Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

Oliver

The day of our date came sooner than expected. Before I knew it, I was stepping off the bus near Baltimore’s inner harbor.

“Are you sure I was invited, too?” Rowan asked after we’d maneuvered his wheelchair off the bus. There was a wheelchair lift, but it rattled so badly I was just waiting for the day it finally broke down. Luckily, today was not that day, and we managed to get him on and off the bus without too many problems.

Other than the stares and side-eyes we received whenever we went out together, but those were expected at this point. Two brothers, one scarred and one handicapped, always drew attention when we were seen together.

“Yeah, bud,” I said, while looking at the directions on my phone. “You were definitely invited. We specifically discussed it.”

Figuring out which way we needed to go to meet with D’Angelo, I started walking down the sidewalk, but Rowan didn’t follow me. His chair stayed rooted in place, directly under the bus stop sign.

“I’m sorry to interfere with your date. That’s what this was supposed to be, right? This guy asked you out, but you had to bring me along since there’s no one else to watch me.”

I kneeled down on the sidewalk in front of him, placing my hands on the arms of his chair. “Hey. No, you’re not interfering. In fact, you’re doing me a favor.” He gave me a skeptical look, but I could see the spark of hope in his eyes, the same hazel color as my own. “I would never want to date someone who didn’t get along with my brother. With you here, I’ll be able to tell if this guy is worth dating before I get too invested. If anything, you’re saving me a lot of time and heartbreak. So, you’ve got to help me out and tell me what you think of him. Okay?”

He nodded with more enthusiasm this time. “All right. And, if he gives you any trouble, I’ll run over his foot.”

“See. I knew you’d have my back. Now, let’s get going. We’re already running a bit late.”

D’Angelo was already waiting for us exactly where he’d said he’d be. He cut an attractive figure, standing beside the inner harbor and looking out over the water. Once again dressed in an all black suit, he had chosen an outfit made of a light cotton material to compensate for the warm summer weather. He seemed to be going for a more relaxed look with the first few buttons undone to expose his collarbone and a sliver of his chest.

I let my eyes wander, admiring the dark complexion of his olive toned skin, and wondered if he’d ever consider wearing something other than black. White would look really good with his coloring.

It also made me self-conscious of my own outfit. I was a fan of color, and when I wasn’t forced to wear a uniform for work, I incorporated as many colors into my clothes as possible. Not knowing where we were going, I’d chosen a mix of casual and formal. Most of my clothes were second hand, so I didn’t have a lot to choose from. The black and gold waistcoat had been a lucky thrift shop find, while the red plaid pants were a gift from Ashes.

Supposedly, according to my friend, the tight cut of the pants made my legs look good. I’d decided to take their word for it, because I couldn’t see any difference. My legs were my legs, no matter what cloth they were wrapped in.

D’Angelo turned to face us as we approached, and for the first time I noticed the woman standing next to him. She kept a bit of space between them, so I hadn’t realized they were together at first, but there was no mistaking the focus of her attention.

A thousand thoughts raced through my mind.

Was I missing something?

Had I misinterpreted the situation?

I feared things were about to get awkward and tried to speak normally when I greeted him. “Hey, sorry we’re late. The bus was running behind.”

“It’s no problem. We’re not on any schedule.”

He grabbed my hand and brought it to his lips, brushing a light kiss over the back of my fingers.

I blushed and tried to control the urge to shiver. Such a small thing shouldn’t affect me so strongly, but it was the first time we’d ever actually touched skin to skin.

In fact, the more I thought about it, I realized it was the first time in years I’d made skin contact with someone other than my family or Ashes.

To my surprise, D’Angelo then turned to my brother and introduced himself.

“Hello. You must be Rowan. Oliver has told me a lot about you.”

The defiant look on Rowan’s eye filled me with pride. My little brother wouldn’t be cowed, not even when a man who stood well over six feet loomed over him.

“And you’re D’Angelo,” Rowan said with his chin held high. “Oliver’s told me about you, too.”

For a moment, I feared D’Angelo would be offended by Rowan’s tone, but my date only smiled. “I’m glad to hear your brother’s been thinking about me.” Glancing over at me, he winked, like he knew exactly which gutter my thoughts strayed into whenever his name was mentioned.

Then, however, he turned back to Rowan with a serious expression. “I hope you don’t mind, but I brought someone along to accompany us today.” He gestured toward the woman standing just a step behind him. “This is nurse Malory. She’s a private caregiver and has experience with SMA. I’ve brought her along today in case you need anything.”

Rowan and I were both shocked. We knew the price of a private nurse, since our family employed one regularly.

“Oh, um, thanks,” Rowan stuttered, before wheeling himself over to speak with the nurse.

