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Tucking his pen into his top pocket, he shakes his head. “What you saw was a muscle spasm. It’s quite common.”
“But, but it’s never happened before.” The rational part of my brain is telling me to shut up and believe him because he’s the doctor. But my heart can’t, it won’t accept it. “Are you sure?” My lower lip quivers and I choke back my tears.
“I’m sorry. I really wish I had better news. He didn’t respond to stimuli, light, or sound. His pupils show no response. And his brain activity is still inactive.” He lowers his eyes, breathing heavily through his nose.
A hot tear scores my flesh as it rolls down my cheek.
“I really am sorry.” He closes the door behind him, leaving me alone with my broken dreams. I feel a fool. Even though I know what I saw, it doesn’t matter. A muscle spasm obviously means jack shit in the world of medicine.
A river of sadness cascades down my cheeks. I don’t bother wiping them away. Peering over at a comatose Samuel, I irrationally feel angry at him for not waking up. I’m giving him my all while he’s barely trying. But I know this absurdity is my emotions toying with my head.
I amble over to the window and press my forehead to the cool glass. I close my eyes. I remember the last memory I have of Samuel, the last words he spoke. ‘I love you so much. Never forget, you’re the reason why I smile.’
My heart breaks. Actually, it doesn’t just break; it shatters into a million irreparable pieces. I don’t know how I’m going to get through this. I’ve tried to be strong, but I can’t do this. I can’t go on without him.
I can’t say goodbye. I can’t.
“Lucy?”
A strangled sob gets tangled in my tears because that husky, rugged voice—no, it can’t be. I don’t want to believe because the last time I had faith, it was premature and cruel. But that masculine, familiar bouquet, there is no mistaking that fragranceisinfusing the air.
Nothing else matters but turning around. And I do. I spin around so quickly I almost fall flat on my face. However, when I see who stands before me, I know I’m seconds from tumbling like a leaf in fall.
It can’t be, but it is.
Those sea green eyes, licked with a curving swirl of gray, belong to the one man I didn’t even know I was so desperate to see. He shuffles his motorcycle booted feet uncomfortably while running his long fingers over his dark stubble. I know my staring is incredibly impolite, but I can’t stop. I’m afraid once I’ll blink, he’ll disappear.
“Hi, Lucy.”
Our body language tangos in an unfamiliar, yet familiar dance, and when he lifts his chiseled chin, I’m pinned with the stormiest stare of a man who exudes nothing but confidence and allure. The bright fluorescents reveal his eyes are akin to that of angry storm clouds, but they’re also licked with a touch of a soft Russian blue floating in a sea of tranquil waters.
His dirty blond hair is longer on top with shorter sides. It’s kicked to the left, the mussed locks falling over his eye and framing his jagged face. He looks rugged and dangerous, someone who oozes trouble. The colorful, intricate tattoo sleeve running down his right arm perfects the bad boy look. He is the complete opposite of Samuel.
“Saxon?”
When he nods slowly, his jaw firm, I gasp, crossing both hands over my mouth. My brain knows this isn’t my Sam, but my heart, my whimsical center, won’t accept it.
“Sorry for turning up unannounced. I should have called. Do you want me to go? I can leave if you want me to.” He hooks a thumb towards the door.
I’m speechless as I’m experiencing my personal state of unexpected nirvana.
But Saxon mistakes my euphoria for disgust. “I shouldn’t have come.” He spins on his heel, racing towards the door.
Loud alarm bells sound in my ears; it’s the wakeup call I needed. Looking over at Samuel, who is lying still and docile, I realize I need to touch the same life source that flows through his veins.
My shoes pound on the floor as I sprint towards Saxon, still wordless, but a mission firm in mind. The moment he turns, I throw myself into his arms, and just like I knew he would, he catches me.
Five
I don’t know how longI stay nestled in Saxon’s arms. His heavy heartbeat is surprisingly comforting.
Everything about him is so familiar, yet so foreign. His scent is rugged, earth peppered with a trace of cigarettes, while Samuel’s was always more refined, sometimes a little heavy handed with the cologne. His brawny frame is stronger, almost too firm, but he’s always been the bigger brother. It’s not a bad feeling, it’s just…different.
I’m surprised at how easily I can compare and contrast the similarities and differences between them, considering I barely know Saxon. Although they are like night and day, and silence and sound, they are both my heaven and hell. Saxon is here to save my Samuel.
“Saxon?” Kellie doesn’t hide her surprise at seeing her eldest son. Her clipped tone has us both pulling apart uncomfortably.
“Hey, Kellie.” He turns around to face her, while I feel my cheeks heat. Now that I’m somewhat coherent, I realize I probably should have greeted Saxon with a handshake, rather than clinging to him like a spidermonkey. But I don’t regret it. I feel closer to Sam for some unexplained reason.
