by Toni Aleo
The Bellevue Bullies Series
Boarded by Love
Clipped by Love (early 2015)
Hooked by Love (late 2015)
The Assassins Series
Taking Shots
Trying to Score
Empty Net
Falling for the Backup
Blue Lines
Breaking Away
Laces and Lace
A Very Merry Hockey Holiday
Overtime (Spring 2015)
Standalone
Let it be Me
Taking Risks Series
The Whiskey Prince
Becoming the Whiskey Princess
You think the dead we loved ever truly leave us? You think that we don’t recall them more clearly than ever, in times of great trouble?
-Sirius Black
I can’t breathe.
The pain is unbearable.
It is all consuming.
My head is pounding, my body feels tingly, but most of all, my chest just burns with the pain of a thousand fires. I can feel my blood leaving my body. The heat of it running along my breast and armpit, gushing down the white gown I wear and staining it. I spent so much on that dress and now it is ruined.
Because he shot me.
I should have known better. The first time I saw him, I should have known he was nothing but a mistake. Since I’m not one to make mistakes, I really should have rethought that, but I didn’t. I allowed him to play a little role in my life, and now I’m paying for it. My mom always said that you learn from your mistakes, but will I die from mine?
I knew from the beginning when we found Casey and Lena outside that it was going to be bad, but I never really thought it would end like this. That Casey really wanted to kill the love of my life. I couldn’t let that happen. Not with all that Declan had to live for. So I did what any other woman would do. I stepped into the line of fire. There was no other choice. I couldn’t let him die.
My ears still ring from the sound of the gun. It vibrates my soul and makes my skin break out in gooseflesh. Even with all this going on, I’m not scared. Even though the pain exploded throughout my chest, taking my breath away, I know I did the right thing. I’m not scared to die. I’m not saying it’s ideal since I want to have a life with Declan, but I know I am dying for a good reason. Crumbling against him, I look into ice-blue eyes and I don’t regret my choice.
I love him.
I would do anything for him.
Even die for him.
And that’s exactly what I am about to do.
I can hear my favorite song falling off his sweet lips, and I want to stay. I want to be in his arms for the rest of my life, but I can’t. I always thought that when you die, it would be like the scene in Harry Potter when Harry finds himself with Dumbledore in the train station. Get on the train to die or go back; that’s always how I interpreted that part. It isn’t like that though. There is no train; there is nothing but light, and thankfully, the pain is gone. Nothing. I feel nothing. It’s almost as if I am floating. I look around for some sign of life, some sign of what I am to do next, and to my surprise, she stands there in all her ethereal glory.
My mother.
Dressed in only white, her gown sparkles much like mine as she stands with her arms extended out to me. Her dark red hair falls in a mass of curls down her shoulders. Her eyes, the same aquamarine as mine, are bright and happy, unlike how they had been when she was dying. She is smiling, her eyes welling up with tears, and I find myself fighting for breath again. Looking at her, I feel as if I am consumed with all the love in the world, and I honestly can’t believe it.
My mommy is here.
Running to her, I wrap my arms around her middle as her nose and lips press against the top of my head. My tears stain her dress as her arms hold me in close. She feels like I remember. Like home. And she smells like roses. Sweet, beautiful roses.
“Ah, my sweetheart, my Amberlyn. Love, look at me,” she whispers against my temple, and I sob as she tips my head up, her fingers light against my cheeks as I meet her gaze. “So beautiful,” she says, kissing the side of my mouth.
“Mommy,” I cry as my heart jumps into my throat. Searching her eyes, I want to believe this is real, but it can’t be. Or is it? I can feel her; I can smell her. I am holding my mother. It has to be real. “I miss you so much.”
“Oh sunshine, I miss you more,” she says, holding me to her, her fingers running slowly through my hair like she used to do when I was a child. There wasn’t a day that passed where I wouldn’t lay my head in her lap and she would thread her fingers or braid my hair. It was perfect, but as I blink back the tears, she studies me with a look I’ve seen before. It was the same one she had when she told me she was dying.