As the two introduced themselves, I stepped up to D’Angelo’s side.

“You didn’t have to do that. I can take care of him.”

D’Angelo’s arm slipped around my waist and pulled me closer. “Ah, but I’m greedy.” His hand settled on my hip and his pale blue eyes shone like sunlight reflecting off ice. “I want all your attention on me.”

I gaped at him, not knowing what to say. Out of habit, I reached up to tug my bangs over the left side of my face, but he stopped me before I could.

“Don’t hide your eyes. I want to see them.”

My face burned hot with embarrassment, and I stared down at the sidewalk. “It’s not my eyes I’m trying to hide.”

He didn’t say anything in response, and my heart sank.

What could he say?

My scars were impossible to ignore.

A strange sensation on my left cheek made me jump. I stared up at D’Angelo in shock, holding my cheek with one hand. My skin was slightly damp.

He’d just kissed my cheek. His lips had brushed against my scarred skin without flinching. No one had ever done that before. Not even my mother. As a kid, whenever she kissed me, it was always on the right cheek.

I never realized the scars were so sensitive. The place where D’Angelo had kissed still tingled, and I could practically feel the exact shape of his mouth.

Still, he didn’t say a word. Just smirked at me before stepping away to speak with Rowan.

I remained rooted in place, too shocked to move or speak. Already this date wasn’t going how I expected, and my heart felt like it was going to vibrate right out of my chest.

Rowan’s excited voice broke through my stupor and brought me back to reality.

“The ships? All of them? Really? I’ve always wanted to go.”

He was practically bouncing in his wheelchair. Whatever D’Angelo said had made him happier than I’d seen in a long time.

“I’m glad you approved of my choice,” D’Angelo said in all seriousness. “The nearest one is just up ahead. The USS Constellation. We can start there, unless there’s a different one you’d rather see first.”

“No, that’s fine. Let’s go.”

Rowan led the way, eagerly pushing his wheelchair down the street. The nurse stayed nearby, always on hand, but far enough away to not be intrusive. D’Angelo walked beside Rowan’s chair, continuing their discussion about ships.

With a sinking feeling, I slipped in beside D’Angelo and whispered so only the other man could hear me. “Where are we going?”

Eagerly pulling me closer, D’Angelo settled his arm over my shoulder. “There’s a bunch of historic naval ships displayed here in the harbor, with tours to go explore them. I figured it seemed like something a teenage boy who likes monster movies and explosions might be interested in.”

It was exactly as I feared. Biting my lip, I swallowed past the knot of disappointment and dread in my throat.

“I should have warned you. We’ve tried bringing Rowan here before, but the ships aren’t very wheelchair friendly. Most of them are only accessible by gangplanks, which are too steep and narrow for him to navigate. Even the ships he can access, he’ll be stuck on the top deck since the bottom parts of the ship require a ladder to reach. He won’t be able to do most of the stuff.”

I expected disappointment, or maybe even anger, so I was surprised when D’Angelo just calmly squeezed my shoulder.

“It’s fine. They’ve done some remodeling to make the ships more handicap accessible. He should have no problem.”

“What?”

I glanced out over the harbor at the looming figure of the nearest ship floating in the water. Just as D’Angelo had said, the gangplank onto the ship looked different than I remembered. Wider, and with a much shallower incline that would be easy for a wheelchair to manage.

“But, I never heard about any renovations, and I usually try to keep an eye on these things.”

“Well, the changes were recent,” D’Angelo waved away my confusion. “Perhaps you just hadn’t heard about it yet. It’s lucky for us, though. Come on. I’ve booked tours for all of the ships, plus the lighthouse.”

Despite D’Angelo’s claim that he wanted my attention, he spent an unexpected amount of time talking with Rowan. It was just general conversation, like favorite movies and books, and other places in Baltimore that were worth checking out. Yet, it was more than I had expected.

In the past, even people who seemed to be accepting of my brother usually just ignored him as much as possible. I expected this date to be the same, and would have considered it a success so long as D’Angelo wasn’t outright cruel to Rowan.

For D’Angelo to actually take the effort to engage my brother and make him feel like a part of the outing, rather than just a necessary tag-along, was far better than I’d even dared to hope for.

The first ship we visited was the oldest of the bunch, and reminded me of a pirate ship. A tour guide walked us through the ship, explaining its history and giving brief lessons about how sailing worked nearly two hundred years ago.

The contraption that was used to lower Rowan’s chair down into the bottom half of the ship reminded me of elevators in mineshafts. It was hoisted by hand on a pulley system and couldn’t hold more than two people at a time.

I didn’t realize how worried I’d been until Rowan safely reached the lower half of the ship. It had worked, just as D’Angelo promised. We finished the tour of the first ship and moved on to the next one without issue, and I began to realize that D’Angelo might be much more dependable than I first thought.

