Hard Rock Kiss

by Athena Wright

  The hurt on his face wasn't for himself this time. It was for me. Full of sadness and pity.

  I didn't want his pity. I didn't want him to be sad.

  It was bad enough I'd dragged him into my life this far. He didn't need to be dragged in any further.

  "Never mind." I rubbed at my wet cheeks with the back of my hand. "I shouldn't have said anything. Just forget it."

  I turned on my heel, stalking off in the opposite direction, trying to put as much distance between us as fast as I could.

  I thought maybe Nathan would call out to me, or reach for my hand to stop me from leaving.

  He didn't.

  33

  I stood at the foot of the stairs, looking up at the door to the main house, willing myself to take the first step. I could hear someone moving around and the sounds of cooking in the kitchen.

  I lifted my foot. Lowered it. Took a few steps back. Shuffled forward again.

  I'd been at this for twenty minutes.

  I had to tell my parents sooner or later. I wanted to put it off until later, but I knew I had to get it over with. I needed to book an appointment for the surgery within the next few weeks. The doctor said I wasn't in any immediate danger, but the longer we left it, the higher the risk of something going wrong.

  I just didn't want to deal with the inevitable crying and anxiety and suffocating attention.

  My mom would be the one who cried. She always tried to keep it from me, but I'd come to recognize that watery gaze and rapid blinking that meant she was holding back tears.

  My dad would immediately go into anxious research mode. His hands would shake and his mustache would twitch as he demanded to know every detail of my diagnosis, expecting me to catalogue every symptom I'd experienced.

  And of course, neither of them would let me out of their sight for more than five minutes until the surgery.

  I moved away from the stairs and went to sit on the sofa. I couldn't deal with all that. Not yet.

  It wasn't just my parents, either.

  I had to talk to Tracey about my volunteering and the New Year's party. She'd have to find someone else to help her with it, because I'd still be recovering. She'd need to find replacements for all my volunteer shifts. Maybe she'd give them to Nancy and just hope the woman didn't keeping flaking out.

  I'd also need to call the pet shop and try to arrange for some time off. As a part-time worker, I didn't get any vacation time or sick leave, but maybe they'd at least hold my job for me while I was away, instead of firing me on the spot when I explained I wouldn't be able to work for two months.

  If I explained to them the severity of my condition, explained that it was medically necessary, maybe they would be understanding. Maybe they would give me a sort of leave of absence.

  Or, maybe they would completely freak out and wonder whether I was going to drop dead in the middle of a shift and start treating me differently when I came back.

  I hated that. I hated when people treated me like I was a bomb waiting to go off. It would have been better if I could keep my condition to myself. It was my own private business.

  But if I didn't explain why I needed time off, maybe they'd refuse and I'd have to outright quit anyway.

  There were no good choices.

  I exhaled a deep sigh and closed my eyes.

  A knock sounded on my door.

  My heart leaped.

  Only one person had ever come to my front door.

  I tiptoed quietly to peek through the window.

  It was Nathan.

  My face went hot, then cold, feeling flustered and off balance.

  Maybe I should have expected him to show up, after yelling all that stuff at him.

  I took a moment to steady myself, then opened the door.

  We stared at each other.

  "My mom told me what you two talked about," Nathan said. "Can I come in?"

  I moved away from the door, giving him permission without words.

  He stood in the middle of the apartment, between the living room and the kitchen, looking lost.

  I folded my arms across my chest, hugging myself as I waited for him to go first.

  "You need surgery," he said. The words weren't a question.

  "Yes."

  "And that's why you really broke up with me," he said. "You thought I wouldn't be able to handle it."

  He sounded almost angry. Like he was upset I didn't trust him. But it had nothing to do with trust.

  "You couldn't even handle the thought of me going indoor skydiving," I said. "You really think you can handle sitting there while I go under the knife, knowing there's a risk I might not even make it through surgery, and even if I do, I'll still be an invalid for months? You think you'll be able to concentrate on a tour if you know I'm at home, alone, in pain and unable to take care of myself?"

  "I—"

  "It was bad enough knowing what my illness did to my parents," I interrupted him before he could say a word. "I'm not going to let it ruin your life, too."

  "You think I don't understand illness?" he said.

  "I know you do."

  And that was why I couldn't let him go through it again.

  "My mom was stuck at home taking care of me my whole life," I began. "She had to quit her job. She had to quit all her hobbies. Someone needed to take me to all my appointments. Someone needed to be with me round the clock during times when I was bedridden. They couldn't afford to hire a full-time caregiver, and besides, they wouldn't have trusted a stranger with their sick only child anyway. She'd rearranged her whole life and dedicated it to taking care of mine. I wasn't the only one who had missed out on things."

  "Becca—"

  "My dad hates his job," I cut in. "It causes him so much stress and anxiety. It's a toxic work environment. But the insurance is too good. He can't leave. I have a preexisting condition and no other insurance will take us for what we can afford. He's stuck there, even though the stress makes him physically ill at times. He does it for me."

  It was only once I grew old enough to realize what my parents had given up for me that I truly learned what guilt was.

