by Aly Martinez
She stopped, and her eyes jumped to mine.
“She was released a few days ago, actually. She was only at the hospital because she kept getting sick during her treatments. So they moved her to a more sterile environment.”
She swallowed hard, and tears filled her eyes. “Really?”
“Do you even ask about these dying kids you go see?”
“No. I’m not going to invade their privacy by asking a million questions. When I go, it’s to offer them a diversion, not to remind them why they are there in the first place.”
“Levee, you’re killing yourself with guilt over sick kids who are fighting and winning.”
“They aren’t all winning, Sam.” Her voice cracked at the end.
I kept my tone soft but firm. “But a lot of them are. Focus on the right part of that equation. No wonder you’re depressed. You think every kid who visits a hospital is dying.”
“I don’t think they all are….but—”
I interrupted her again before she had the chance to muddle it back up in her head. “Hospitals are where kids go to get better. Yes, some lose their battles, but most do not.”
“But some do,” she snapped. Hanging her head, she whispered, “My sister, Lizzy, died in a hospital three weeks after she was diagnosed with leukemia.”
And there it was.
Levee had a past of her own.
And just knowing that we shared something so similar gutted me.
“C’mere,” I said, but I didn’t wait for her to obey. I went to her.
Her arms were tucked between us, but she accepted my embrace, leaning her head into the base of my neck. I backed her toward the bed then turned at the last second and pulled her down on top of me.
“How old were you?” I asked as her stiff body relaxed.
“Eight,” she squeaked.
“That’s a long time ago. Have you ever seen someone…ya know…to talk about it?” I smoothed her curls down and kissed the top of her head.
“Yeah. I did when I was a kid.”
“And recently?” I prompted.
“I don’t really remember her all that well. I mean, I do. But it’s not like she’s haunting me or something. Most of what I remember of her was in the hospital for those three weeks. Then how lonely I felt when she died. She was two years older than me. I wanted to be just like Lizzy when I grew up. Then, one day, I was older than she was. That was really hard.”
I nodded in understanding. It did suck. Anne was three years younger than me. I was older than she’d ever be.
“It’s funny. I don’t remember a ton about Lizzy, but one of my clearest memories of her was the day a celebrity visited the hospital she was at. She was so sick at that point, but the moment he walked in the room, bearing nothing more than a stuffed animal and a T-shirt, she perked up completely. She was laughing and smiling. We thought meeting someone famous was the coolest thing in the entire world. I swear she was a different person for at least a week. It was crazy how something so small meant so much to us back then.”
“Who was the celebrity?” I asked, smoothing a hand down her back in understanding.
“Ric Flair.”
I arched an eyebrow in question. “The wrestler, Ric Flair?”
She nodded with a smile creeping across her lips.
“The Nature Boy, Ric Flair?” I threw in his signature “woo” just so there was no confusion.
She nodded again, her smile stretching wide.
“I honestly have no idea if you’re serious right now.”
She laughed. “I’m completely serious.”
I leaned away to get a full read on her face, still not believing her. “You were a wrestling fan?”
“No! And I think that’s the part that stuck with me. Lizzy didn’t have to know who he was. She just needed to feel special. I worked my ass off to fulfill my dreams of making a living out of music. The split second I got a song on the radio, I started spending my weekends with sick kids. Half of them didn’t even know who I was at first, but they would still smile and laugh as I walked in the room. I saw Lizzy’s face in every single one of them. Once I became more known, the pressure only built. I had to do more. Give more. Be there more.” The words lodged in her throat, and I could feel her heart slamming wildly in her chest.
She was working herself into a panic attack from just talking about it. I couldn’t imagine how she had dealt with it on a daily basis.
“Shhh. Relax.” I squeezed her tight to my chest.
“Goddammit.” She banged her fist against the mattress. “I promised myself I was taking my life back today. And look at me. I can’t even talk about this without losing my shit.”
