Джерри Хилл - Gulf Breeze

She made a sandwich, wishing she had made Pat eat something before she slept but the woman was nearly exhausted. Carly finally admitted how scared she'd been. After one hour had passed, she'd been frantic. After two, she had been ready to bolt out the door in search of the other woman.

What she felt for Pat was certainly more than simple attraction. She wouldn't say she loved her…well, that she was in love with her. She wouldn't say that. She couldn't. But yes, she loved her. She sat at the table alone and squeezed her eyes shut. She wasn't in love with her. That would be…crazy. But the thought of losing Pat before they'd even had a chance to explore this relationship that they'd started hurt her deeply. And whether Pat would admit it or not, she had been in great danger out there. What if the limb that hit her had been larger? What if it had hit her square in the face?

"She could have been killed."

Carly felt the ache deep in her heart. Pat could have been killed.

She got up quickly from the table, pushing her chair back. She filled a glass with ice and closed the freezer quickly. Hopefully, the power wouldn't be out for long. Not that she had a lot in the freezer that would spoil. She found a bottle of rum and poured a generous amount into her glass. Then she added Coke and walked into the living room and sat in the recliner in the dark.

She listened to the wind and rain, sipping from her drink occasionally. She tried not to think of the woman sleeping in her bed. Because if she did, she would completely lose herself. She ached to go to her. She wanted nothing more than to crawl in beside Pat and hold her. And that scared the hell out of her.

She didn't know how long she sat here. Long enough for her drink to empty. But she was surprised when Pat appeared in the shadows, her silhouette outlined by the lamp in the kitchen.

"What are you doing up?" Carly asked.

"Hungry."

Carly sat up, moving to her. She took her hand and pulled her into the kitchen, into the light. Her cheek was swollen and discolored and Pat's eyes were hazy.

"We lost power?"

"Yes. Hours ago," Carly said.

"I guess that's why I'm hot," Pat said. She nearly collapsed into a chair, the effects of the pain pill still obvious.

"How do you feel?"

"Okay," Pat lied. Actually, her face throbbed but she wouldn't tell Carly that. She could see the worry that was still etched across her face.

"Why don't I believe you?"

"It hurts a little," Pat finally admitted.

"Sandwich? That's about all I can offer."

"That would be great."

Carly quickly made a turkey sandwich, then went back for cheese when Pat requested it.

Pat found she could only chew on her left side and even then, each bite hurt. She ate silently and drank from the water that Carly had poured from the jug.

"Have you eaten?" Pat asked.

"Yes. Earlier."

"It hasn't slowed, huh?"

"No. And I'm actually thankful for the shutters. At least I don't have to watch."

Pat didn't answer. She couldn't seem to gather her thoughts. She finally pushed her plate aside. She had only been able to eat half of the sandwich.

"I think I'm going to go back to bed," she said.

"Yes. You should." Then Carly looked at the half-eaten sandwich. "Hurts to chew?"

Pat only nodded.

"Would cold soup be better?"

"No."

Carly stood and walked to Pat, pushing her head back to get a better look at her wound. It was puffy and red. She felt her face, finding no fever.

"Do you need something for the pain?"

"No. I'm okay for now. I'm still kinda out of it."

"Okay. Come on."

Carly grabbed the flashlight with one hand and Pat's arm with the other and led her back into the bedroom. She pulled the covers back and pointed. Pat obediently laid down, leaving her long legs on top of the covers. She was hot, Carly knew, but she dared not open the shutters, even on the north side of the house. She perched on the edge of the bed near Pat.

"Close your eyes," she said. When Pat did, she pointed the flashlight onto her face, making sure the sutures were still tight. Then she inspected the rest of Pat's body, seeing for the first time the scratches on her legs and the small cuts on her knees. " I should have cleaned these, too. Why didn't you tell me?" Carly asked, running her finger lightly over Pat's knee.

"I forgot about them," she said. She reached out and took Carly's hand, squeezing it. Then she shut her eyes. Her face was throbbing again but she still felt drowsy. "Why don't you lay down, too? You must be tired," Pat murmured.

"Yes. I am. Go back to sleep. I'll be back in a little while."

"Okay." She felt Carly get up and move away from her but she was too tired to open her eyes. She shifted on the bed, trying to find a cool spot.

Carly walked back into the kitchen, putting Pat's plate in the sink along with the two glasses. She was tired, she admitted, but she didn't think she'd be able to sleep with the storm still raging outside. But she couldn't very well wander around the dark house. She pulled the T-shirt away from her body, just now noticing how warm it was getting inside. By morning, it would be stifling. But then, they should be able to open the shutters and let some air inside.

She finally blew out the lamp and took her flashlight into the bathroom. She brushed her teeth and splashed her face with cold water. She should at least try to get some sleep. Tomorrow would be a very busy day.

Pat was sound asleep but Carly very nearly dropped her flashlight. Pat was apparently hot. She had discarded her T-shirt.

"You're not making this easy, are you?" she whispered. She was…simply beautiful and Carly's hungry eyes moved over her exposed body. She ached to touch it.

But she turned the flashlight off, moving to the other side of the bed. She lay down next to Pat, trying not to wake her. But she, too, was hot. She sat up and pulled her own T-shirt off. Finally, the rhythm of the storm lulled her to sleep and she let herself drift off, thoughts of the nearly naked woman beside her filling her dreams.

Carly woke to moaning beside her and she turned in the darkness, listening as Pat nearly whimpered in her sleep. Carly reached for the flashlight, seeing the pain on Pat's face. The swelling was worse.

"Pat," she whispered.

Pat opened her eyes, then shut them again. The throbbing in her face was too much.

"What is it?" Carly asked. "Are you in pain?"

"Throbbing," she murmured. "Hurts like a son of a bitch."

"Let me get you a pain pill."

"Yes. Please."

Carly swung her bare feet to the floor, hurrying to the kitchen for water and her pills. She guessed Pat's cheekbone was fractured. That would account for the swelling. She hoped it was nothing more serious.

She walked back to the bedroom with the flashlight tucked under her arm, holding out the water in one hand and the pill in the other.

"Can you sit up?"

Pat opened her eyes and lifted up, fighting against the pain. Then her heart clutched in her chest.

"Jesus Christ, are you trying to kill me?"

"What?" Then she followed Pat's gaze to her breasts. She had not put her shirt back on and she stood beside Pat in nothing but her boxers. Pat finally raised her eyes to Carly's, a look of hunger in the blue depths.

"I was hot," she said. "I'm sorry."

"Suddenly, the pain is gone," Pat whispered.

"No, it's not. Now take this."

Pat took the pill and water from Carly, her eyes never leaving the exposed flesh before her. Carly was absolutely beautiful. Her small breasts were shadowed but Pat could see the aroused nipples. She wanted her mouth there. She wanted to feel them swell against her tongue.

She handed the glass back to Carly as her eyes roamed over the perfect body before her.