Before I Die

by Nikki Ash

  Ethan continues to walk, and the farther we go, the more our bodies get drenched.

  “Holy shit,” he curses through a laugh. “Fuck, woman, it’s cold.”

  “It feels good.” I laugh, holding on to him tighter.

  When we’re out far enough that half our bodies are immersed in the water, Ethan moves my body from behind him to in front of him. My legs latch on to his waist and my fingers run through the strands of his hair.

  “Hey,” he murmurs. In the dark, it’s hard to see him, but once my eyes adjust, I can make out his gorgeous features. He’s grinning from ear to ear and his light brown eyes are filled with love. “I hope you didn’t have some fantasy of fucking in this water because my dick is hiding behind my balls.”

  I bark out a laugh, shaking my head. “No, but when the water is warmer, it wouldn’t be a bad idea.” Then it hits me… there’s a chance I might not be here when the water is warmer. If I have to do this surgery—which I know I will—there’s a chance I won’t wake up, or if I do, if they can’t get it all, I could still die.

  “Don’t go there,” Ethan says, reading my mind. “We’re adding it to your damn list: fuck in the ocean.”

  “I already have: have sex in a crazy place.”

  “And we’ll do that too. But we’re still adding it, and when the water is warm, we’re coming back out here and I’m going to fuck you in this ocean.” I hear the words he’s not saying: you’ll be alive for me to fuck you in this ocean.

  I take a moment to assess his features. He’s changed so much since the night I attacked him at the club. He’s not as hard, as scary. He’s softened. I never imagined he would make a good husband, but he’s the best husband. He’s caring and devoted. He always puts me first and he loves me unconditionally. Instead of running away when he found out about my tumor, he pulled me in closer. If I were to guess, when he was younger, when he was with Kelsi, this is who he was, but after what happened, after he lost them both, he became a ghost of himself.

  “What’s going through that beautiful head of yours?” he asks, tucking a stray hair behind my ear.

  “Ethan, if something happens to me—”

  “Nope, not going there, Angel,” he says, cutting me off.

  “But if something does…” I cover his mouth with my hand. “Promise me you’ll find love again.”

  He shakes his head.

  “Yes,” I argue. “I’ve seen both sides of you… the man who was heartbroken and lost, and the man who allowed love back in. Promise me, if something happens to me, you won’t revert back to that scary, growly, mean guy.”

  Ethan closes his eyes and I remove my hand. He dips his head until our foreheads are touching. “You’re not going anywhere, Nevaeh,” he whispers. “I need you.”

  I close my eyes and breathe in the scent of the ocean mixed with Ethan. “I need you too,” I say, shivering from the cold. “But I need you to promise me that if something happens to me, you’ll move on.”

  Ignoring my plea, he moves me to his back and says, “Let’s get you inside and warm.”

  And for the second time since my brother died, I send a prayer up to God, pleading with him, that if something does happen to me, he helps Ethan find the strength to move forward.

  Ethan

  “After looking over everything Dr. Phillips sent over and running my own scans, I agree with his prognosis. Because the tumor has grown quicker than expected, I am recommending surgery. Once we’re in and remove it, we can then determine if chemotherapy and radiation are necessary. Oftentimes, it’s not, but we won’t rule it out until we get the mass to the lab.”

  I’m sitting next to Nevaeh in Dr. Bromfield’s office. Her hand, which is clammy and cold, is squeezing the hell out of mine. I want nothing more than to pull her into my arms and tell her everything is going to be okay, but if she were in my lap, I would be too distracted by her to focus on what the doctor is saying.

  “How long can I wait to have the surgery?” Nevaeh asks, her voice cracking with emotion.

  I jump in before the doctor can answer. “You’re not waiting.”

  “But—” she breathes.

  “While it’s not life or death, I wouldn’t recommend waiting too long. The reason why you’ve been getting headaches and feeling dizzy is because of the size and location of the mass. I would also recommend you not drive anywhere as you are susceptible to seizures as well.”

  Nevaeh nods, resigned. “Okay, I guess we might as well schedule the surgery for as soon as possible.”

