I was about to open my mouth and ruin that beautiful moment by declaring I was most certainly not his girl.
My words were swallowed in a kiss.
As was my protest.
Because the way he fucked me all night long had me believing I might just be his girl.
Until I woke up, at least. And the grim light of day exposed his beauty… and my reality. So I snuck out before I was tempted to say ‘fuck reality’ and lose myself in that beauty.
If I had the luxury of seeing the future I wouldn’t have snuck out. Wouldn’t have left that beauty. I would’ve clutched it in a death grip if I’d known it was the last slice I’d ever get. Before ugliness swallowed me whole.
I closed the trunk of my car and tilted my head towards the sky, smiling. Yes, smiling. And doing something as simple as appreciating the warmth of the sun.
Of course, such a gesture would most likely singe my pale skin and open me up to potential melanoma, but for once I was seeing the silver lining.
I was basking in the light.
I was doing well.
One could almost cautiously say I was doing great.
I still craved it. Every single day. But I was learning how to handle it. Learning how to fill my life up with other things. Healthy things. No, I wasn’t drinking green juices or foregoing Pop-Tarts—that would never happen—but I was being more outgoing. Hanging with Rosie, and with Lily when she wasn’t studying or wrapped up in her husband. I was making friends with some of the girls at the club, despite the fact they’d fucked the guy I couldn’t admit was a huge factor in how well my life was going.
Of course, since it was going well, when the sun was beginning to rise, that’s exactly when the eclipse hit.
No, that’s when the whole entire sun exploded in spectacular, painful disaster and I was wrenched into permanent darkness.
I’d just finished a grocery shop. One I could actually pay for and have some left over. I was toying with the idea of treating myself to some new boots when a figure blocked out the sun in front of me.
When I saw who it was, my good mood dissipated. “No. Not happening,” I said, trying to skirt around Dylan’s steroid-abused body.
A hand at my arm stopped me. Pain erupted from the tightness of his grip.
“Let me go,” I hissed. My eyes darted around the empty parking lot.
Just my fucking luck. Right when I might welcome a hero, there were none to be seen.
“Not so fast, bitch. Carlos would like a conversation,” Dylan growled, yanking me into his face.
“Well, considering I’m no longer employed by that dickweed, I don’t have to come running when he calls. And because I’m no longer too high to care about things like self-respect, I’m not screwing you anymore. So let me go,” I commanded.
His eyes turned to slits. “It wasn’t a fucking request.”
Then there was nothing. The sunshine seeped away.
I’d never feel its warm glow again.
Chapter Fourteen
“Hell is empty and all the devils are here.”
-Shakespeare
Lucky
He woke up without even realizing he’d been asleep. It was a strange feeling. Like surging up from underwater and still having liquid seeping into your lungs. He thought it was from some bender he’d been on, a particularly bad hangover. He reached for her.
Then he realized some things. He didn’t ‘do’ benders. Not anymore. Not since her.
Since he’d found his beautiful, wild, and fucking damaged girl. One who had so many demons behind those green eyes he’d be fighting them the rest of his life.
She’d tried to fight one set of demons with a whole other monster. One who’d almost taken her off the face of the earth.
So he didn’t tie one on anymore. Didn’t abuse any substances apart from the fucking intoxicating pussy she had him addicted to.
It was out of respect for her and because he didn’t fuckin’ want to. He mostly partied and fucked different women to escape his own shit, the darkness he spent every second of every day hiding.
He didn’t have to hide with her, and he didn’t want to escape with her. It was because of his own darkness that she was herself with him.
That’s where he recognized the second thing. She wasn’t there. Not because he couldn’t touch her but because he couldn’t smell her. And from his experience of sleeping with her, despite her insistence of giving them ‘boundaries,’ she’d clung to him in unconsciousness when her waking hours were spent pushing him away.
So he almost always woke up with his little spitfire attached to him and her scent imprinted on him.
The only thing he smelled was a harsh chemical. Something he recognized. He also recognized he couldn’t move his hand, and there was a fuck of a lot of cotton in his mouth.