Christa Wick: Sexting Curves

"Did you walk home alone?"

He shook his head. I half wanted to throttle him but sensed he was too scared to even talk.

Getting down on my knees in front of him, I gently grabbed his shoulders. "Tell me who walked with you."

"Tommy."

One word, two syllables, but it relaxed me. Tommy was two grades ahead but as gentle as a lamb. Better yet, he looked another grade older than he was, so the junior high students didn't give him any shit. He also lived half a block past Logan's place on the route home, so Stevie would have had company the entire trip.

I rubbed at Stevie's arm, hoping to calm him. "No one hurt you, did they?"

He shook his head.

"Would you tell me if they had?"

He hesitated then nodded. The hesitation hurt but I couldn't blame him. I had walked out of his life twice now, making me no different to him than his mother. I needed Logan home as soon as possible. He would get the full story from Stevie.

"I'm going to lock the front door, okay?"

Without a word, Stevie rolled over and stared at the wall.

"It'll just be a few seconds, little man." I knew Stevie had three contact numbers for Logan — the major's cell phone, plus the main desk for both his unit and the battalion. Walking to the front of the house, I scrolled through the same contact numbers before I remembered the one from that long ago night with its misdirected text. Logan had said the building was something of a black hole for cell phone reception and I knew his battalion was military intelligence.

Dialing the number, I was almost to the front door when it exploded inward. Seeing me, Logan hesitated for a second. "Where is he?"

"In his room," I whispered and pressed my back against the wall as Logan brushed past in a hurry. I watched him continue down the hall then I stared at the open door.

My keys and phone were in my hand. My purse was in the car. Logan was home.

I could just walk through that open door and drive away. Considering the quiet fury I'd seen on Logan's face, I considered the option heavily.

Hand shaking, I shut the door and slowly made my way back to Stevie's room. I could hear them talking from where I waited in the hall. Logan kept his voice gentle, his words kind, even as he asked Stevie what had happened and why he had not gone inside to the school's office when no one was there to pick him up.

"Because everybody would know-" Stevie's whisper broke into a cry and then I heard muffled sobs.

Everybody would know…

Muscles knotted throughout my torso, making it impossible to breathe. Stevie had walked to an empty home in shame knowing that Mrs. Jones had abandoned him yet again. I couldn't imagine how lonely those two miles had felt, even with Tommy at his side.

I swiped at my eyes, losing the fight to contain my tears when I heard Stevie speak again.

"Is she gone?"

Logan's answer came out like jagged glass. "I don't know where your mom is, champ."

"I meant Lily," Stevie whispered.

"I'm right here, little man." I stayed in the hallway, too cowardly to even pop my head around the corner and reassure him. "Do you…" Afraid to say want or stay or go, I hesitated. "Do you need me to stay?"

The seconds that passed felt like an eternity. Stevie didn't respond. Logan offered a single word, tersely spoken.

"Yes."

A quiet evening passed after the initial drama. With Stevie settled on the couch beside me, Logan stepped outside to make several rounds of calls. From his inspection of the house and a few words exchanged between us, I knew that Mrs. Logan's suitcase and all the clothing she had brought with her were gone.

At nine o'clock, we started getting Stevie ready for bed. At ten, we both tucked him in. I didn't promise Stevie I would be there when he woke up. With the stony looks Logan kept throwing my way, I wasn't sure I would be allowed to remain once Stevie fell asleep. Neither did Stevie ask me to stay, but I could see the question lingering in his gaze.

I kissed him goodnight, told him I loved him. Choking on unshed tears, I stopped short of saying anything else and left his room while Logan finished tucking him in.

Retreating to the kitchen, I put away the clean dishes. I had just finished when Logan came into the room. His approach silent as a tomb, he stood there and said nothing, but I could feel him. My own emotions raw, I tried to outlast his silence.

I failed, of course, and turned to find him glaring at my back. A switch flipped inside my head, leaving me suddenly angry. "You're looking at me like this is my fault!"

I bit the words out, trying hard to keep my voice at the level of a whisper and not cause any more drama for Stevie.

Logan took three long strides across the room and then his hand locked around my wrist. Insistent, but not rough, he led me to his bedroom. My gaze nervously scanned the floor as if those lacy red panties of Mrs. Jones might jump out from under the bed and bite me.

Standing me in front of the dresser, Logan pointed at the top left drawer then placed its key in my hand. I knew it had a lock, but the contents had never warranted securing it.

My fingers clutching the key until its teeth dented my skin, I crossed my arms over my breasts. "What, you want me to fold your socks?"

"Open it, Lilliput."

I blinked.

Lilliput.

Logan hadn't addressed me directly all evening. I had been terrified that when he finally did, I would only hear Lillian.

Chewing my bottom lip, I complied in broken steps. I lowered my shaking hand to the drawer, metal bouncing against metal as I twice failed to properly insert the key into the lock. On the third time, I succeeded but my hand froze.

"Lily…"

I couldn't decide if his voice was sensual or cautionary as he spoke my name — probably both. I pulled the drawer open, my torso leaning away as if the contents might be explosive. Nothing filled the inside except a small, white satin box.

I wrapped my hand around the drawer's lip, paralysis settling into my flesh. I felt the caress of Logan's fingers across the back of my hand and then the warm brush of his breath along my neck.

"Open it."

Acquiescing to the request, I lifted the box from the drawer. Pinching its bottom, I tugged the lid up. As if it sensed my anticipation, the hinge resisted then opened suddenly with a snap. Inside, a diamond solitaire rested atop another layer of white silk.

It looked like an engagement ring. But it couldn't be. Could it?

"I knew I couldn't get you back with Marie still in the house. I told her yesterday she had a week to find someplace to live."

Marie?

I stared at him dumbfounded for a few seconds before I remembered Mrs. Jones first name. Only slightly less confused, I continued to stare. He wrapped his hand around mine, stopping the tremble that threatened to send the ring and silk spilling onto the floor.

"I never thought she would pull something like this."

When I remained mute, he snorted in exasperation. "Baby, say something."

Hearing the endearment, I started to sway. I jiggled the box. "Why are you showing me this?"

"I want to marry you." No reproach shadowed his tone. Neither did he sound like he was talking to the stupidest person on the planet despite the distinct possibility that might be the case. "Lily?"

His voice carried a sharp, worried edge and I realized the room was spinning. His arms wrapped around me and he led me to the bed. Taking the box with its ring away, he sat next to me, his hand urging my head between my legs before I had the chance to faint.

Marriage?

Neither one of us had so much as said the word love yet. Did that mean he wanted to marry me but didn't love me?

"Breathe, baby."

Right, I'd forgotten to and the failure only made the room spin faster. I sucked a lungful of oxygen in. His hand stroked up and down my back, the gesture and my dizziness provoking a sense of deja vu. Only a month ago we had been sitting in the front room, my body shaking and my mind in shock while he tried to calm me.