Wait for Me

by Louise, Tia

  His voice trails off on the last part, but I won’t be denied. “If he’s hurt, I’ll help him heal.”

  “You don’t understand—”

  “You don’t understand!” Standing, I take my dishes to the sink. We made promises. I made promises… “I know Taron better than anyone. Maybe even him.”

  “I’m not trying to hurt you.” His words are the same ones Taron said to me so long ago, right before I gave him everything. “This is something you can’t fix, sis.”

  “Maybe not, but he belongs to me. I’m going to get him.”

  It’s dark when I arrive at the address Sawyer texted me. I spent the three-hour flight wringing my hands, wondering if my brother was going to give me what I asked of him.

  He said I should wait, but it’s the last thing I intend to do. I’m pissed at him for letting Taron shut me out. He’s supposed to be on my side, the protective older brother. Instead, he won’t tell me anything other than giving me Taron’s letter.

  I’m furious with both of them for acting like I’m not strong enough to handle whatever might happen. Like I didn’t sacrifice these last almost two years.

  Now, standing in the lobby of the high-rise apartment, I wait for the silver doors to open. My brother said Taron lives with Marley. Patton arranged for them to take jobs at his dad’s commercial real estate firm, and set them up in a penthouse apartment.

  None of it makes sense. Taron said he grew up with nothing, the only child of a single mom who moved back to the mountains when he was in high school, yet here he is living like a king. At least, that’s how it looks from the outside.

  The elevator door opens to a beige lobby with deep brown, mahogany accents. I step across the small foyer and wait, trying to calm my breathing before I knock.

  My hand shakes as I lift it, but my eye catches the turquoise ring on my finger.

  I promised.

  Squeezing my eyes shut, I knock hard and firm.

  No response.

  My breath is so loud in the small space. I take a trembling inhale, exhale then do it again—this time with my eyes open. I knock louder, longer, then I wait.

  Even my heartbeat aches. I haven’t seen Taron in person in so long. My brother said he’s hurt; he sent me a letter telling me not to come. I’m so impulsive.

  A trickle of fear, cold as ice filters through my chest. What if I find something I don’t want to see? What if his face is mangled or he’s in a wheelchair? What if his brain is damaged? What if he lost a limb?

  I never actually considered the possibility. I assumed he’d be like my brother—physically whole, internally suffering.

  These thoughts bombard my mind, but a calm reassurance fills my chest. It doesn’t matter—we can face any of these challenges together.

  I love this man.

  “Who is it?” His voice is stern through the door.

  “Taron?” Mine is clear, cutting the fear.

  It’s quiet on the other side.

  My eyes go to the peep-hole in the middle of the door, and my breath stills. Is he looking at me right now? Will he open the door?

  The seconds tick past on heartbeats… one… two… three…

  Anxiety builds, tightening my chest until I hear the bolt turn. The door slides open quietly, and my eyes fill with tears when I see his beautiful face, his hypnotic eyes.

  “Taron.” Rushing forward, I’m in his arms.

  His scent surrounds me, and it all comes flooding back. All the nights we spent hanging on each other’s voices, living for just the sight and sound of each other like oxygen. All the times I lay in my bed, memorizing his face through the flickering screen. All the teasing and flirting, all the wishes and promises.

  “You’re here.” His voice vibrates my very core.

  His strong arms are around me, and my head is sheltered against his chest. I hear his heart beat, his breath swirl in and out.

  “You’re real.” Tears stream down my cheeks.

  I hug him with all my strength, wishing I could bleed my soul into his, give him whatever he needs, heal whatever’s hurting him, whatever’s making him say words he doesn’t mean.

  He steps back, guiding me into his apartment and closing the door, turning the lock. His eyes are so weary. Small lines mark the corners, and his beard is thicker. He’s lost weight. He’s still tall, towering over me, but my brother’s right. He’s changed.

  “Noel…” He slides his fingers along the line of my hair, and more tears flood my eyes.

  His touch is the same.

