A/N Thanks again for all the reviews. I really hope you guys are enjoying this story as much as I am in writing it. Please let me know what you think.
Chapter Eleven
Erin wraps her fingers around Rick's forearm as he places the ice pack gently against the throbbing ache in her cheek, wincing with her when she hisses at the contact. The chill of the refrigerant sends a taste of winter down her spine, cooling her instantly against the heat inside the tent as his empathetic wince reverts back into a scowl.
"What part of 'Stay away from that guy' did you not understand?" he asks rhetorically in a tone that matches his expression, though the soft caress of his thumb across her good cheek belies the anger she knows is still roiling inside the marrow of his bloodied hand. "What the hell were you thinking, Erin?"
"I was thinking that I could show Carol what a monster her husband is," she replies somewhat defensively.
"And what makes you think she doesn't already know?" he questions, a definitive edge around the controlled calmness of his tone.
"Well, of course she knows, but I think she also has a twisted conception that she deserves his abuse," she answers. "I don't know," she continues with a resigned sigh. "I just wanted her to see him for who he really is - that he'd hurt anyone, even when they don't deserve it."
The deputy lowers his chin and raises his eyebrows, giving her an incredulous smirk.
"What? You think I deserved this?!" she asks hotly, raising her index finger from his forearm and aiming it toward the ice pack beneath his hand.
"Of course not," he says giving her a more sympathetic look as he strokes her jaw gently. "But you had to know it would come to this."
"I knew. I just didn't know he would hit so hard. Fuck, it hurt."
Watching him shake his head at her as if she were an obstinate child gets her bristly back up again. "Stop looking at me like that, Rick," she says, squeezing his arm while she tries to take a step backward.
He drops the ice pack onto Carl's cot and pulls her into his arms before she can back away from him. "Come here."
Reluctantly, she wraps her arms around his waist and lays her good cheek against his chest, relaxing as his heart beats steadily beneath her ear. "I know it was stupid. Now anyway."
"Extremely stupid."
"Well, thanks for agreeing with me now, sheriff," she responds tartly.
"He could've really hurt you, Erin," he says tightly and she feels his body tense up as the constrained fury rises closer to the surface once again. She rubs the lean muscles of his back soothingly as he vibrates with vengeful energy. "Christ, I could've killed that bastard. If Shane hadn't pulled me off…," he pauses, releasing a deep breath.
"You would have stopped anyway," she tells him. "You would have," she repeats when she leans back to see him shaking his head in denial.
"I don't know. I haven't felt that kind of rage in a really long time, but it's still there. I hate that it's still there, that he's still there."
A bitter ripple of guilt creeps into her heart at what her actions had forced Rick to do. She brings her hands up to rest on his chest as compassion emanates from her green eyes. "He's not there, honey. You're not your father, Rick," she says softly with a slight shake of her head. "You could never be like him." Gazing into his sad blue eyes with the shadows of pain that still breathe at the edge of his soul, her heart breaks for him.
"Don't look at me like that, Erin. I don't want your pity," he says, pulling his chin back.
Lifting her hands to his whiskered jaws before he can put too much distance between them, she bores the truth into his gaze. "I feel sorry for the boy who grew up with that asshole for a father, but I have nothing but respect for the man that boy became."
When he swallows hard, silently regarding her with a look of hopeless yearning, she lowers her eyes to his lips as the world outside their tent drifts quietly into the ether. A thread of tension lays taut between them as his eyes rake over her face, from her high cheekbones to her mouth… to her eyes…to her chin… and then back to her mouth, hovering over her lips with a longing that she can feel as strongly as the hands that are now gripping her hips.
When he makes no move to lower his head to hers, she draws herself up, leaning in to meet the softness of his mouth, letting her eyes fall closed in the tenderness of the moment. The gentle pressure of his lips moving against hers wakes the flutter in her belly as a band of heat flows over her chest, igniting a spark of profound longing.
He parts his lips.
She tilts her chin.
A soft moan escapes his throat.
Her lips melt into his, tasting the tonic of their blended breath. She angles her head a little bit more, searching for that perfect fit as she opens her mouth to his, waiting for his tongue to come inside.
