, baby.”

“Yes, that’s a name.”

“I don’t know anyone named Hope.”

“She’s your best friend’s wife. There, thass a freebie.”

“You’re full of sh*t,” Steve spat, “I don’t know any Hope, and I don’t have a best friend.”

“You do, too.”

“Oh, you’re in kindee-garden, now?”

“Don’t be an asshole,” she lobbed at him with a genuine huff of annoyance.  “You were right,” she muttered under her breath.  You’re gonna say you told me so when you get here.”

Steve stretched his arms out wide, his tattoo following the movement.  “Finally, you get it!  I’m an asshole, hallelujah!”

“An’you owe me, like, six shots wi’thall those quesshions.  My turn.”

“Yeah, ok, you wanna keep getting drunker, you go ahead.  Don’t make me no nevermind, but don’t expect me to carry you home, baby.”

“Sweetness,” she insisted.

“Don’t expect me to carry you home, Sweetness,” he complied. 

“Deal.”  Kayla knew exactly what she was doing when she started this, but all Steves she’d ever known were right about the fact that she couldn’t hold her liquor, and she knew she was now drunk. But she had to keep her wits about her. She wasn’t plowed yet.  She concentrated on her words so that she didn’t slur them.  “Please drink so I can ask my question.” 

“My pleasure,” he said, then he tipped back another swig from the bottle and gestured for her to ask.

“Are you working anything under the table right now?”

“Am I what?”

“Or in trouble?  Are you on parole or probation?”

“That’s a shitload of questions, you get one, and I don’t like any of those.”

“Steve, I really need to know.”

It was so weird for anyone to call him by his name, no one called him that, and it unnerved him.  The determined look in Kayla’s eye unnerved him more.  “You don’t need to know nothin’.”

“I have to be prepared, because you’re not going to remember, I know it.  It’s up to me.  I have to know what we’re gonna need to know.  I just have the hospital and Chris to deal with, but you … you have more … it’s up to me.”

“I don’t know what the f*ck are you talkin’ about, here, baby, so why don’t you just pick one f*cking question and f*cking ask it.”

“You like the word f*ck.”  Steve rolled his eyes and adjusted his patch.  “And you like to f*ck.”

“ASK!”

“Are you in any trouble right now?”

“No, but I sure can make some.”

Steve shoved the bottle at Kayla.  He peered at it from bar level.  “Looks like you get the last of it, and I get the last question.”

Last question?  No, she had to keep him there.  “There are more bottles.”

“Not for you there’s not.  Drink up, Lightweight.”

“I like Sweetness.”

“And I like Patch.”

“I’m not calling you that.”

“Well, we all have to learn to live with disappointment, now don’t we?”

“K, Lightweight, then, iss not like iss’gonna stick.”  Kayla drained the bottle and turned it over to try to balance it on the bar like she had the shot glasses.  It fell over with a clang, then it fell over when she tried a second time.  Steve laughed at this genuine attempt to keep up with him before taking the bottle into his control and flipping it back upright on the bar. 

The buzz in her head was good.  The pain that lived inside her every moment since she’d lost Emily was muted into something out of her immediate reach now.  She felt good, too.  She’d found Steve, gotten rid of the woman, and he was here with her.  She knew he was going to jump in any minute, and she’d succeeded at reaching him so she could be here when he did.  The smile that spread across her face was real, even if it wasn’t destined to last once the buzz wore off.

She’s so pretty.  Steve’s eye was drawn to her plump lips that didn’t need anything to unnaturally color them that rosy shade of pink.  He wanted to feel those lips beneath his fingertips.  He wanted to see what they felt like against his own.  He wanted to know what her kiss tasted like.  Even drunk she was so damned sweet.  What does she want with me?

“This is it.  Last question, Kayla.”  It was the first time this Steve had used her name outside of taunting her, and she felt such warmth and connection when he did.  “I want a straight answer out of you.  What is the name of the man Hope is married to?”

Confidence infused her.  “Bo.” 

Steve froze.  He felt like the wind was knocked out of him.  Kayla Brady.  From Salem.  He could feel his pulse race in his neck as the name of the man he’d loved like a brother and now hated with everything he had settled upon him for the first time in three years. 

Kayla watched Steve’s eye darken to a pool of deep green enmity.

“No friend of his would be any friend of mine,” Steve rasped.