  “Nevaeh,” Dr. Bromfield says softly, hearing the worry she isn’t voicing. “You have a higher chance of dying from the Meningioma growing than you do from the surgery itself. As with any surgery, there are risks, and we will go over them beforehand, but they are a small risk in comparison to what you’re facing if you don’t have the surgery.”

  “How long will I remain in the hospital afterward?”

  “We’ll get you admitted the day before the surgery, run your bloodwork, and get you prepped. You’ll be put to sleep while I perform a craniotomy. I can’t tell you how long it will take, as that will depend on how everything goes, but I can tell you the process and what to expect. We’ll shave a small area, then I’ll go in and remove the tumor, and then stitch you back up. I’ll have the mass sent to the lab and we should have the results back within a few hours. If all goes well, I’ll get it all and you’ll never have to go through this again. You will remain in the hospital for a few days and then on bed rest at home for a few weeks. We’ll know more once you wake up, though.”

  Nevaeh sighs and glances over at me, her eyes glossy with unshed tears. I squeeze her hand to silently let her know I’m here and not going anywhere. I’ll be by her side every step of the way. “How soon can we schedule?”

  Dr. Bromfield clicks a few times on his laptop. “I have four weeks from today available.”

  After confirming the appointment and getting the paperwork Nevaeh will need to bring to the hospital, we say our goodbyes and head out. Nevaeh is quiet during the drive home. I ask her if she’s hungry, but she shakes her head. We’re halfway to the house when my mom calls and asks if we can come by and see her and my dad. She tells us she would love to make a special dinner to celebrate our marriage. When I tell her now isn’t really a good time, Nevaeh cuts in and tells her we would love to come by.

  “I don’t want to hide away and mope,” she says when I hang up. “I only have four weeks.”

  “It’s only four weeks until the surgery. You heard Dr. Bromfield. He’s performed this procedure hundreds of times. You have your whole life ahead of you.”

  “Things go wrong, Ethan. I’ve read up on the risks. I could bleed out, not wake up, wake up and be a different person, or have no memory, or no motor skills.”

  “No more Google for you,” I joke, trying to lighten the mood. It doesn’t work, though, because she huffs and goes quiet. I know she’s worried, and will be until she’s through the surgery and recovering, but I’m not about to let her dwell on this for the next month.

  “How about tonight, after we get home, we take a look at your list and see what else you have on it?” I hate that fucking list, but Nevaeh clings to it like it’s her lifeline, so if it will help lift her spirits and keep her mind occupied the next few weeks, then I’m all about it.

  “Eh.” She shrugs noncommittedly while staring out the window. “Maybe.”

  Unable to take another moment of her pushing me away, I swerve my car onto the shoulder of the road. Her head whips around in shock to see what I’m doing. I take note of where we are and pull into a corner parking spot that overlooks the beach, and put the car in park. It’s late afternoon on a weekday, so it’s empty.

  “What are you doing?”

  I press the button on the side of my seat until I have plenty of room in front of me, and then I pull Nevaeh into my lap. She’s wearing a black flowy skirt with a white lacy top. Since she removed her heels when we got in the car, she’s barefoot. He
r skirt bunches up, and her thick, creamy thighs settle around me.

  “Ethan,” she breathes, confused.

  “I’m not going to let you shut me out.” I grab her chin with my finger and thumb and look her in the eyes. “This is your life, Nevaeh. Anything can happen at any time. We can get into a car accident and die. I can have a heart attack. You could be eating something and choke and your life is over.”

  Her eyes bulge out. “I know that…”

  “You can’t live your life checking off items on your list out of fear of dying. You have to live for you. Live every day like it’s your last. Live hard and love harder.” I yank her shirt down to expose her ink. “You got this tattoo, but you’re still not living. You’re just going through the motions. Life isn’t a list of items to check off.”

  Fisting her ponytail, I pull her into me and swing the door open, taking us both out of the car.

  Glancing around one more time, I make sure nobody is around before I drop Nevaeh to the ground and push her up against the side of the vehicle. With the way I’m parked the only people who could see us are those walking down the beach, and that’s only if they looked up here. The other side is full of large shrubbery, giving us privacy.

