Текст книги "Willing Captive "
Автор книги: Belle Aurora
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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 13 страниц)
I came-to a few minutes ago to a nurse taking my blood pressure. As soon as she sees me open my eyes, she smiles and says softly, “Hello, dear. Sorry to wake you.”
Her sweet, mature face is almost too much to bear. My eyes sweep the room. Panic sets in. Sitting up quickly, I ask in a hoarse voice, “The man who was here, where is he?”
Her face falls. “What man, dear?”
No. No!
My hands begin to shake. “The man who brought me here.”
Her face doesn’t show any sign of recognition. Pointing to the chair Rock sat in while I fell asleep, I almost shriek, “He was in that chair! I need to know where he is! It’s important!”
She steps away from me, clearly uncomfortable with my actions and raised voice. She says quietly but firmly, “Now, dear, you need to calm down. I’m sure we can find out where he went.”
My heart rate spikes on the machine. The beeping noise drills into my skull.
Hyperventilating, I rip at the IVs taped on top of my hand and in my inner elbow. Pulling the plastic clean out of my skin, I move to stand when the nurse yells out, “I’ve got a code red! I need hands!”
I stand on the mattress when two large men come into my room. Holding my hands out, I utter, “I just need to find my friend. That’s all.”
One of the men comes closer, nodding. His gentle eyes pull me in. “Okay, honey. Get down from the bed and we’ll go for a little walk around, alright?”
My shoulders slump in relief. Thank God, he understands.
Taking his hand, he helps me off the bed. And just when I smile up at him, something jabs me in the thigh. Snapping my head around, the other man pulls the syringe from my thigh and nods to the other man.
Son of a bitch!
The effects of the drug work fast. My vision blurs. Feeling lightheaded, my hold on his hand weakens, and I slur, “You tricked me.”
The man holds me tightly, and the last thing I remember is him whispering into my ear, “I’m sorry.”
***
I wake with a start, the vision of the safe house going up in flames fresh in my mind.
My father stands from the chair he was sitting in, and Mom—frazzled and tired looking —rushes over to the bed, clearly distressed. Putting her knee on the bed, she crawls over the covers to me and hugs me ferociously.
This is so unlike my mom that it startles me.
I hear all the time that daughters are usually close with their moms, but I never was. My dad kept me so close to him that Mom got tucked away in a corner. Feeling her body shake against mine, I wrap my arms around her, and breathe in her familiar scent. “It’s okay, Mom. I’m okay.”
Her voice cracks, “I was so worried. My baby all alone and scared.” She squeezes me tighter. I hadn’t realized how much I missed her hugs. She repeats on a whisper, “All alone and scared.”
I hold her and stroke her hair while I keep my eyes on dad. My brain, needing someone to blame, picks him. The easiest target.
Releasing Mom, I pull back from the hug as Dad approaches. Holding a hand out, I say, “Don’t.”
He stops mid-step, and I watch his face fall. My normally handsome Dad now looks exhausted. Fisting the sheets of the bed, I tell him through gritted teeth, “You should’ve told me. I would’ve never found out if Nox hadn’t given in and told me.”
Dad’s eyes fill with tears. “I’m sorry, Lily girl.”
My eyes match his tear-for-tear. I sniffle through quivering lips, “It won’t bring him back to me.” Suddenly furious, I lean forward and hiss, “I deserve to be happy. And I was happy with him!”
Understanding dawns on my father’s face. Mom grips my hand tightly.
Dad responds quietly, “Oh, Lily. I didn’t realize you’d—oh, darling. I’m so sorry.”
The anger melts away. Dipping my chin, I whisper, “He was it for me. We were meant to find each other.”
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Dad opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. Mom squeezes my hand again. “Tell me what you need, honey. Anything. I want to help.”
The anger returns with a vengeance. “You think a cup of cocoa will fix this?” My parents wear matching expressions of sadness. It just peeves me off even further. I screech, “You think a sandwich or a fucking cookie will fix this?”
