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Chapter 11
Ember
Icouldn’t help the fact that our social classes were worlds apart and that it bothered me. I knew that it shouldn’t matter and that what was on the inside of a person was the important part—but it still did.
Over the last six years, I had stopped looking in the mirror at myself as a woman and had moved through my life as if I were a drone. I did what was expected, went to work, paid my bills, didn’t break the law, but I felt nothing. I was numb.
In the past two years, sex had been the only time I had been able to feel anything, and I was beginning to realize that those feelings had all been wrong.
What was right was what I felt in Colt’s arms: the way he melted my soul with a kiss, or touched me in such a way that I felt safe, cared for, cherished—and yet, while it all felt so right, I knew it would never be more. It could never be more.
Colt was trying to prove something to me, and in only a week, I was already starting to get it, to understand that I could connect with one special person. But in a couple weeks Colt would walk away, and I would be back on my own. This underlying passion between us would never truly be discovered or allowed to flourish, but that wasn’t the point. The point was for me to learn I could love again—live again.
The time to change was now, while I had someone to support me, someone who was willing to encourage me to be better. Did I want to spend the rest of my life working at Vickers Furniture? Hell no! But I would be stuck there, day after day, year after year, if I didn’t decide that I needed to make a change.
I could do this. It was going to be hard as hell, but I could do it. Today was the perfect day to get started. Colt had told me he had plans, and, so as not to appear to be the lame ass that I was, I told him I did, too.
Over the last week, Colt had been incredibly attentive. He sent flowers to my work one day, and another day he sent me a basket with flowers that were made of fruit. He’d taken me out to dinner every night, and we’d laughed, talked, and held hands as we strolled through the city. We’d shared popcorn at the movies and sipped wine out in the country.
Every time I saw him, another piece of crust crumbled from my heart. I looked forward to the next moment I would be with him, and I couldn’t wait to be able to touch him again. Since the night in the park, he had kept our kisses simple but lovingly tender. The desire to have more with him was there in every touch, every look, but I held myself back, and I believe he did too.
I was smart enough to see the effect I had on him. More than once he had shifted in his seat, and I’d noticed his pants a bit tighter than normal in the groin area. The thought that I could turn him on and didn’t even have to do anything thrilled me to no end.
Since he had taken me out every single night, I’d yet to get my apartment cleaned, so that was going to be my job tonight. From top to bottom, I was going to make the place sparkle.
During the day, I’d started making a mental list of all the things I was going to need. On the way home, I’d stopped at the store to get some extra cleaning supplies—okay, fine, to get cleaning supplies, period. Damn, I hadn’t realized how expensive that crap was! I also grabbed a newspaper and some chicken soup because my stomach was starting to hurt.
As I left the store, I hoped I wasn’t coming down with the flu. I did feel a bit worn out, and I had pain on my right side, but maybe those were cramps. I was due for my period soon.
When I got home, I threw on a torn-up t-shirt and a pair of shorts, pulled my hair up on top of my head, and cranked the music. A new determination was growing inside of me, the kind of determination I’d felt when I was on the swim team back in high school and set on beating one of my personal records.
I scrubbed the kitchen until it shined, well, okay, not shined, but at least it was a clean chipped Formica counter, rather than a grime-covered something or other. I even wiped out the cabinets quickly and threw out things that had long since expired. Who knew there was a shelf life for soup?
I cleaned all the clutter in the living room, making a huge pile of laundry that I would do later this weekend. Shoved in the corner was my vacuum cleaner that had more dust covering it than it had ever sucked off the floor. I wiped that down and took five minutes to vacuum the carpet that was visible. Man, it seriously took me five minutes. I was shaking my head at myself for my utter lack of class. I should have been able to clean my entire apartment in thirty minutes if I hadn’t let it get this bad.
I stared at the couch. I should really move that and get under it, but my energy was waning, and my stomach was really starting to bother me. I could always do that tomorrow when I did a second sweep through the place. Yes, I’d already planned on doing a second sweep through to get anything I had missed the first time.
I stared at the bathroom door. The thought of cleaning that room was daunting, but it was going to be done. I pushed the door open and picked up the laundry on the floor. God, the floor was gross. How did I ever not notice that? It was worse than a communal shower! I probably had a better chance of getting a disease off the floor than from having sex!
I made a mental note that I needed to get a new shower curtain and rings. I bet they had them at the dollar store; I’d run by and check tomorrow. In the meantime, I got down on my hands and knees and began to scrub. A wave of nausea hit me and then a sharp pain. No, I had to get this done. I couldn’t stop now, I was on a roll.
By the time I got done scrubbing the bathroom floor, the sink, and the toilet, I was sweating profusely and cradling my belly.
I dropped the grungy sponge in the sink and washed my hands with what energy I had left before I staggered into my bedroom and collapsed on my bed. Sharp pains stabbed at me from inside, and I curled into a fetal position; it hurt so badly.
I rolled over, twisting and turning on my mattress, moaning and praying the pain would recede, but it just kept getting worse. It got to the point that I thought I would die, and it hurt to move the smallest amount, so I lay as still as I could with tears coursing down my cheeks. Agonizing sounds left my lips, but otherwise I couldn’t do anything.
Somewhere in my mind I knew I needed help, but I was past caring.
“Ember!” Was that my name? “Ember, wake up.” Someone was shaking my body, and I cried out.
“Oh god, don’t move me! It hurts, oh god, it hurts!” A man’s voice asked me questions, but I couldn’t understand them as I was moved to my back and tried to open my eyes, but the agony of being moved had me seeing nothing but spots. Something pushed into my stomach where the pain seemed to be originating, and I screamed and tried to buck away from the fierce stabbing of the pain.
“Oh, Jesus,” I heard the man say and then he was talking fast, but I couldn’t understand him. I was trying to get away from the pain, anywhere away from it. I wanted to die. Please, God, let me die. Take the pain away, please! I begged over and over, but it continued.
I was lifted and put on something, the whole time screaming with the movement while a man’s voice whispered my name in my ear and told me I was going to be okay. His cool hands ran over my forehead, and I thought maybe he kissed me, but I had no idea who he was.
Maybe I had died and Dean and Kadyn had come to bring me home. I called out to them, but I got no answer. Would Kadyn know who I was?
The pain came and went at that point. It got worse when my stomach was prodded, but I no longer cared. I heard my name again, but this time it was far away. Good, the pain was fading, too. I was finally going to die. I wasn’t going to have to live this useless life anymore. I wasn’t going to be alone.
Wait, I hadn’t been alone. What about Colt? Colt… Colt… I can’t leave Colt, not now; he was showing me how to live again. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die…
