CHAPTER 25: TEAR
16 years old
Her eyes flutter, and she’s somewhere else, sitting awkwardly in a chair. She shakes her head and looks around the room. It’s not recognizable. The wood paneling walls, porcelain sink, and tiled floor is spotless. The counter around the sink is full of medical supplies she remembers seeing every day in the hospital. Gage is pacing back and forth, muttering, one hand rubbing angrily at his neck, the other pulling at his hair. She’s never seen such a frustrated look on his face before and isn’t sure how to handle him in this state. Should she try to gain his attention? And what if that’s the wrong decision.
She watches him do another round of pacing, talking to himself with teeth gritted. He abruptly stops and pivots her direction, almost running to the chair she’s sitting in. He seizes the arms of the chair, places his nose inches from hers, and yells, “Please just wake up!” His sudden movements make her back as far as she can into the chair.
“Oh . . . thank you,” he cries, and she blinks at him. “Flower?” His voice is tentative, his fingers a soft caress down her cheek. She leans into his touch automatically and he yanks her from the chair and hugs her so tightly her feet leave the floor. “You’re okay!”
She isn’t sure about that; his hug hurts a lot! Like a whole hell of a lot. A tiny cry escapes her lips, and he immediately drops her back to the ground, keeping his arms around her.
“Sorry! Did that hurt?” he asks, worried.
She nods, her memory finally catching up to speed with the rest of her. She remembers it all except after Gage picked her up. Everything after that is a blur of lights and colors. She trembles at the memories, all the people attacking her, all the people wanting to hurt her . . . all those people who assaulted her. Then Gage saving her. Again.
“Cameron,” calls Gage, and the door flies open as if she’d been sitting outside waiting for an invite.
“What’d you do?” asks Cameron, her eyes widening at the two of them.
“Nothing—she just snapped out of it,” explains Gage, his voice excited. “But I think we should do another exam on her now that she’s awake—just to make sure we caught all her injuries,” he adds, upset.
“Yes,” says Cameron slowly, “the scanner showed extensive damage to her ribs, arm, skull, and hip bones. Summer, we’ve already mended your bones, but there will be extensive bruising in those areas, and your bones might feel sore for a few days. There was no swelling in your brain—the biggest thing was to find a way to pull you from your state of catatonia. Which Gage did somehow.” She smiles, relief flooding her brown eyes.
Summer, on the other hand, just feels more confused. Gage glances down at her, his arms still tightly wound around her, and frowns at her drawn together eyebrows.
“You better explain to her what happened,” says Cameron seriously.
Gage walks her backward until the back of her legs meet the chair, and she automatically sits. He crouches in front of her and takes her hands into his. “Listen, Flower. You’ve been out of it for several days.”
Summer shakes her head at his words, not comprehending. Days?
“It’s true,” he continues, “your mind shut down after the rioters attacked you. I’m so, so sorry. I should’ve demanded transport on the roof, but my commanding officer declined my request. I should’ve fought him. This is all my fault, and I was so caught up in the wave of people that I couldn’t get to you.” She can actually see the sadness beginning to make his eyes shine. Is he going to cry? “I thought I was going to lose you.” And a single tear escapes one of his too-green eyes, and Summer catches it with her finger. Her lungs constrict, and her stomach knots with tingling butterflies. She examines the solitary tear on her finger, and then his face, reading the sincerity there. This single, salty tear on her finger was shed for her—only for her.
The door clicks shut, and Summer knows that, even without looking, Cameron has left to give them privacy.
Summer’s hand closes into a fist, the tear absorbing into her skin. No one cries for her . . . not even Landon. Yet here is this man with his clean-shaven face, hypnotic green eyes, and achingly beautiful heart shedding a tear for her. She’s so astonished, if she did speak, she would have been struck dumb.
He watches her every action with all the intensity of those angelic eyes. She feels like her heart is working overtime to rush blood to her fluttering, excited stomach and constricting lungs as she takes in several sharp intakes of breath, his can-only-be-Gage scent filling her nose with sweetness. She cups his face between her palms and makes the decision she’s been silently begging him to make for days. She notices that his breath catches as she moves forward, their faces only inches apart. His nose gently glides along hers, the imperfect bump in his so utterly perfect and Gage-like. She closes her eyes as their faces gravitate closer together, only fractions of an inch at a time. His breath is so richly hot and accelerated against her mouth. Their lips finally meet in the most gentle, tender, and sweetest touch of skin.
Summer’s heart explodes, her nerves fall limply to the way side, and her stomach floats away on the blissful sea of his lips. It’s just one simple, delicate, barely-any-pressure kiss. It’s not enough, they both want more, but Gage is allowing Summer to take the lead. Their breath mingles between them, their lips so close energy arcs and links them together. Still, it’s just another soft, so delicate kiss. Summer’s hands tremble as they hold his face, and her nerves resurrect themselves.