Mom starts, “Baby, I-”
Looking away, I order, “Out.” Mom stops talking. I repeat, “Get out.”
We sit in silence for a minute before my parents, obviously hurt, stand to leave. When I hear them move towards the door, I call out, “I want Terah. Bring me Terah.”
I need my sister.
***
Seven hours later…
Tired, sore, and seriously pissed off, I roll my eyes when I hear a faint knock at the door.
I’m tired because of the sedatives they’ve been feeding me. I’m sore because my forearm, knees, and forehead are torn to shreds. And I’m pissed off because I want to go home where I can mourn the death of my boyfriend in peace. I bark, “What?” before turning to the door.
At the sight of my equally tired sister, I gasp. She offers a small smile, then asks, “Can I come in?”
Not trusting myself to speak, I nod and she walks over to me. Climbing onto the bed, she sits close to me, sitting up. Her arms open to me. I look at her through glossy eyes before I sink into her, resting my cheek onto her chest.
Terah rocks me gently, placing soft kisses on top of my head.
So many thoughts drift through my head, but regardless of how many there are, they always come back to Nox. A sob bursts out of me.
Then another.
And another.
Terah coos, “I’m so sorry, kid. I love you so much. I’m so glad you’re safe.”
She rocks me as I cry openly and freely for well passed an hour. Finally calming, I ask, “Where’s Jett?”
Her body stiffens at his name. No doubt Jonathon told her about what his plan was. After a moment’s silence, she says, “Gone, sweetie. They both are.”
Taking a moment for that to sink in, I realize I’ll be mourning for more than one person today. “How?”
Terah’s voice hitches, “Jamie was found in the apartment. Two gunshot wounds to his chest. Jett got too close to the explosions at the safe house you were kept at. He bled out on the back lawn. Jon said he had glass shrapnel all over his body. A shard of glass pierced his stomach.”
Sounding a little too indifferent, she states, “Jon said it would’ve been a painful way to die.”
I simply nod.
I need to change the subject. I can’t stand to talk about this, or even listen to it. Sniffing, I ask, “You coming home or you staying with Jon?”
The mood in the air changes. She cuddles me to her. “No, kid. I’m staying with you. We’re going home.”
I love her for that, but explain quietly, “I don’t know how long home will be home for.”
And she gets me. Offering her support, she states, “As long as you stay, I’ll stay, too. If you move on, I’ll move on, too. We’ll do it at your pace, honey. There’s no rush.”
Twelve hours later with clearance from the doctor, we head for home.
Chapter Twenty
That’s life
Lily
I can’t eat.
I can’t sleep.
I want to die.
Chapter Twenty-One
A new beginning
Lily
Today is the first day of the rest of my life.
***
Terah uses her knees to push the sofa to the right. Stepping back, we both tilt our heads and look. Both shaking our heads, we return to the sofa, and push further left.
Stepping back again, we survey our handy work. We smile at each other.
It’s perfect.
Okay, so that’s completely laughable. And if you saw my apartment, you’d understand why.
My father is devastated.
He begged me not to move. His begging turned into threats. I grew sick of the arguing, and decided silence was the better option. The day after I told him about the apartment, he sent me an email saying he’d added funds to my account to help me start my new life, and to please be safe.
Yep. An email.
We haven’t spoken much since I came home.
But I was glad he gave in. Not that I need his permission.
The thrill of victory I’d told myself I’d feel never actually came. There was a small part of me that felt guilty for taking that money, but the larger part of me said I needed to do this. I need to live my life. That’s the part I listened to.
Mom, on the other hand, decided she was going to spend every waking moment with me from the time I got home, until the time I was cured. Cured of my heartbreak.
My brain rolls its eyes.
And although I appreciate what she was doing, this was something I needed to do on my own. Being my mom, she wants me to have the best of everything.
I told her that the most content people didn’t have the best of everything. They just make the best of everything they’ve got.
