Lily White Lies(56)

I took care in choosing my words.

“A little strange...but in a sweet sort of way.”

“I know you’ve been a little uncomfortable being stuck here with me so... I thought it might help to put you at ease if you knew me a little better.”

Surprisingly, I was feeling more at ease with him than I would ever admit. He had a soothing affect on me, and the longer I was stranded with him; the longer I wanted to be stranded with him.

“Thank you, but I’m really not that uncomf...”

“Meg!”

I grasped for the one rope left hanging from the tree, as my ears echoed with the shriek of my own scream. There was no time to react or to be afraid when the broken swing and I veered off course and slammed into the tree. I didn’t cry, I didn’t feel the impact and I didn’t notice that everything went dark around me.



“Meg. Meg, can you hear me?”

“Hmm.” I fought through internal fog to comprehend what had happened but outwardly, I lay calmly, propped in Con’s arms.

“Meg, I have to get you to the house, you’re bleeding. Are you going to be alright to move?”

It took every muscle in my face to keep my eyes open long enough to answer his question.

“I’m wet.”

Seemingly pleased with the fact I responded at all, he smiled and said, “It’s been raining all day and the ground is soaked. Here, throw an arm around my neck.” With that, he hoisted me in one, balanced movement.

My mind was still a little hazy, making it hard to control the odd thoughts that were keeping my rational thoughts company. I wondered if he found me to be heavy. I was curious as to where I was bleeding from since I felt no pain. At the same time, I wondered if he always smelled this good.

He carried me up the long hill from the pond and to the top the wooden stairs without breaking a sweat. Unexplainably, that fact sent a chill up my spine.

Kicking the door open with one foot, he made his way through the house to lay me on the couch in the living room. The three logs he threw on the dying embers in the fireplace began to crackle and spit sparks. He placed one hand on a hip and the other ran through his thick hair several times. Looking around the room once or twice, he shook his head. I thought I saw his mouth open a time or two, but he remained silent.

“You look upset... I’m fine, really. Just a couple bumps and bruises. What I would really like is to get out of these wet clothes.”

“That I can manage.”

His face colored quickly. He avoided looking in my direction for several seconds, but when his eyes finally fell on mine, I held his gaze.

“Embarrassment looks good on you.”

In an attempt to conceal his own smile, he pulled on one side of his lower lip with his teeth, giving him a boyish appearance.

“I’ll see if I can find some bandages. Will you be alright here?”

Feeling a stinging sensation deepening on my right cheek, I simply nodded as he turned and left the room.



I must have dozed off while waiting for his return because his voice broke through my subconscious thoughts to startle me.

“Here we go.” He sat next to me on the couch, dipped a cloth in a dish of water and began to dab at my cheek. “It looks like its stopped bleeding, but you’ve got quite a bit of dried blood on your face and in your hair.”

I winced when the warm cloth touched the wounded area of my cheek. Several strands of hair had already begun to stick to the drying blood and he carefully picked them out.

“I couldn’t find bandages, but there was ointment in the medicine cabinet. I’ll try not to hurt you when I put it on.”

I did my best to hide all signs of pain as he rubbed the ointment onto my bruised face. I could see sympathy in his eyes and I didn’t want him to feel any worse than he already did for something that wasn’t his fault.

“It isn’t very deep so I don’t think you’ll need stitches, but... your friends will probably think I beat you while we were here.”

I offered a smile while he finished cleaning me up.

When he was through, he set the ointment next to the dish of water on the coffee table and picked up a pile of neatly folded clothing.

“I’m sorry; I had to go through your bag. I hope these are alright.” He held up a Kirkland sweatshirt and a pair of Levis. Before I could answer, he lowered his head and casting his glance slightly to the side, held out a bra, a pair of socks and a black thong, saying, “I thought you might need these, too.”

It felt a little odd, having someone I had never been intimate with hand me my most intimate articles of clothing.

I sat upright and shoved my weight forward in an attempt to stand. Lessening my struggle, he took hold of my arm and helped me to my feet.