A/N: Okay, serious question for everyone, how long is too long for a fic? I have 16 chapters so far and haven't even dug into the intense stuff yet. Just curious what everyone thinks.
Ok, on with the fic. Enjoy a little taste of Paul & Indie ;)
Paul.
I wonder about her all night.
What kind of person she was before all that shit happened to her.
What kind of person she is now.
She's so sweet and playful, but I can't get that occasional lost look in her eyes out of my head, or that look of fear in the dead of night, when she's staring out of the window into the dark.
What about the way she jumps at loud noises and barely ever eats? What was her life like before that?
Did she have a lot of friends? Boyfriends?
I growl at the thought.
Where did she go to school? If she did. Of course she did though, right? I bet she got good grades. She's a smart girl.
Where's her family at? Her parents?
Does she have siblings? Grandparents? Pets? What was her childhood like?
I can only hope it was better than mine.
It fucks you up in more ways than one when your parents hate you. I still don't know why my old man fought for custody of me. Probably for the tax break, or maybe so he always had someone there to beat the shit out of when he needed to.
How would she feel about my situation?
How I'm stuck taking care of my old man when all I want is for him to die and put us both out of our misery? He's lost his fucking mind, doesn't know who I am, and still manages to make my life a living hell.
Would she think badly of me if she knew I hated his fucking guts?
/
To: Indie
Message: Can't make it for round 2.. Sry. I'll make it up 2 u.
/
"Callan! Where's my coffee?"
I roll my eyes and put my phone back in my pocket. "Yeah, Pa, hang on."
He lives off coffee these days. Guess it's better than the alcohol, but his kidneys and liver are shot to hell either way. Doc says it's amazing he's still alive. Amazing isn't the word I'd choose, but whatever.
Honestly, he's a ticking time bomb. One of these days they'll call me and tell me he finally detonated. But until then, I'm stuck with him.
My phone buzzes.
/
From: Indie
Message: I hope everything is ok..
/
God, she's perfect.
I could've killed Ian last night, not just for fucking with her, but then bringing up McKayla like that. Now she's probably got it in her mind that I'm hung up on someone else, and me skipping out on the last day of the event weekend probably isn't any less suspicious.
Which would be the lesser of two evils to tell her the truth about: McKayla or my old man?
Sighing, I set Pa's coffee on the table in front of him. He drinks damn near a gallon a day. Sue makes him drink water when she takes care of him, but I don't give a shit what he drinks. I'd almost hand him a bottle and watch him drown himself to death at this point.
"Why are you moping?" It's more like he's scolding me than asking a question.
I force myself not to snap and take a seat across from him. "I'm not."
"Where's Rachel been? I don't like the new girl." The new girl is a registered nurse in training. I think her name's Jasmine, and Sue recommended her until I figure something else out.
"I told you, Rachel and I broke up."
He scoffs. "Rachel and your no good dad broke up. Doesn't mean she can't still come around."
Yeah, he thinks I'm my own son. Like I said: lost his fucking mind.
"I don't know what to tell you, Pa."
I can't fucking stand being around him. Everything he says, every time he moves or swallows or breaths – it fucking makes my entire body rigid with anger. Sometimes I'm afraid I'll kill him if he doesn't die on his own first.
"Women," Pa grumbles, his shaky hand bringing his coffee up. "Good for three things: cleaning, cooking, and fuc—"
"Can you not?" I rub my temples and rest my elbows on the table. My patience level is at a zero right now.
He grumbles some more and I spend the next fourteen hours alternating between hating him and feeling sorry for his ass. What a shitty life – everyone knowing you've lost your mind but you. Can't cook for yourself, can't walk up the stairs by yourself, and can't even barely take a piss by yourself. It's pathetic. I'd call it karma for the way he treated me, but I'm still the one stuck taking care of him in the end.
Maybe it's my karma.
Thank god I don't have to sleep here at least. Sue lives across the street and Pa usually calls her if he needs something. That woman is a saint.
Just after ten, he finally passes out.
I roll my neck as I walk outside and stretch. Too bad it's Sunday and no one's out doing anything. I guess I should try and get some sleep before patrol, but I really don't want to. There's other things on my mind.
I pull my phone out and send a quick text.