I have a small, one-bedroom apartment in the city. It’s central to everything. I bought most of my furniture and housing accessories second-hand. I’ve learned to live on a budget, and got a job as a server at a steak house nearby.
My life is flawed. My job is hard. The wages are small. But I love it.
I am finally living.
I miss the days when things were simple.
Too much has happened. There are so many things that my mind will not let me forget. Constant reminders of the past few months haunt me.
My heart palpitates. I squeeze my eyes shut and breathe deeply. My therapist gave me breathing exercises and it surprised the shit out of me that they actually work.
In, two, three, four.
Out, two, three, four.
In, two, three, four.
My heart rate slows, and I take in a deep breath. I hold it for another four seconds, then exhale and go back to what I was doing.
Taking the box closest to me, I hand it to Terah with a smirk. She and Jon moved in together. Location unknown because of his hottie commando badassness. But I’m happy for her. And she made it clear that all I needed to do for her to come around was call.
So I called. And here she is.
“God, I hate moving. It sucks hairy balls,” she mutters, then quickly adds, “But it’s so exciting! The both of us out of Mom and Dad’s house, and actually doing things.” She pauses a moment. “Dad’s probably going to sell the mansion.”
He should. That house is more trouble than it’s worth. And to think he got it only for security. I chuckle to myself, thinking about how quickly Nox got in.
My heart sinks. Then palpitates. Hard.
I can almost feel it beating out of my chest.
Holy shit, will this ever get easier?
The bridge of my nose stings. I quickly start my breathing exercises. Terah, never one to miss anything, rubs my back. “Nice and deep, kid. I got you.”
And she does. Totally.
Terah has been my rock in this miserable time.
My heart returns to normal pace, and I check my watch. “You better go. Jon will be waiting on you.”
When she doesn’t reply, I look up at her clearly concerned face. She says with false excitement, “I was thinking I could stay here tonight. We can do a sleepover! Watch movies and eat popcorn. What do you think?”
Bless her. I love this woman. I really do.
But I know what she’s doing. So I lie right back to her. Stretching, I say cautiously, “Oh, honey. I’m sorry, I’d love to, but I am beat. As in beat. So I think I might just have a quiet one tonight. Besides, I have the morning shift at work tomorrow.”
Lies. Lies. All lies.
But this is the game we play of late.
Her face falls. And it actually looks genuine. Placing a hand on her shoulder, I squeeze. “Terah, I’m fine. Go home to your man. What are you doing tonight?”
She smiles dreamily, “It’s date night. We’re going to dinner, then out for a drink. Maybe some ice-cream or something.” She shrugs like it’s no big deal. But I know better.
Walking over to her, I open my arms, and she steps into my hug. “That’s great. I bet he spoils you.”
She chuckles into my hair. “He does. He’s the best.”
We leave it at that. Anymore talk about happy relationships turns my mood to shit.
Seeing her to the door, I wave her off, and halfway down the hall, she yells out, “We’re such shitty liars. We totally need lessons!”
And I burst into laughter, loving that we do this every single time.
My sister is the best.
Making my way back inside, I pause at the fridge, and peek inside.
Hmmm.
Think I’m going to need a little more than a box of bi-carbonate soda for dinner.
Time to go to the store.
***
Exiting my local store, I carry my bag full of groceries. And seriously! How expensive are groceries? Yeesh! I almost swooned when the checkout lady gave me my total.
Balancing the full, brown paper bag on my thigh, I rearrange myself, then walk on. But the sight of something familiar stops me.
My heart skips a beat.
I see him.
His back is to me. He’s walking away from me.
No.
I don’t think. I just run.
My bag of groceries weighs me down. I throw it to the side and keep running.
No matter how fast I go, I can’t seem to catch up with him.
My hands shake and my eyes blur. I must look like a crazy person running through the street sobbing. Wiping my watery eyes with my sleeve, I look again.
He’s gone.
“Fuck!” My heart pounds and blood roars in my ears. I keep running. Through gasping and shuddering breaths, I mutter “No,” over and over again.