He’d gone very cold at the mention of  Bo’s name.  Big mistake, Kayla thought to herself.   But he was still there in front of her, and that was all that mattered. “I’m not his friend, I’m his sister.”  Steve remembered that Bo had a brother and two sisters whose names he’d long forgotten.  When they were back on the Alva Maerk Bo used to write to one of them all the time; this had to be her.  “I am your friend, though.”  Kayla suddenly sounded a lot less intoxicated.  Her voice was very clear, and her tone was dead serious.   

“You’re not my friend.”

Tears suddenly sprang to her eyes with those four words her husband had just said to her.  It didn’t matter that he wasn’t him yet.  All that desperation from when he’d returned with no memory in 2006 rushed into her.  Kayla hated where this had suddenly gone, because she’d been having a pretty good time, actually.  Telling him the truth (kind of) about who she was seemed like a good idea a few moments ago when her tipsiness had her feeling bold.  Now she realized that she’d just lost any ground she’d gained and had put herself back at square one.  Maybe less.

“Steve, listen, I-I-I know you don’t understand right now, but I am your friend.”  She reached over for Steve’s hand and for an almost immeasurable moment succeeded in holding it in both of hers.  “I’m more than—”

Steve flinched with a jolt when she touched him. Electricity shot through him and then out of every pore.  It felt good, and he didn’t know what the hell to do with it.  One thing he did know was that he wanted nothing to do with any sister of Bo Brady’s.  They both noticed that this time when he took her by the shoulders his firm grip didn’t hurt.  “You stay away from me,” he warned in a growl that Kayla knew right away was more fearful than malevolent.  He shook her into her stool, put some bills down on the bar, and turned to make the the hastiest exit he could.

“Steve wait!”

“My name is Patch!” he rounded on her.

“I’ve never called you that awful name as long as I’ve known you, and I’m not about to start now!” she threw at him fearlessly.”

“Which is, what, an hour?!”

“A lifetime!”  Oh my God, shut UP!  She was making it worse.

Steve raised his lip slightly and cocked his head to look at her sideways.  “You wanted to play, we played.  I don’t know why you’re here, and I don’t care.  So, you just consider that lifetime lived and stay the hell away from me.”  Then he backed away from her.

“I … wait … where are you going?”

“Away.”

“Fine, I’m coming with you.”

“What?  You can’t be serious!”

“As a heart attack, baby,” she insisted in a tone that sounded like she was trying to mimic him. 

“Well, get out the crash cart, ‘cause I’m goin’ home.”

“Good, let’s go.”

“No.  Not you, just me.”

Kayla hopped off her stool and tried to follow him, but she got dizzy.  For a second she thought it might be the jump, but she almost instantly knew that this was the traditional kind of dizzy.  The kind you get when you’re pregnant.  “No!” she said out loud as she pushed past that thought.  Steve didn’t know any better and assumed it was directed at him.

“Are you deaf and dumb?!”  The gravity of that statement and the closeness with which it struck to home, momentarily overwhelmed her. 

“You don’t understand.”

Steve was still too hit by the fact that this was Bo Brady’s sister.  He was standing only one degree of separation from the man that ruined his entire life and made him into this hideous monster.  His life had been pretty shitty from the word go, but he always seemed to find some kind of value in himself – some reason to get up every day.  But since that day that Bo beat him so badly that he’d actually put out his eye, scarred him, and left him to rot in a Swedish hostpital, he’d had nothing.  Been nothing.  Had no reason to wake up other than to make some other piece of sh*t feel as miserable as he did.  She was beautiful, but she was connected to Bo, and that meant she was going to be nothing but trouble.

“That’s fine, little girl.  I don’t want to understand.  I want you to go the f*ck away.”  Then Steve turned and walked out of the bar.

Kayla found her balance and spotted his denim jacked he’d left on the bar.  She clutched it to herself like a lifeline.  It really didn’t smell like him.  It smelled like Candy.  Then again, the whole bar had smelled like Candy until her cheap-perfumed scent had dissipated.  But it was enough to make Kayla … really mad.  She followed her husband through the revolving door, out of the bar, and directly onto the ground when a man in a suit barreled into her unexpected appearance.  She yelped on contact, but it was the crack to her wrist as it broke her fall into the muddy puddle against the brick of the building that made her cry out. 

