Chapter 7 – A Pass
The next morning when Flack awoke he could smell coffee and hear the two women downstairs already. He showered, and got dressed in jeans and a blue tee shirt with an NYPD insignia on the left chest. When he went downstairs to the kitchen both Lindsay and Kit had their hair drawn back into a pony-tail and were wearing pink tank tops with the words "Centerville Cheerleaders" across the chest and grey gym shorts that defined the word short. Flack swallowed hard and made every attempt not to gape at the pair of beautiful women. Whatever Lindsay had done yesterday for early-morning exercise she clearly dragged Kit along this morning, but Flack could tell it was less intense than the previous day. Kit was sitting at the table drinking coffee, her knees drawn to her chest laughing with her sister. Lindsay standing, cooking, by the stove. Flack wished he had his camera phone with him, this was a site he had to let Messer know he missed. Each of them fit and tone, shapely and beautiful. The picture of beauty and athleticism.
"Good morning officer," Kit said eyebrows raised. "You're right Linds, he does look even hotter in jeans than the suit." She said.
Lindsay was already pouring Flack coffee and she stood in front him, shaking her head, handing him the full cup.
"Forgive her Flack, she's a child." She said as she turned away and refilled her sisters cup with the pot she held in the other hand. "He's not an officer, he's a Detective, airhead."
"You call him Flack?" Kit asked.
"Yes, I do. And he calls me Monroe. Except not around here, because you might answer and he doesn't want you." Lindsay taunted. She returned to the stove.
Sisters, Flack thought. But then it did seem strange to him that he and Lindsay didn't use first names. At work it was work, practice. But here, everyone used their first names, so calling her Monroe and being called Flack had a more comfortable intimacy to it. A custom they shared.
"Every man wants me." Kit said leaning back in her chair. Lindsay threw a waded up paper towel at her.
Flack walked over to the stove, holding his coffee in one hand, he placed the other on Lindsay's midriff and kissed her cheek, "Good morning Monroe." He wanted to go on record that she was the Monroe he wanted. The gesture and its meaning didn't escape her.
She beamed at him, "Good morning."
They spent that day working out details with Holly and on the phone with the family lawyer. Their father had left provisions for Holly and Tyler to get the big house and Kit to get the one Holly and Tyler currently occupied. The assumption was Lindsay was staying in New York.
Lindsay and Flack were to leave on the first flight out the next morning. Lindsay and Kit prepared a big meal for Holly, Tyler, Paulie, Flack and themselves.
Over dinner Holly asked, "Lindsay, Tyler asked for your room to be his. Should I send anything of yours to you in New York?"
"No, you can toss anything you need to. I'm not attached to any of it." Her words seemed the family mantra. Flack wanted to suggest the cheerleading uniform but thought better of it in mixed company.
After dinner, Tyler and Holly left first. Then Kit left with Paulie amid many assurances that Flack and Lindsay could manage to get themselves to the airport in the morning. When they left Lindsay leaned her back against the front door and let out a loud sigh.
"They're not that bad." Flack said.
Lindsay closed her eyes for a minute and then smiled, "I'm sure to you, they don't seem that bad."
Flack helped her clean up, and was standing next to her when she finished the dishes. They were conversing about family, upbringing, religion, cheerleading, anything. When she hung her dish towel on the rack and shut off the water she looked up at him. He was an oasis. She could get lost in his eyes. He was this man from New York that she knew to be tough and sexy, and smart, and kind. He was here, with her, in Montana. He was breath-taking. He turned, his hip leaning on the counter, he was facing her.
"Flack, can I have a pass?" she asked looking in his blue eyes.
"A pass?" he asked softly. He had seen her in so many new lights over the last few days. She had this strength that awed him, and this mystery that intrigued him, and this beauty and softness that drew him deeper and deeper in.
"Yes, a five minute pass for not being allowed to kiss you. I promise when its up, nothing more will happen until we're home in New York and you say it's OK. But you've been next to me, talking to me, near me, for days. I can't explain the science of it to you, but if I can't kiss you now, I might pass out." He noticed that to her now, New York was 'home.'
He laughed. He put his hand on her upper arm. "Monroe. Please know that its not that I want to be enforcing you not kissing me. Good God, that's not what I want. I just want to be fair to you. If what you think you are feeling is real, it can keep. I'm not going anywhere. Unless you tell me to go away, I will be by your side. But if you're just hurt and lonely, and reaching, I don't want to be the one who uses that to get close to you." His body seemed disconnected from his train of thought as he took a step closer to her, making the gap between them so narrow that her body was lightly pressing against him.
"Ok Flack. I appreciate that." He could feel her breath as she spoke. "You're a perfect gentleman, and incredibly sweet and thoughtful. But that just makes me need to kiss you more." Her hands were around his waist, her voice soft.
"Monroe…"
"Just a five minute pass." She said. She didn't wait for an answer as her body leaned against his. She had to stand on her toes, and she pressed her lips to his, and parted his mouth with her tongue. He kissed her back. He couldn't stop that, there was nothing he wanted more than to kiss her.
After a few minutes she stopped and leaned her head against his chest. She could hear his heart pounding. He held her, there in the kitchen next to the sink in her dead Father's house, but he knew the next morning he was taking her home.
That night she made no pretext of sleeping in her own room. She changed and came into Flack's bed, waiting for him to be ready to go to sleep. He sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing the cream on his burns. She knelt behind him and took the medication from his hand. She gently spread it on the jagged burns that wrapped around to his back She knew it would be impossible for him to reach on his own and she could see it wasn't healing nearly at the rate as the wounds on his stomach. She laid her palm gently covering as much of the burn as she could with her hand and kissed the back of his neck, handing him back the tube.
When he shut off the lights and laid down in bed, she leaned over and kissed him gently on the lips. "Thank you for being here Flack."
He made no reply. He could not respond, all he wanted to say was that with her was the only place he wanted to be, but he had to keep a distance. When she fell asleep she was holding her body against his left arm the way she had the other night. It wasn't lost on him that he was literally holding her arms length away.
By 3am when he woke from the nightmare he couldn't remember, their bodies had shifted through the night. Her head laid on his bare chest and his arm around her back. When he started she woke too. She could feel him breathing quickly and the sweat that covered him. She knew it was the explosion.
"Flack," She whispered. "Its OK." She ran her hand over his cheek, and turned his face to her and gently kissed him. She wanted to do anything for him. To soothe him, to take his pain away. She ran her hand through his hair. "I am by your side too." She whispered. She kissed his cheek and neck. He said nothing. Her hand remained on his face until his breathing calmed and she thought he was asleep. "My Don," she said kissing his neck once more, and falling asleep herself with her head on the left side of his chest.