I search and search but there’s no sign of him. He’s gone. I kneel in the center of the sidewalk. My body slumps forward, I cover my face with my hands, and let go.
Crying in frustration.
Crying for my loss.
Arms come around my body. I’m lifted into a strong, warm bear-hug. A deep voice whispers reassuring words that I can’t hear. Or just don’t want to.
I look up into warm, brown eyes. I croak, “What the fuck, Rock?”
His eyes become sad, and he quietly says, “Lovely Lily.” He looks around and states, “I shouldn’t be here.”
Gripping his shirt, I ask in desperation, “Is he dead? As in, really dead?”
Rock doesn’t answer for a long moment. Using his thumb, he wipes away my tears and tucks my hair behind my ear. His face is clear. It answers for me.
My heart breaks a little more.
Rock whispers, “He’s gone, sweetie.”
I still can’t accept it. “How do you know? Did they find him?”
He shakes his head. “They found bone fragments matching his in the rubble.”
My lip trembles, but I simply nod. He holds me tightly and silently. Wordlessly, we mourn together. Pulling away from him, I ask softly, “When can I see you again?”
Rock’s face plummets further.
I dip my chin, cover my eyes with one shaking hand, and cry harder. My heart is breaking even more. I’m losing them. All of them.
My first love.
My first real friends.
All the people I love and care about.
I lift my face to his and choke out, “Why?”
A single tear escapes Rock as he explains, “Because we don’t exist, babe. You can’t have imaginary friends.”
We stare into one another’s eyes. Rock begins to walk backwards.
Hyperventilating, I put a hand to my heart. I feel it crack a little more with every step he takes away from me. When he gets far enough away, he yells out, “You’ll never be alone, Lily.” He kisses his fingertips and places them on his heart. “I’ll always be watching.” Rock smiles a watery smile, and attempts to wink that cheeky wink of his, then he turns and walks out of my life.
Again.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The best place to be
Lily
If you could go back in time, what would you change?
I would change a lot about the life I was living.
I would stand up to my father. I would talk more openly to my mother. I would make friends. I would tell my sister how much I appreciate her love and support. Every. Single. Day.
I would be more outgoing and less passive. I would stand up for myself, and fight for my right to live the way I wanted to. I would take the reins on my life.
I would be brave.
It has been six months since the explosion. Six months since Nox was killed. Since he was taken from me.
You know that saying ‘time heals all wounds’? Time seems to be working against me for unknown reasons, because my wounds are still raw, gaping, and tender. But no one can see them. My heart and head are no longer separate entities. They are joined. And they work together to bully me. They both tell me the same thing.
Move on.
Tears fill my eyes, and I pick thin strands of dewy grass. Rolling them between my fingers, it’s a wonder I can feel the wetness on my fingertips. I don’t feel a thing anymore.
I’m numb. To my very core.
I haven’t seen my father in months. We talk on occasion, but a lot has changed. It’s not that I blame him for the position my family was put in, but I need space. I don’t really want to see anyone. I speak to Mom and Terah almost every day, but I haven’t seen Mom since I left the mansion.
My father begged me to come home, but now that the threat of being killed has been eliminated, I just want to be on my own.
I’m not a child. I’m a grownup, dammit.
There is a difference between living and existing. And mine was a dull existence.
No more.
But there is one dull and morbid thing I still like to do, and according to my therapist, it’s helping me a lot.
The cemetery seems to be a good place to go to mourn. I sit and watch other people visit the headstones of their loved ones. They must feel some form of connection, knowing they are close by.
Some chat. Some laugh. Some cry. Some remain silent.
I have nothing.
Nox…he was never found. I have no headstone to mourn at. People who don’t exist don’t get funerals or graves.
I read somewhere that some people are meant to fall in love but not be together. Anger surges through me. That’s just not fair. The bridge of my nose tingles and my eyes blur. I squeeze them shut and try to swallow past the lump in my throat.
I would give anything to see him again. Even for a moment.