Clearing her throat, she says, “But this isn’t how you are going to die.”
“Huh? I’m not dead?”
“No, and you’re not going to die. Not today. You are going to go back.”
My heart sinks. “But I don’t want to leave you. Or Daddy! Where is Daddy?”
Her eyes soften as her lips curve up in a grin. “He’s here and he loves you so much. He’s so proud of you, but sweetheart, you have to go back.”
My chest burns again, but this time with sobs as I cling to my mother, not wanting to let her go. “But I don’t want to lose you again.”
“But Declan is waiting,” she whispers in my ear. “He loves you so, my sweetheart. He is good for ya. You are going to have a beautiful life together.”
I know this is true, and I want to go back to Declan, I do, but I don’t want to lose my mother again. I already did that. Not again.
“No, Mom, come with me,” I beg. “Please don’t leave me.”
I don’t know why, but space is being put between us. She is letting me go, while I try wildly to get ahold of her. “No, Mommy! Please! Don’t leave me! Don’t let go!”
“Go back to Declan, live the life you deserve, a long and beautiful one. Go, baby.”
“No! Mommy! Please!” I cry, still trying to reach for her.
“I love you, Amberlyn love. So much.”
She is slowly disappearing, and I don’t know how to keep her with me. I keep trying to reach for her, but she is out of my reach though still smiling. How can she be smiling when she is leaving me?
“Mom! No! Don’t leave me!”
“I’ll never leave you, my sunshine. I am always with you.”
“But I miss you,” I whisper as my lip wobbles. “I don’t want to live without you.”
“Amberlyn, the sun is shining and so shall you. Live a beautiful life. We are watching and cheering you on.”
And then she is gone.
“Amberlyn, Amberlyn, wake up, you’re scaring me.”
My eyes flutter open as the tears slowly roll down the sides of my face. The pain is back in my chest and I feel stiff. My heart is racing, I feel sweat rolling down my temple, and everything just hurts. When my cousin Fiona comes into my line of vision, her eyes are full of worry and her hair in a crazy heap on the top of her head. I blink back the tears and allow a sob to leave my lips.
I should be glad I am alive, but I just let my mother go again.
I can see the panic in Fiona’s eyes as she reaches for my shoulders, shaking me slightly, causing pain to shoot through my chest. I flinch, crying out, and thankfully she lets go right away.
“Oh fuck! My bad! So sorry, ya were screaming weird though. Are ya okay?”
Blinking away the tears, I can only look at her as the pain of watching my mother disappear and the gunshot wound in my chest throbs. I didn’t want to let her go.
“Are you okay? Please, I’m sorry. Did I hurt you more?”
I clear my
throat and with a croak ask, “Declan?”
I feel all discombobulated. Almost as if I don’t belong here. No, I feel empty. Alone. Where is Declan?
“Amberlyn, honey, are you okay? He went to the bathroom,” my Aunt Shelia says.
“What happened?” I hear, and I quickly look at the door, meeting Declan’s gaze. My lip starts to wobble as the tears run down my face. He looks dashing in a pair of khaki shorts and a blue button-down shirt. His hair is a mess of curls on top of his head, and I want to smile at the hair on his jaw, but then I want to cry at the look of pure distress on his beautiful, chiseled face.
He closes the distance between us, and I reach up for him as he gathers me in his arms, careful of my wound as he holds me close to his strong chest. Kissing my temple, he whispers that everything is fine, that it was only a dream, as he slowly rocks me back and forth.
Closing my eyes, I slowly remember that I am still in the hospital in Ireland and have been here for almost two weeks. Squeezing my eyes shut, I realize that it’s the fourth time I’ve had that same dream since being shot by Casey Burke and woken up completely out of it. I don’t understand the dream and hate the empty feeling it leaves me with, but, thankfully, Declan comes along and he fills the empty. He makes it better.
