Forbidden Love (Needle's Kiss Book 3)

by Lola Stark

  “NO! God, Haven. Please let me explain—” His face crumbled more by the second. “It’s not what you think. It’s not what it looks like, sugar.”

  A rage like I had never felt before overtook me. “I know exactly what it is, Dylan!” I yelled at him, furious I’d found myself in the same situation I’d been in before. I blew out a rough breath and gritted through my teeth, “I know what it is because I’ve been there!” My anger took over and tears began to well in my eyes.

  His confusion was evident at my statement. I proceeded to gather my things, the urge to lock myself back in his bathroom growing by the second.

  He rubbed the scar on his chest. “Wait? What do you mean, you know what—?” His voice took on a tone I wasn’t sure I wanted to examine too closely.

  “I am an addict, you asshole! How the fuck else do you think I would know about that stuff?” I screamed, spinning around so I was inches away from his face. Dylan gripped onto the doorframe and I watched as he paled, all color draining away from his pained features.

  I put my clothes on as fast as I could, stopping briefly to remember the tender moments we had shared just moments ago. I couldn’t look at him again. His face already haunted my thoughts…mixed with yellow liquids, blue veins, glassy eyes and distant memories of flying. I’d been a fool…an idiot who’d told another person my deepest, darkest secret. A secret I’d kept from everyone I cared about for so long. And what’s worse, I just blurted it. In my furious state, I couldn’t even explain properly. Who knows what he must think…but then again, it doesn’t matter. I guess it takes one to know one, right?

  I must’ve stalled just long enough for Dylan to realize what I had said, because the next thing I knew, his arms were around me. I instantly stiffened, knowing how this story ended. One addict plus a recovering addict ended in a big, disgusting mess of addict.

  “Please, Haven. Don’t run. I promise, it’s not what you think.”

  I fought against him, his grip tightening around my middle, my arms pinned to my sides. “Let me go!” I shrieked, treacherous tears formed in my eyes and threatened to spill as my emotions continued to spiral out of control.

  “Shh…it’s okay, sugar” he crooned in my ear, his voice low and soothing. “I’m not an addict.”

  “That’s what we all say, Dylan. That’s the lie we tell ourselves to make it okay, to justify it.” I sobbed. “Why? Why do I have to fall in love with the forbidden ones?” I dropped my head back against his chest, my breath coming in short, exasperated pants. I couldn’t catch a lungful of oxygen, making my body started to protest. “I can’t. I can’t, Dylan. Please, let me go.” My words came out strangled and sounded foreign.

  “Not until you hear me out. Even if I have to hold you up, just like this, Haven. You need to know.” His voice remained calm and soothing in my ear. “Sugar…I’m not an addict.” He dropped a small kiss on the top of my head, took a deep breath and let it out as if preparing himself. “You noticed the scar on my chest? That was a port, for chemo. I have cancer, Haven. I’m dying.”

  His words barely registered before everything went dizzy and a cold feeling washed over me.

  “Haven.” Dylan turned me in his arms. “Haven, oh God. Wake up, sugar.”

  My body was lifeless, my mind aware but nothing responded. He laid me down on his bed. I felt a cool pressure against my cheek, then my forehead. “C’mon, baby, I need you to wake up. Talk to me. Let me know you’re okay.” His voice was strained, like he was holding back tears of his own.

  I groaned. My head hurt and I didn’t know if I had hit my head or it was just from the shock of what Dylan had shared with me. “Dylan.” My voice was hoarse. “Wha—did you—?”

  He interrupted my babbling. “Shh, just rest a minute, Haven.” He continued to wipe my brow. “You passed out.”

  I tried to sit up, pushing his hand aside. “Stop,” I protested. “I’m fine.” I swung my legs over the side of his bed as embarrassment flooded me. I needed to look away from the tenderness of his gaze.

  Fucking cancer?

  “No, this is some bad joke. Some kind of excuse for all that shit strewn around in there. I’ve heard some really fucked-up stories, Dylan, but that’s just cruel.” I screwed up my face in disgust. “You’re young and fit…healthy even. You don’t have cancer. Nice touch with the scar, though.” I brushed him off when he tried to put his hand on me again. I glared for a moment and angrily asked, “So, you’re a drug addict and a liar now?”