/
To: Indie
Message: U up?
/
I walk aimlessly down the road to waste time while waiting for a reply.
Maybe she's already asleep. I kinda hope she is, actually. For the sake of her health. And honestly I could use some sleep, too, before patrol tonight.
My phone buzzes.
/
From: Indie
Message: Ya, Jos and Emb r gone. I can't sleep. Want to hang out?
/
I can sleep when I'm dead.
/
To: Indie
Message: I'll b there in 10
/
I drop my phone in my pocket and put my shoes on, then rethink it and take them back off. It'll be faster if I phase.
She's there in the living room window with every single light in the house on, and I'd be able to hear the music from here even without the wolf ears. I'd hate to be the one to tell her if anything that'll all attract more attention.
She's safe here. I wish she felt that way.
I dress in the cover of the trees and wave once she can see me. She rushes to unlock the front door, lets me inside, then slams it behind me and turns the deadbolt, letting out a heavy breath.
It's kind of funny, but kinda breaks my heart, too.
When our eyes meet, she bursts into laughter and puts her hand on her forehead. She's dressed in a sweater and a pair of little shorts that make her legs look miles long.
Fuck, she's got great legs.
I clear my throat and look around the room awkwardly.
There's a fire going, the radio is on some pop station, and the TV's on, too. There's an open bottle of red wine on the island counter in the kitchen and a fancy glass half-full next to it.
"Started the party without me, huh?" I crack a smile as she pushes herself away from the door and walks into the kitchen.
"I thought maybe it would distract me from being alone," she picks up the glass and swirls the liquid. "Didn't really work."
"Where are they, anyway?" I snag a stool opposite her and rest my elbows on the counter. I'm going to kill Embry for leaving her unattended.
Shrugging, she takes a sip and curls the glass into her chest. "Karaoke bar, maybe?"
I snort. "You know, she used to make us all sit in rows so she could perform," I tell her. "And she sang in literally every single talent show since I moved here, and probably even all the ones before that."
My stomach suddenly growls louder than I'd like to admit and I realize I haven't eaten all day.
Indie gives me an amused smile. "Hungry?"
"Starving, actually. I'm gonna order a pizza."
"I can cook you something." She sets the glass down and pushes her sleeves to her elbows. "Are you picky?"
"Definitely not." Those words are like music to my ears.
Humming, she turns on her heels and opens the pantry. I scan the back of her legs for a brief moment before she spins around with a box of pasta and some other miscellaneous ingredients and cans.
"I make a mean chicken parm," she tells me, opening the fridge next. She takes out chicken, a few eggs, and a block of cheese.
"They keep parmesan?"
Her laugh echoes over the chorus of a catchy song I'm tapping my foot to the beat of. "Yeah right. They'd probably starve if it wasn't for me. Do you want something to drink?"
I help myself to one of the beers in the fridge and hop up on the counter to watch her cook. She seems to know her way around the kitchen. Her thin fingers crack eggs into a shallow dish and she starts the over, swaying to the music as she reaches back for her wine glass. I hand it to her and our fingers brush.
"Where'd you learn to cook?"
Using a can opener, she opens and dumps a few cans of crushed tomatoes into a pot on the stove. "My dad was a chef," she says with a smile in her voice. I already know something bad happened by the way that she said it.
"Was?"
She pauses but then continues adding ingredients to and stirring the pot. "He died shortly before…"
I frown. "I'm sorry, Indiana. I had no idea."
"It's ok, it was a long time ago. I miss him, but we'll always share this." She grabs the bottle of wine and dumps some into the sauce. "His secret weapon," she explains with a smile.
She suddenly looks so small standing there.
I climb off the counter and move to her side, looking down as she finishes her glass of wine and starts to refill it.
"My dad's dead, too." At least, he might as well be. I feel bad lying to her, but he's not there anymore – just some senile personality in his old shell of a body. It almost doesn't even feel like a lie. I really do think a part of him died that night…
She looks up at me. "What happened?"
"He used to drink a lot," I reply, taking the spoon from her so I can stir the sauce. "Got old. Couldn't keep up with it anymore."
Leaning into me, she presses her head against my arm. "That's awful," she mumbles.
"We never got along, so I can't say I know how you feel, but you're not alone."