  "It was hard for me," I said. "But it was even harder for my parents. They didn't get to experience raising a happy, healthy child. They had to devote their whole lives to taking care of me, knowing at any minute something terrible might happen and they might lose me." The back of my eyes burned with hot, salty tears. "That's why I could never place that type of burden on anyone else."

  "I looked it up," was all he said, not trying to counter any of my points.

  "Looked up what?" I asked, blinking back the tears.

  "The risk of open heart surgery going badly is only one percent."

  "There's still a chance."

  "And there's a chance you might get hit by a bus on your way to work tomorrow," he said. "I'm not going to let fear ruin this for us."

  "It's not just that," I said. "I can't ask you to give up your life, your career, your dream, for me."

  "Becca, I'm rich," he said bluntly. "I'm paying for the best care for my mom. I'll pay for the best care for you."

  "Nathan…"

  "I'm serious," he insisted, his blue eyes firm and determined. "I promise, I'll be there every moment I can, and if I absolutely can't, I'll make sure you're well cared for."

  "I can't ask you to do that for me."

  "I'm offering. Because I swear to god, I am not going to lose you."

  My eyes filled with unshed tears. "You might anyway."

  "Then we better make the most of our time together."

  My face crumpled. Nathan gathered me up in his arms. I buried my head in his chest, letting the sobs overtake me. He held me tight, one arm around my middle and one cupping the back of my head. I trembled against him, my whole body convulsing.

  "I'm so scared," I choked out.

  "I know," he whispered. "It's okay to be scared."

  "I never wanted you to see me like this."

  "I want to be here f
or you. I want to be with you. No matter what happens. I—"

  He paused. I waited for him to continue. He didn't. I pulled back to look at him. His own face was flushed, not with tears, but with nerves. I opened my mouth to ask what was wrong. He pressed a finger to my lips, hushing me.

  "Wait," he said, sounding almost strangled. "I need to tell you something."

  I nodded silently.

  "I've never done this before," he said with a shaky, nervous laugh. "Probably isn't the best time either, with you crying on me. But…"

  He cupped my cheeks with both hands and tipped my chin up.

  "I love you," he said.

  A fresh flood of tears cascaded down my face.

  "I love you, too," I said, voice thick with emotion.

  Nathan placed the softest of kisses on my lips. I wrapped my arms around his neck, clinging to him. The kiss was warm, comforting, like coming home to a roaring fire and a cozy blanket. I wanted to wrap myself up in him, snuggle down into the deepest parts of him and curl up under the protection of his beating heart.

  He tried to pull back from the kiss, but I pressed on, deepening it, opening my mouth to his.

  That warmth turned blazing hot, like a forest fire raging inside me, like a desert thirst, unstoppable, unquenchable.

  Nathan's kisses always ignited something inside me. They made me feel safe, grounded. At the same time, they made me feel like I'd shot up to the sky and felt the sun's rays scorching my entire body.

  He tugged me closer as I squirmed against him, wanting to feel the hard planes of his muscles against mine.

  It was only when I tugged on his shirt and fumbled with his belt buckle that he fully stopped.

  "Becca…" he said, breathless. "Are you sure you're well enough to…?"

  "If you don't throw me down onto that bed and fuck me right now I swear I'm going to—"

  He cut me off with a laugh and a kiss.

  "Okay," he murmured into my mouth. "Okay."

  With strong arms, he swooped me up and carried me to the bedroom. He laid me down on the bed so gently it wouldn't have disturbed a feather. He crawled on top of me and peppered my face, throat and shoulder with kisses, lavishing me with attention. I giggled and thrashed against him at the tickling sensation. He returned to my mouth as he began to undress me. I did the same for him, tugging his shirt over his head and unbuttoning his jeans. Soon, we were both bare to each other.

  He reached into my nightstand for protection. I put a hand on his wrist.

  "Are you… Can we…?" I bit my lip, flushing.

  He understood what I meant and nodded.

  "Are you sure?" he asked.

  "I want to feel you," I said.

  He lowered himself until he was between my spread legs.

  "You're so fucking beautiful," he murmured as he stared into my eyes.

  I reached down and guided him until he was nestled between my folds.

  "Make love to me," I whispered.

  He kissed me softly as he entered me, with so much care, so much tenderness, it almost brought more tears to my eyes.

  We gasped into each other's mouths, moving against each other, rocking our bodies in time, finding the rhythm that would take us to our peak. I soon found my release as pleasure exploded within me, starting at my core and spreading to the very tips of my fingers and toes.

  Nathan let out a muffled groan into my shoulder, his muscles locking, going tense. I clutched him to my chest as he shook his way through orgasm, spilling himself inside me.

  We both came down from the high together, relaxing back down into the mattress until we were on our sides facing each other. We traded lazy kisses back and forth.

  Nathan took my hand in his and held it to his mouth to place a soft peck on the knuckles.

  "How soon?" he asked.

  "I'll need to have the surgery within the next two weeks."

  "Do your parents know?"

  "No. Not yet."

  "Would you like me to be there when you tell them?"

  My heart ached sweetly.

  "Yes," I said. "I'd love for you to be there."