  I hold his cheeks, guiding his face to mine and kissing him. He leans into me, pressing his hand against the door behind me. His mouth opens, his tongue slides along mine, but his muscles are stiff, like he’s holding back, fighting against something.

  Wrapping my arms around his neck, I lift my lips to his ear. “I’ve waited so long to feel you in my arms again.”

  His shoulders collapse, his resistance crumbles, and his arms go around my waist, gathering me to him. So much time has passed. I know he aches for me as much as I do for him. I remember the night we thought he’d come home, the twisting of my heart in my chest at the thought I might see him again.

  It’s all here right now.

  We don’t speak. He kisses me again, and the heat we’ve always shared flares to life. His hands move down my back, sliding under my shirt, finding my skin. A noise seeps from my throat, and I pull my shirt over my head.

  With every kiss, every touch, we’ve been moving, stumbling backwards, until now we’re in his bedroom. He winces as he removes his shirt, almost like he’s been in a fight. I scan his chest for scars but see none. The lines in his torso are deeper. Yes, he’s lost weight, but he’s still so ripped.

  My face is in the middle of his torso, and I rise to press my mouth to his broad shoulder, planting a kiss against his hot skin. Salt is on my tongue, and I feel his palm against my back, his other hand fumbling with my bra. Reaching around, I quickly remove it, and our bare bodies press together.

  “I’ve dreamed of this so many times,” he groans.

  His hand is on my face, and I feel his hardness pressing against my stomach.

  “I couldn’t live without you one more day.” My voice is a gasp, and my hands are at his waist, unbuckling his belt so fast.

  The space between my thighs is hot and pulsing. I’m electric all over, every touch stoking my need hotter.

  “Noel…” He groans a weak protest I cover with my mouth as he sits on the side of the bed.

  Shoving my pants off, I climb onto his lap in a straddle, feeling his thick cock against my thighs. I’m throbbing and hot. I’ve touched myself so many times, given myself so many long-distance orgasms to his face on a screen, his voice on my laptop.

  His fingers glide lightly over the skin of my ass, and I rise up on my knees, dropping firmly, seating him fully inside me.

  His groan is pure desire that curls my toes. I rise onto my knees again and drop, feeling him deep inside me, savoring the sounds of his hunger, his hands gripping my ass. He’s moving me now, pulling me up and down his dick, groaning as I ride him, chasing the orgasm rising in my stomach. With every noise he makes, my body flames hotter.

  Our chests slide together, sweat and heat and hundreds of nights of need. My breasts bounce, and he catches one, guiding it to his mouth and kissing my hard nipple.

  My head drops back, and I moan loudly. “Taron… yes…” My hips buck forward as my orgasm breaks, thundering through my insides.

  I shudder and rise, wrapping my arms around him, kissing my way up his neck to his cheek and into his hair. He continues rocking me a bit longer, pulling me closer, burying himself to the hilt as he holds, groaning and pulsing, filling me deep.

  We’re gasping, wrapped in each other’s arms, slick with sweat, and shimmering in afterglow. Scooting higher into the bed, he holds me against him, curling me in his arms as we slip between the sheets.

  I realize his bed was unmade. “Did I wake you?” My voice
is quiet, higher than his.

  He lets out a short breath and shakes his head. “I wasn’t sleeping.”

  Our bodies are flush, my breasts flat against his hard chest, and we breathe together. I slide my fingers along his hairline and he does the same, looking down at me in wonder. I’m sure my eyes are filled with the same emotion.

  “What are you doing here?” His voice is tender, sincerely asking.

  “Did you think I wouldn’t come?”

  “I told you not to.” His eyes shimmer, and the thought of his tears squeezes my chest. “My beautiful princess. You’re so good.”

  “My handsome prince.” I smile, but his eyes flinch.

  “So far from a prince.” His chin drops as he lifts my hand, kissing the ring on my finger. “Your ring.”

  “It fit perfectly. I never take it off.”

  A sad smile curls his lips, and he kisses me again along the jaw, up to my ear. Desire hums through my skin. I could make love to him all night and still not be satisfied, but this heaviness hangs in the air around us.

  “Are you okay?” My palm is flat against his cheek.