I would tell him I love him once more. I would kiss his full lips again. I would put my heart and soul into our last meeting together.
If I had the ability to go back in time, I would not have left him. I wish I’d gone back for him and made him to come with me.
If I’d begged hard enough, would he have gone with me? Could I have saved his life somehow?
The uncertainty of what his answer might’ve been haunts me every day of my life.
So, here I sit, on a bench, under a tree in the middle of my local graveyard. I come every Sunday. I bring my eReader and I spend most of the day here. It does something to me. It makes me feel serene and respectful. I know I’m unlike the people who come to visit the graves of their loved ones, but I’m no longer a religious person, and if there were any place I could come to grieve, it would be a cemetery, right?
Mourning isn’t easy. The pain of grief doesn’t go away. You just find a place for it. Store it away somewhere only you have access to.
There are different stages of pain, all of which hurt like a hell. Mourning someone you love, though, is agony. I just wish the pain wasn’t so sharp and stabby.
Losing Nox has brought me so much clarity. I feel so ashamed that it took the loss of his life to make me see things I should’ve seen, what feels like a lifetime ago. He lifted the thick fog that was surrounding me, and sent it away.
Always protecting me, even in death.
I read somewhere that if you’re going through Hell, keep going. It’s the only way past it.
You have to face your pain, your guilt, and your sorrow. But when the strong hands of grief capture you, it is overwhelming, and completely devastating.
I fear I’ll never get past the stage of Hell I’m in.
The only way past grief is to grieve. It’s the high price you pay for a love so sweet.
I don’t think I’m ready to move on just yet.
Last Sunday, I was sitting at my regular bench, when I felt someone’s eyes on me. For a second, a note of panic went through me. I pretended to keep reading. A minute passed, and although I still felt eyes on me, the panic faded to nothing. Taking a chance, I looked up right in time to see Rock and Boo walk away from me. Boo’s back shook in what I’m sure were silent sobs, and Rock wrapped his arm around her waist. His hand came up to wipe at his own fallen tears. And somehow this made me feel content. A watery smile spread across my face and I stood, taking two small steps closer to them. When they reached the black SUV I’d travelled in many times during my stay at the safe house, they turned to face me. Holding my eReader to my chest, I lifted my free hand slightly, and extended my fingers in a motionless farewell.
Rock smiled, lifted his hand to his mouth, kissed his forefinger and middle finger and placed them over his heart. Boo smiled a shaky smile, and mouthed love you. Then I watched as they drove away.
So, of course, today I’ve been sneaking peeks all over the place, but sadly, they haven’t come.
I’m not very social, still. I’ve made a few friends at work. People around my age-group with similar interests, but I’m not forcing myself to get out there just yet. I’m comfortable in my loneliness.
There is one girl I’ve formed a bond with. Her name is Hailey and she’s a lot like Boo.
Badass with a hint of lady.
The second I spotted her at work, I knew she’d be a good friend to me. Hailey is my age, with dark hair, dark makeup, a petite body, and a great attitude. I call her Goth-chic.
She’s the only person who knows how I spend my Sundays. She told me if I needed her to come with, that she would. I explained it was something I like to do on my own. For a second, I thought about keeping my mouth shut and letting her come, but the new independent part of me opted against it. I was seriously surprised when she shot me a smile and replied, “Alrighty then, babe. You just let me know if you need me to come, and I’ll be there.”
This morning, I uploaded my eReader with the latest smuttiness and I’ve found a good one. I read and read and read, and before I know it, four hours have passed. Just when I stand and stretch, I hear someone move to sit at the opposite end of the bench. From my peripheral vision, I can see it’s a man with a large build. He wears jeans, a black tee and white sneakers. He also walks with a cane.
For a moment, I tell myself to face him with a greeting. But this really isn’t the place for nice conversation. I assume the man is here to do exactly what I am here to do.
Mourn.
I let him be. Sitting back down on the bench, I lift my eReader and pick up where I left off. The book has some serious funnies in it, and I’m trying really hard to be respectful and curb the laughter that bubbles up my throat.