  Because I knew I'd need the support.

  34

  "You ready for this?" Nathan murmured in my ear.

  "No," I muttered, before raising my voice. "Mom? Dad?" I knew my mom was upstairs putting away laundry and I could hear my dad typing away on his laptop in the living room. "Can you guys come into the kitchen for a second, please?"

  The clacking of computer keys stopped, going quiet, as did the rest of the house. It was eerie. I could hear Nathan breathing beside me.

  I squeezed his hand.

  "It'll be fine," he whispered.

  My mom was making her way downstairs on light feet. She saw me in the kitchen first, hand in hand with Nathan.

  Hand in hand with the man I loved. With the man who loved me.

  Her eyes went round.

  "Don't freak out," I told her.

  "What is it, honey?" my dad asked as he came into the kitchen. "What's wrong—"

  He stopped short, too. My parents stared at us.

  My throat closed up.

  Nathan stepped forward and offered his hand to my dad.

  "Mr. Miller," he said, as polite as I'd ever heard him. My dad took his hand reflexively and gave it a single pump. Nathan turned to my mom and did the same. "Mrs. Miller." She shook his numbly.

  "It's nice to finally meet you," he said. "I'm Nathan Walker, Becca's boyfriend."

  I couldn't stop a beaming grin from lighting up my face. I knew we'd just confessed our love to each other, but hearing the word boyfriend out loud from Nathan's lips sent joy singing through me.

  "I see," my mom replied. Her eyes roved over Nathan's arms, taking in the multitude of tattoos. "I thought you two had broken up."

  "We're back together," I explained. "We've talked things out and Nathan made me realize a few things."

  "Such as?" my dad cut in.

  "That we love each other," Nathan replied. "And that nothing about Becca's illness is going to stop me from being with her."

  My mom and dad looked taken aback.

  "I didn't actually ask you guys to come in here to talk about Nathan," I said. "We're together. End of story. Nothing you say or do will change that. I just wanted him here for the moral support, because I need to tell you something else."

  My parents looked as if they'd both gone through whiplash. They turned toward each other, having a silent conversation with their eyes, the way long-time couples did. Even when they fought with each other, they still understood one another. Confusion turned into worry, and then that worry turned into fear.

  Before they could work themselves up too much, I spoke up.

  "I had a check up recently," I told them without preamble. "They found that a part of my pulmonary valve is tearing off. I'm going to need open heart surgery to replace it."

  They held themselves still, neither one of them breathing, as if waiting for something worse to come along.

  It was. But not in the way they thought.

  "And I'm moving out," I told them.

  "Becca!" they both protested, my mom shrilly, my dad low and growling.

  "I'm not saying right now," I continued. "I know I'm going to need a lot of care after the surgery. I'm just saying, I can't live the rest of my life in the basement. I was right here the whole time, with you guys keeping an eye on me, and something still went wrong with my heart. Wrapping me in bubble wrap and treating me like I'm a porcelain doll didn't stop my heart from getting fucked up anyway."

  "Language!" my mom admonished without thinking.

  "I'm twenty-two, Mom," I said. "And no, I'm not one hundred percent healthy. There's always a chance something might go wrong. But I could also be hit by a bus on my way to work tomorrow, too. I can't spend my whole life worrying about what terrible thing might happen. I have to live my life. And so do you."

  My mother's face was red, and I didn't know whether it was from anger or distr
ess.

  "Mom. You have to go back to work. You can't just sit at home worrying that something's going to happen to me. You need to live your own life, just like I need to live mine."

  I turned to my dad. His brows were drawn down, looking at me with a forlorn expression on his face.

  "Dad, you have to quit that damn job. I know you're worried about money and insurance but we'll figure it out."

  I dug my nails into Nathan's palm to keep him from speaking up. I knew my parents wouldn't take kindly to my rock star musician boyfriend offering to foot all my bills.

  "We've let my illness dictate our lives and it's nearly ruined us. You've been fighting with each other for years. You've tried to hide it from me, but not well enough. You probably would have gotten divorced long ago if you weren't so worried about how I'd take it."

  They both wore guilty expressions on their faces.

  "And I'm growing to resent the two of you," I continued. "It was one thing when I was a kid and I needed someone to take care of me anyway. But I'm grown up now and if you keep smothering me the way you have, eventually I'm going to start hating you, too."

  My mom blinked rapidly in that way of hers that told me she was holding back tears.

  "Becca, honey… I never want you to hate me. I just want what's best for you. I just want to look out for you."

  "And you have been," I told her. "You've looked out for me my whole life. But…" I looked to Nathan and smiled up at him. "I have other people in my life to look out for me, too. You shouldn't have to bear that burden alone."

  A tear escaped down her cheek before she could stop it.

  "You were never a burden," she choked out. "You're my baby girl and I love you."

  I went to her and pulled her into a hug. I felt my dad come up from behind, place his large palm on my shoulder and lean down to kiss the top of my head.

  "You're really sure about this?" he rumbled in a quiet voice.

  "About moving out? Yeah. I am."

  "And this young man. You're sure about him too?"