by Jen Meyers
But of course he knew that.
As we got closer to my dad’s room, I got more and more anxious, walked faster, tried not to run. My eyes skimmed the numbers as we went by each room. 429, 427, 425. A few more breaths and I’d be there.
And then I was standing in front of it—scared to go in, scared to stay where I was. But not knowing was the greater fear, so I pushed through the door.
The first thing I saw was my mom crying, and my heart stopped. Was I too late? Was he gone?
My eyes flew to my father’s still face, his closed eyes, and I couldn’t tell if he was breathing. Then I heard the beeping. The machines monitoring him were rhythmically making noises—something that would normally drive me insane but was the most beautiful sound in the world at that moment.
He was okay. He was still here.
I wasn’t too late.
“Mom?”
She turned her head, surprised, and immediately started wiping her eyes.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. Don’t mind me,” she said, digging a tissue out of her purse and blowing her nose. “Everything’s fine, sweetheart. Dad’s doing…” She glanced at him, her face falling for the briefest of moments before she brightened again. “He’s doing good.”
“You didn’t answer your phone,” I said, my voice cracking. “I thought…”
“Oh, sweetheart, I’m sorry.” She stood up, walking toward me with her arms spread out wide. “The battery died, that’s all.”
The immense relief hit me hard, making my eyes water and my throat feel thick. I could feel my hands start to shake as the adrenaline that had been fueling me all morning started to wane now that I was here.
“You got here so quickly,” she said as she enveloped me in a hug, squishing me into her softness. I took a deep breath, her familiar smell making me feel safe. Then she released me and opened her arms to Josh. “And you brought Josh with you.” She hugged him tight. “George is going to be so touched that you came.”
“I wouldn’t be anywhere else,” Josh said, and in the tone of his voice I could tell he truly meant it. My aching heart eased the tiniest bit.
I stood there staring at my dad, so many lines connecting him to the machines, unsure whether it was safe to even touch him.
My mom gave me a sad smile. “Go ahead and sit down there, sweetheart.” She slipped her hand around Josh’s elbow. “I need to stretch my legs anyway. Josh and I will just go for a walk so you can have Dad all to yourself.”
I nodded, not looking at them, my eyes only on my dad.
He looked old, suddenly, and that made my chest feel tight. My dad had always seemed timeless to me, not truly aging even as his hair got grayer and his face grew more lined. But now, all of a sudden, he seemed old. Fragile.
Mortal.
Tears spiked in the corners of my eyes, and I lay my head down on the bed. I slid my hand up, reaching for his arm so I could hold onto him.
Maybe that would help keep him here a little longer.
Pressing my forehead into the mattress, I reminded myself to breathe.
“Please don’t die, Dad.” The words were whispered into the blankets. “I’m not ready for this—I can’t lose you.”
I took a deep shuddering breath and felt a weight settle on the back of my head.
“Oh, Willowbee. It’ll be okay.” His voice was rough and frail, like rusted lattice work on a crumbling bridge.
His fingers ever-so-gently smoothed the back of my hair, and all I wanted to do was sob into the mattress, release the mass of pressure that had built up in my chest. But at the same time, I couldn’t do that to him. It didn’t feel fair for me to fall apart in front of him, to lay the weight of my great fears on him as well, so I swallowed them and lifted my head, forcing a smile I felt nowhere in my body.
“What happened, Dad?” My voice sounded hoarse, raw—just like my heart felt.
“Just had a little trouble breathing, sweets,” he said, like it was no big deal.
“Breathing’s kinda important.”
“That it is.” He half coughed, half laughed. “That it is.”
There were so many things I wanted to say to him, but I didn’t know where to start. I just sat staring at him mutely, fear and doubt holding my words hostage.
“I’m fine.” He reached for my hand and squeezed it with surprising firmness given how pale he was. “I’m not going anywhere for a while. I promise.”
But how could he make promises like that? Especially when he was lying in a hospital bed? I was starting to really get it—there were no guarantees in life. That the people you love, no matter how much you love them, no matter how much good they do, they can die just as easily as anyone else.
I was starting to understand that this world was senseless. More than that, it was unfair, cold, and cruel.
My dad had the biggest heart of anybody I knew, yet he was stuck in a hospital bed, oxygen tubes in his nose, wires connecting him to beeping machines.
“Are they going to do the pacemaker?”
He nodded. “Day after tomorrow, actually.”
Okay. Well, I was staying until the surgery was done and he was back home. There was no way I could go back to the city, worrying from afar. My mind buzzed through all the things I’d need to rearrange.
“Don’t worry, Willow,” my dad said. “They’ve done this thousands of times. They hardly ever kill anyone.”
My mouth dropped open and I just stared at him for a moment, before shaking my head. “That is NOT funny. Not even a little bit.”
His little smile said otherwise. In fact, his eyes were filled with mischief and he looked like he was trying really hard not to laugh.
“I can’t believe you’re joking at a time like this.”
But he only looked more gleeful.
“Aw, come on,” he said, laughter bubbling up from deep in his chest. “I can’t do this with your mother, she worries too much. Takes everything too seriously.”
“This IS serious!”