  “Ethan,” she gasps, her head turning and her eyes meeting mine.

  “Face forward, baby,” I demand, and she obeys.

  “It’s time you start living, Angel. Time we start living.” I glide my palms up her silky smooth toned legs until I get to her cotton thong panties.

  “I’m scared,” she admits.

  “I know, but you can’t live in fear.”

  I push the material to the side and, spreading her thighs, push two fingers into her heat. She moans loudly, and I chuckle. Who would’ve thought my wife would be so damn loud during sex?

  “Ethan,” she breathes, “we’re in public.” I can’t see her eyes, but the way her face is moving from side to side, I can tell she’s looking around to make sure no one is watching.

  “We’re going to do whatever is left on that damn list of yours that we can do,” I murmur into her ear, thrusting my fingers in and out of her pussy. “And along the way we’ll add a few of our own.”

  I tug her panties down to her knees, then, unzipping my fly, pull my dick out. It’s already at half-mast, so all it takes is a few strokes and I’m ready to go. “And then you’re going to go in and get that fucking tumor removed. And once you’re healed, we’ll do everything else, and we’ll spend the rest of our goddamn lives adding to that list. Understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “Now, I’m going to fuck you right here,” I tell her, reaching around and pinching her nipple through her shirt. “Where anyone walking by can see.”

  She groans at my words.

  “And the louder you get, the harder I’m going to fuck you.”

  Her thighs clench together. “Yes, please,” she begs, now understanding what’s happening and why. “Fuck me, please.”

  “Bend slightly.” She does as I say and, using the side of the car to hold her steady, she drags her hands up and the rest of her body outward, her perfect ass popping out toward me. With her skirt bunched at her waist, I have the perfect view of her peach of an ass.

  Spreading her cheeks, I guide my dick into her tight cunt. Nevaeh throws her head back, groaning without giving a shit who can hear her, as I push farther into her.

  “Ethan, please. I need. You. To fuck me,” she pleads. I was trying to go slow to give her time to adjust, but who am I to deny my wife what she needs.

  Gripping her hips, I thrust into her. Her body smacks against the side of the car and she gasps in pleasure. Not wanting to chance anyone seeing us, I tell her to massage her clit to speed things along, and then I begin to fuck my wife just like she wants. I know she’s close when her legs begin to tremble and her thighs clench together. Wanting to be the one who makes her ignite, I reach around and push her thumb away, replacing it with my own. A few strokes later and Nevaeh is coming all over my dick.

  Needing to see her face, I pull out and turn her around. Her eyes are glassy, and she’s sporting a half-smile, telling me she’s satisfied. But I’m not done with her yet.

  Grabbing her underwear, I drag them the rest of the way down her legs and then throw them to the side. With my hands grasping the back of her thighs, I lift and pin her against my car and then thrust back in. Her arms encircle my neck and her legs lock around my waist.

  “Oh. My. God,” she moans, her eyes rolling back as I hit the spot I know will have her reaching her second orgasm in no time. “Right there. Right there,” she chants.

  And then, for the second time in a matter of minutes, her tight walls contract around me. Her head falls back and her eyes close, and she rides out every wave of her orgasm while screaming my name.

  And my only thought as I follow behind, filling my wife with every drop of cum in me, is that I might not be one hundred percent sure if I believe in God, but fuck if I don’t believe in angels. Because right here in my arms is a living, breathing one, and I’ll be damned if she leaves this fucking Earth without me.

  We’re at my parents’ beach house, and my mom and Nevaeh are cooking while my dad and I are sitting out on the patio, smoking cigars and discussing business. When we first got here, my mom could tell, even though Nevaeh was relaxed from her multiple orgasms, something was wrong. So, we told them about her tumor. After Mom cried and Dad asked if she’s seeing the best doctor, they both hugged her and told us if we need anything to let them know. Then Mom insisted they postpone their trip and Dad agreed. I wouldn’t have asked them to, but I’m glad they did. Nevaeh needs as much support as she can get, and since she and her mom are on the outs, she only really has Blaire and me. She’s become close to my mom, so I’m glad she will have her as well.

