For once in
Charlie’s life, she has something she'd never allowed herself
to have before.
Hope.
All because of Sam’s love.
He fought for her. No matter the cost.
He loved her even when she couldn't allow herself to
feel loved.
Now, when things feel like they might go smoothly for once
in her life...
The unexpected happens. Her fate. Her constant date with
Death.
A reality that completely blindsides her when life once
again rears it’s ugly head.
Shattering any sense of a future she ever felt she could
grasp, even if only for a second.
Will she give in and surrender to her fate?
Will she retreat, pushing away everyone she loves to hold
onto her secrets?
Or will she fight? Fight for Sam, fight for their love, the
way he's always fought for
her?
Sam made it pretty
easy for a girl to fall in love with him. He massaged Charlie's legs
while she lay across the couch with her feet in his lap. Both of her hands
gripped her coffee cup as she took a sip. "Mmm. A girl could get used
to this, ya know?"
"Huh?"
He looked up at her,
puzzled.
A smile pulled at
her lips. He wasn't paying attention to what his hands were doing.
"Nothing. Just watch the
movie."
"No, I
just didn't hear what you said. You mumbled it." His green
eyes searched hers like he desperately wanted to know what she'd just
said.
"It
wasn't important. Just feels good." She nodded toward her
legs.
Sam smiled and
continued to run his fingers diligently up and down her long lean legs.
"I like touching you. Your skin is like
silk."
Every
stroke he took, make her senses come alive. It didn't seem to have the
same kind of effect on him that it did on her. But she was doing everything she
could not to jump him. She was still recovering from their morning escapades in
the kitchen.
"The movie
okay? We can watch something else if you want."
She wasn't
even sure what they were watching. All she could think about were his hands and
trying to control her breathing. Shaking her head no, she took a sip of her
coffee and set it down on the table in front of them. "No,
it's fine." Charlie lay back against the plush pillows behind
her and sank further into them while his touch became stronger, reaching deeper
into her muscle. It felt like
heaven.
"You're
not going to sleep on me again, are you?" he asked and shifted under
her.
"No. Just
resting my eyes." She was tired, more so than usual, but
didn't want to let him know that. She'd already argued with her
doctor the day before and it wasn't something she wanted to argue with
him about again.
"Do you
want me to rub your
chest?"
She opened one eye
at him and watched him with suspicion. "Since when do you ask to cop a
feel, Mr. Greyson?"
She regretted it
the second the name left her
lips.
He frowned.
"First of all, don't call me that. It's not funny.
Second of all, I wasn't being creepy. I know your chest aches. I
wasn't talking about rubbing your boobs. Although, if my hands happen
to brush against certain things, I am not to be held liable."
All she wanted to
do was sink into the couch until she was invisible. Of course
that's all he wanted to do. He was being thoughtful and you turn it
into something sleazy. Who's the asshole here? Oh, that's
right. You
are.
"Sorry."
"Yeah.
Yeah. Scoot down and lay your head back."
Flipping completely
around, she tossed a pillow in his lap and laid her head in his lap face up,
with the rest of her body in-between his legs on the couch. She closed her eyes
and let out a deep breath as his strong hands worked their way from the top of
her collarbone down the front of her sternum. "Oh, God. I
didn't realize how sore that was until you did that."
He let out a low
chuckle. "I told you that you'd call me God."
Smiling she lifted
her chin and relaxed her shoulders under his skilled hands as he worked his way
around her chest. It was exactly what she needed and he know it before she did.
"How do you do
this?"
"Do
what?" his voice was low and husky.
"Know what
I need even before I do."
"Because I
know you. You haven't been yourself lately no matter how much you try
and hide it. I see how easily you get worn out."
"You
can't blame a girl for needing a nap after kitchen sex games."
His fingers worked
in strong, slow circles across the top of her chest. The way he touched her
scars with ease made chills radiate through
her.
"This
makes nap number three today, there, sweet cheeks."
"Just
resting up for what's to come." She smiled at him but he
wasn't mirroring her like she thought he would. He just watched her,
with worry behind his eyes.
"Don't
look at me like that please. This is exactly what I didn't want to
happen."