Steve was already in the middle of Washington Street on his way to the door of the hotel when he heard her.  He acted on instinct when he ran back sight unseen, because that cry clearly belonged to her.  When he saw the man leaning over her muddied and whimpering form on the ground, he immediately assumed the guy who running for his late commuter train hurt her.  Which he had.  Just not on purpose.  Steve wasted no time shoving the unsuspecting man against the brick wall, his briefcase falling out of his hand with the impact.

“What the hell did you do to her?!”

“Nothing!”

Steve looked down at Kayla, and her watery blue eyes were unreadable.  Sad?  Angry?  Maybe just lost.  She cradled her left wrist in her hand and Steve felt his blood pressure go up.  “Doesn’t look like nothin’ to me, asswipe!”

“I didn’t see her, she just came out of nowhere!”

The irony of his statement wasn’t lost on Steve, she seemed to be good at coming out of nowhere.  But she was obviously in pain, and now she was a mess, too, and that made him want to kick this guy’s ass into next Sunday.

“Steve, it’s ok,” she breathed heavily, “it was an accident, I ran out after you.”

“Come on, please, I was just running for the train!  Please don’t hurt me!”  The man was obviously scared of Steve, and Kayla felt badly for the guy.  But at the same time, she realized that Steve came back.  On some level, he must have cared. 

“It’s ok,” she said with a strained voice.  “I’m ok.”  Which was a complete lie, she was in pain.

Steve released him, picked up his briefcase, and shoved it into his midsection.  “Go,” he snarled.  The man ran fast.  Then he kneeled down beside Kayla.  “You ok?”

“Yes—it’s—I’m fine—it’s just—you forgot your jacket—I was—I mean I wanted to—”

“Slow down, baby, just slow down.  I’ve got ya, come on.”  Steve got Kayla up into a standing position, and took a good look at her.  “You’re a mess.”  She was.  The seat of her jeans was soaked, her face was streaked with mud in two places, and dirty water droplets made interesting patterns in her hair.  Kayla didn’t answer him, because she was concentrating too much on controlling her breathing from the bitter pain in her wrist, which she still held in her other hand.  “What happened here?” he asked, taking her wrist.  She cried out, and Steve pulled his hands back.  He took two steps back from her and glared.  Now what the hell was he gonna do?  “You got anywhere to go?”  Kayla slowly shook her head.  Steve put his hands on his hips and smirked.  “Well, that’s just great.”

“What do you want from me?”

“What do you want from me?!”

“I think you know.”

“You are not stayin’ with me, baby.” Kayla looked at him with real incredulity.  That one look scolded him for seriously considering abandoning her when she was in this state.  It was enough to change his mind.  “One night.  That’s it, got it?  One night, we get you fixed up, and then you go.”

The smile that spread across her face scared the sh*t out of him.  The way her distress made him feel scared him more.

When they walked into the hotel with Steve’s jacket around her shoulders every head turned their direction.  The only somewhat dodgy crowd of this afternoon had now become completely dodgy in this later hour. 

“I see the foxy lady found you, Patch.”  Kayla didn’t like the way Frank, still behind the plexiglass, was eyeing her.  Neither did Steve.

“Get back in your hole, Frank,” he warned.  Then he turned to Kayla to ask if she could make it up the stairs.  “Stop staring at him, baby, you trying to egg him on?”

“N-No.”

“It’s only three flights, you can make it.”

“I remember.”

“You remember?”

She wanted to slap her forehead.  What the hell was wrong with her, shut the hell up!  “Nevermind.”  Steve stopped them on the first landing, eyed her warily, then got them going again.  He had his arm around her, and she just tried to take this one moment at a time and enjoyed the feel of that protective arm.

When they got to his room, Steve mentally ran through the state he last remembered it and hoped nothing too disgusting was going to greet her.  He wasn’t one to leave his laundry around or care what the women he slept with thought, but for some reason, he was suddenly a little nervous.  As soon as Steve’s key was in the door, the man in the next room popped his head out.  

“Your little rebel found you, I see.”

Steve turned his head and glared at Kayla.  Seems the bar wasn’t her first stop.  “Sure did, Ray,” he said with a pointed exhale.  “Sure as sh*t did.”

“What happened, you roll her around in the mud?”

“She had a little accident, what’s it to you?”

Ray ignored the tone.  “You need to take better care of your conquests, I sent her over there in good shape.”  Kayla cringed and Steve shot him a dangerous look.