  “I’ve been hearing some rumors about Felix,” Dad says, glancing over at me. “His organization has been completely dismantled and he’s looking for revenge. He’s had Logan attacked once already. He’s in the infirmary, barely hanging on to his life.”

  “You think he could pull strings like that from inside? Go after Nevaeh…”

  “He’s got the money and connections…” The thought of anyone coming after Nevaeh to get to me has me seeing red. “I’m looking into it,” Dad adds. “I’ll let you know once my contact gets back to me.”

  “Dinner’s ready,” Nevaeh calls from inside.

  “Easter is this weekend,” Mom mentions, plating food for her and my father. “I was thinking we could go to your church, Nevaeh, and maybe have your parents over.”

  “Oh, um.” Nevaeh smiles sadly. “I can ask, but my mom and I… we aren’t…”

  “The holidays are for healing, and she should know what’s going on with you. Even when I was over in the Dominican Republic I was checking up on Ethan. Just because a mother is upset or hurt or even mad at her child, she doesn’t stop loving him or her.”

  “I’m mad at her too,” Nevaeh says. “Before my brother died, he told me some stuff about her, secrets she kept from us that he found out, and when I confronted her, she wouldn’t listen or answer me.”

  “We all have secrets, sweetie.” Mom pats Nevaeh’s hand. “Maybe you should let her tell you when she’s ready.”

  “It’s not just that,” Nevaeh says. “Before my brother died, she ran my life. She hates my best friend, hates that I lived with her. She told me where to go to school, where to work. And when I broke free, she got so mad. I’m just not sure I want her negativity in my life.”

  Nevaeh looks from my mom to me. “She’ll never accept Ethan’s and my marriage, and I don’t want her to bring me down. I’m happy.”

  “You won’t know until you tell her. Maybe knowing about your tumor will put things into perspective for her,” Mom says.

  “Maybe,” Nevaeh says with a shrug that silently says she’s doubtful. I only met her mom once at the funeral, so I can’t really judge. But instead of mourning the loss of her son and pulling her family
in closer, she chose to talk shit to her daughter every chance she got, until Nevaeh had enough and was ready to leave.

  Sensing Nevaeh’s uneasiness, I change the subject to our time in Vegas, and Nevaeh spends the rest of the meal gushing about our trip and how she never wanted it to end. As I listen to her tell my parents about the gondola ride we took and how we spent two hours watching the fountain shows over and over, I vow to make sure the next trip I plan is even more memorable. Nevaeh deserves the world and I’m going to be the man to give it to her.

  Nevaeh

  It’s Easter Sunday and I’m dressed in a floral dress with strappy white sandals my mother would approve of with Ethan by my side. When he offered to come to church with his mother and me, I wasn’t surprised. He would go anywhere I go. But I am nervous about him being in my mother’s church, in her territory so to speak. The one time he met her, she was mourning over my brother and wasn’t in her right frame of mind, which is why we got off easy. When we step into the church, donning wedding rings, and announce we’re married and living together, she’s going to flip her shit and it’s not going to be pretty. I’m supposed to invite her back to Ethan’s parents’ place for brunch and tell her about my tumor then, but I’m not even sure we’ll get that far before she goes crazy and disowns me like she disowned my brother.

  “Oh, Nevaeh! You look gorgeous,” Raquel says, giving me a hug. “Happy Easter.”

  “Thank you. Happy Easter.”

  After giving Andrew a hug, and Raquel giving Ethan one, we walk into the church. Blaire told me she and Victor would be here as well, so I look around for her—safety in numbers and all that.

  Unfortunately, before I find her, my mom finds me. “Nevaeh,” she says, plastering on a fake smile. “And I see you brought your man friend.”

  “Actually…” I release Ethan’s hand. “He’s my husband.” I show her the beautiful diamond ring. “And these are his parents,” I continue, without giving her a chance to lose it. “Andrew and Raquel Romero, this is my mother, Susan Hansen, and my father, Edward Hansen.” I point to my father, who’s standing behind my mother.