From Within

by J. M. Walker

  I cleared my throat, swallowing a couple of times before giving her the news that was the reason for my phone call. It was the only reason I would call her.

  “Xander,” she whispered, her voice shaky.

  “He’s gone.”

  Hope

  “THE LORD took another soul, laying to rest a beautiful human being. Caiden Yeo had fought the evil monster that is cancer, for years, the disease finally winning in the end. It’s heart-breaking and bone crushing…”

  I couldn’t hear any more of the priest’s words as I knelt in front of Caiden’s casket. Eyes were on me but the only pair I cared about belonged to Xander. He hadn’t talked to me all morning. He nodded once and that was it. No hug. No remorse or sympathy. Caiden may have been his best friend but he was mine too. God, I felt like I lost a piece of me. Leaving Xander the second time around was one of the hardest things I ever had to endure but burying a man that had stood by me throughout the years brought me to my knees. I surrendered to the domination of the sadness tearing through me. Sobs escaped my lips, my shoulders wracking with hard and powerful cries.

  Warm arms wrapped around me, pulling me into a tight embrace. The spicy scent of cologne and man wafted into my nostrils. It was familiar.

  Xander.

  He was holding me like I wanted. Comforting me like I needed. But it stopped there. He told the priest to go on while he spoke to me quietly.

  “Be strong, Hope. Please be strong. For me, but especially for you.”

  “I can’t, Xander. I can’t,” I cried. “I miss him.” And it had only been a couple of days. How would we get through a lifetime without him? Without his Yoda personality. Without him. Bile rose to my throat and I swallowed past it, the acidity burning my tongue. “Take care of Bee,” I said, jumping to my feet. I quickly headed back to my car when the nausea set in. My stomach bubbled. By the time I reached my vehicle, I was hunched over, spewing my breakfast onto the concrete. The bottle I had dove into earlier that morning, laughed at me as I continued spilling my guts at my feet. I broke. I caved into the addiction. Jumping into the sea of self-inflicted abuse head first.

  A white cloth surfaced in front of my vision.

  I slowly rose to my full height, being met by a pair of beautiful grey eyes I had fallen in love with so many years before. “Thank you,” I said, taking the cloth from Xander and wiped my mouth.

  “You’re welcome,” he said, searching my face. His gaze darted to the car, his brows furrowing a second later before he met my gaze once again. “And thank you.”

  “For what?” I frowned.

  “For helping me realize I’m not the only one who breaks.”

  Xander

  Sometime later…

  I STARED at the paintings adorning the walls around me. Never in my whole entire life would I think I would make it this far. Always being accused of living off of Caiden and being a bum, I would never amount to anything. It got to the point I questioned whether those were right.

  Voices sounded around me, flashes of cameras went off, taking picture after picture of the display. But all I could focus on was…her.

  Hope Charming.

  She was everywhere. In my heart. My mind. The blood flowing through my veins. She was in every painting I drew. Even the paintings of scenes. There would still be something in it reminding me of her. A time when I was with her. Sunlight. Darkness. Cracked walls. I drew and painted them all. Whatever mood I was in, whatever my soul called for, I would let my hands flow on the canvas.

  A throat cleared behind me.

  Turning around, I blinked, once, twice, before I finally focused on the beauty before me. “Hope.”

  Her perfect teeth grazed over her bottom lip. “It’s been awhile.”

  “Yes,” I nodded. “How long?”

  “A year…” Her eyes sparkled in the bright lighting of the room.

  “You…you look good.” That familiar sense of pleasure raced down my spine.

  Her auburn curly hair was cut short, the strands grazing her shoulders. She had filled out some like she had been working out but it left an ache deep in the pit of my gut. God, she was beautiful. Still and always would be.

  “You look good too.” Her cheeks reddened. “I see you’ve done well for yourself.”

  “I guess.” I glanced up at the painting beside me and sighed. “So,” I turned back to her, putting on a fake smile. “How have you been?”

  “Alright. I’m back in school and I work part-time, running AA meetings. I want to be a drug and alcohol abuse counselor.” She stepped up beside me. “I…” She looked around her, her gaze darting over the paintings. “Xander.”

  The scent of peaches and cream filled my nostrils. My fingers itched to push the strand of hair off her shoulder and replace it with my lips. She was the only woman that could get this reaction from me. The only person in my existence that could bring me to my knees by a look.

  “You’re my muse, Hope,” I told her. Reaching out to grab her hand, I hesitated and pulled back, crossing my arms under my chest.

  “I…wow…these paintings are beautiful.”

  “Thank you but they’re only beautiful because my model is,” I said, sitting on the bench.

  “Xander, we have some reporters who want to interview…Oh,” Melanie Gomez, my personal assistant stopped in her tracks when she came into the room and saw Hope with me. “Hi.” Mel held out her hand. “I’m Melanie, Xander’s PA.”

  “It’s nice to meet you.” Hope returned her handshake. “I’m Hope.”

  “Oh I know.” Mel’s gaze darted between us, a huge grin spreading on her face.

  I rolled my eyes.

  “You know?” Hope frowned, a question of confusion written all over her face.

