Waiting for April

by Jaime Loren

  “What are the docs saying?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “They say if he doesn’t wake up in the next forty-eight hours, he won’t wake up at all.” She burst into tears.

  My heart ached for her, my tears spilling over, too. I’d never seen her so broken. To carry on a secret relationship like this for so long—it was obvious she was completely in love with him. I wish she’d been able to tell me. Then again, if it were Scott and me, I’d do everything I could to keep us together, too. Living in different states would be unbearable.

  Jesus, the past few years must have been horrible for her.

  Scott’s voice was so quiet I barely heard him speak. “Where are your parents?”

  Stella clung to him, her nails biting at his shoulders. “Flying up from Dallas. His were vacationing in London. They’re trying to get a flight back now, but I don’t know if they’ll make it.”

  I rubbed my hands together. Joshua’s ventilation machine kept a steady rhythm, a short beep sounding every now and then. His leg was in a cast, his body bandaged from head to toe.

  Stella cried into Scott’s chest, and I stepped back. His eyes met mine, and for a moment I wondered if he saw his future: the possibility Stella would be comforting him in a few months’ time. Did he see death and devastation whenever he looked at me?

  “They won’t even transport him to a bigger hospital because he’s too unstable,” Stella said, pulling back.

  Scott released her and rubbed his face. While they discussed his injuries, I set my eyes on Joshua again, hoping he’d show some sign of life. Perhaps some movement in his fingers? Or better yet, open his eyes? Because if there was one thing I knew, it was the pain of losing the person you loved the most.

  Scott was wrong. Dying wasn’t the easy way out. It’d never been the experience of physically dying that’d caused the excruciating pain.

  The most painful part of dying was the horror of knowing I was being ripped away from him.

  I didn’t want Joshua to know my pain, just as I didn’t want Stella to know Scott’s.

  When I looked up again, Stella was gazing at Joshua.

  “Is there anything I can do?” I asked, my voice small.

  She didn’t answer.

  Scott smiled sadly. “Can you get Stella something to eat?”

  “I’m not hungry,” she said.

  “Something hot,” Scott added.

  I nodded and turned on my heel.

  *****

  Considering only two people could stay at Joshua’s bedside, Scott spent the rest of the afternoon with Stella, while I sat in the waiting room. He came out to check on me every now and then, but it was Stella who needed him most right now. He knew what it was like to be in her position. I, on the other hand, felt helpless.

  “It’s not your fault,” he said, kneeling to take my hands in his on one of his short visits. “You didn’t ask them to come.”

  I nodded. “I know.”

  “And, even if you did, you couldn’t have predicted Joshua would lose control of the vehicle.”

  I bit the inside of my cheek. “Do you think he’ll wake up?”

  A muscle in Scott’s jaw twitched. “Only time will tell.”

  I nodded, but didn’t meet his eyes.

  “Hey,” he said, kissing my fingers. “We can’t change what happened. We just have to be here for Stell.”

  I placed my hand on his cheek, the stubble now that little bit longer. Why hadn’t I noticed the permanent, one-day growth before now?

  “Scott?” Stella’s croaky voice drew our attention. “My parents are on their way here. Maybe it’s not such a good idea if you’re here when the shit hits the fan.”

  Scott stood up, dropping my tingling hands. “How far away are they?”

  “An hour. Maybe less, the way Dad drives.”

  I stood up too.

  Stella glanced at me. “I’m sorry about before, April. This isn’t your fault.”

  My eyes darted between hers and Scott’s. “I just wish there was something I could do to help.”

  “Do you know how to perform miracles?” she asked, half-laughing, half-crying.

  Tears welled in my eyes as I crossed the distance to wrap my arms around her. This time she hugged me back, spreading warmth through my muscles that, only two seconds ago, had been fiercely woven into knots. But the guilt was still there.

  If they hadn’t felt the need to check up on me, their secret wouldn’t have been exposed. I’d just been reunited with my soul mate, but Stella could very possibly lose hers, whether he lived or not.

  Chapter 25

  (Scott)

  Ten hours at the hospital had taken its toll on April. She yawned as we crossed the parking lot, creating a frosty vapor in the moonlight. I put my arm around her shoulders and pulled her against me. Neither of us had dressed for a chilly night, but at least I could warm her with my body.

  The afternoon had been tough on me, too. Stella would walk out of there alone if Joshua didn’t wake up soon, just as I’d done in the past.

  We jumped into the truck, and I looked across at her as I turned the heat on. “You okay?”

  She nodded. “Her parents will be pissed.”

  “I doubt her parents will be too hard on her. Joshua might not pull through the night. They do have a heart.”

  “Yeah, I know. It’s just, if he does make it, then what? It’s like she’ll lose him either way. It’s not fair.” She looked out the window.

  I exhaled and rubbed her knee, but she didn’t respond.

