Caged Read Online Free Page A
breathe.
“There’s no blood, so that makes it a less interesting story for later, but better for now. Do you feel dizzy? Faint? Nauseated?”
Apparently he was not only a hero but a trained medical professional too. Is he going for Sainthood? I soon found him asking me an all-too-familiar question.
“Can you speak?” he asked softly, still grinning that grin that made me think he found this whole situation entirely too entertaining for my liking.
“Yes, I can. Sometimes I just choose not to,” I said with just enough hostility for him to realize I didn’t enjoy being the butt of his joke.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. I was just concerned that you might have a concussion; you really hit your head pretty hard on the cabinet,” he said while consciously wiping the smile from his face. It appeared to take a considerable amount of effort for him to manage the task, but I appreciated both the effort and the outcome.
“What exactly were you doing down there?” he asked innocently.
“I lost something. A ring.”
He turned his head somewhat mockingly to look around at the showroom, full of jewelry, most of which were rings.
“Not those. This one is important, personal. I can’t lose it. Ever,” I said as my voice slowly softened, becoming mournful. He smiled a different smile at me as he told me he’d help. Even after all my months of obsessing about this man, needing to know who he was, his name, and his memories, he paled in importance at that moment.
“I have to find my ring.”
4
We spent the next two hours tearing apart my store, then putting it back together. Both tasks were accomplished with nearly exclusive silence, barring the few “excuse me” and “oops, sorry” utterances. I was starting to lose hope when finally, he popped his head through the door separating the showroom from the back studio, a cheesy grin plastered across his face. He walked towards me extending a cupped hand, in which a well-worn and engraved platinum ring was delicately laid.
I screamed with relief and delight, snatching the ring from him and putting it on. Before I could think clearly, I jumped into his arms and gave him the biggest bear hug I could, legs wrapped tightly around him and all. I stayed there for about fifteen seconds before I realized that my koala impression was not only completely inappropriate, but horribly awkward. With as much grace as I could gather, I climbed down the man-whose-name-I-still-didn’t-know. I dropped my gaze to the floor wanting to crawl into a hole and die.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“You’re welcome?” he said, pausing in an effort to draw my name from me.
“Ruby. My name is Ruby.”
He chuckled before responding.
“I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but I think we’re well past that stage by now,” he said, reaching his hand towards me. “I’m Sean.”
Like a reflex that I couldn’t control, “Nice to meet you too”, flew out of my mouth, completely disregarding the point he had just made.
His face was as perfect as I’d remembered. He looked like a supermodel, but roughed up somehow. Harder. More rugged. His eyes were a green I wouldn’t have thought possible. They were so clear and bright, the color of new grass in the spring with hints of a darker, hunter green shade that shadowed the outer edges. They were by far the most amazing things I’d ever seen, and seeing them again was like the first time; I was awestruck. They were framed by beautiful eyelashes that were far too long and thick to belong to a man; it really wasn’t fair. His cheek bones were angular, almost harsh with a five o’clock shadow that likely showed up only minutes after he shaved. His nose was the perfect balance of symmetry, stateliness and size, being prominently featured, but not too large to look right. His mouth was a shade of reddish-pink that looked like he just got slapped (or brutally kissed), bringing all the blood to the surface of that delicate skin.
“There’s no blood, so that makes it a less interesting story for later, but better for now. Do you feel dizzy? Faint? Nauseated?”
Apparently he was not only a hero but a trained medical professional too. Is he going for Sainthood? I soon found him asking me an all-too-familiar question.
“Can you speak?” he asked softly, still grinning that grin that made me think he found this whole situation entirely too entertaining for my liking.
“Yes, I can. Sometimes I just choose not to,” I said with just enough hostility for him to realize I didn’t enjoy being the butt of his joke.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. I was just concerned that you might have a concussion; you really hit your head pretty hard on the cabinet,” he said while consciously wiping the smile from his face. It appeared to take a considerable amount of effort for him to manage the task, but I appreciated both the effort and the outcome.
“What exactly were you doing down there?” he asked innocently.
“I lost something. A ring.”
He turned his head somewhat mockingly to look around at the showroom, full of jewelry, most of which were rings.
“Not those. This one is important, personal. I can’t lose it. Ever,” I said as my voice slowly softened, becoming mournful. He smiled a different smile at me as he told me he’d help. Even after all my months of obsessing about this man, needing to know who he was, his name, and his memories, he paled in importance at that moment.
“I have to find my ring.”
4
We spent the next two hours tearing apart my store, then putting it back together. Both tasks were accomplished with nearly exclusive silence, barring the few “excuse me” and “oops, sorry” utterances. I was starting to lose hope when finally, he popped his head through the door separating the showroom from the back studio, a cheesy grin plastered across his face. He walked towards me extending a cupped hand, in which a well-worn and engraved platinum ring was delicately laid.
I screamed with relief and delight, snatching the ring from him and putting it on. Before I could think clearly, I jumped into his arms and gave him the biggest bear hug I could, legs wrapped tightly around him and all. I stayed there for about fifteen seconds before I realized that my koala impression was not only completely inappropriate, but horribly awkward. With as much grace as I could gather, I climbed down the man-whose-name-I-still-didn’t-know. I dropped my gaze to the floor wanting to crawl into a hole and die.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“You’re welcome?” he said, pausing in an effort to draw my name from me.
“Ruby. My name is Ruby.”
He chuckled before responding.
“I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but I think we’re well past that stage by now,” he said, reaching his hand towards me. “I’m Sean.”
Like a reflex that I couldn’t control, “Nice to meet you too”, flew out of my mouth, completely disregarding the point he had just made.
His face was as perfect as I’d remembered. He looked like a supermodel, but roughed up somehow. Harder. More rugged. His eyes were a green I wouldn’t have thought possible. They were so clear and bright, the color of new grass in the spring with hints of a darker, hunter green shade that shadowed the outer edges. They were by far the most amazing things I’d ever seen, and seeing them again was like the first time; I was awestruck. They were framed by beautiful eyelashes that were far too long and thick to belong to a man; it really wasn’t fair. His cheek bones were angular, almost harsh with a five o’clock shadow that likely showed up only minutes after he shaved. His nose was the perfect balance of symmetry, stateliness and size, being prominently featured, but not too large to look right. His mouth was a shade of reddish-pink that looked like he just got slapped (or brutally kissed), bringing all the blood to the surface of that delicate skin.