“She didn’t like talking to me, so I sent her across the street to your office.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t like talking to you, either, old man, so you can just go back in your room and mind your own business.”

“Fine by me, just keep it down when you do her, I don’t need to hear it when you—”

“Shut up, and get in your room old man!”

Steve got the door open and started to push her inside but not before Ray placed his fingers up to his lips in a V and waggled his tongue through them.  Steve didn’t ask if she saw it or not, he didn’t want to know.  She had, but she didn’t pay it any attention.  As soon as he had the door closed he laid into her.  “How long you been following me?”

“I haven’t been following you.”

“You expect me to believe that, you came here first!”

“What, that’s news?  I told you I came here to see you, this is where you live!”

“Right, so you’re saying you just happened to be there when I walked in.  The guy you came to see just walked into the bar you were holed up in?”

Not for the first time, Kayla wondered if there was some kind of odd fate to their jumps the ensured they had the means to cross paths.  How to talk around that had her flustered.  She was trying to explain as best she could, but this turn of events had her out of sorts, and she just stammered.

Steve watched her shiver, despite the warmth in the room.  And somehow he believed her.  It didn’t take away from the fact that she was there to see him.  Why?

“I need to get out of these wet clothes,” she changed the subject.

“You still drunk?” Steve tried to tease.

“I wish.” 

Steve huffed a sneer.  Kayla matched it, and they both let it relax into small smiles. 

“I don’t exactly have your size, baby, so I hope you got somethin’ in here.”  He’d gone back for her bag before they walked back to the hotel.  Kayla awkwardly fished out a change of clothes from where he’d dropped the duffel onto his bed.  “Can I take a shower?”

“Y-um-yeah.  You need a towel?”

“That would probably be a good idea.”  A vision of Steve handing her a bath towel after her water broke assailed her.  She was grateful that he’d turned his back so he wouldn’t see the effect it had on her.  This was a Steve so far removed from that one that it blew her mind.  He took a bath towel from the small closet and handed it to her.  She got a glimpse of the inside of the closet before he closed it; there wasn’t much in there.  Kayla’s heart hurt.  Without another word she disappeared into the bathroom.  A minute later she came back out.  Steve was sitting in an old chair next to his bed as far away from the bathroom as he could get.  He looked up at her questioningly.

“Can you help me with the buttons on my jeans?”  It was a small room, there was nowhere to hide, so he was stuck staring at her in response to the very loaded question.  Kayla sighed.  “It’s a button-fly, I need to twist my wrist to undo it, and it’s killing me after just one.  I just need you to undo the buttons.”  Steve swallowed.  “It’s not like I’ve got anything you haven’t seen before.”  She meant it one way, he took it another. 

“Look, that guy’s a dirty old man,” Steve said as he nodded toward the wall he shared with Ray.  “Nothing’s goin’ down here that –”

“Steve, I get it. I’m not a conquest.”  Steve could swear that was jealousy he heard in her voice.  “Please, I just want to get out of these jeans.  I trust you, just undo them.”

“Why?”

“So, I can get them off!”

“Why do you trust me?”

Kayla wanted to tell him what she’d started to tell him in the bar. That she was more than his friend.  But so far the truth wasn’t working so great for her, and she couldn’t risk freaking him out.  Plus she really was in pain and at the edge of her last nerve as the buzz left her.  Tears stung at her eyes.  She didn’t know why.  “Please, Steve?” she said in barely more than a whisper.

Her husband saw the tears form and wanted to kiss her.  Felt something in him want to connect with her.  Instead he very carefully undid all four of the remaining buttons of Kayla’s jeans without touching anything that he had no business touching.  He looked just like he did when he helped her shirt off for her after she’d been stabbed at the Emergency Center.  She took that as a good sign.

“How’s your wrist?”  Kayla’s pants were secure on her hips but open revealing plain white underwear.  He didn’t look, so he didn’t see it.

“It hurts,” she smiled faintly.

“You think it’s broken?”  Steve watched as she tested her own wrist for fracture, which she’d already done in the bathroom, but now she did again.  He couldn’t help but notice that she seemed to know what she was doing.  She shook her head no and said it was just a sprain.  “You sure?”

“I’m a nurse, I’m as sure as I can be without an x-ray.”  Steve started to pale.  “I don’t need an x-ray, I’m fine.”

“Why’s it hurt so bad then?”

“It’s not that bad.”

“Is that what you look like when you lie, baby?  You couldn’t undo five little buttons.”

