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My heavy eyelids flutter open,a bright light greeting me, temporarily blinding me.I absent-mindedly wonder if this is heaven.If someone upstairs deemed me a good enough human to deserve a spot up here.I’ve tried to live a decent life.I’ve made mistakes.Who hasn’t?But I’m not a horrible person.
When my eyes fall on Esme curled up in a chair, peacefulness radiating from her gentle features, I’m convinced I must be in heaven.
At least my own personal heaven.
Maybe that’s what heaven is.My heaven isn’t the same as someone else’s.It’s different for everyone, some supreme being rewarding us for a life well spent with what makes us happiest.
There’s no doubt in my mind that the sight of Esme in a pair of yoga pants, oversized t-shirt, her mussed-up hair on the top of her head in a messy bun makes me happy.
At the same time, I wonder if maybe this is hell.
The idea of never being able to touch Esme again, never feel her lips on mine, is a punishment worse than hell.
“Esme,” I whisper weakly, my throat raw and voice strained.
She snaps her head my way, wide eyes meeting mine.In a heartbeat, she’s on her feet, rushing to sit in a chair beside my bed.She grabs my hand, the warmth of her skin making me curse my luck even more.
Thismustbe hell.
Any minute, Esme’s going to disappear and I’ll be tortured with a new memory.A new reminder of what I can no longer have.
“Hey, baby,” she chokes out, producing a glass of water from somewhere and lifting a straw to my lips.I sip, the cool liquid putting out the fire in my mouth and throat.
“I’m sorry I died on you,” I say, my vision still hazy.
Everything except for Esme.She’s the beacon of light in my murky surroundings.
“Only you would apologize for dying.”She shakes her head, her laughter like a beautiful melody I could listen to over and over again.She uses her t-shirt to wipe the tears from her cheeks.“You’re not dead, Creed.”
“I’m not?”
She smiles, an air of relief about her.
As she curves toward me, more and more of the cloud hanging over me seems to dissipate, things becoming clearer.
“If you were dead, would you feel this?”She moves closer, her lips a breath away, remaining just out of reach.
But I need to feel her.Need her kiss.Need to know she’s real and not just some cruel joke I’ll be forced to suffer for all eternity.
“Feel what?”I murmur.
“This.”
She touches her lips to mine, and a current shoots through me, cutting through the last bit of fog, making me realize I am alive.That Silas didn’t kill me.
That we both survived.
“See?You wouldn’t have felt that if you were dead,” she says with a smirk.“Now would you?”
“I can’t be too sure.Maybe you should kiss me again.”I waggle my brows.“Make sure I reallydidfeel it.”
A smile lights up her face, making her even more beautiful, something I didn’t think possible.“Gladly.”
She leans toward me again, pressing her mouth more firmly against mine.She swipes her tongue against the seam of my lips, and I open for her, sighing at the sweet taste of her.But she ends the kiss too soon, making me hungry for more.
I’ll always be hungry for more of her.
“How about that one?”she asks, lips pinched into a flirtatious grin.