“I know, I KNOW,” he said, sobering for a moment. “But sometimes you just gotta laugh anyway.”
“I don’t want to joke about this. It’s not funny to me.” I turned and looked out the window, the city of Boston spreading out as far as the eye could see.
“Fair enough.”
We were both silent for a beat, and he squeezed my hand again.
“There is something I wanted to ask you,” I finally said.
“Shoot.”
“You know that really cool new leather chair in your study?”
“With the circular wooden armrests?” he said, and I nodded. “It’s my new favorite place to read. You want to know where we got it?”
“No.” I shook my head. “Can I have it when you die?”
“Willow Beatrix Truly.” My mother’s shocked voice cut through the air just as my father’s loud laugh rang out and echoed around the room.
Startled, I whipped my head around to see my mom standing in the doorway with Josh right behind her. Her stern look was focused on me, and I felt like a kid again—caught, in trouble. Color rushed to my cheeks even as my dad slapped the bed, laughing harder. Josh was valiantly trying not to laugh.
Meanwhile my dad was wiping tears from his eyes, and shushing my mom. “Now, Gracie,” he said, gasping for breath a little too much, “Willow was just trying to cheer me up. Which she just did quite wonderfully.” He patted my hand. “Thank you, sweetheart. You are just what I needed today.”
Color had flushed his face, and he was looking much better, more animated, than when I’d first laid eyes on him. I grinned sheepishly, still feeling my mom’s disapproval as she brushed me aside so she could come fuss over him.
“Why don’t you and Josh go get some lunch?” Mom said.
I wasn’t sure I wanted to leave just yet, but she insisted. “You want us to pick up something for you?”
“Bring me some potato chips!” my dad called.
“You will do no such thing,” she said to me, the
n turned back to Dad. “The doctors said no more salt for you, and you know that.”
He pressed a hand to his chest. “You would deny a dying man his last wish?”
She slapped his arm. “You can have them when you’re really dying,” she said. “But that’s not today.” Then she straightened his blankets, and fluffed up his pillows before placing a kiss on his forehead, his nose, then on his lips. “Remember?” she said quietly. “You already promised me that.”
Josh jerked his head toward the hall, and I followed him out, leaving my parents to themselves.
He put his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into a one-armed hug as we walked down the hallway together. When the elevator doors slid closed, and we were alone, traveling down to the main floor, I wrapped my other arm around him, buried my face in his shoulder.
I needed something—someone—to hang onto right then.
If I’d had my pick of anyone in the world, I realized, it would have been Josh.
I tried not to let that scare the shit out of me.
Things would have been different if I’d succeeded.
twenty-one
“You two can sleep in your old room, Willow,” my mom said as we carried grocery bags inside.
I almost dropped mine.
We’d said goodnight to my dad, stopped for dinner, then picked up groceries at my mom’s insistence. She swore she didn’t have any food in the house, but knowing my mom, that wasn’t even within the realm of possibility. But even so, we humored her, following her around the grocery store, picking up whatever she directed us to get. Almost all of it was baking supplies—clearly she was planning to do a little stress baking even though Dad couldn’t eat any of it. Which I got.
But I wasn’t sure I could humor her with THIS.
“What?” I couldn’t even look at Josh. Share a room with him? That wasn’t a good idea. Today had been overwhelming in too many ways, and what I really needed was my own space. And to not make any stupid mistakes. “I thought you’d want Josh to sleep in the guest room.”
She put her hands on her hips and laughed at me. “You’re twenty-five. Too old for me to tell you not to share a bed with your fiancé. Besides, you need time together. I understand that.” She nodded a thank-you as Josh placed three bags onto the counter. “You’ll stay in your room together, and not another word about it. Your father and I already talked about it.”
“You guys TALKED ABOUT THIS?” My parents had discussed me and Josh sleeping together? Kill me. Kill me now.
“Of course we did. And he agrees.” She pulled the celery out of a bag and put it on the counter. “I just need to put fresh sheets on the bed.”
“I can put the sheets on,” I grumbled, skulking out of the room and trudging up the stairs.
“Goodnight, honey!” my mom called out way too happily. Ugh. No mother should be that happy about the prospect of her daughter sharing a bed with a guy.
This was a Bad Idea. A Very, Very Bad Idea.
I could just feel it.
I wrenched open the linen closet and pulled out a set of yellow and white striped sheets, then kicked the door shut.
It could only lead to problems. Because I was confused about Josh, feeling things I didn’t want to be feeling. I mean, I’d already accidentally started falling for the guy and I could not be held responsible for what happened if I was alone in a room with him again for an entire night.
ESPECIALLY if said room had a bed.
My hands shook, and I couldn’t get the corner of the fitted sheet to stay on the mattress. Tugging it down at the other corner, only made the first one pop off. Tears started pricking my eyes, making it hard for me to see what I was doing, and just adding to my frustration.
Finally, with the sheet barely hanging onto the bed, I sat down on the floor, tears running down my face, my whole body shaking. I realized that what was running through my body was fear. Just as I was terrified about losing my dad, I was equally scared to spend the night with Josh.