  I couldn’t believe it. Of all the people I could fall for, it had to be a drug user. Somebody who did the very thing I had been battling against. Life had a pretty fucked-up sense of humor for sending this shit my way.

  “I don’t fucking believe it.” I pushed off the bed. My legs were still a bit wobbly, but Dylan was already standing. “Don’t fucking touch me!” I jerked away from his grasp, stumbling just a little bit more. I couldn’t believe I had been duped by this…by him.

  “Haven, please,” he pleaded, his hands up in a surrender motion. My eyes scanned the room. I needed to get away from this place, from him. I felt trapped, like glass had encased around my chest and filled with water. I was positively drowning in pure dread and there was no way to escape.

  I couldn’t stop the angry tears from running down my face. “No!” I screamed, pushing my way passed him. “This isn’t happening. I gotta get the fuck out of here.”

  “Haven, we need to talk. Just stop for a goddamn minute!” His voice elevated and fear laced his appearance. He was terrified of me walking out the door and never seeing me again; it shone clearly in his eyes. He grabbed both my wrists and brought my face to his. “Just hear me out. If you still want to leave, then I can’t stop you.” His anger disappeared instantly. In its place was defeat. “Just…listen.” His breath fanned across my face. “Five minutes, Haven. You owe me that much.”

  I stared back at his beautifully tortured expression. He was pleading with his eyes, begging me to just hear him out.

  How could I?

  “You’re not lying, are you?” My voice sounded distant and cold. I shivered. Still unconvinced but curious as to how far he’d take his story I looked away and lowered my head; everything was just too intense. “Fine,” I mumbled. “You have five minutes.”

  His body sagged in relief as he placed his lips against my temple. “Thank you.”

  I pulled away and walked out of his bedroom.

  I sat on the arm of the sofa, not able to sit and get comfortable. I stood again, paced. My hand shook as I chewed my thumbnail. Realization hit me like a firecracker had just been shoved halfway up my ass. The drugs in the bathroom weren’t street drugs. They were prescription medications. The labels flashed back in my mind as I sat there waiting. He really was sick. The pills, the small glass vials…they were all forms of painkillers.

  Dylan emerged a few minutes later, low-slung faded Levi’s, no shirt and bare feet.

  He didn’t look sick. He looked positively edible.

  Focus, Haven.

  “So, have you had a second opinion?” I fired questions at him while he filled the carafe with water. “How long?” I didn’t give him a second to answer before the next question flew from my mouth. “What kind of cancer is it?” I was rambling now. “Have you exhausted every possible course of treatment?” My last question died on my lips when he looked my way briefly, not speaking a word. Instead, he allowed me to get everything out.

  I watched as he moved around his kitchen, the counters bare except for a toaster oven and the coffee pot.

  I blurted, “Is that why you have nothing really in this place? Is it because you’re dying?”

  He didn’t turn to look back at me, just sighed as he continued the mundane task of making coffee.

  A buttery smooth scent drifted through the air as it percolated, the aroma comforting despite the war waging in my mind. ‘This isn’t happening. I mean, look at you?” I openly gawked, gesturing with my hands. “You’re beautiful. You’re str
ong. I certainly didn’t notice any track marks in your arms.” My tone was sardonic when I continued. “Trust me, I would know.” I bit my tongue as soon as the revolting words left my mouth.

  He made a strangled noise in the back of his throat. “I don’t have any marks because I’m not doing treatments anymore. And the only mark left of the treatments I have done, is this.” He pointed to his chest and let out a resigned sigh. “I’m dying, sugar.” His pause was deafening. “The medicine is just for pain now.”

  Realization crashed over me, denial jumping right out of the seventh floor window behind me and splattering all over the cement below.

  The needles…he wasn’t fighting anymore. He was enduring.

  He handed me a cup of freshly made java. “Here, sugar, get some caffeine in your system.” He opened the refrigerator, grabbed the creamer and poured a splash into my waiting cup.