Her arm slips around my waist and she takes the spoon away from me. "I'm cooking for you, remember?"
I squeeze my arm around her shoulder and press a kiss into her hair, then take my spot on the counter again.
We talk while she cooks and I help her finish off the bottle of wine once my beer is gone. I've never been a wine guy, but was I gonna say no to her?
There must be something about alcohol with her, because she's full of questions again, just like the night of the party. I think it's cute the way she opens up and becomes a giggling mess of words when she's tipsy. Not really fair to her though since it takes a hell of a lot more than a beer and some wine to get me drunk.
More wonder. Does she realize she's doing it? Does she retain all of the information when she wakes up?
Does she think about me after I'm gone?
When the food's done, she dishes the majority of it onto one plate and a damn-near microscopic portion onto another. My stomach roars with hunger and the second she puts the fork in my hand, I'm digging in.
My mouth waters before I even take the first bite. It might be the best fucking thing I've ever eaten – even better than Emily's cooking, no offense to her.
"Oh my god," I moan around my fork. "You're a culinary genius."
She giggles and sips down the last of the wine in her glass. "My dad," she puts a small bite of chicken in her mouth, "has restaurants all over the world."
"What are they called?"
"There's so many, but the biggest chain in America is called 'Gerard's'."
I choke.
"Are you okay?" She rushes to the fridge and brings back a bottle of water.
Wiping at my mouth, I put my fork down and take a drink. "There's one of those in Tacoma. I used to eat there all the time with Jesse's family before I moved."
I remember it always being packed on the weekends – no matter the time of day. It's crazy to have that connection with her and going my whole life never knowing the significance of it until now.
A huge smile spreads across her face. "We should go!" she says excitedly.
"Right now?"
She laughs. "No, it's almost eleven-thirty."
Oh yeah, duh.
"Sometime soon. Maybe we can go see Jesse while we're there."
My heart pounds.
She accepts me so easily into her life, as if I've always had a place there. Can she feel it, too? The imprint? Does her subconscious know that we were once two parts of the same star? Searching for one another through every past life?
"He'd like that." My voice is so low it barely comes out.
I want her to know. So fucking bad. About all of it. The phasing, the imprint, the history of my past – everything. I want her to know I'll always keep her safe. I'll always be here. She'll always be the most important thing in my life. I don't want her to wonder if things will ever be okay again, I want her to know they will.
She moves to the seat next to me, hair spilling over her shoulders and leg pressed against mine, and rests her cheek against her clasped hands. She looks exhausted, but beautiful.
"What are you thinking about?"
I search her tired eyes. "You," I reply honestly. "You're beautiful."
Her heart patters unevenly in her chest and a pinkness rises to her cheeks, but she doesn't look embarrassed. It's something else.
She chews on her lip for a second and then rubs them together.
"You're beautiful, too." Her voice is barely a whisper and I'd laugh at that comment if she hadn't said it the way she did. Those pretty green eyes drop to my lips, eyelashes fluttering, and my pulse quickens.
I inhale slowly, her scent swirling in my lungs. "Yeah?" It comes out a lot raspier than expected. My throat feels like it's constricting in anticipation.
The world in the background starts to blur. I can feel the energy in the air buzzing between us. She's so close I'd barely have move to catch her lips with mine. Would that be taking advantage of her? Is it taking advantage of her if I lean in and tilt my head, just a little bit?
Her heart starts racing and the next thing I know her soft, plush lips are melting against mine. I kiss her back, more aggressively than I meant to with the way I practically shove out of my chair, and slide my hand along her jaw to the back of her neck.
A soft whimper chimes in the back of her throat and I'm instantly hard at the sound. Her lips part and my tongue dives in, experiencing firsthand how I'd always wondered she'd taste.
Her hands clasp at the back of my neck and she lifts her body against me until I hoist her up into my arms, stumbling into the living room and falling back on the couch, our teeth clashing.
"Shit, you okay?" I ask, panting. My hands grip her bare, silky thighs and she tangles hers in my hair and draws me back to her lips.
Her lips are soft like petals, breath sweet like honey – even with the wine – and tongue like velvet. She shifts in my lap, tongue diving into my mouth, and her heat brushes against my dick. I get the sudden rush of the most intoxicating scent on the air and my head instantly fogs.
