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“Thanks,” I say softly and hang up the phone.
I plop onto the sofa. I haven’t seen him in nearly two years. I know I look a mess. I’ve been crying. I haven’t slept well in weeks. I’m thinner than normal. Much thinner. Cancer is a cruel disease: to those who have it and to their loved ones. I withered away with my mom. Part of me died too. I’m sure it will never come back.
He knocks softly when he arrives. I tiptoe across the floor, barefoot. There’s no reason for me to be quiet - no one else is here.
When I open the door, I forget. I forget...everything. For just a moment.
I forget how we parted. I forget the horrible words we both said. I forget what he did. I forget my mom. I actually forget that my mom fucking died - for a moment.
He looks, well, he looks perfect. He looks significantly better than the last time I saw him. He looks the way I remember him looking when we first met. Strong, sexy, handsome.
Perfect.
Completely perfect.
I do not look perfect. Worry flashes across his eyes as he takes me in. I don’t look healthy.I’m not healthy.
He steps into the house. He’s so close I can feel the warmth radiating from his body; his breath on my cheek.
“What can I do?” His eyes are locked on mine.
“Just make me forget,” I whisper.
He hesitates for a moment.
I repeat myself. “Just make me forget.”
It comes out even softer than the first time, but he hears me. He closes his eyes for a moment and breathes in through his nose. I’m asking too much. I know I’m asking too much. I’m using him.
It’s unfair, and we both know it.
“Please,” I say, my voice cracking. My eyes burn; I’m fighting tears. I don’t want to cry again today. I won’t cry again today. I blink them back.
In a motion so quick it takes my breath away, he pushes me out of the doorway and up against the wall, kicking the front door closed with his foot. His body is pressed against mine. He grabs my wrists and pins my arms over my head.
He whispers in my ear, “Like this?”
I bite my lip and nod. He tightens his grip on my wrists. It hurts a little - in just the right way. He draws himself close to me, his lips hover over mine. For a moment, neither of us moves. We just share breaths. I feel him giving me life; the life that’s been draining from me for the past year.
He leans his forehead against mine and sighs.
“Averie, are you sure?” His eyes are closed, his hands squeezing my wrists even tighter.
“Cash, I need to forget. Please, I need you to make me forget.”
He presses his lips to mine. It isn’t a sweet kiss. His tongue is immediately in my mouth. It’s urgent and rough. He knows what I need. I don’t need to be coddled; I need to be obliterated.
It’s a kiss I feel everywhere. It’s the first thing I’ve felt - really felt - in months. It’s like oxygen. I crave more and more of him. He presses his body harder against mine, and I arch my back to feel all of him.
He drops my wrists and slides one hand down my dress and presses it on the small of my back - bringing me even closer to him. The other hand moves to the back of my head. He grabs a fist-full of hair at the base of my neck and pulls. I emit a sound - half gasp, half moan. He tugs my head to the side so he can kiss my neck. It sends sparks like hot lava down my spine.
Without a word, he drops my hair and moves his hands to my ass. With both hands, he lifts me up, and I wrap my legs around him. He never stops kissing my neck as he carries me to my bedroom.
When we get into the bedroom, he sets me down and whirls me around. He slowly moves my hair to the side and presses his lips to the back of my neck. I feel his hand graze my skin as he unzips my dress and lowers it off my shoulders. He pauses to kiss each shoulder and then he lowers the dress to the ground.
He turns me back around. There’s a brief flash of alarm. I’m thin. Far thinner than I was when we were together.Dangerously thin.
Kneeling in front of me, he reaches forward and touches my ribs - visible through my skin. He kisses one side and then the other. He touches my collarbones and then presses his lips to each one. He kisses the spot between my breasts where my clavicle is showing and lowers himself to his knees and kisses my hip bones, protruding unnaturally from my body. We both know I look sick. He’s making me feel beautiful anyway. He’s trying to heal me with his touch.