A deeper groan seeps from his chest and then he pulls away, breaking the connection abruptly. He lifts his hands to her shoulders and takes a step back, holding her nearly at arm's length. "We can't do this, Erin."
"Oh God, I'm such an idiot," she says, covering her mouth with her hands in an effort to erase the last twenty seconds of her life. "I'm sorry, I thought you wanted… never mind." Mortified, she backs away but he tightens his hold on her shoulders.
"Stop. I do want you - you can't imagine how much I want you. But we can't do this. I can't do this."
"Why not?" she says tremulously. "I don't understand." She reaches out to lay her hands against his chest in an effort to maintain their connection despite his distancing grip on her shoulders.
"Because I suck at relationships and it would only be a matter of time before I fuck things up and you end up hating me."
"I won't let you fuck it up, and I could never hate you." She clutches his shirt as she gazes up at him, hoping to convey the truth that fills her heart.
"You will, because I'll only end up hurting you. I can't take that chance," he says firmly and then his gaze softens on her. "You mean too much to me. Keeping you and Carl and Kelly safe is all that matters. I won't risk that for anything," he finishes in a more gentle tone.
She understands why he may feel that way but her willful nature refuses to make it easy for him. Squaring her shoulders, she releases his tee shirt and drops her hands from his chest. "Fine, I'll just hook up with Shane then," she declares, lightly threatening.
"That's not funny."
"No, it's sadly pathetic," she replies and squints her eyes over his shoulder as she pretends to contemplate another thought.
"You're not hooking up with Shane," Rick says as he lets go of her shoulders.
Ignoring the sense of jurisdiction that he seems to believe he's entitled to regarding her personal life, she meets his sharp blue eyes with a boldness in her soft green ones. "You're right. I think Daryl would be a better choice."
"Cut it out, Red," he responds curtly, clearly getting annoyed.
"Oh, I get it. You don't want me but you don't want anyone else to have me either. That's just priceless," she finishes with biting sarcasm.
"Come on, Erin. It's not that I don't want you. You know that I'm crazy about you and if things were different you wouldn't be able to keep me away."
"Like if we'd met three months ago?" she asks lightly in response to the softer tone of his voice.
The coolness in his eyes completely thaws and the air between them floats upon a strand of melting tension.
"You mean before I was shot and the world went to shit?" he answers, taking her hands in his and folding them against his chest.
"Yes, and technically we did meet before you were shot," she says, reminding him of that Easter morning when she had looked up frantically and seen him smile.
"Yeah, but my timing sucked. I admired the way you handled that asshole rabbit by the way."
"Thank you. And thanks for not getting me in trouble that day."
"You're welcome," he says, pulling her hands around his waist and drawing her against him.
Laying her forehead against his collarbone, she rubs his back in smooth circles and then lets her hands drift lower until her fingertips are dipping just inside the waistband of his jeans.
"Erin," he says, drawing out her name as a warning around a faint chuckle.
"Am I wearing you down yet?"
"God, you're not going to make this easy on me, are you?"
"Nope."
"Christ," he murmurs against her hair. "But we are going to keep things the way they are, honey. We have to."
"Okay. But can we still snuggle by the fire at night?"
"I wouldn't have it any other way."
"Or maybe I could snuggle with Daryl."
"Still not funny."
She flinches when his fingers squeeze the back of her neck but she doesn't let up. "Glenn?" she offers, chortling against his chest which earns her another squeeze.
"Keep it up, Red."
"Ow!" she cries, laughing as she shrugs her shoulders against the hand wrapped around her neck. In that instant, she knows that she would rather settle for laughing with him like this than being intimate in the biblical sense with anyone else. For now, that's enough.
"Now do you think you could stay out of trouble if I leave you alone for half an hour to go talk to Dale about setting up target practice?"
"I don't know. What's Merle doing right now?" she teases, looking up at his handsome face.
In response to the dubious smirk he gives her she says, "Don't worry, I'm not looking for any more fights today. You can talk to Dale while I sit here and twiddle my thumbs obediently." Her smile drips with sarcasm as she steps back and then catches his battered right hand as it falls from her shoulder. "But first, let me take care of this." She turns his hand over and presses her lips to the center of his palm before reaching for the medical kit, smiling to herself when she hears his breath catch at the touch of her lips on his skin.