Kayla shut her eyes and exhaled.  She could smell the mud on her and was quickly gaining a new priority, which was finding the soap.  “Soft tissue injuries are often a lot more painful than fractures.  I just need some ice and ibuprofen.”

“I got ice.  What’s that other thing.”

Uh oh.  This is too early.  “Ever hear of Advil,” she tested.

“What is that, aspirin?”

“How about Tylenol, you have any of that?”

“Been through more than a few scrapes in my time, so yeah, I’m close, personal friends, with that one.”  Steve went into the medicine chest in his bathroom and pulled out a bottle that didn’t look like Tylenol and handed her one.  She didn’t recognize it.  “Take that.”

“What is it?”

“I thought you’re the expert.”

“I’m a nurse, not a pharmacist.”

“Something a little stronger than Tylenol.”

“I’ve just had alcohol, I need to know what this is.”

Steve suddenly did something Kayla rarely saw.  He turned slightly red.  “Sh*t.”  She saw that he hadn’t thought of that.  He took them back from her then came back with what was obviously a Tylenol bottle and gave her four of them.  For a moment she was about to balk again, but then she realized – these were 100-milligram tablets.  That was the right dose for this kind of pain.  She’d guessed the other pills were opiates of some kind and wondered if he’d stolen them.  Steve noticed the wonder.  “Don’t look at me that way, Sweetness, they’re mine, see.”  Steve showed her the prescription bottle for Percocet with his name on the Cook County Hospital pharmacy label. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Forget it.” 

Kayla looked at Steve with a little bit of pity that she couldn’t help.  Her poor husband knew his way around injuries.  The tender look in her eyes made him want to kiss her again, so he turned to the old dresser where a small assortment of dishes sat in the corner and handed her a glass.  “Go take those.” 

Kayla nodded.  “Thank you.”

Steve nodded back.  “Welcome.”  Just then the phone rang.  It was a big, black phone with a thick fabric-covered cord coming out of it and a rotary dial.  Archaic even now, but it certainly fit the room.  Oh, Steve, you’re going to love this. “Go on,” he nodded toward the door.  She backed back into the bathroom and closed the door to a crack.  Only then did Steve answer the phone.  It seemed from his end of the conversation that he was supposed to be somewhere tonight but had moved it to tomorrow because something had come up.  She didn’t think the person on the other end of the phone was very happy about it, because Steve went on the defensive turning it into the quick offensive that she knew so well, assuring whomever it was to keep their pants on and that he was good for it.

“Oh no, Steve, this is what I was afraid of,” she whispered to herself. 

Steve realized that the shower still wasn’t on and turned toward the door where he saw her peering at him.  “Lemme call you back,” he said, then promptly hung up.  “You should learn to take pictures, baby, they last so much longer than staring.”

Kayla opened the door.  “Um, I—”

“Save it.  Didn’t your mama ever teach you it isn’t nice to eavesdrop?”

“It’s just one room, how am I supposed to shut off my ears?”

“By turning on the water!”

She paused silently for a moment.  Then she said, “Fine,” and went back into the bathroom.

When Kayla emerged in clean clothes and her hair in long, damp ringlets, Steve was struck dumb.  Her clothes were modest, she didn’t wear a stick of makeup, and she was the prettiest thing he ever did see. 

There was positively nowhere to go in this room, it was a bed, a dresser, a tiny black and white TV with aluminum foil extending up from the bunny-ears style antenna, and one chair that looked like an escapee from June Cleaver’s kitchen.  Squeezed between the dresser and the door, however, there was a mini-fridge.  While Kayla was in the shower, Steve somehow managed to pull a dinner together for her, which now sat on the dresser waiting for her, along with a bag of ice.

“Hope you like PB&J,” Steve said.  “Ain’t got much.”  That not much seemed like a whole lot more, because it wasn’t just a sandwich, it was sliced apples and a bowl of soup, too.  How was it that no matter where they jumped and when they were, Steve was able to keep a roof over her head and food in her belly?  This was just who he was.

“No, this is great!” she smiled eagerly.  “Thank you.”  She took the bag and placed it over her sore wrist.  “Thank you for this, too.”  Steve’s only reply was to keep his face neutral and look down at his lap as he bobbed his knee up and down.  Kayla took in the room a bit, then asked, “Where’s your hot plate?”