His hands stopped
on her chest as his eyes found hers. "Guess what? You can't
stop people from loving you. No matter how hard you try. We're going to
worry when you're not feeling well. It's not like you have a
cold, babe. You're in heart
failure."
"You
don't think I know
that?"
"Well, you
don't act like it. That's why everyone gets so frustrated with
you. You're so hell-bent on fighting the system that you fight all of
us, too."
She sat up and
turned to face him. "I'm not trying to fight the system. In
case you haven't noticed, the system has kind of failed me. All the
things they’ve done to me that were supposed to save my life
haven’t. They’ve only prolonged it. A little... until the
next thing goes wrong. So, now they're saying this ICD is the way to go
and I may not need the transplant. Do you understand how I can't even
allow myself to begin to dream that that could be true? I can't believe
things like that." She bit her bottom lip to keep it from
quivering.
"Why
not? I thought you were past not allowing yourself to
dream?"
"Fairytales
and happy endings are meant for people like Sarah and Alex. Happily ever afters
aren't meant for people like
me."
He
ran his fingers through her hair, like he always did when they were in a heavy
discussion. "I really wish you'd stop putting yourself in this
box of damaged goods. You can have the fairytale and I will be your happily ever
after...if you let
me."
"I've
read everything there is about the ICD. I researched them a long time ago when
I hoped it could be an option for me or even a fix and they told me no. Now
they want to do it and I want to know what's changed. Why is it okay
now but it was a no
before?"
"Why
didn't you ask him that instead of walking out?" He pulled her
back down into his lap and continued to run his fingers through her
hair.
She shrugged.
"I don't know. I was pissed. I know my stubbornness gets in
the way a lot but I don't do things out of blind rage. All the time
anyway. I usually have a pretty damn good reason behind my
outbursts."
A smile spread
across his face. "Maybe in your crazy own Charlie way of spinning
logic, but I get it."
"No one
wants to talk about the ugly truth. They all dance around it and pretend like
there's not an elephant in the room." She closed her eyes as a
rogue tear slipped down her cheek.
His fingers brushed
the tear away just before it touched her lips. "And what truth is
that?" his voice was
low.
That
I'm going to die young. That I can’t go to Disney with you
because it might be my last trip. She exhaled slowly trying to steady
her breath, knowing her voice would be shaky. "That any surgery can
kill me. That I might not make it through it. That I might not live long enough
to even get a
transplant."
"I
don't pretend to know what you're going through. I
can't possibly imagine, but I have seen you on the verge of
Death's door. I saw you banging on that damn door to come back. You
fought for every breath. Every step. Never giving into the darkness. No matter
how damaged you think you are or how long Grimm has hunted you,
you’re destined for the light,
Charlie."
"Only you
could make this conversation sound poetic."
His fingers brushed
over her lips to her cheek. "I do what I
can."
A
small smile played at her lips. No matter how hard she tried to keep it
together, she was still on the verge of breaking. Sam was her glue as life
chipped away at the glass. Constantly looking for a way to shatter her into a
million broken
pieces.
She sat up and
crawled into his lap to straddle him. All she needed in that moment was him.
The fact he wasn't afraid to talk about the things that haunted her
while she slept made her want him all the
more.
She ran her fingers
through his disheveled hair and rested them behind his neck. "Do you
love my dark
clouds?"
He
kissed the tip of her nose. "Yes. I even love your acid
rain."
She smiled and
brought her lips to his. Their kiss was easy to get lost in and it was exactly
what she needed to feel whole.
Always the cause of
shenanigans, Vanessa is a heavily tattooed, sarcastic motorcycle enthusiast who
started her career as a Jeep tech at the age of sixteen. The happily married
mother of three little monsters—oops, children—lives in
Kentucky by way of Las Vegas, Nevada. Once her life took a different
direction—sidelined by Heart Disease at 26 and becoming a pacemaker
recipient—she decided to write as a creative outlet, and Heartless
was born. She realizes life can be dark clouds and acid rain at times, but her
outlook on life puts a positive and sarcastic spin on it all.
No comments:
Post a Comment