When he promised something, it happened.

The first ship was my favorite, but the others were interesting as well. By the second ship, it was clear that Rowan was too invested in what the tour guide was saying to pay much attention to us, so D’Angelo and I had a chance to talk. I told him about how I first met Ashes in elementary school, as they were the only kid who didn’t bully me over my scars. That, of course, led to a discussion about what caused my scars in the first place.

“It was a house fire,” I said, instinctively bracing against the memory of pain.

My arm was looped through D’Angelo’s with my hand resting in the crook of his elbow. As soon as the word “fire” left my lips, my skin began to feel hot all over, and I gripped the sleeve of his suit hard enough to crease the fabric.

“I was only seven. I was supposed to be at a neighbor’s birthday party, but I came home early because the other kids were making fun of me. Rowan was only a few months old. As soon as he was diagnosed, my dad left. I guess he didn’t want to deal with a handicapped child. Seven year olds can be cruel. My father was gone, and my new brother was disabled. It gave them too much ammunition. They couldn’t help teasing me. I didn’t want them to see me cry, so I just left and went home since it was only a few houses away.”

So wrapped up in my memory, I didn’t notice the coil of rope lying stacked on the floor. I nearly tripped, but D’Angelo guided me around the obstacle. He didn’t say a word, just silently kept his arm looped with mine and let me talk.

“I was tired from crying and fell asleep in my room. When I woke up, everything was on fire. I think the fire department later said something about faulty wiring in the walls, but I’m not sure. We had fire drills at school occasionally. I knew I needed to leave so I started trying to make my way downstairs on my own. One thing they never get right in movies. How loud fire really is. The air is so dry it seems to amplify every vibrational echo until the crackle of burning wood is all you can hear.”

At this point in the story, my chest felt heavy and my breathing strained. I had to pause and step to the side of the ship to look out over the water and catch my breath.

D’Angelo joined me, peering over the railing as well so our reflections floated next to each other in the harbor.

“Where was the rest of your family? Surely your neighbor would have told them that you went home.”

“I don’t know,” I shook my head, dislodging the image of fire dancing in front of my eyes and focusing on the salty smell of the harbor. “It wouldn’t have mattered, though. My mother and grandmother were outside the house when the fire started. It spread so fast, the whole house was burning by the time they realized what was happening. I’m told that my mother tried to go back inside, but the fire department stopped her.”

My lungs felt clear again, no longer choked with the memory of smoke, so I stood taller and looked D’Angelo in the eye.

“I’m not sure how I heard my brother crying over the sound of the fire, but I did. I remember turning away from the stairs to go to his room instead and picking him up out of his crib, but after that it’s all kind of a blur. The smoke was getting to me by then and I was having trouble staying on my feet. I’m told I came stumbling out the front door with my clothes on fire and my brother clutched in my arms.”

I gestured at the scar on my face. “Treatment for my injuries took months, but I’m glad if someone had to get burned it was me. Rowan didn’t need to deal with this on top of his own illness. I should warn you now, the scars on my face aren’t the only ones. Just the most prominent. If that bothers you, then you should walk away now. I’ve had someone throw up when they saw me shirtless before, and I’d rather not have to deal with that kind of blow to my ego again.”

D’Angelo regarded me for a moment with a serious eye, then suddenly started unbuttoning his shirt.

“Wh-what are you doing?” I stuttered and tried to pull his shirt closed.

He shrugged me off, but he didn’t remove his shirt all the way, just pulled it aside enough to reveal the left side of his chest. A cluster of small round scars marred the skin there.

“My grandfather used to put his cigarettes out on me because he thought it would toughen me up.”

Without even blinking over such an admission, he rolled up one of his sleeves to expose his forearm and the long scar running all the way from wrist to elbow.

“The first person I slept with stabbed me with a kitchen knife because I wouldn’t agree to marry them. Scars are just skin with memories. There’s nothing inherently wrong or ugly about them, and there’s no reason to be ashamed of them. If anything, people without scars should be the ones ashamed. It means they haven’t really done anything worth remembering.”

I ran one finger over the scar on his arm, feeling the way the flesh rose up like a rope embedded under his skin. A strange desire overcame me. I wanted to kiss it.

I wanted to kiss him.

On instinct, I leaned closer to him until I could feel the natural heat radiating off his body. He was taller than me, so kissing him would be difficult, but if I tugged on his lapel I could probably convince him to lean down.

I would have kissed him right then on the deck of the USCG Cutter, if it weren’t for Rowan’s timely return. The sound of my brother’s voice reminded me that we were in public where anyone could see us. Now was not the time for intimacy.