  “I am for now.”

  It’s not enough, but I wrap my arms around him, pulling him against me. I want to feel the weight of his body pressing me down. It’s so good. His large hands slide along my sides, and it isn’t long before he slips inside me again. Our mouths unite, and we rock together, slowly at first before picking up speed.

  He rises over me, thrusting faster. A drop of sweat trickles down his brow, and my hands slide up his strong arms. My fingers follow the lines of his muscles, and I lift my hips to meet him, riding out the orgasm, feeling it in the tips of my toes when he comes with a loud shout. Hard thrusts, deep thrusts.

  Our breathing is heavy as we come down once more. I’m sure we’re just beginning our reunion. He turns me, strong arms secure around my waist, and I smile as my back presses against his chest. I’m lulled into a false sense of security in his arms as I drift to sleep.

  I have no idea it won’t last.

  I awake before dawn alone. At first, I’m disoriented, then I remember I’m in Taron’s room. Climbing out of bed, I make my way to the small carry-on suitcase I brought with me. I wheeled it inside the door, but that’s where it stayed. Now I’m feeling around for clothes to cover my naked body.

  Wrapping myself in his shirt, I inhale deeply of his scent, clean and masculine. I stagger into the living room, expecting to find him in the kitchen.

  It’s empty.

  “Taron?” My voice echoes in the empty space.

  No reply. Nothing. He’s just gone. Picking up my phone, I quickly send a text. Midnight pizza run?

  No gray dots, no missed call, no note. Fear prickles through my veins, and I grab a throw off the back of the couch, wrapping it around me. I sit for a long time, staring out the glass doors of the balcony overlooking the Nashville skyline. The interstate wraps through the tall buildings, and cars like fireflies stream past them.

  My eyes grow heavy as the horizon begins to pale, and I doze.

  I’m still alone when I open my eyes again, and I grab my phone, dialing Taron’s number. It goes to voicemail, and I leave a message. I’m worried and anxious, and where the hell is he?

  Another hour passes. I walk around his apartment, looking through drawers, searching for any clues. I find a lighter and rolling papers. I’m concerned, but I remember what he said about Marley and pot. Would that have changed after the military? I don’t know. I find a business card for Fletcher Properties. Could he have gone to work?

  I don’t know what he does in real estate, but maybe he’s on a deadline? He was asleep when I arrived… Maybe he’d planned to pull an all-nighter?

  My fingers hover over the keypad on my phone, ready to dial when I hear a noise at the door. With a sharp inhale, I turn to see him walking into the apartment. He’s still wearing the clothes he had on last night—faded jeans and a long-sleeved tee. Not exactly work attire… Although, I guess if he was the only one in the office.

  He straightens when he sees me and clears his throat, turning into the kitchen area. “Hey.”

  “Hey…” I watch him, wondering if he’s avoiding me. “I tried to call.”

  “Oh, yeah?” He lifts his phone and his eyebrows quirk.

  “Are you okay?” Closing the space between us, I catch his arm. “What’s going on? Where did you go?”

  “It’s not your business.”

  “I think it is.” My voice is sharper than I intend. I’m struggling with residual fear mixed with frustration mixed with this ache in my chest.

  He’s agitated, suddenly frustrated, and pulls his hand away. “I didn’t ask you to come here, Noel. Just the opposite, in fact.”

  I’m stunned by his words. They feel like a stab in the chest after last night. Or I guess after the few hours we spent together last night. Now that I think about it, after I fell asleep, I don’t know what he did.

  “I was worried about you. Sawyer said you were hurt. Something’s clearly wrong.”

  “I was hurt.” His eyes flash, and I realize I’ve never seen him angry. It’s scary. “I’m always in pain now. Do you know what that’s like? Every move radiating agony through your body?”

  His voice is a knife, and my eyes heat. I blink quickly. “No… I don’t. What can I do? Let me help you.”

  “You can’t help me. No one can.” His jaw clenches, and I see a sheen of perspiration on his lip. “You need to go home.”