...
A soft breeze stirs the still air as the sun makes its way down, relinquishing the day for the moon to take over as sentinel for the night. The camp is humming with lively energy as the group prepares a dinner of possum stew. Jibes and jests fly back and forth as they recall the many hits and a lot more misses that took place at the gun training session that afternoon. Despite the teaching skills of the leaders, a good amount of bottles and cans had survived unscathed at the rudimentary firing range that Rick and Daryl had created at the edge of the clearing near Proctor Creek. The lighthearted atmosphere is diminished only slightly when Shane joins them, throwing his own half-joking insults into the mixture while the group as a whole ignores Merle completely with his tactless barbs.
Erin hands Rick a bottle of water and drops into the chair next to him, exhaustion settling in quickly as the emotional and physical events of the day catch up with her. Looking across the campfire she sees Carol emerge from her tent with Sophia. She watches Carol turn back to speak through the door flap and Erin prays that her husband remains inside the tent, where he'd been since the fight with Rick earlier. She releases an anxious breath when the Pelletier women come to the large fire alone, asking if they can join in and offering their assistance with the meal.
Erin looks up at her friend standing before her, a touch of sorrow, remorse and a bit of apprehension filling her light blue eyes. "Of course. God, we'd love to have you with us," Erin replies warmly with an enthusiasm that she's helpless to contain. As Carol fills the chair next to her, she smiles in gratitude for her friend's presence after worrying about the state of their relationship all afternoon.
"So how was gun training?" Carol asks quietly.
"It was fun actually," Erin replies, trying to ignore the habitual look of caution that Carol had thrown toward the vicinity of her husband when asking the question. "Maybe you'll go with us next time," she adds, treading lightly around the subject that had started the whole debacle earlier.
"Maybe," Carol responds somewhat confidently, a glimmer of bravery shining through the two syllables.
Erin expels a sigh of relief that their friendship is still intact, and that Carol may be ready to start moving toward the hope of a future with more support from her friends, and less abuse from her husband.
A short time later, as metal forks clatter against plastic plates creating the comfortingly domestic sound of a large family dinner, easy conversation flows around bites of surprisingly tender meat and an assortment of canned vegetables.
"I can't believe how good this is Daryl. I never would've thought possum could be so tasty," Dale says after swallowing another mouthful of the marsupial.
"Please, stop reminding me what I'm eating. I'm trying not to picture his round little eyes and tiny pink nose,"Amy says glumly with her fork paused halfway to her mouth. "I was just getting used to the squirrels without seeing their faces in every bite I took."
"Just pretend it's filet mignon from a restaurant," Andrea suggests lightly as she gives her sister an encouraging smile. "That's what I'm doing."
"I'd rather pretend it's a giant slice of apple pie smothered in whipped cream," Amy replies, lowering the fork back to her plate.
"Ooh, that sounds good but I really miss my cheesecake," Carol says around a spoonful of vegetables.
"Not me, I want my hot… fudge... sundae. Mmm, mmm…," Jacqui adds, and then continues in a slow, silky voice, "I miss popping that juicy cherry into my mouth... sucking the cold vanilla ice cream on my tongue... and savoring the warm, chocolate syrup as it oooozes down my throat," the black woman finishes in a thick, sultry tone.
"God, I've never had a dessert that sounded that erotic," Kelly says wistfully as all the men shift uncomfortably in their seats.
Erin closes her eyes, getting lost in the sensual nature of the conversation. "Mmmm, I miss my vibrator," she adds softly then opens her eyes quickly when Rick sprays a mouthful of water across his lap, coughing and sputtering as his cheeks glow a deeper red than any of the embers crackling above the fire. She turns toward her deputy, patting his back to clear his lungs and leans in close to his ear. "Stick that in your dreams tonight, sheriff."
"What?" Sophia asks innocently from the other side of the fire. "What do you miss, Erin?"
Erin clears her throat loudly, grateful that nobody but Rick had heard her bold remark. "I said I miss my coffee maker, sweetie," she tells the young girl as Rick mutters a desperate plea to The Almighty as he buries his face in his hands.