Page 7 of Brave as It

Since meeting Emmalee, I’m different. The thoughts don’t consume me. The pity for myself isn’t there. I don’t have to fakemy excitement to live. I genuinely look forward to moments with her, from a meal to a simple phone call, I have happiness with someone. She is like this angel in battle with the devil that had a hold on me. The thoughts are at war with the desire to speak to her once again. It’s hard to wish I wasn’t here while wishing I was with her in the very same breath. Emmalee grounds me like gravity. It’s a pull I can’t fight.

Women have good intentions. They see my chair, the loss of my legs, and the sympathy comes in strong. I don’t need or want anyone’s pity. Emmalee never once has looked at me with anything other than genuine intrigue about who I am inside.

Reading people becomes easy when you lose your legs. The eyes watching me no longer hide things. The shock, the wonder, the pity, it all shows and so much more. It didn’t take me long to learn who was interested in me and who was paying attention to my chair. From the moment my eyes locked to hers, Emmalee is all about the man I am.

“Wesson,” my name comes out in a whisper.

I laugh, “baby girl, I’m not ashamed and you shouldn’t be either. Tell you like it is, you’re a showstopper. More than that, you are you. Strong, independent, intelligent, and wise beyond anything. You read a room and know how to adapt. And class, baby girl, you got class and it’s hot as fuck.”

Her face gets serious, “You always compliment me. I don’t know how to take it.”

I, in turn, get sincere. “Take it for what it’s worth and just so you know you’re worth everything.”

“You say that to all the girls.”

I shake my head. “Nope. Not a one until you. Have I told women what they want to hear, won’t lie to you and say I haven’t. But what I say to you, it’s all truth. Emmalee Van Etten, you got me fuckin’ smitten like a damn teenage boy. Your mind is brilliant. You think outside the box. You captivate me becauseI don’t know what you are going to do or say next. No one around here studies microbiology with dreams to work in a lab. That’s you though. It isn’t your intelligence alone. It’s the way you can be comfortable in silence. Total fucking package.”

“Who says I’m comfortable in silence?” She challenges.

How do I show her, explain to her? I see her. I feel her. I get her, through and through. “Met you on New Year’s Eve. The woman I danced with was curious about me, but unafraid. I took your hand in mine, you weren’t nervous. You never once doubted my abilities as a dancer or a man to get you off. We didn’t have to talk. You don’t need a bunch of bullshit blown up your ass.”

“Oh my God!” She shrieks, “Wesson, we don’t need to talk about that. I was very much there.”

I laugh. “With me, no need to be ashamed or self-conscious. Ever. I mean that Emmalee. Your orgasm then, and the ones I plan to give you in the future are beautiful. Won’t lie, I’ve been with a lot of women. Before my accident, pussy was pussy. It was release. The way you melted against me, cling to me, hold my fingers right there as you explode, baby girl, fucking everything in that moment. Want more of those.”

She sighs, “You always ask about me, worry about me, and want to take care of me. You know what I mean by take care of too.”

“You will always get yours before I get mine. So yes, I’m gonna take care of your orgasms. Get used to it.”

“What about you? Not just the part you like to talk about giving me. I want to know you.”

“Nothing special to share. Things were shit when I was super young. They got good. Real good. Got in an accident and things were shit again.”

“Wesson, you deserve all things good all the time.” She has this soft smile that gets me every time.

I smirk, “hoping like hell you’re the next good in the rollercoaster of life I’m on.”

“I don’t know how to take you,” she responds with what I’ve already learned.

I study her expression through the phone screen. “Emmalee, it’s you. Complete fit to me. We don’t have to speak; you trust this connection just like me. Not used to that shit. Won’t pretend I know how to fucking do this relationship shit, but I want to try.”

“What are you saying, Wesson?”

I smirk, “thought it was pretty clear, you and me. I wanna try this relationship. See where we can take this. You mean something to me, and I damn sure hope I matter to you.”

We have done this talking daily thing for weeks now. The more I get to know her the more I want to know. When we aren’t talking, we’re texting or sleeping, or working. For me, it’s my job at the Hellions garage and for her, it’s school. Either way, all of our free time we connect with each other in some form. I find I like it. I look for her to get in touch with me. I’ve never cared if I had to work late or be on a transport. Now, I watch the clock knowing when I get home, I’ll spend my evening with her over here or on the phone.

This is us and it’s the beginning of something I never thought I would experience.

I’m ready to hold on for a ride in love with her.

There isnothing more helpless than being stuck like I am right now. Her call, the panic in her voice, it kills me. I can’t get us there fast enough.

I pull up, Kick rushes out telling me to call EMS as he goes. We know it’s needed. As much as we try to keep things in house with Doc Kelly on standby for us, it isn’t always possible.

Hearing the things we heard, we need paramedics and a hospital.

Seconds feel like hours as I get myself out of the van and up the ramp. Kick is already inside taking things on headfirst while I was calling for the club and medical assistance.

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