Her arousal.
It starts a frenzy in me. I hold her hips still and lift myself against her, grinning into her gasp and extending my neck to slide my tongue deeper into her soft mouth. With two quick motions – one to push my sweats down and one to move her thin shorts to the side – I could be buried deep inside her.
But then, someone, somewhere, in control of the universe, decides to fuck with me.
The front door flies open and Josie and Embry stumble through attached at the lips. Indie hops off of me so quick and with such grace it's almost like she didn't just down ¾ of a bottle of wine by herself.
I prop a leg up to hide my – very obvious and very painful – erection and pretend to be looking at something on my phone.
The two mood-killers break apart and I see Embry's nostrils flare as he picks up on the scent in the room and yeah, he definitely knows what we were doing, and I definitely want to murder him even more, now.
I sniff the air, too, just to get even with him, and his eyes narrow. They smell like sex and ashtrays.
Yeah, you don't like it either, huh?
"Oh, Paul!" Josie sounds surprised, but I doubt she really is.
Indie turns around to face her. "I was just cooking him dinner," she says quickly.
Even I can tell how guilty that excuse sounds. I have to stifle a laugh.
Now Josie definitely knows, too. "Ah," she hums, an amused look on her face. She and Embry awkwardly linger for a moment. "Well, we're gonna…"
I cough into my elbow and stuff my phone back into my pocket. My boner is definitely gone now. They link fingers and Josie hugs Indie as they pass and disappear into their bedroom. I really don't want to hear them going at round four or five or whatever number they're on since they've been gone.
Indie looks at me and we both start laughing. I push myself off the couch and scratch at the back of my neck. "You better get some sleep. I have patrol in a couple hours anyways."
"Will you stay?" she asks, fingers playing with the hem of her sweater. "Until you have to go to work…"
I approach her and rub her shoulders gently with my hands, kneading the frail muscles under the skin. "Sure," I answer, voice still thick with want, but quiet, because I'm afraid I'll scare her off if I'm too loud or move too quickly.
She takes my hand and leads me up to the loft where she sleeps. It's cramped and kind of claustrophobic, but cozy and it smells like her. The bracelet I got her is on the shelf right near her pillow.
I smile. She's too cute.
Crawling under the covers, she yanks out a pillow wedged between the bed and the wall and puts it next to hers.
I think that's my invitation.
I kick off my shoes and lay down next to her on top of the covers. I'll roast us both if I go under them, and my dick would probably be hard again in seconds. Her fingers curl into my shirt and she presses herself as close to me as she can. My arm slips under her head and with my free hand I set an alarm on my phone – just in case I fall asleep.
"Paul?" she whispers after a yawn.
I hum in response and tuck my chin over her head.
"You're really special, you know." Her sleepy voice is even cuter than her tipsy voice.
I laugh quietly. "Not as special as you.."
She tenses slightly and I hear her swallow. Worried I've crossed a line, I press a kiss into her hair and squeeze my arm around her.
"It's there, right?" she asks, voice barely audible, even for me. "Do you feel it, too?"
"Yeah," I whisper. "I do."
Her next breath comes out shaky. "I wanna know everything about you.."
This time, I tense.
That could mean a million things. It could be innocent – that she really just wants to know things about me – or it could mean something else. Did Josie say something? Or Leah?
Leah wouldn't have. It's against pack rules, though I guess she's not really in our pack anymore, but to tell her about me would mean she would have to tell her about her, and I doubt she'd do that.
"What do you want to know?"
We're whispering now. Josie and Embry have turned the music on in their room, which thankfully is drowning out any sounds of whatever they're doing in there, and is also acting as double to cover our voices in case Embry is being nosey.
"Anything."
I take a deep breath. I don't even know where to start with this.
When I finally open my mouth to say something, I realize her breaths have changed; even and slow.
She's asleep.
I kiss the side of her head and hold her tightly against me. She fits perfectly. Every curve, the way her head is tucked under my chin, her arms folded between our chests.
They say you become whatever she needs; a protector, a friend, a lover. They fail to mention that she's exactly what you need, too.
A/N: Mmmmm Paul. Let me know what you guys think! Thanks for reading xx