Nuzzling into his chest, I cling to him like a life preserver as my heart slows in my chest. As I look up at him, his mouth slowly pulls up at the side as he runs his fingers through my hair and behind my ear. I always feel so beautiful in his gaze. I know I probably don’t look it, but in his eyes, I could almost think I am.
“Same dream?” I nod slowly and he kisses my nose. “It’s all better now; I’m here.”
“I miss her,” I whisper, and he tightens his arms around me.
“I know, mo stór, I know,” he says softly, kissing my cheek and the side of my mouth. “Everything is okay now. We are leaving soon, and then you can sleep in your bed. Maybe the dreams will stop.”
While I would love to stop waking up in complete distress, I don’t want to stop seeing my mother. But I know the dreams need to end, and hopefully being home will help that. Snuggling closer to him, I squeeze my eyes shut and know he is right. I hate that these dreams have started. I know that I went through something tragic, losing my mother, and then to step in front of Declan, leading to the gunshot wound in my chest that could have killed me, but why are the dreams starting now?
Is it her way of reaching out to me to tell me that my decision to marry Declan is a good one? It’s crazy and insane, I know that. I mean, I’ve only known him three months, been dating for two, and we haven’t even had sex yet, but I know this is real. I know that I’ve found my missing piece. I felt lost before, and like a guiding light, I found my way to him. That has to mean something. He is special, but am I having second thoughts? Is this my mother’s way of reassuring me?
Looking up at Declan, I move my nose along his jaw and he smiles as he cups my face.
“I love you,” he whispers, kissing the side of my mouth again, his hand running slowly down my arm as his gaze holds mine.
I need no reassurance. I made the right decision.
Am I scared? Out of my mind.
Will I be a good wife? Will I fit in to his world? And most of all, what if he doesn’t like me after he sleeps with me? There are so many things that could go wrong, but our love has been so steady and strong since the beginning. I will never forget when I fell in love with him. It was when he held me in his arms as I cried for my mother in his large library. I remember feeling so safe and whole again, something I hadn’t felt since I’d watched my mother die. It was only a couple weeks ago, but with the shooting, I feel like it’s been years.
I feel as though we’ve been through so much, that together we can do anything. We are made for each other. He is so sweet and romantic, and from the start, I knew he was different. I knew he was someone I could be with my whole life. I know we are young, but when you know, you know. As he holds me, I can’t help but think of what my mother said. How he is good for me. While, yes, it was a dream, I believe that she’s right, and I believe in us. I made the right choice.
I know I did.
Reaching up, I hold his jaw and smile. “I love you too.”
I hate seeing her in pain.
It breaks my heart something tragic.
As I stand here, watching as they slowly clean her wound and bandage it up, I hate the way her face cringes and how the tears are welling up in her eyes. I would give anything to have five minutes with that gobshite Casey Burke. I’d tear him limb from limb, that’s for fucking sure. I have never hated someone as much as I hate him. Nor will I ever.
He not only hurt my sister, raped her and left her in the cold; he shot the love of my life. I want him to burn for what he’s done. I want him to feel the pain I’ve felt—watching my sister try to be the person she was before the rape, waking up each day and trying to be happy. I want him to feel what my family has gone through, the pain, the embarrassment, and the guilt. It was our job to protect her and we failed.
The same with Amberlyn. I had one job, which was to love and protect her. I know that’s what her father would say to me if he were here, God rest his soul, and her mother too. They aren’t here to do it; someone needs to be, and I want that job, but I couldn’t even keep her from being shot. So not only do I have the guilt and pain from Casey hurting my sister, but now I have the same feelings from his almost killing Amberlyn.
How can a person cause this much pain in someone’s life and get away with it?
When Amberlyn cries out, I have to look away, my hand squeezing hers as the tears burn in my eyes. It’s my fault. All my fucking fault. If I would have seen the severity of the situation, taken the wanker seriously, maybe this wouldn’t have happened. I should have pushed Lena and Amberlyn to the side, out of harm’s way. Taken him with my bare hands. But instead, I stood there. And laughed in his face. Like a fucking eejit.