I make some odd choking, gurgling noises. The man turns his head to face me.
Avoiding his eyes, I turn my bright red face the opposite way and pretend to cough.
Lifting my eReader so high that I’m hiding behind it, from the corner of my eye, I see that man stifle his grin.
Busted.
The man clears his throat before he practically whispers, “Funny book?”
Clearly mortified, I don’t look up from my book when I whisper back, “I’m sorry. That was rude. It won’t happen again.”
He leans to the side, his body close to mine when he replies just as quietly, “Nothing wrong with laughter. Some people say laughter can heal anything.”
Shaking my head slightly, I scoff, “Well, those people have never experienced true pain.”
Leaning back away from me, he allows a moment before he whispers, “Sounds like you know a little something about it.”
My cheeks flush and my brow furrows.
Suddenly angry, I drop my eReader to my lap with a plop and point to a grave I see every week, I point. “Look there.” The man doesn’t say a thing, but from my peripheral vision, I see his head turn to where I point. I tell him, “That little old lady? She’s here every weekend.” Dropping my hand, I go on, “Now this is just a guess, but I’d say she’s in her seventies. She comes here every weekend and she cries at the grave of her husband. Her husband had been dead for twenty years, and I see her here every single week.” I allow a moment’s silence before telling the man quietly, “Death ends a life. Not a relationship.”
Rant over.
I pick up my eReader and resume reading.
The man shifts a little closer to me. Unconsciously, I breathe him in. He smells woodsy and fresh. He says quietly, “If you know she comes here every week, that would mean you come here every week, too.” I don’t answer. He asks softly, “Who are you mourning?”
Suddenly my nose is tingling. I read on, but reply through quivering lips, “Someone I knew better than to fall in love with.”
The man shifts even closer to me, leans down, and whispers in my ear, “Can’t help who you fall in love with, princess.”
I freeze.
No. No. No.
My stomach knots. My head spins. The man says softly, “Breathe.”
I hadn’t realized I’d stopped. I inhale loudly. Unable to bring myself to look into the man’s face, my chest heaves as I ask, “What’s your name?”
He responds immediately in regular volume, “Well, someone once told me I look like an Adam.”
I know that voice. I’ve dreamt of that voice for the last six months. Every night, that voice haunts my dreams. My eyes blur, and I whisper, “You sound more like a Nox to me.”
The man scoffs teasingly, “Nox? What the hell kind of name is that?”
I can’t help it. I chuckle.
My chuckle turns into a laugh.
My laughter turns into a sob. Before I know it, I’m sobbing loudly on a bench…in a cemetery…sitting next to the ghost of the love of my life.
Holy hell. I’ve gone nuts.
Warmth covers my hand. I look down to see a large, calloused, scarred hand on mine.
I sob harder.
He squeezes my hand before pulling me into his chest, and wraps his strong arms around me.
“Oh my God. It’s finally happened. I’ve gone batshit crazy.” I speak into the warmth of his chest, and I feel his body shake with silent laughter.
His breath warms my ear as he whispers into it. “Lily, look at me.” Shaking my head, I close my eyes tight and cry into him. He repeats himself, “Look at me, baby.”
“I’m afraid to.”
He strokes my hair. “Why, baby?”
I whisper, “If this is a dream, I’ll just die.” A tear trails down my cheek. “My heart just couldn’t take it.”
His lips touch the shell of my ear. “Show me those pretty, green eyes.”
Goosebumps break out all over my body. I really want to look, but I don’t want to wake up from this dream.
Remember what you said? Even if just for a moment…
Moving back from him, I keep my eyes closed. Holding out my hands, he takes them into his warm, large ones and holds them tight. Taking a deep breath, I mutter, “I told myself if I ever got the chance to see you again, that I’d tell you a few things. So here goes.” My eyes burn and I thank God I haven’t opened them. “I love you. And every single day I live with guilt. I wish I’d never left you.” Tears fall from the corners of my eyes. I squeeze his hands tighter. “I could’ve saved you if I’d begged hard enough. I know you wouldn’t have left me. Then you’d be alive, and I’d disappear with you. I hated the life I was living. And you changed me. All for the better. And I thank God for the day I met you.”