  “All Xander does is talk about you.”

  “Alright, Mel. Why don’t you go tell the reporters I will answer their questions in a bit?” I ushered her out of the room.

  “Are you going to ask her out? It’s been a year, Xander. Please tell me you’re going to ask her out,” Mel said, pushing her black rimmed glasses up the bridge of her nose.

  “I don’t know. It’s been a year.” Those were the key words.

  “Well, good luck.” She patted my arm. “Alright folks. Let’s move to the other room,” she yelled out to the large crowd forming in the gallery. She turned back to me, winked and closed the doors, leaving me alone with Hope.

  “I’m glad your painting took off,” Hope said as she moved around the room, checking out each picture. She would graze her hand through her hair every so often, a nervous flutter I had grown accustomed to. She was beautiful in the way she moved. Almost like she was gliding.

  “I never expected it to. I paint and draw because it’s freeing. It’s therapy,” I told her, leaning against the set of double doors.

  She nodded. “How are things?”

  “Bee keeps in touch but she hasn’t been back to the house since Caiden died. It’s too hard for her. I feel the same way but every time I go to move, guilt threatens to consume me since he left the house in my name.” He built it for me. Not that I was forced to stay but I knew he wouldn’t want me to move. I had to get over my own fear. Living in that big house by myself was exhausting.

  “Bee and I meet for coffee at least once a month. She keeps me informed about you.” Hope’s gaze met mine. “That’s how I knew about the showing tonight.”

  “How long did it take you to decide to come?”

  She laughed. “She told me about the showing two months ago and I decided tonight I was going to come. Even when I stepped foot into this gallery, I was going to turn around and head back home.”

  “I figured.” I knew how she felt. “How are your parents?” The conversation carried on for a good hour. Each of us passing back and forth information about our lives for the past year. Her mom had died two months after Caiden did and her father was now living in a retirement home. The depression had set in and he couldn’t fend for himself anymore but Hope had told
me the place he was in was beautiful and well kept. My heart became heavy at her words. Too much death all at once. It was unfair but unfortunately we couldn’t control it. We had to make do and move on, hopefully becoming stronger in the end.

  “How have you been?” Her eyes twinkled in the dim lighting of the room. “Besides becoming a successful artist.”

  I shrugged, sitting on the bench against the far wall. “Good.” But lonely. I didn’t date after her and I broke up. I didn’t see the point.

  “I haven’t dated since leaving you,” she said softly, joining me and folded her hands in her lap.

  “Same here.” I shouldn’t get as much enjoyment out of those words as I did but knowing she’s single made all of the pain go away. It helped the loneliness in my heart. The hole in my chest. It filled the void in my life since she walked away.

  “Why haven’t we, Xander?”

  “Maybe it’s not meant to be. Maybe we needed time apart before we found each other again.” I didn’t know. I prayed something good would come out of this. I was tired.

  “Something told me to come tonight. As much as it scared me. I was worried you would shut me out.”

  I grabbed her hand, sliding my fingers between hers. “Never. It’s been a year, Hope. I’ve had lots of time to think. I’m a painter so I’m alone often.”

  Hope leaned her head against my shoulder and sighed. “What are we going to do? Can we be together?”

  “Do you want to be?” I brushed my thumb along the back of her hand, hoping, praying that we could make this work.

  “Yes. I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you so damn much.” Her breath hitched. “Why didn’t you say anything the day of Caiden’s funeral?”

  “What do you mean?” I frowned.

  “You saw the flask on the passenger seat of my car. That’s why I was throwing up. I was expecting you to yell and scream at me, telling me you told me so or something. Why didn’t you?”

  “For helping me realize I’m not the only one who breaks.” I remembered saying those words like it was only yesterday. I wanted to yell at her. When I saw the metal flask staring up at me, I wanted to demand for her to tell me why she judged me for so long. Why she finally succumbed to the addiction I knew we both craved. “Because Caiden wouldn’t have wanted that.” I shrugged. “I know what it’s like to lose control. Hell, I made you lose control one and only time.”

  “Many times.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Her cheeks reddened. “Many times. I wasn’t lying when I said I couldn’t control myself around you.” She chewed her bottom lip. “But thank you. Thank you for not lashing out. Thank you for…for being you.”

  “Will you go on a date with me?” I blurted.

  She sat back, her brows narrowing.

  Pinching her chin, I tilted her head. “I want to take things slow. I’ve missed you. I’ve thought about you. I’ve dreamt about you. I live and breathe you. Every day I wake up, praying I’ll get to see you again. When I go to bed, I’m happiest because I know you’ll come to me in my dreams. I know we had our issues. I know our relationship was toxic but I want to try. Again.”

  “Yes. Please. I would love to go on a date.” Tears welled in her eyes. “And more.”

  Leaning down, my thumb brushed over her bottom lip before I replaced it with my mouth.

  She sighed, relaxing into my touch.

  A spark ignited between us, burning into a raging fire I hadn’t felt in so long. Even when I was with her, the kisses were always needy, frantic. Our touches were desperate, like we had to engrain ourselves in each other’s bodies for fear of losing the other.