Which seemed totally absurd, but I was scared of what might happen between us and how it would feel to lose him afterwards. Because that’s what always happened. You loved someone, and then you lost him.
And I couldn’t. I couldn’t lose him.
Either one of them.
“Will?” Josh was standing in the doorway, looking unsure, our bags at his feet, but as soon as he saw my face, he shut the door and was across the room, kneeling down and pulling me into his arms.
The fact that he knew I wouldn’t want my mom to see me like this killed me. How did he know me so well? When had that happened?
The feel of his arms around me—it was too much. I lost it, sobs wracking my body as I clung to him.
I felt lost, overwhelmed, unsure. Only a week ago my life had been easy, clear, and orderly. And now? It felt like every aspect of it was up in the air, each more precarious or confusing than the next.
Before I could even think the words myself, Josh was saying, “Breathe, Will.” He pressed his lips against my forehead. “Just breathe.”
And that was all it took.
I became his in that moment, in the uttering of those words so familiar to me and yet so foreign on his lips.
In his arms, I looked up at him, and found myself in his deep blue eyes.
He was looking at me like he saw me. Really saw me.
Like he knew me—the good and the bad. Who I was deep inside.
Like he loved what he saw.
And just like that I wanted to be her—the girl he loved.
I reached up for him, drawing his face down to mine. He was making no moves on me, instead letting me lead us, maybe knowing that I needed to figure out what I wanted in this moment.
I think I fell a little bit more for him for that.
Up close, my gaze wandered to his lips. Marvelous lips. Magical lips. I could write a book about his lips.
Slowly, I brought my lips to his, and as soon as they touched, I knew I would not be letting go of him tonight.
He kissed me back gently, cautiously at first, as if waiting to give me time to change my mind. But as soon as I flicked out my tongue to taste him, he groaned and pulled me tighter, kissed me harder.
It was as if he’d been holding himself back for ages, and the floodgates suddenly burst wide open. His fingers threaded into my hair as his lips left mine and blazed a trail of fire up my jaw to my ear, then down my neck to kiss my shoulders, his tongue licking up little flames of desire everywhere it went.
I reached for the hem of his shirt, tugging it up, urging him silently to take it off. I needed to see him, to feel him beneath my hands.
To have all of him.
He ripped his shirt off, tossed it across the room so that it hit the wall and slid to the floor. For the brief moment that his mouth was not touching my body, this unconscious whimper slipped out of me as my hands sought his warm, smooth skin. As soon as his mouth found mine again, I was flooded with relief.
His hands slid under my shirt, lifting it up and over my head, then tossing it to lay next to his. Shivers covered my skin—the heat of his touch leaving cool emptiness where his fingers had been, making me ache with want and desire.
I slid my hands over his back, letting my fingers dance down the angles of his muscles, memorizing the feel of each one as they went. My mind danced between what I was feeling of him and what he was making me feel with his touch.
But it still wasn’t enough. I needed more of him, so I reached behind my back to undo my bra, letting the straps go slack on my shoulders and fall down my arms. He reached for it, sliding it off completely, and let it drop to the floor.
Then his hands were gliding up my abdomen until they cupped my breasts. His thumbs gently teased my nipples, rubbing in circles, making me ache in all the right places. When he lowered his head to take one nipple into his mouth, I nearly lost my mind at the feel of his lips on my sensitive skin.
I was throbbing everywhere—my body felt like one extremely hot coal re
ady to burst into flame at the slightest contact.
His name was on my lips, and when I moaned it, his fingers dug into my sides and he pulled me closer. Then he was lifting me up onto the bed, sliding off my pants.
One eyebrow raised at my lack of underwear, and I blushed furiously, trying to find the other sheet to cover myself up.
“Don’t do that,” he said, lowering himself over me. “Don’t try to cover up. You’re beautiful, Will. I’m just admiring your choice of underwear.”
“I just don’t like to wear any…” I said, my voice trailing off in embarrassment.
“And I’m fully supportive of that,” he said with a deliciously evil grin.
Then he lowered his head to my chest and took the other nipple into his mouth, making me forget any sense of embarrassment. Or, really, any sense at all.
He slowly kissed his way down my stomach, covering every inch as if he couldn’t bear to miss any piece of me. The aching in my core intensified when his lips hit my hipbones and he traced them down to the tops of my thighs.
I had never wanted anyone more than I wanted Josh. He was making my body sing like no one ever had, eliciting sensations in places I’d never felt before. Mind and body—he had all of me.
And as his mouth finally blazed a path to my ache, claiming it, waves of orgasm took me higher and higher until my fingers and toes were tingling too. As I came down from my Josh-high, he was stripping off his pants, pulling a condom out of the pocket before tossing them to the ground.
“You came prepared?” I said, smiling.
He blushed adorably. “This was just-in-case when I showed you my new place, actually.”
Clouds threatened in my mind at the mention of his moving, but as he placed the condom in my outstretched hand, letting me roll it down the hard length of him, all other thoughts melted away.
As he positioned himself over me, his hardness pressing, I welcomed him in, wrapping my legs and arms around him. He filled me slowly at first, and I gasped at the feel of him.
God, it had been too long.