Letting go of my hand, he cups my cheek and gently caresses it with his thumb. His nose touches mine. He breathes me in, then places his lips on mine in a kiss so gentle it makes my heart ache. Reaching up, I grip his upper arms in a death hold and deepen the kiss, crying all the while.
I don’t want this to end.
He tastes just like I remember. His lips feel the same, too. Unable to stand this sweet torture any longer, I pull away, dip my head, and sob silently.
“Please look at me, Lily.”
So I do.
I open my eyes and look right into his deep blue gaze. I bark out a shocked laugh, reach over, and squeeze his hands. Laugh-crying, I look up to the sky. “Thank you. Thank you, God.”
My head swirls. Sounds fade. And blackness overcomes me.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Homecoming
Lily
My heavy head pounds.
And the yelling doesn’t help.
“You are out of your fucking mind! Do you know that? You couldn’t have waited like I asked? Nooo.” That sounds like Rock.
“You think you could wait if it were Boo?”
I know that voice.
My body breaks into goosebumps and I bury myself further into the covers of my bed, listening.
Silence, then, “Yeah. That’s what I thought. Been too long already. Couldn’t wait.” Pause, then, “Couldn’t.”
Rock barks out a humorless laugh, “Yeah, you did real good, buddy. Your girl just fainted in a cemetery!” He claps, “Bravo.”
Silence.
A long silence.
He says quietly, “I just couldn’t wait to see her, man. She’s all I think about.”
My heart pounds.
He sounds so dejected. There are so many things I need to ask. I need answers. I’m confused and still very much mourning him, even though he’s here.
My mind is elsewhere. Left the building. Gone.
Slowly, I get out of bed without making a noise and creep down the hall. When I get there, I hear Nox ask, “Where’s Boo?”
Rock replies on an exhale, “She didn’t want to come.”
Wow. That hurts.
I love Boo.
He adds, “Too hard, man. She couldn’t say goodbye again. Fucked her up last time. Cried for weeks.”
Shit. That hurts even more. But I get it. I was the same.
Nox calls out, “I know you’re there, baby.”
Busted.
My heart palpitates. I’m worried. And nervous.
He says softly, “You take your time, princess. I know this isn’t easy.”
Clutching at the corner of the wall, I close my eyes, and swallow hard. Giving myself an internal pep talk, I straighten and walk out into the kitchen-slash-lounge-room-slash-dining-room.
What? My apartment is small, okay?
My heart stops at the sight of him.
He’s real.
And hurt.
Sitting on my crappy secondhand sofa, he reaches to the right of him for his cane and stands, smiling softly.
My stomach flips.
I missed that smile. I saw that smile in my dreams every night for six months.
I thought that smile was dead.
My body trembles. Completely overwhelmed, I cover my face with my hands, and burst into tears. Nox moves to come to me, but Rock beats him to it with, “Don’t worry, man. I got her.”
Rock wraps an arm around my waist and holds me steady while I cry. Wiping at my tears with shaking hands, I look over at Nox. My breath hitches. “I thought I’d never see you again.”
Gripping his cane so tightly his knuckles turn white, his face pained, he shifts from foot-to-foot. And just like he used to, he says something so perfect that I shiver. “I promised I’d come for you.” Still standing, he asks quietly, “I’m sorry, babe. Do you mind if I sit?”
My head clears, and I notice his hand on his cane is shaking as if he can’t hold himself up any longer. I nod and he sits back, breathing heavily.
All that from standing a few minutes?
Placing my hand on Rock’s at my waist, I squeeze and he releases me. Suddenly stronger than I’ve been in an age, I walk over to sofa and stand in front of Nox. He whispers, “Hey, Maude.”
