Broken Hero

“Oh, I’m watching.”

She grips her ball tightly and bends her knees. Good form, actually. The crowd watches with bated breath as she throws and just narrowly misses.

“Darn.”

“Close, though.”

Professor Woodworth is smiling down at us. “Too close for comfort!”

I roll the ball between my palms. The bullseye is small, but it’s doable. All I need is focus.

People form a semi-circle around us, watching as I take my place at the marker. I ignore their gazes and focus on the ball in my hand. The bullseye and me-that’s all that matters. I take a deep breath and throw.

I score.

Woodworth’s chair gives out. He disappears beneath the surface with a huge splash. Around me, the crowd erupts in cheers and applause.

Lucy bounces up to me with a smile. Her mouth moves again, but I can’t hear her. Every rational thought is drowned out by the thunder around us. The crowd is covering every possible exit route. They’re everywhere.

My vision turns hazy.

I can’t breathe.

Someone grabs a hold of my hand and I’m pulled away.

Oliver is a statue beside me.

“Are you alright?” I murmur, but there’s no response. His face is stone. I look around at the people surrounding us, and something clicks.

I slip my hand into his. “Come on, let’s go.”

He’s not responsive, so I give a sharp tug and he stumbles to life. I make a beeline through the crowd, Oliver in tow.

“Coming through! Pardon us!”

We make it out of the fair. I give the nice old man sitting outside a wave and pull Oliver down along Main Street. His strides are long beside mine, and we make it halfway down the street before his fingers curl around mine.

“Shit.”

“Are you okay?”

He nods and releases my hand. He shoves them into his pockets and turns back towards the fair. There’s no one behind us.

“I don’t think too many people noticed,” I say softly. “Do you want to sit down, or walk for a while?”This text is property of Nô/velD/rama.Org.

Wide shoulders lift once as he sighs. “Let’s walk.”

Main Street is quiet. The sun is starting to set, and vivid colors of red and orange are reflected in the shop windows. The silence is heavy between us-I can practically feel how uncomfortable he is.

I don’t ever want him to be uncomfortable with me.

“We can talk about it,” I say. “Or we can talk about something else. Like how great your throwing arm is. You’re a natural.”

“We can talk about it.”

“Okay,” I say, glancing over at him. “Does it happen often?”

“No. Mostly at places like that, with a lot of noise or big crowds. It used to happen more often.”

“PTSD?

“Yes.””I’m sorry.”

His sigh is frustrated. “Don’t be. I don’t want… I’m lucky. I’m not complaining.”

“I didn’t think you were. Oliver, I-”

He runs a hand over his face. “I didn’t want you to see me like that.”

The words cut me. That this beautiful, stoic, caring man should be afraid to show his emotions. And that the person he was afraid of showing them to was me, of all people.

“No.” I grab his hand again, and this time, his fingers grasp mine back in a firm hold. “I’m not someone you need to hide from.”

“Yeah.”I smile at him. “It’s not a personal failing to have PTSD, you know.”

Oliver is quiet for a few moments. “You noticed my reaction very quickly.”

“Well, only because I watch you so much.”

He turns to me, warmth on his usually neutral features. “You do?”

“Yeah.” I look away, embarrassed at my own stupid confession. “Forget I said that.”

“I can’t,” he says. “I watch you all the time.”

“Really?””God, Lucy, if you only knew. Hiring you made good sense, business wise. It would satisfy my curiosity… I don’t know. Instead, it’s turned me into this.” He runs a hand through his hair, the one not holding mine. “I look for you every day, waiting for the moment when you ride your death trap up to the ranch. I know it’s wrong. You said last night that you wanted us to have a professional relationship. But what I want with you, Lucy, is decidedly unprofessional.”

My mouth goes dry at the confession, and I can’t look away from the intense blue of his eyes. I can feel my nipples tighten against the shiny fabric of my bra.

“Tell me. What do you want with me?”

His gaze goes dark with desire. “I want to make you mine. I want to hear you moan my name as I make you come again, and again, and again.”

Oh my god.

Heat blooms in my stomach and between my legs. I’m not sure if it’s because of what he just experienced, but he’s a more dominant version of himself tonight. It’s too much, the need in his eyes, and still… I want to get closer.

Rational Lucy is long gone.