Steve looked up at her.  “How’d you know about that?”  Kayla scratched her head.  “Nevermind, I don’t wanna know.  Just eat.”

“Seriously, where is it, I don’t see it.  How did you heat up this soup?”

“Superman eyes.”  Kayla cocked her head with annoyance.  Steve groaned.  He went to the window next to the closet and opened it.  “It’s actually a camping stove.”  The single-burner sat on the landing of a fire escape. It was ingenious, really, his creative use of the space he had to work with.  It was so very him.

“You’re a smart man, Steven Earl Johnson.”  Steve reacted to this.  “Yes, I know your whole name. Get over it.”  Then she sat down on the bed with her plate of food.  She wanted to be as close to him as possible, but she unsettled him and thought it was better for her longterm staying power to give him his space.  “Where’s yours?”

“Already had mine.”

“So, is this what you look like when you lie?”  Use of his words made him smile.  “You callin’ me a liar, baby?”

“Yes,” she confirmed before taking a sip of the soup, which was Campbell’s chicken noodle, and she was starving, so it was delicious.  “Please tell me this is not your last can of soup.”

“It’s not. I’m, just not hungry.”

“You’re always hungry.  Eat my sandwich.”

“I don’t want your sandwich.”

She put her spoon down and rested her sore left wrist in her hand as the ice balanced on it.  She stuck out her chin expectantly. 

“You goin’ on a hunger strike, are ya?”

“You want me to eat the soup?  Eat with me.”

“You need every bit that’s on your plate, I could tell the minute I saw ya you were starving.”

“I ate this morning before I got on the bus.”

Steve gaped.  “The bus?  You came here this morning on the bus?”

“Jesus, Kayla, get a grip,” she said to herself out loud.  “No more alcohol for you.”

“You really came here to see … me … didn’t you?”

“She nodded.”

“Why, did I get you pregnant?” he smirked.

Three times.  Steve watched as his words seemed to cause pain to flow through her.

“Ok, bad joke, sorry.”  Kayla shrugged.  “But, I’m gettin’ pretty tired of askin’ you why,” he said testily.

After a bit of a silent stand-off Kayla couldn’t take it, the smell of the soup was too powerful, and she started back in on it.  But she did pick up half of the peanut butter and jelly sandwich and hand it to him.  “Eat the sandwich, and I’ll answer that question.” 

“No more games.”  His voice was the deep velvet that Kayla knew at any age.  She didn’t know why he’d calmed, but he had.  “Kayla?  Why are you here?  Don’t twist my words, just tell me the truth.”

Kayla was suddenly very apprehensive.  “The truth is that I want to,” she said, her body language becoming timid as she looked down into her soup.  “But I’m scared.”  She continued to eat her soup.

“You’re scared of me?” he asked anxiously.  Kayla didn’t hesitate.

“No.  I could never be scared of you.”  Steve’s breathing became more labored at the implication in that statement.  “I’m scared of what will happen if I tell you, and I think it’s better if I just—wait it out.”

Steve got up and paced the small space.  “Did Bo send you here?”

“No.”  She shoved the triangle of Skippy and Smuckers at Steve, and he finally relented and took it.  When their fingers touched, Kayla’s lips parted, Steve’s pursed, and their eyes locked. 

“You are not my friend,” he insisted.

After a moment Kayla nodded.  “Not your friend,” her voice broke.  “Loud and clear.”

Kayla finished everything else on her plate in silence while Steve pretended to read a small, black book without a title.  It was a very successful day where she managed to wake up in someone else’s bed without freaking out, leave a message with their secret-keeper without getting hung up on, Find Steve in a whole other city, and get herself under the same roof with him before the sun came up on the next day.  She should have felt triumphant.  But this version of him she’d found was exactly what her husband said she’d find during this time – a guy who wasn’t so nice to her, and it was a hell of a struggle to get here.  So, she was feeling nothing but done in at the moment.  She was exhausted, her heightened emotions were out of her control, and she was worried that he was going to bolt in the middle of the night if she let herself fall asleep.  But she was already sitting on the edge of the bed, and all she wanted to do was lay back on it and check out.

“I think it’s time to lilsten to those little Z’s comin’ out the top of your head, baby.

“I’m not tired.”

“Spare me.”  Kayla chuckled.  “What?”

“That whole phrase just seems wrong coming out of your mouth.”

