It was at that point that she no longer received preferential treatment from the family. They started treating her as they treated everyone else; like shit. They decided to place her in the fighting rotation, but she refused to fight, which gave her a death sentence. Noelle knew secrets about the Santos family that they didn’t want out. Once they got word that their attempt to kill her failed, the threat on her life became our reality.
I slowly made my way over to the couch when she asked, “Who did you go up against?”
I lay down on the couch and took a painfully deep breath. My chest was really on fire.
“The bruiser,” I breathed out.
Noelle frowned. “Oh yeah, I remember her. Here, take off your shirt. I’ll rub some cream on you. It should quiet some of the swelling and redness. Do you want something for the pain?”
I shook my head and she replied quickly, “Come on, you can at least take some Tylenol. I have some Tylenol PM that will help you go to sleep.”
Noelle and I had some very deep conversations throughout the months she was recuperating. She told me a lot about her life, things, looking back, that I wish I could forget. In turn, I told her about my mom dying, about my issues with my brother, him getting in trouble and me trying to get him out of it, and all of my troubles. Most of all, I told her about Brad.
I agreed to the Tylenol and sat up slowly as my muscles started to stiffen. Noelle left me and when she came back, she had a jar of what I like to call miracle cream. She said the cream was made with natural herbs and had been used by her family as a healing agent. It’s a family recipe taught to her by her mom at a young age. The stuff smelled awful, but, I tell you, it worked wonders. She also handed me a pill bottle and water.
I thanked her as she helped me remove my shirt. I looked down at my chest and it was purple.
“You need to go to the doctor.”
I shook my head. “I can’t, you know that. What am I going to say?”
She shrugged her arms. “I don’t know, but damn, that looks bad. My little cream isn’t going to do much.”
She slowly ran her hands along the front of me and I tried desperately not to cry out. “God, this looks awful. What did she hit you with?”
“Her fist, thank God. She tried to kick me in the chest, but I moved just in time.” I shook my head and shivered. “Just put your miracle stuff on me and I’ll be fine.”
As she went to work, I said, as nonchalantly as I could, “Remember I told you about a guy from my past, my best friend?”
She nodded and smiled. “You mean Brad? Yes, I remember.”
“Well, he’s here.”
“In Dallas?”
I nodded. “Yeah, and, well, we’ve been hanging out a lot lately.”
She leaned back from me, and I put my shirt back on. I leaned back against the cushions of the couch and closed my eyes.
“Don’t tell me you two knocked boots?”
I laughed and instantly regretted it. “Argh… Girl, please warn me next time you want to joke. And please don’t use the phrase ‘knock boots’ ever again in my presence.”
She smiled and shook her head. “You know what I mean though, don’t you? … You two fucked?”
I laughed again, her cursing just doesn’t sound right either.
“Oh my goodness, girl! You are crazy, you know that? And no we didn’t fuck…” I paused and closed my eyes. “It was deeper than that. It was so much more.”
I went on to tell her how the night went and how it ended. I tried not to be too detailed, but the emotions that came with me telling her about Brad was something I couldn’t stop.
It was quiet beyond my eyes, so I opened them to see her watching me. “What?”
“This is epic, you know that right?”
I shook my head. “No, it was sex.”
“Uh no, it’s more than that. You just said it. Ana, from the stories you told me being with him was always intense.”
“Yeah, and it was still just that… intense.”
“Yeah, but it was a different intensity.” Noelle pulled her legs under her and looked at me smiling. “Don’t you see the significance of what you two just shared? He’s opened up and has given himself to you. You two didn’t fuck; you made love. He made love to you and again, according to you, he has never connected like that with you in the past.”
She was right. I knew it. I just didn’t want to admit it aloud.
Bradley was never one for making love. He wasn’t without feelings either. He always showed me how he felt about me in every intricate touch, kiss and thrust of his hips. However, this time, I’ll admit, I felt a difference in the way he touched me and kissed me. It was evident in his eyes, in his stroke. The softness of his fingertips on my body was the most gratifying and satisfying feeling I have ever felt.