“Your view on life is seriously warped,” I told her matter-of-factly.
Her whole body flinched, making it clear that those words weren’t the sugarcoating she had been expecting from me. But someone had to tell her.
“You’re not Spiderman.” I smirked.
“And you’re not funny,” she deadpanned.
“Yes, I am. But hear me out. You can’t save everyone. I get it, Levee, because for so fucking long, I felt the same way. Hell, after the way I freaked out when you went missing today, I might still feel that way. But at least I can recognize it. For years, I beat myself up over the fact that I wasn’t there sooner the day my dad killed himself. The guilt ate at me. Until one day, my mom sat me down and explained that I wasn’t Spiderman.” I laughed at the memory. “Keep in mind, I was sixteen when she told me this, not ten. But, God, it was the most freeing thing anyone ever said to me after he died. I was just one person. I couldn’t be everywhere for everyone. Not for Dad. Not even for Anne.”
“Sam, that wasn’t—”
I didn’t give her a chance to tell me what I already knew. “It wasn’t my fault. I know. I just wish I could have done more. It’s the struggle of decent people everywhere. Levee, that’s not a bad feeling to have. It only becomes bad when those wishes consume you and when you get so wrapped up in helping people that you lose sight of the toll it’s taking on you. I could have sat with Anne twenty-four-seven. My mom could have done the same for my dad. You could easily toss your career in the trash and go on a world tour of hospitals everywhere, but how would that affect you? At some point, you have to make your own life a priority. No one else can do that for you. Not a doctor or your family and friends. Hell, not even I can do it. That’s on you, Levee.”
Tears filled her eyes. “That’s not true. You do that for me all the time. I don’t feel so out of control when I’m with you.”
I couldn’t fault her there. She did that for me, too. She was just confused on what it was.
“No I don’t.”
“Yes, you do.”
“No. I really don’t.”
“Yes, you really do!” she snapped, starting to get angry.
I couldn’t help but laugh as she narrowed her eyes at me. I rubbed my fingers over the pinched skin between her brows. “You’re going to give yourself wrinkles if you keep doing that. I need you to stay hot so I can show you off to my friends when you finally let me tell them.”
She swatted my hand away. “You can’t tell me how you make me feel. You’re not in my head.”
“I can tell you whatever I want,” I said indignantly.
“No, you can’t.”
“Yes, I can.”
“No. You. Can’t.” She got even more pissed, and I, once again, started laughing.
“I love you.”
Levee sat straight up as if a bolt of lightning had just struck the bed.
Yep. That was my smooth move. I’d just blurted it out while we had been bickering, fully dressed, in a random hotel room in the middle of Maine. That was going to be the story we told our kids about—the magical moment you only get once in a lifetime with someone. It was Sam Rivers’s romance at its finest—completely and utterly ridiculous, but also more honest than anything in the world.
“You what?” she half breathed, half accused.
“Designer shoes, I said, ‘I love you.’ I have for a while. Probably from the moment you used your body to shield the wind so I could light my cigarette. Maybe even before that. It was love at first stalk, Levee.”
“Sam…”
“So, yeah, I can tell you whatever I want. And I’m telling you all I do is offer you a distraction from the rest of your crazy life. It’s a really fucking good distraction, and I’m praying that you love the hell out of that distraction and want to keep it forever. But, at the end of the day, you have to be the one who wants to live. All I can do is be at your side while you do it.” I shrugged simply.
Although, as I stared into her brown eyes, there was absolutely nothing simple about it.
I love her. Now, I had to sit and wait to see if she loved me too.
She held my gaze while a combination of emotions passed over her gorgeous face. Her cheeks pinked shyly. Her lips twitched with humor. Her eyes filled with love. But her mouth said, “You’re a dumbass.”
Well, okay, then.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Levee
SAM BARKED OUT a laugh as he confidently folded his arms behind his head but eyed me warily. “Excuse me?”