Steve didn’t reply.  Instead he took her dishes and set them on the dresser, then he pointed to the bed.  “Get in.”  She protested, afraid to let him out of her sight.  Steve had had it.  “You say you’re not afraid of me.  That you came all this way on the bus to see me.  Then you corner me into taking you in.”  Kayla started to protest to this, too, but he shut her down.  “I could have been in here by now havin’ a lot more fun in this bed until you came along.  Now you got what you came for, you’ve seen me, now get the f*ck in the bed!”

Kayla stood up and met his anger with her own.  “You don’t have to be this asshole version of yourself, Steve!  I’m so sorry I ruined your good f*ck!  But, I’m sure Candy will be more than happy to oblige you another time!”

“I don’t think so, baby, she doesn’t like my,” he used air quotes, “tiny little dick.”

Kayla looked down at his crotch.  “Your dick isn’t remotely tiny,” she said with a self-satisfied smirk.

Steve wanted to bury himself inside of her right now.  “Really?” he arrogantly covered his feelings, “You log some close, personal time with it that I don’t remember or something? 

“You wouldn’t have been able to forget it if I had.”

“That good are you?”

“No, I’m even better!” And he knew it was true.

“So, you’re propositioning me now?  Is that what you’re doin’?!”

Kayla was breathing hard, because she knew that look on his face, and she was as turned on as he was.  “Maybe it is!”  My God, she wanted him.  She wanted to feel her husband’s arms around her, his body inside of her, his soul love her.  That he was the destination version of himself, and not her primary Steve was beyond her at the moment, she was too desperate for a connection that she’d needed for too long.

“You’re outta your mind!  Something’s wrong with you!”  Only he didn’t back away from her – he wanted it to be true.  He wanted her to be propositioning him.  Because he wanted to consume her.

“I know exactly what I’m doing!”  Kayla very aggressively grabbed Steve with her right hand and stood on her tip toes to kiss him.  He wanted it.  His lips wanted it, his body wanted it, and he would have taken it except that he felt how much his heart wanted it and knew he was in trouble.  His heart hadn’t felt anything for anyone in a long time, and every time it did he’d end up with it in shreds somewhere.  So this sudden life it was beating through his body was terrifying.  He pushed it away, and in the process, he pushed her away.  Before her lips connected with his he moved his head out of the way – like she saw him do with Candy.  Then he took a step back and put his hand up between them.

“No.”  For the moment he still held her eye.  “We just need to calm down, here.”

“Why?” she tried not to pant. 

Steve smirked.  “I’m too much man for you, baby,” he tried, but Kayla shut him down.

“You feel something, I can see it.”

“Yeah, not so tiny after all, is it?” he continued with the smarmy tone.

“You feel something,” she said meaningfully, the truth in her words making him drop his grin.  “You want me.”

“Yeah, I want you Kayla,” he erupted, “Why shouldn’t I want you?!  You’re beautiful, and you can have any man you want!  So, what the hell are you doin’ with a one-eyed bum like me?!”

“Steve!” she took another step toward him.

“No!” he countered with another step back.  “No.  Now I don’t know if Bo sent you—”

“He didn’t!”

“—or if he just told you all about the monster he created and figured you’d see what it’s like to slum it with damaged goods!”  Kayla couldn’t control her tears this time.  “But you’re gettin’ in that bed, and you’re going to sleep, and I’m sittin’ in this chair, and in the morning we’re putting you right back on that bus.  You got me?!”

Kayla let her tears flow.  She was no longer aching to feel him connect with her.  Now she wanted nothing more than to connect with him.  She knew that he was miserable for a long time and that he kept drawing the short straw on life time and again before she knew him.  But to listen to how he really felt about himself first hand like this broke her already broken heart.  She wanted to hold him so tightly in her protective embrace and tell him how much she loved him.  Make sure he knew what a good man he was.  All this bravado and bad language weren’t meant to hurt her, it was all a defense mechanism. 

Nice work, bastard, you’ve known her less than a day, and already you made her cry.  Steve took a deep breath.  “Listen, you don’t need to be scared of me.  You can just – don’t cry.”

Kayla wiped her eyes.  “You’re not a monster.  You’re a good, kind man.  You could have left me there on the sidewalk, but you didn’t.”

“Jackets don’t grow on trees,” he tried.  She ignored him.

