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My heart melted when she glanced back at me with those irresistible amber eyes that glowed under the moonlight, and as we approached her porch, more adrenaline coursed through me. I stopped just before she tugged open the door.
She turned back to me, gripping my hand tighter. “What’s wrong?”
I pulled her back down the steps into me. “I don’t feel right about this,” I said carefully as I brushed wisps of hair behind her ear.
“I need this,” she begged as she took fistfuls of my sweatshirt.
Not Iwantthis. She needed this. She needed me.
“Are you sure?” Everything in my body wanted her to say yes, but the part that made me a gentleman, that reminded me that she might not be in the best place mentally for this, wanted her to say no.
Her hand brushed over my cheek and she leaned in closer. “I’m sure,” she whispered and then kissed my lips gently. They were plump and warm against mine and so damn inviting.
Pulling away hesitantly, I stroked her cheek and softly said, “I don’t want to take advantage of you.”
A small smile crept up her face and her doe eyes peeked through her long dark lashes. “What if I want to take advantage of you?”
She didn’t wait for me to answer. She closed her lips on mine and tucked her hands under my sweatshirt, my muscles flinching from the shock of her cool touch, the chills rushing over my skin like a fresh set of waves. I held my breath as her lips moved to my earlobe and sucked deeply.
“Are you seducing me?” I released a heavy breath. If this went on much longer, it would be near impossible for me to walk away.
Her lips stopped working my lobe and she whispered, “Yes.”
I gave in to the urgency then, entangling my hand in her hair, and tasting the saltiness the sea had left on her neck, behind her ear, on her jawline. Her muscles seized up as I explored her skin, her fingers reacting in a flurry over my back. I lifted her and, once again, she wrapped her legs around my waist and I carried her up the steps and inside.
Her lips trailed my neck as I stumbled to the bedroom through the dark. When my shins bumped the bed, I guided her down, settling myself gently on top of her. She clawed at my sweatshirt desperately, so I pulled it off quickly, her fingers exploring the gaps between my muscles immediately, making me shudder. In return, I worked my hands under her thin shirt. Her bare nipples peaked as I circled them with my thumb and her thighs responded by tightening around my waist, her back arching, pushing the warmth of her against me. I could feel how much sheneededme, and it fed my hunger even more. She slipped her arms out of her sweater and I gently tugged her shirt over her head. I took a moment to admire the tan lines that highlighted her supple breasts that heaved up and down with her heavy breaths.
Her heart might have been scarred, but she was perfect.
Our eyes met and an exchange of charged energy moved between us. It was unlike anything I had ever felt before.
“If we keep this up, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop myself,” I admitted.
She leaned up and kissed my lips gently, gripping the back of my neck and pulling me down with her. “Then don’t.”
Her tongue separated my lips, deepening her desire and pushing it into me. She was asking for my help and I dove right in, freeing us both for a night, unsure of what tomorrow would bring.
Charlee
After Drew left me on the beach to ponder Bridger’s presence with shell skipping, I had lost myself to the past once again. The men had me opening up and talking about things I had safely tucked behind thick cobwebs in my chest and it set my mind ablaze. Verbalizing my history had always been difficult because it let loose too much at once, causing a flurry of emotions that would get so twisted and tangled it was almost too painful to manage, so I did my best to avoid speaking to anyone, afraid that tangled mess would result in another breakdown. Even a simple greeting in the beginning would shut me down for hours. I let personal messages go to voicemail and left messages on read, unanswered. It was just easier that way, and I needed easy more than I needed friends.
I evolved over the months after I arrived at the campground, being able to hold short conversations with Beverly about the weather and the many moods of the ocean, but nothing beyond that. She never pried and always greeted me with an inviting smile. No looks of pity from her, which was why I spent half my time at the café. The other half I spent on the beach or reading.
When Drew and Levi arrived at the campground, I tried to avoid them, ignore them even, but they had persisted, and eventually I gave in, the part of me longing for human interaction winning over my urge to stay isolated and hidden.
Safe.
In hindsight, though, opening up and letting people in led me to that moment on the beach under the darkness of the night, crying and screaming at the ocean as if it had single-handedly taken Bridger from me instead of his disease.
I released shouts into the ocean that I hated Bridger for doing this to me, for leaving me behind, not keeping his promise to grow old with me. And then I turned on God, the universe, and eventually circled back to myself. Everyone was to blame and no one at all.
Waking up this morning had felt like my own impending death. Every rib in my chest felt like it had cracked, one by one, leaving my heart vulnerable and unprotected for the beating it was about to take. I had fallen asleep lying on Bridger’s chest, which was still damp from my endless stream of tears last night. Relief had washed over me when my head rose and fell with his breaths as I blinked away the sleep, but the relief didn’t last long as it dawned on me that today was quite possibly his last. I glanced over to the digital clock on the side table. It was almost eight and the hospice nurse would be here in a few hours to go through her usual routine: vitals, check his oxygen tank, meds. He had wanted to die at home, not in a hospital surrounded by endless beeps and nurses shuffling in and out at all hours. We fought about it a lot after the doctor had informed us at his last visit eight months ago that his heart was deteriorating quickly because of the PH, and he may only have months to live, not years like we had hoped. It had been a slap in the face to both of us. We thought we had so much more time.
Bridger’s health depleted quickly after that. It was as if his prognosis made him give up and his body followed obediently. A few months after that doctor visit, he had become barely mobile and even had a hard time eating and, when he did eat, a lot of times he couldn’t keep it down. But the worst was the choking. There were times during his coughing fits when I had to steal away to cry. Watching him suffer was slowly breaking me. He coughed so often he gave up holding longer conversations and he eventually had to be on oxygen around the clock.
We did as much as we could in his last mobile months, but we were trying to squeeze in decades of plans into an impossible window of time. A few days ago, I threw him a going away party, which seemed highly inappropriate and dark, but this gave his family and friends the opportunity to say goodbye to Bridger. Bridger hadn’t smile so much in a very long time, so it confirmed the party was the right thing to do for him.
Yesterday, we went to our beach for the evening where we stayed until well past midnight. It was the goodbye we needed. The time at the beach was peaceful, whereas today was pure hell. I hadn’t eaten much in days, which made me weak, and tired added to the emotional exhaustion.