“I said, ‘You are a dumbass,’” I repeated, but a giant smile threatened to swallow my face.
He loved me. He was also a dumbass, hence why I felt the need to inform him of such information. But, really, I was too busy fighting to keep my feet on the ground while my heart was attempting to soar away. He loves me.
A matching grin formed on Sam’s mouth. “Oh really? How’s that?”
“First, I need you to retract your declaration of love.”
He shook his head and curled his lip in disgust. “No way.”
I turned toward him and crisscrossed my legs in front of me. “You have to! I can’t talk about my ex-boyfriends after you tell me you love me! It’s bad form.”
He tipped his head to the side. “Why in the hell would you feel the need to talk about your ex-boyfriends right now?”
“Because it explains why you’re a dumbass,” I announced before bending forward to touch my lips to his. Pulling away just an inch, I whispered, “It’s a really good story, too.”
Sucking in a deep breath, he grabbed the back of my head and kissed me again. Holding me against his lips, he exhaled on a content sigh. “I’m not retracting anything, but if you absolutely must, I give you full permission to talk about your exes.”
“Okay.” I attempted to sit up, but Sam wasn’t having it.
Instead, he grabbed my leg and pulled me to straddle his lap. Then he stripped my shirt over my head in one swift movement, which was quickly followed by his own. I stared at his mouth-watering, ink-covered chest, noticing for the first time that Anne’s name was woven between the random designs. I reached out to trace my fingers over the black ink, but he caught my wrist and lifted my hand to his mouth.
Kissing the back of my hand, he said, “Now, why am I a dumbass?”
“Oh, right. Thomas Reigns, Chris Spears, Davis Long, and Lee Shultz were all distractions.”
“Jesus, did you date anyone who wasn’t in the NFL?”
“Lee plays baseball.” I shrugged.
“Anyone else?”
“Johnny Depp. But he was so weird.”
“And old,” Sam scoffed, clearly not enjoying my parade of exes.
I giggled as he cussed under his breath. “Anyway, what I’m saying is I’ve had a lot of distractions in my life. So I can say without a single doubt that you, Sam Rivers, are not one of them.”
“Levee—” he started, but I silenced him with a kiss.
“From the moment I first met you, you made the world lighter. You didn’t even know you were doing it at first. But just knowing you would be on that bridge every night soothed the madness that was ricocheting around inside my head. You made me laugh, and like Ric Flair”—I paused while he chuckled—“you made me feel special. The relief I felt in your arms made the craziness manageable. You were never a distraction to me, Sam. You were always my reprieve.”
I smiled, hoping to receive one in return, but as he traced a finger down my cleavage, concern covered the strong angles of his face.
“I fucking love that. I really do. But what if, one day, I’m not there for you? I’m worried that you won’t have the right mindset about this. I can’t fix your problems just by making you laugh.”
“Maybe not. But I’ve been thinking a lot over the last few weeks and especially today. I don’t want to learn how to cope with my old life. I want it to change. I dreamed for years about getting to where I am today, but I’ve lost myself in the spotlight. I miss writing songs, Sam. Did you know I only wrote four of the twelve on my last album?”
He shook his head and began sliding his callused hands up and down my sides. Chill bumps pebbled my skin in their wake.
“I swore I’d never be that artist. Writing music was always my passion, long before I ever even dreamed of taking to a stage myself. I started jotting down lyrics right after Lizzy died—I couldn’t even play guitar yet. Maybe that’s who I’m supposed to be, because I’m quickly realizing I might not be cracked up for the fast lane of fame.”
His hands stilled. “Are you saying you want to quit?”
“No! But maybe taking a step back for a little while isn’t a bad idea. I could write some music and remember why I wanted this life to begin with.”
He skeptically arched an eyebrow. “Levee, I think a break is a brilliant idea. But, if I’m being honest, I’m concerned that, if you don’t get some real help, you’ll find yourself spending even more time at hospitals, killing yourself in a different way.”