  I just stared on, awareness of the severity of his situation slammed into me like a baseball bat to the gut. Silent tears slid down my cheeks as I looked into the swirling caramel liquid, salty mixing with sweet. “What kind?” I asked again.

  “Brain cancer.” He cleared his throat.

  I brought the steaming mug to my lips, catching the sorrow on my tongue as it collided with the velvety smoothness of Dylan’s Colombian brew. “I really need to go.” I set the cup on the counter and turned back toward the bedroom.

  Dylan followed behind, stopping momentarily in the doorway while I searched for my purse.

  I sat down on the edge of his bed, facing away from where he stood, watching me. “You have cancer.” I frowned, finally accepting what he’d said. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I whispered. My head hung low, my hands gripped the side of the bed.

  I assumed the worst in him, because I was a horrible person. I projected my demons onto a man who was literally losing the fight for his life. I had no right to be mad at anyone but myself.

  And at that moment, I was fucking pissed at none other than yours truly.

  His body heat offered comfort as the bed dipped next to me. His hand caressed my lower back. “Sugar, remember what I said about sharing secrets sometime? Well, this was mine. It’s not really something you can just blurt out, and I swear I never meant for you to find out this way.” Sorrow filled the tenor of his voice. “I struggled with telling you at all…I didn’t think I could stand to see the look of pity in your beautiful eyes.”

  I looked straight ahead, still unable to meet his stare. “I don’t pity you. You don’t seem sick.” My voice sounded meek, like I was afraid of how he would take my response.

  “Darlin’, you already are.” His gruff response was enough to cause me to turn. I wished I hadn’t. “Listen to you.” He pushed a piece of hair off my face and behind my ear.

  At his gentle caress, my body leaned into him and a lone tear escaped. “I’m so sorry, Dylan.” I took his hand and held it to my cheek, as his thumb wiped my sadness away. “I jumped to conclusions. I should’ve asked. You must hate me.” My words ran together as I tried to convey my thoughts before he gained his wits and threw my drug-addicted ass out of his life forever. “Oh, hell…what you must think of me right now.”

  “I think the world of you, Haven. That hasn’t changed.” His kind words were a balm on my shattered heart. “Nothing you can do or say will change how I feel about you, sugar. You’re a shining light in an otherwise shitty tunnel.” He smoothed my hair back. “We do need to talk though, just no more tonight.”

  He held my face in his hands and laid a soft kiss on my forehead. “Maybe sometime you can tell me about your secret, sugar.” His voice was whisper soft. “I’m actually a little tired right now.”

  And with that, he dropped his hands, and lay down. “Will you stay?” he asked through a yawn.

  “Did you really need to ask?” I sniffed, settling down beside him as he wrapped me in his arms and kissed the back of my head.

  Haven

  “We on our backs staring at the stars above,

  Talking about what we going to be when we grow up,

  I said what you wanna be? She said, ‘Alive.’”

  -Outkast, “The Art of Storytellin’ (Part 1)”

  Dylan’s body curled around mine. Our limbs entwined as I stared at the ceiling while the fan twirled at a maddeningly slow speed. I closed my eyes, but sleep evaded me as I listened to the soft snores of Dylan beside me.

  His mouth was warm against my neck, a hint of coffee smell lingered on his breath. I turned my head slightly toward him, inhaling his scent. It was intoxicating and just what I needed to calm my reeling mind.

  Cancer.

  I couldn’t wrap my thoughts around what he shared with me. Everything was jumbled, a mess of needles, sex, and death.

  He was dying.

  The beautiful cowboy who made sweet, tender love to me was leaving me, just like every other person I’d ever loved in my life. Maybe that was my penance for all the fucked-up shit I had done. I’d run out of chances, ruined them with my need for that next fix, that eternal high. So many times I had lied, cheated, stolen; I was guilty of it all. It seemed that bitch named Karma was coming to collect.

  Only I had nothing left to offer. I’d already lost everything before it was ever really mine.

  First Jude.

  Now Dylan.