Their eyes open at the same time, his deeply green meeting her infinitely blue. He searches her face for the answer to an unasked question. Reaching up so carefully to touch her face, his thumb roaming over her parted lips like a smooth piece of silk. She shudders, closes her eyes, and drops her hands from his face, melting into his touch like chocolate fondue. Except he’s sweeter than that.
“Flower,” he whispers low, his voice sweeping across her body like a physical embrace. “Can I kiss you?”
Eyes still closed, she nods breathlessly.
“Good,” he murmurs and encircles her waist with one arm, gingerly drawing her to the edge of the chair. It’s only slightly painful.
His lips meet hers again, so, so softly. She sighs into his mouth like a calm, undulating wind carrying a declaration of devotion. A vow. Her body trembles under his gentle touch as he pulls away only an inch. His thumb traces her bottom lip again, the caress as ethereal and subtle as a fervent twilight breeze. His warm mouth meets hers one more time, more earnest, but just as tender as silent promises of love whispered in the dark.
In that moment, every cell in her body forgets the anxiety that has afflicted and entrapped her. It’s as if a force-field encases them and everything on the outside no longer matters. Her chest heaving, insides quivering, she drops from the seat, and he loses his balance from his squatting position. Their lips part. Gage catches her before they both topple to the ground, and she ends up straddling his waist. The whole ordeal is painful, yet she can’t seem to care. Summer also doesn’t care how intimate their position is, she is too wrapped up in the moment, the force-field firmly in place.
Gage clearly doesn’t know how to handle the situation as his eyes search her face for the appropriate response. His hands roam around her, not knowing where to touch, before he tenderly grips her hip with one hand, and palms her face with the other.
“I’m speechless,” he breathes, and she can’t help but smile at him.
Then reality storms in. Someone knocks on the other side of the door so violently it vibrates. “Appleton, I heard the girls awake. We can’t keep her here any longer.”
Gage helps Summer up before he stands and towers over her. “Lazarus, you don’t boss me around.” His voice is harsh, a complete one-eighty to his soft tone when speaking with her. “I’ll decide if we can’t keep her here any longer. Get lost.”
“Whatever, Lifer,” Lazarus grumbles.
“I can still hear you. I said. Get. Lost.”
Summer leans against the counter, and Gage plac
es his hands on either side of her. Her hands are on his chest and can feel his thudding heart pumping just as fast as hers. His eyes glow with an intensity she’s never seen before, and it makes her blush. With the lightest of touches his fingers twirl in her blonde hair, tickle the skin right under her ear, and then he leans down. Her breath catches in her throat—he’s about to kiss her again, and the anticipation alone makes her weak in the knees. What is this man doing to her? Switching her from flinching at every advance to wanting him to only move closer. She closes her eyes, trusting him completely. His nose trails from her ear, down her jaw, and his warm breath leaves a tingling trail of goose bumps along her flushed skin.
“I’m going to kiss you again,” he whispers right over her lips. She sighs into his mouth just as his lips descend to hers. Her heart skips merrily, the tingling only migrating further south in her body. No one has ever made her feel this way before. Ever.
Both of his hands cup her cheeks as he moves his mouth against hers, his tongue darting out and licking her bottom lip. She responds by wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer until their bodies are pressed together. Her bruised body protests. She inadvertently gasps in pain and her hands fly to her hip where it hurts the most. He pulls away quickly, breathless.
“I got carried away. Sorry,” he murmurs.
She shakes her head slowly and bites her lip as she smiles. Forget the pain.
“No?” he quips with a smirk.
She shakes her head again, smiling even wider and still biting her lip.
“Well, if that’s the case . . .” He leans down and kisses her all over her face, avoiding her lips—much to her aggravation. He pulls away and sweetly caresses her face with the tips of his fingers. “I wish this wasn’t the case, but it’s true that you can’t stay here now that you’re awake.” The relief in his voice at the last part is palpable. “I was afraid you’d be stuck in that state. It was such a deeply rooted fear . . . and all of these what if scenarios played out in my head.”
She places a finger to his lips to silence him and he kisses it. A blush snakes its way up her neck and into her cheeks again. Without thinking, she bands her arms around his waist and hugs him tightly, placing her head against his muscular chest. The tha-thump, tha-thump of his heart is steady against her ear, his scent savory in her nose. Gage wraps one arm around her carefully, trying not to hurt her, and holds her head against his chest with his other hand.
“Oh, Flower.” He sighs. “You’ve captured me—wholly and completely.”
She wants to say “Me too” but can’t form the words. Instead, she squeezes him tighter, and he lightly kisses the top of her head, his breath warming her skin.
Phantom Universe Page 27