“This has nothing to do with Bo, and I’m not slumming it.  Don’t ever say that again.”  Steve eyed her with such discomfort, because he couldn’t figure out what the hell was happening.  “And the only thing that scares me about you is that I’m going to wake up here in the morning, and you won’t be here.”  She let that statement be her last and finally backed away. 

Kayla lifted her duffel with her good hand, dug for a small pack containing toiletries and her toothbrush, and disappeared into the bathroom where she silently cried as the running water provided cover.  She felt completely out of control.  She’d just tried to seduce him, and he’d freaked out.  What the hell was she doing?  Where was Steve?  When was he jumping in?  She refused to let herself think of the eleven days he’d lived without her in 1979, because she didn’t think she could keep them together for that long.

Steve was still processing what had just happened when a very soft knock came at his door.  He opened it a crack to see Ray smiling at him with the smug look of the lech he was.  A cigarette held between his finger and thumb was turning to ash.

“What do you want?”

“I want the girl.”

“What?”

“She’s a lot older than I usually like ‘em, but she’s too sweet and innocent to pass up.  Give her to me.” 

Kayla had turned the water off at this point and could now hear Steve talking to someone, so she cracked the door to listen. Ray tried to cross into the room, but Steve wouldn’t open the door more than a foot, preventing him from leaving the hallway.

“You get back in your room, old man, I’m warning you.”

“She wants a roll in the hay, and you’re not giving it to her, so give her to me, I wanna pop her cherry.”  Kayla admitted it, this exchange alarmed her.  And it should, because Ray looked like someone’s grandfather, but like Frank in the cage downstairs he was as bad as they came, and Steve knew it. 

Steve’s eye had turned dangerous.  “You don’t go near her, old man.  You don’t think your dirty thoughts about her.  And you sure as hell don’t touch her.   Because if I find out that you hurt so much as a hair on her head, I’ll kill you myself.  That’s a promise.”  Steve slammed the door in Ray’s face and locked it, and Kayla reclosed the bathroom door before he could see that she was watching.  Relief swept through her.  He was feeling something for her.  It gave her hope for tomorrow.

When she came out of the bathroom Steve went to her with a refreshed bag of ice cubes.  He took her hand very gently in his and placed the bag on top of her wrist, holding it there.  She looked up into his eye and saw so much happening inside of him.  Finally he spoke.  “You’re sure it’s not broken?”

Kayla nodded.  “I’m sure.”  She glanced down briefly and said, “You have very gentle hands.”  Before Steve could reply she got up on her tip toes and tried to kiss his cheek.  Still holding her iced hand in his two he reared his face away protectively.  Very gently, Kayla put her right hand on his chest, her eyes telling him to trust her.  She tried again, and this time he let her lips connect with his cheek.  She was so close to his scar that she touched its bottom edge.  She lingered her slightly puckered lips, and now Steve knew what they felt like against his skin.  He also knew that she wasn’t trying to mess with him and that this was genuine.  He didn’t know why, but he didn’t doubt that it was.  He felt very vulnerable.  But when she pulled back, he wished she’d come back.  “Thank you,” she said softly.  Steve gave an imperceptible nod as he tried to hang on to the feeling of her lips on his cheek.

Kayla didn’t bother trying to convince her husband to sleep in the bed with her, she was lucky he was still in the room.  She’d been settled in for several minutes rolled over toward the bathroom so that he could have some semblance of privacy when Steve finally let himself breathe a little more.  The chair was uncomfortable, but he didn’t plan on doing much sleeping tonight, so that was fine.  Kayla wondered what he was thinking about.  Were bad memories of Bo and Britta tormenting him right now?  Was she?  Since she knew what he sounded like when he did all manner of anything, Kayla knew he was awake.

“Please don’t leave,” she blurted into the dark room.  Steve startled at the break in the silence.   

“I’m not goin’ anywhere,” he assured her softly.

After another moment, Kayla said, “Your hair looks better when it’s in your face.” 

“My hair?”  Steve had no idea what to do with that non-sequitur.

“Let it air dry next time, see if you like it.”

“Yeah, thanks for the tip.”

“You won’t leave?” 

With that psychopath living next door?  “No, I won’t.”

“Goodnight, Steve.”

“Goodnight, Sweetness.”

Steve fully expected to put her on a bus back to Salem tomorrow.  Kayla fully expected that this would be the last thing she said to Destination Steve and that hers would be there in the morning.  Neither of those expectations would be met.

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Chapter 111 >