God, I loved the way he gave it to me straight. Which was exactly why I knew I could handle this transition with him at my side.
“I’ve always gone to the children’s hospitals, Sam. But it wasn’t until recently that it became some sort of addiction. I need someone who can help me keep that in perspective—to tell me when I start getting off-balance. I’m obsessive about stuff. It’s who I am, but I’m not irrational. Henry used to be my voice of reason, but he has his own life now, and it’s dragging us in different directions.”
Bending down, I kissed him. Then I kissed him again. Then I kissed him as if it were the very last time, and as far as I was concerned, it was. Because, on the flipside of that kiss, I wanted something brand new with Sam.
And I wanted to start it right.
“I fell in love with you when I was at rock bottom. But I’ll never be able to look back on those dark days with anything but a smile. I wanted to jump, Sam, but I never once expected the fall to go up.”
“Jesus, Levee.” He pulled me into a hug. He held me painfully tight and rained kisses over my neck and my shoulder. They weren’t sensual the way I knew Sam’s mouth was capable, but I felt every single one of them deep within my soul.
Gradually, his hands drifted to my breasts, but for the first time since we’d met, I was the one who wanted to talk.
“Wait. Listen.” I leaned away but circled my legs around his waist to keep us connected. “I love you.”
His entire face lit as his eyes smiled.
“And I need you to trust me here. I know you’re still worried about me, but I’m not going back to that place.”
His body tightened, and his eyes squinted suspiciously.
“I want to go home with you, Sam. I’ll see a therapist if that’s what it takes to make you feel comfortable, but I want to end every night with you. Your nightly phone calls and silly pictures have helped me more than any doctor ever could. Take me home and let me struggle with you.”
His head lolled back as he stared up at the ceiling. “That’s not fair. You can’t use my words against me.”
“I’m not using them against you.” I grabbed both sides of his face and tipped his lips to mine. “I repurposed them.” I winked.
He chuckled against my mouth. “Fine.”
I smiled huge. “F
ine?”
He let out a resigned growl. “Come home with me, Levee.”
“Okay, okay. If you insist,” I teased.
“I officially insist.” He turned, tossing me off his lap and onto the bed.
His hard body followed, covering me completely. Holding his weight on his elbows at my sides, he lowered his mouth to mine in a hypnotizing kiss that sent heat pooling between my legs. I slid a hand down the back of his jeans and used his ass to grind against him.
“Fuck,” he hissed, his dick thickening between us. “I’m also going to insist you start birth control as soon as fucking possible. I’m done with condoms.” He pushed off the bed and, in one fluid movement, popped the button on my jeans open and dragged them off. His pants quickly joined them on the floor.
Lying in front of Sam in nothing but my bra and panties was more exhilarating than any stage I’d ever stepped foot on. His eyes turned dark and warmth washed over me as they swept up my body.
“You’ve gained weight,” he said, removing my panties.
I wanted to be annoyed, but two of his fingers filled me, and just as quickly, his thumb found my clit. It had been too long without his touch, and my legs fell open, pleading for more.
“You’ll always be beautiful, Levee. But you were too thin before. This”—he guided a hand over my stomach then up to my breasts—“is perfection.”
Pushing up on my forearms, I caught his mouth before he had a chance to straighten back up. My hand cupped the back of his neck as I held his lips to mine, only releasing when his fingers suddenly twisted inside me.
“Oh, God,” I breathed, falling back against the pillows.
Sam stood at the edge of the bed, watching me lose myself in his skilled hands. I opened my eyes long enough to find him working his thick shaft with his free hand while he stared at where his fingers were pumping inside me. He constantly licked his lips, and pure, unadulterated lust covered his face. As if he felt my gaze, his eyes flashed to mine. Absolute love shined in his golden eyes, rendering me unable to look away.
He’d been wrong. That was perfection.
“I want you inside me,” I breathed.