  Another flash of anguish spreads through my chest. I’m having trouble breathing. “Would you at least tell me what happened? The last time we talked, you were going for Marley, then—”

  “Then everything changed.” He leans forward and grips the table. The blood drains from his cheeks, and I can see he’s hurting.

  “Taron—”

  Inhaling sharply he leaves the room, going into the bathroom and shutting the door. I wait, listening as he opens the medicine cabinet. I hear the noise of pills shaking in a bottle, water running, then silence. My insides are so tight. My eyes are damp. My heart is breaking.

  After several minutes, the door opens, and he’s calmer. His muscles seem relaxed. He’s more like he was last night, only with a dark shadow following him. “We can’t be together, Noel. I’m not the same man I was before. This is my life now.”

  “What?” My voice cracks higher. “What is your life now? Tell me!”

  “Pain…” He growls, moving slowly across the room to the sofa and lowering himself carefully. “Pain. And drugs.”

  Blue-green eyes flash to mine, as if he’s daring me to judge him.

  I collapse to my knees at his feet, holding him, begging. “Taron, just let me try—”

  “No!” He shouts, cutting me off. His eyes close, and the muscle in his jaw flexes as he inhales slowly, exhales and stares straight into my eyes, jaw clenched. “I want you to go home, Noel. I want you to leave.”

  My insides crumble. “I can’t do that…” My voice breaks on my tears, but he grips my upper arms hard, dragging me to my feet.

  “Yes. You. Can.”

  “You’re hurting me.” Tears stream down my cheeks, and I see the break in his eyes. “Why are you doing this?”

  “When I get back. I want you gone.” He releases me with a little shove. His brow lowers, and he turns away, going to the door. “Find someone who deserves you. It’s not me.”

  “It is—”

  “NO.” He’s in my face, his hot breath on my closed eyes. “I don’t want you here.” Every word is a stinging lash to my already bleeding heart. “It’s over, Noel. Go. Home.”

  Sitting by the window on the airplane, I look out across the gray clouds obscuring the horizon. My small carry-on is overhead, and on the outside, I appear like any other traveler. But in my heart, a tornado has touched down, and it’s spinning and demolishing everything. With the speed of sound, his voice digs deeper, ripping trees from the ground, tangling its fingers around my soul an
d pulling by the roots…

  My brother puts his arm around me and drives me home from the airport. My vision is clouded by the storm raging in my chest. It won’t stop until everything is destroyed.

  The house is dark. My brother speaks, but I can’t hear the words. I go to my room and shut the door.

  Aftershocks

  Noel

  I sit in the chair facing my window. Akela puts her head on my lap, but I don’t lift my hand. Inside the tornado has passed, but it’s silent.

  No survivors.

  So she drops down to the floor at my feet, waiting like a sphynx, her eyes fixed on the window where he’d come, guarding me as if she knows I’m not here.

  Inside my chest, the path of destruction is miles wide, splintered throughout, written in his hand, with his words. I can’t feel my heart beat. I only feel sharp stabs of broken wreckage. A wasteland where my dreams once grew green and thriving.

  Empty.

  Ravaged and torn.

  The sun still rises, shining through my windows as if I don’t exist, as if the world has forgotten what once flowered here. I’m left to fade away like a house covered in vines and shadows, better things to think about, happier things to see.

  Inside is silence.

  My brother comes to me. His face is worried as he sits beside me and holds my hand. He knows I’m not the same. Does he know my heart is missing?

  I think it stopped beating.

  I think it was destroyed.

  Souls, bones…

  “You’ve got to get up, Noel. You’ve got to keep going.” Sawyer’s voice is quiet, strained.

  Do I? Why?

  More time passes, I don’t know how much. I lose count of the times the sun appears in my window, the indifferent sun. The hateful day. The cold night.

  My best friend comes. She talks to me. She helps me in the shower and waits as I move my hands and arms, washing away the invisible dirt.

  She brushes my hair and talks to me about school and the holidays. She talks about going out and football games and the old lady I used to visit.

  I’ve grown old. On the outside I look the same, but inside is old and dried out. Gray wood, brittle to touch and covered in cobwebs.