Scorched (Frigid 2)

“It was.” He lifted his hand, carefully swiping away a tear. “I missed your laugh.”

Blinking my eyes, I met his stare. “So have I.”

“I have something to tell you.” He leaned in so close I could almost taste his kiss. “You’ve ruined me,” he said against my mouth, his breath hot. “You’ve ruined me for anyone else. You know that, right?”

My heart was pounding again, but this time for a very good reason. “I’m not sure if that’s a good thing.”

He rested his forehead against mine. “Ruined me in the best possible way. So yeah, it’s a good thing.”

“You really want to do this?” I asked.

Tanner stared into my eyes as he cupped my jaw, gently smoothing his thumb along my cheek. A naked Santa Claus could come prancing out from behind the trees, and I wouldn’t look away from those beautiful, brilliant blue eyes.

“I love you, Andrea. I’m in love with you,” he said, voice firm. “And I’m going to be right here with you, through all of it. That’s what love makes you do.”

Tilting my head, I brushed my lips over his in the lightest touch, but I felt it all the way through me, invading every cell with its warmth, and I made sure when he stared into my eyes, all he saw was happiness. “I love you, Tanner. I love you,” I said. “Do you see it?”

Tanner made a deep sound in his chest, and it rumbled through me. His hands trembled as he said, “I see it. I see the happiness.”

Hope that had sparked in my chest now lit a fire, and I fanned it, wanting it to burn hot and bright, because hope… hope was not the enemy. It was a friend, a savior. Hope was more than a new beginning. Hope was tomorrow, and hope was the symbol that I would get better, that I would undo the bad choices that I’d made, and that I would never make them again. Hope was more than a chance of redemption. It was the promise of one day finding absolution, of forgiving myself.

But it was more than that. Hope was also today, and today was so very important. There would be no more rushing through seconds and minutes. I promised myself that. I was going to live, and it was going to be hard at times. There would be setbacks and days when everything would feel dull and tarnished somehow, but I had hope and I had the knowledge to face what was causing me to suffer. I had my friends. I had Tanner.

And most importantly, I had myself.

Two months later…

Andrea

“Your parents like me.”

I grinned as I glanced over to where Tanner stood in the doorway of my bedroom, watching me tug the rings off my fingers and drop them in the little jewelry box on my dresser. “I think they like you too.”

He folded his arms across his broad chest, stretching the plain white T-shirt he’d worn under the button-down. His dress shirt had come off the moment we’d entered my apartment and now hung over the back of a chair. “Everyone likes me.”

Laughing, I rolled my eyes, but truthfully, the fact my parents had openly welcomed Tanner had me giddy with relief. I’d held off on formally introducing them to Tanner, waiting until now, a few days before Christmas, before bringing him to Sunday dinner.

Once the rings were off, I kicked off my heels and moved to the center of the bedroom. “Seriously, though, they really do like you. I think Mom wants to adopt you.”

He grinned. “I’m all about being adopted by rich doctors, except that would make things a bit awkward between you and me.”

“Just a little.” I walked toward him, my heart fluttering as he pushed off the doorframe and met me halfway. I slipped my arms around his waist. Hugging him tight, I pressed my cheek against his chest.

One of his hands curved around the back of my head and the other landed on the small of my back. He didn’t speak as we held each other, and that was okay. I was…content with the quiet moment, with me just listening to his heart beat steadily.

It was peaceful.

The last couple of months had been a mixture of failure and triumph, of peace and chaos as Tanner and I had navigated my sobriety and treatment together. It hadn’t been all easy. There had been times when I’d wanted nothing more than to take a drink, like when I thought about Tanner leaving for the academy or when the seemingly never-ending consequences of my actions resurfaced to give me a nice smack in the face, reality style.

Dave had suggested that I take some time away from volunteering at the hotline and the hospitals. The admins in charge had agreed, feeling it would be best for me to take a break. It was a nice way of them saying they weren’t confident I could handle the pressure, and I understood that. As much as it sucked, I really did understand. And I also understood that while the depression wasn’t my fault, the way I had coped with it had been a terrible decision, and I was going to have to prove that I was capable of handling my illness and stress.

I still worried about the long-term consequences—what having a DUI on my record would mean for employment and the fact I was still adapting to living without a spleen. I still dealt with the guilt over my parents stepping forward and paying the assload of fines associated with my DUI and the lawyer fees that had enabled me to avoid jail time. I’d been lucky, with no previous record, and the fact that I had willingly entered rehab and had stayed beyond the required minimum had helped.

But some days it was hard to look in the mirror, and every so often, I wondered how Dave did it every day.

Over the last couple of months there had been times when I’d come really close to picking up a beer, telling myself it was just one beer and one beer wasn’t going to hurt me. But I’d been able to catch myself and stop that line of thinking. Because one beer would hurt me. I was a binge drinker. One beer would not be enough. I wouldn’t stop after it touched my tongue. And the times when the desire was too great for common sense to make a difference, I had my friends. I had Tanner.