  Breaking the kiss, I placed a soft peck on her mouth before sitting back.

  Hope wrapped her hands around my arm, leaning against me and let out a contented sigh.

  We sat there for what could have been minutes, maybe even hours. No talking. No words. We listened to the smooth sounds of our breathing and that was it.

  I looked up, my eyes landing on the painting across the room from us. My heart jumped against my rib cage. The image staring back at me were of three hands. Two hands holding with a third hand covering them. When I painted the picture, it was meant to portray a bond between three friends. But now I realized it was Hope’s and my hand with Caiden’s covering our joined ones. His was cast in a silhouette glow, wrapping around us, protecting us.

  The day Caiden died, I refused to wallow. I cried. Yelled. Screamed, going through the several steps of grief before I changed my life around. For him. For me. For us. Knowing he would always be everywhere. I pulled the strength he had taught me and moved on with my life, relishing in the fact he would forever be in my heart. That I now had Hope. We would take our relationship one day at a time. Building and molding it into what we wanted. What we needed. We would start at the bottom and work our way to the top.

  Hope Charming was the angel in my heaven. The light in my darkness. She was the piece of me that had been missing my whole life.

  We were bound together by the ropes of our love, finding that connection.

  From. Within.

  Xander

  Xander,

  If you are reading this, then I am gone. But know it means nothing. I’m still here. Inside of you. Around you.

  I’m the air you breathe into your lungs.

  I’m the sustenance feeding your soul.

  I am.

  Leaving you is one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. I know, it’s not like I had much of a choice. We never have a choice do we? If we did, I would still be alive. But would I be with you? No. You want to know why? Because of her. Hope Charming. My best friend. Your lover. God, I pray both of you have made it through your problems. You are strong-willed and stubborn. Put two people together with those qualities and you get an explosion.

  You never had to tell me but I knew before I died you weren’t sure it would last with Hope. I get that. But I hope, no I pray, even if you’re not together, then you’re at least civil. Friends.

  I wish I could have said goodbye in a proper way. But what way is proper when I’m dying and suffering in my bed? I never wanted you to see me that way but I know if the roles were reversed, I’d be by your side every step of the way. As hard as it was for me to give up control, I thank you for being there. For me. For Bee. But you need to focus on you, whatever you decide to do, whoever you decide to be with. You need time for yourself. You’re strong. You’re tough. You will get through this. Please know that. Promise me you won’t give up. Promise me you won’t dive back into the hell alcohol provides. Stay away from Lee. He’s a bad influence. You don’t need the drugs. Keep running. Keep working out. Keep being you. But don’t you dare give in.

  The moment I found out the doctors couldn’t do anything else for me, I wrote this letter. And then I ripped it up and tried again. I probably started this letter at least a hundred times. I didn’t know what to say but I felt like I had to say something. I didn’t even know if you would read this but knowing Hope, she would make you. So either way, if she’s reading it to you or if you are reading this on your own, I hope you can hear my words. Hear what I have to say. Hear what I need you to know.

  I also left you something. Know it is for you. It’s for us. It’s for all of you.

  I love you, Xander.

  Don’t ever forget me.

  Thank you. For making my twenty-eight years of living on this planet the best it could be. Thank you for helping me through some of the most difficult times a person should never have to endure. Thank you. For being you.

  Caiden

  I glanced up after the word left my lips, my gaze landing on Hope. Tears poured down her cheeks. It had been so long since Bee gave me the letter Caiden had written me. I could never find the courage to read it.

  When I smoothed out the crumpled up piece of paper, Caiden’s fancy script stared up at me. And although I read the words he had written so long ago, I felt he was speaking through me.

  It had been two
years since Caiden died. Since God took a hero. Since I was reborn.

  As Hope greeted me when I left the pulpit, all I could think about was Caiden. How he would be standing back, arms crossed under his chest and a smug smile of I told you so on his face.

  “He would be so proud of you,” Hope said, pulling me from my thoughts.

  Grabbing her hand, I walked with her to the back of the room, needing to be alone for a moment.

  “Xander, are you—”

  I cupped her cheeks and captured her mouth in a hard bruising kiss.

  She sighed, relaxing against me, leaning into the passionate touch of my lips. “What was that for?” she asked when I released her.

  “For being there for me and also…” I pulled out a small gold pin from my jacket pocket. “One year, baby.”

  Hope took the tiny item from me. “One year sober.” She pulled out her own pin. “And one year for me.” Five years and she was no longer addicted to the alcohol she craved. Bring me into the picture and she caved. I apologized every damn day and I would keep apologizing for almost setting her back permanently.

  “I love you,” I blurted, my cheeks heating. We had been together for a year, going to an AA meeting for our first date but we hadn’t said those three words to each other again until…well…now.

  Her eyes welled, her chin quivering. “I’ve been waiting…for so long to hear you say that.”

  “I’m sorry. I wanted it to be perfect. I wanted to say it to you when I knew I would be the last person that said it.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Hope. We don’t have to get married. We don’t need to have any kids. I want you. That’s it. Nothing more. Nothing less.”