I stood there while the gun went off, and still, I didn’t believe it was happening. I thought it was all a joke, but then she slammed into me. The blood spilled from her beautiful body, staining everything red, and all I could do was hold her close to me and pray that she’d make it. I have never loved anyone the way I love her. I felt completely and utterly lost as I watched her blood leave her body. I didn’t know how to fix it. My hand wasn’t stopping the bleeding, and I couldn’t save her. I was crying like a wee baby. I remember singing her song, but it was more for me than her. I needed something to keep me calm, and imagining the words coming from her sweet lips did it.
It was horrible. Something I never want to experience again.
I honestly don’t know how she made it. The doctors were worried, which made me worry more. What would I do if I lost her? Would I shut down again? Would I lose everything? Surely my da would have made an exception, but what if he wouldn’t? I couldn’t blame him because I wouldn’t find anyone else. Amberlyn is it. She is my future.
Honestly though, I still can’t believe she wants to marry me. I think I knew from the start that I would make her my wife, but I never expected her to be so willing with only knowin’ me a couple months. She is making a huge commitment to me, and I thought maybe I’d see fear or something, but nothing but love is in her sweet aquamarine eyes. She loves me, and Lord knows I love her even more. We are young, and this may be a little mental, but I believe in us. I know we will be grand.
Together. As long as I can protect her.
“Stop looking like that. I’m fine,” I hear her sweet voice say.
I turn to look at her and she is smiling. She is wearing a tank and some sweat pants that Fiona had brought her. Her hair is high on her head, her eyes bright, but her skin is still pale. I can see the pain in her eyes but also the undying love. I don’t know how she can be smiling. I don’t want to smile; I feel like shite, and I honestly don’t know how to feel anything but. All I keep doing is seeing her bleeding everywhere, dying in my arms.
But she isn’
t dead. She is here, and maybe that should make me smile.
Reaching over, I take her cheek in my hand and try to smile, but I just can’t. I feel so horrible that this has happened.
“I just worry about ya, love.”
“I know,” she says, covering my hand with her own. “But I’m here. I’m alive and we are fine.”
I nod slowly, looking deep into the eyes that hold my forever. “I love you, Amberlyn.”
“I love you,” she says softly, stepping in closer to me. “I love saying that.”
“Me too,” I admit, holding her close and kissing her nose. “Are you ready to go home?”
“I am,” she agrees.
I want to take her to my home, but I know that is out of the question. I hope that Mr. and Mrs. Maclaster don’t mind my hanging out because I have to make sure she is okay.
Or I’ll drive myself mad.
Once we are back to the Maclaster home, Mrs. Maclaster fusses over Amberlyn, leaving me to stand off to the side, awkwardly unsure what to do. Mr. Maclaster stands beside me, and he hasn’t talked to me since the shooting. He doesn’t even look me in the eye, and I know it’s because he feels the same I do.
That this is my fault.
Even Mrs. Maclaster isn’t looking at me like she used to. She used to admire my family, obsess a bit, but now I think she thinks I’m as good as shite. It upsets me since they are the closest thing to parents that Amberlyn has. I want them to like me, but then again, do I even deserve their blessing?
When I see Amberlyn cringe from how tight Mrs. Maclaster is tucking her in, I ask, “Are you all right like that?”
I receive a look from Mrs. Maclaster as she says, “Now, Declan, I’ve been tucking babies into bed for years. I’m sure I’ve got it.”
“Mom, she looks in pain,” Fiona points out, thank God. She is the only one who doesn’t look at me like I was the one who fired the gun.
She gives me a small smile as Amberlyn says, “I’m fine. Honestly, no reason to fuss over me.”
“It’s our jobs. I promised your ma and da, so hush, let me fuss if I please,” she says, and I can see her choking back her tears. “I already failed them a bit.”