  I was destined to be alone, and I had no one to blame but myself.

  I sighed and rolled away from Dylan. He shifted. His arm tightened around me and a hushed whimper escaped his throat.

  Just how much pain was he in?

  My heart broke a little more, and I silently sobbed into the dark blue pillow. Tears of frustration and angst were just the tip of the overflow of emotions flooding through me. Above all else was my anger, anger with myself.

  How could I ever want to do something as vile as meth and the multiple other drugs I’d messed with when this man next to me was suffering with nothing but death as a reward? He’d told me it was brain cancer, but what kind? There were so many. I didn’t know for sure how bad it was, and I couldn’t fathom Dylan not being here, being a part of my life. I’d just found him. Part of me wanted to believe things would look brighter in the morning. The other part of me wanted to walk into that bathroom and let the darkness swallow me whole.

  But I couldn’t succumb to my demons. Not now, not ever again. I wouldn’t risk that. I couldn’t waste a life on drugs when somebody as amazing and kind-hearted as Dylan was losing his by no choice of his own. It was selfish.

  I almost died from it once and I promised I would never get involved with needles again.

  If it weren’t for Jude…

  Jude.

  My savior. The man who I thought would stand up to anyone and everyone for me.

  The man who left me without ever looking back.

  I wiped my face, the salt drying on my exposed cheek while the other laid in the tear-sodden pillowcase.

  Releasing a deep sigh, placed my hand over Dylan’s. “I love you, cowboy,” I murmured into the darkness, vowing I’d show him how much I loved him every chance I had. “I don’t know why you were sent to me, but I won’t let you down. “ Sniffling, I threaded my fingers through his and listened to his breathing even out and his whimpers soften.

  “Please don’t give up fighting.” My voice dropped even lower as the bite of my emotions bubbled back to the surface. “Please don’t leave me.”

  I knew I needed to sleep, but when my mind raced like that, it took everything in me to stay in bed. My skin crawled with phantom withdrawals and my mouth would dry up like I’d swallowed cotton. It was going to be a long night. I just hoped I was strong enough to endure it ‘til sunrise.

  Jude

  I tossed in my bed, the sheets soaked with sweat from a nightmare that lingered in my mind for the past few hours. Something was wrong. I felt it in my bones.

  Haven.

  I couldn’t find a way to expel her from my thoughts; the alcohol was no longer a sufficient deterrent. There wasn
’t anything that could fill the empty void left inside of me.

  “Shit.” I scrubbed my hand over my face. Two-day old stubble coated my chin. I threw my feet over the edge of the bed and pulled myself up, shuffling across the soft carpet to the bathroom. I hoped a cool shower would settle my restlessness.

  I was in rough shape, and I knew I had no one to blame but myself. I let her walk away. Fuck, I damn well pushed her. I didn’t fight when it was time to fight, and that made me nothing but a coward.

  I walked out of her life, and I was a dick about it.

  But I still couldn’t shake the feeling that she needed me. No matter where she was or who she was with, she was mine. And if given a chance again, I’d be everything she needed and more.

  The connection we shared wasn’t something that just happened. She’d be dead if it weren’t for me. Ironically that was exactly how I felt—I felt completely dead without her.

  I opened the glass shower door and leaned in, turning the faucet on to cold. Stripping off my boxer briefs, I tossed them in the laundry basket and slipped in under the stream of water, praying for some relief. My body shivered from the lack of warmth in the shower, but it matched my heart. I felt cold, dead. I needed to change that. No matter what had happened, I couldn’t give up on the one girl I’d ever truly loved.

  Determined in my mind, I made the decision to seek her out first thing in the morning. I’d find her and tell her I was sorry. Tell her I was stupid. I’d tell her I loved her and needed her, wanted her. I’d ask her to leave that dickhead and come home to me.

  I just had to hope I wasn’t too late.

  Haven

  The sun streamed through the blinds of Dylan’s bedroom window, but my eyes hurt too much to open them. Groaning, I rolled over. I could feel his eyes on me before he made any noise. I refused to open my swollen lids, instead puckering my lips in his direction.