Running my hand over his suit, I tried to smooth out the wrinkles I’d left in the fabric, but it was a lost cause. We returned to the tour guide, a little more rumpled than we had been before.

Out of all the ships in the harbor, the last one, the USS Torsk, was the most modern. At least, modern in comparison to the other ships, being only eighty years old.

It was also a submarine, which automatically made it Rowan’s favorite. He was starting to get tired. I could tell from his slumped posture in the chair, but he refused to take a break. The nurse hovered close by Rowan’s side, assisting him however she could, and I found myself immensely grateful that D’Angelo had brought her. I was used to taking care of my brother, but it was also nice to let someone else take the responsibility.

Inside, the submarine was much darker than the other ships had been. Every doorway had a six-inch bulkhead that would have been a nightmare to maneuver a wheelchair over, if not for the boards laid over each one to create a small ramp.

The control room of the submarine was definitely the most interesting part of the whole thing, but it was narrow and small. There was just enough room for Rowan, the nurse, and the tour guide, so D’Angelo and I waited in the hallway outside.

“Thanks for this,” I whispered to him, conscious of how my voice echoed off the metal. “You didn’t have to go this far, but Rowan is having a blast. It’s been so long since he got out of the house. He’s going to be talking about this day for months.”

D’Angelo leaned over so his mouth hovered near my ear, keeping his voice to a whisper as well. “Maybe it’s selfish to say, but I didn’t do it for him.”

Before I could respond, he tugged me by my wrist into another side room. Just as cramped as everywhere else on a submarine, it seemed to have once been the weapons room. My back pressed against the wall between two empty missile silos.

D’Angelo wasn’t even trying to crowd me, but the size of the room didn’t give him much choice. Surrounded by metal walls on all sides, his much larger frame towered over me and blocked out the submarine’s minimal lighting.

He ran a hand through his hair, dark strands slipping through tan fingers. Up close, I could see the hints of gray at his temple that Ashes had pointed out. The thick dark hair did a good job hiding the color, but it was still there as a reminder of the gap between us.

“After just a few minutes of knowing you, I could tell you were a family-oriented person,” he explained, still whispering. “You’d never give me the time of day if I didn’t get along with your brother.”

He pressed a little closer, so he was practically caging me against the wall. I placed a hand on his chest, and he fell still, waiting to see what I would do.

If I pushed him away, I felt certain that he would leave.

That knowledge gave me the confidence to pop open one of the buttons on his shirt, exposing more of his chest.

His blue eyes seemed to spark in the dark.

“You know, it’s a very fine line.” He leaned in until our foreheads touched. “I want to show interest in the things that matter to you, but a man of my age showing too much interest in a fifteen-year-old boy is potentially problematic in a lot of ways. Sometimes, I feel like there’s no winning. You really have set up a challenge for me.”

Keeping one hand on his chest, I let my other one run though his hair. “And what age is that? Now that we’re this close, I’ve noticed you’ve got some gray here. My friend was right, you are older than you look.”

I gasped in surprise when he grabbed my wrist and pinned it against the wall near my head. The hand I still had on his chest stiffened, instinctively ready to push him away.

He fell still again, waiting for my reaction.

It wasn’t the first time someone had grabbed me, but it was the first time I felt safe while also trapped. Maybe it was the fact that I still knew I could leave whenever I wanted that made staying so exciting.

Just to make things clear, I fisted my hand in his shirt and pulled him a little closer.

His grin was so sinful he could have rivaled the devil.

“Teasing a man about his age,” he said as he wrapped his fingers around my other wrist. “That could get you into a lot of trouble. I’m only thirty-eight. Hardly what I’d call old.”

With slow, deliberate movements, he brought my other wrist up to the wall as well so both of my arms were pinned by my head.

I shivered even though I wasn’t cold. Something hot twisted deep in my stomach and for a moment, I lost all feeling in my legs.

“Twenty-two,” I supplied my own age. “That’s not a problem, is it?”

“Only if it’s a problem for you.”

I quickly shook my head, feeling the metal wall scrape against the back of my scalp.

“Good…” He was so close now I could feel his breath on my lips. “Because I really don’t want to stop.”

I waited with bated breath for him to kiss me, but it never came. We were so close we were practically breathing the same air, yet he refused to close the remaining distance between us.

Desperation sat like a pit in my stomach. I licked my lips and tried not to squirm.

“Well? If you don’t want to stop, then why aren’t you doing anything?”

His laughter was little more than a single puff of air. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Finally realizing what he was waiting for, I surged forward as far as my trapped wrists would allow and claimed a desperate, hungry kiss.

The moment our lips touched, fire seemed to burn through my veins, but for the first time, I didn’t mind the heat.