Until the Last Breath

For the first time I don’t put the feeling off. I’m a little lightheaded and weary. Rest is needed. It’s been so long since I’ve moved around and socialized. I can’t afford to pass out in front of my friends, ruin the night for the people I love most.

“Yeah. I should probably lay down.”

Without hesitation, John holds my hand and takes the other exit, the one that leads to the den. We walk through the den, and from there he picks me up in his arms, carrying me up the staircase. Pressing my ear to his chest I listen to his steady heartbeat, feeling the warmth of him radiate through me.

“Let’s get you some rest,” he whispers as we make it to the bedroom. The way this happens puts my mind at ease. I know John won’t go back downstairs to argue with Tessa when everyone is gone—at least not tonight.

“I don’t want anyone to worry,” I tell him.

“They won’t. I’ll send Tessa a text so she can let them know.”

John closes and locks our bedroom door, giving me complete assurance that he won’t be downstairs again. After taking off my shoes and putting on my pajamas, I lay on our king-sized bed and groan with delight at the feel of the feather pillows.

“Oh, how I’ve missed these pillows,” I sing.

He lifts the sheets with a smile, tucking me beneath them and then bringing the comforter on top of me.

When I’m nice and cozy, I watch as he moves to the other side of the bed to tug his shirt over his head, revealing six rows of abs. I haven’t seen those abs in months and it’s just now occurring to me. He steps out of his jeans next. Moments later and he’s in bed with me, sighing with his palms relaxed behind his head.

“It’s been a long day, huh?” I whisper with a smile. I can still hear the music downstairs, my friends laughing and chatting.

He looks at me with tired eyes. “It has.” Moving closer, he pulls me to him and I rest my head on his chest. “You’re okay, though, right?”

“I’m okay.”

“Your breathing?”

“It’s okay,” I whisper. “Dr. David said I should be able to last until morning since I took that bag of OPX. I actually think it’s doing what it’s supposed to do and making me feel better today.”

“Yeah?” His voice is hopeful. “That’s good. I’m glad.” He kisses the top of my head. “I’ll stay in here tonight. Keep an eye on you.”

“Totally unnecessary,” I yawn.

He chuckles. “You can sleep.”

“When will all of the stuff be here for treatments?”

“It’ll be here in about an hour or so but until then, rest.”

I nod, curling into him, holding on tight. “John?”

“Yeah, babe?”

“Thank you for doing this for me. And for not getting too upset with Tessa. You know how she can be.”

“Yeah. I know. You warned me about her.” He laughs and I laugh with him. Then he’s quiet a moment. His breathing changes. It’s softer.

His entire body has relaxed and I’m glad because I hate when he’s so tense. “I want to be able to do whatever it takes to keep you happy, Shannon. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He strokes my hair, the affection and nuzzling bringing back feelings I’ve truly missed. I missed lying in bed with my husband, holding him. Kissing him. Molding with his sculpted body. I missed all of John Streeter. Everything. Such small touches and actions that many people take for granted every day.

Before I know it, through the constant stroking of my hair and the gentle kisses from him on my forehead and cheek, I’m falling asleep and I can tell it’s going to be the best sleep I’ve had in weeks.

This, I know, is the start of bliss again. I have to make the most of what I have right now. I have to do what’s best for me, no matter whose feelings are hurt in the process.

Shannon Hales-Streeter can no longer be restrained. She has to soar like a bird. Fly like a plane. She has to build strength and live. She has to remember that each day is a gift waiting to be unwrapped and that life is all about what you make it. Right now, life is telling her not to hold back. To keep going. To keep fighting.

Life is waiting, and it shall be lived.

FIFTEEN

Past

It was nearing midnight the night I met Jonathan Streeter. It was the kind of late where a twenty-three-year-old woman should not have been out alone.

I’d just blown a tire coming off the freeway. The rain poured down, thunder clapping, the lightening striking the sky in silver streaks.

It was bad timing. I was late for work and I hated being late. That night, I was supposed to be tending the bar by myself. Eugene was going to fire my ass for sure this time.