  She was quiet on the trip home. I held onto the memory of the warmth of her touch in the waiting room, however fleeting, and kept reminding myself that it was the right decision to tell her what I’d tried to do in the past. I didn’t expect her to forgive me, because I hadn’t forgiven myself. Did I do the right thing by leaving her? Obviously not, but I was running out of options. If I stayed, she died. If I left, she took her own life. Coming back to her, but keeping my feelings hidden, had resulted in her uncovering the truth. The whole truth.

  So where did that leave me?

  *****

  The rain came down so hard I was afraid I wouldn’t hear anything from April’s room should something bad happen. So, to be safe, I moved her into my bedroom, figuring that as it was at the end of the passageway, I would at least have the chance to put myself between any intruder and her bedroom door.

  I hadn’t presumed to share a bed with her tonight. She’d barely spoken to me since our picnic-that-didn’t-happen. Instead, we’d used different bathrooms to shower, and she’d appeared in my doorway just long enough to say goodnight while I shaved. It was in stark contrast to how we’d said goodnight last night in the kitchen, the memory stirring blood in a place where it wouldn’t be needed tonight.

  I stood by the bedroom window, trying to absorb everything that’d happened over the last few days. With April’s admission of love, she’d rendered me useless as her protector for at least six hours of each day—a fact that terrified me, but one I couldn’t control. I listened to the rain pelting against the roof and tried to visualize the lake behind the great wall of water cascading down the glass in front of me, while fatigue threatened to pull me under. I closed my eyes. Rested them. As long as I didn’t lie down, I could stay awake.

  I didn’t hear April’s soft footfalls on the carpet behind me, but the warmth of her hands sliding around my bare waist pulled me from any thoughts of sleep. Slowly, they made their way around to my stomach and up to my chest, coming to rest one on top of the other over my heart. Closing my hands over hers, I exhaled and lowered my head, reveling in the warmth of her forgiving embrace. Breathing became infinitely easier as the weight of uncertainty lifted from my shoulders. My skin tingled when she pressed her lips to my spine and held me tighter.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  I cleared my throat. “You don’t need to apologize.”

  We stood like that for a moment, her arms wrapped around me, her hear
t beating against my bare back, my hands locking her in place.

  “I love you, April.”

  She kissed me again, this time letting her mouth linger. “I know. I love you, too. But you have to promise me you’ll involve me from here on in, no matter what.”

  I closed my eyes, terrified of how that might play out, but also knowing that I owed her as much. “I promise.”

  “Promise me you’ll never leave me again.”

  I pulled her hands up to my mouth and kissed her fingers. “I couldn’t if I tried.”

  After giving me a final squeeze, she pulled me around to face her.

  My desire for her soared when I discovered she was wearing only a tank top and underwear. The sight of her long hair—a mess of fiery curls framing her delicate figure—made my throat dry.

  She dragged her fingers down my chest and across my stomach. My blood surged, pounding past my ears, almost drowning out the sound of the rain against the windows.

  As her fingertips trailed back and forth on my waist, my eyes wandered her curves. They lingered on her breasts, appreciating their shape under the tank top. My memories pulled me back to 1729, and the way I used to slide her top from her shoulders, one by one, building up to the moment I’d lower my tongue to her soft, sweet skin. Without thought, I lifted my hand and cupped her breast, making her breath shudder as I brushed my thumb across her nipple.

  “Five or six times a day, huh?” she whispered, closing her eyes as she rocked into me.

  “At least,” I whispered, unable to stop the corner of my mouth from turning up. “You couldn’t get enough of me.”

  It was an unsuccessful attempt to make her smile. Instead, she looked up at me in all seriousness and said, “I don’t doubt that for a second.”

  My heart flipped, pushing more blood in the opposite direction of my brain. I didn’t stop her when she pulled at the drawstring of my sweatpants. Her palms smoothed over my thighs as she pushed them down, taking my boxer-briefs as she did so. Brilliant sparks of white-hot pleasure coursed through me as her fingers took a different route on their return, trailing the underside of my now unmistakable longing for her.

  I squeezed my eyes closed, desire and heartbreak almost getting the better of me. It’d been too long since she’d touched me this way. Far too long. I took her face in my hands and tilted her head up. Her breath caught in her throat before being released in a soft sigh onto my parted lips. We didn’t speak again. We didn’t have to. Our bodies spoke for us. When I brought my mouth down on hers, a whimper escaped her. There was an urgency in her kiss that hadn’t surfaced during that moment in the lake yesterday, or when we’d rolled across the bed last night.

  It emboldened me. I clutched the bottom of her tank top and pulled it up, and she lifted her arms to assist me. As her bare breasts fell against my chest, I moaned, taking her in my arms as our tongues reunited. With my knees weakening by the second, I wasn’t sure how much longer I’d be able to stand, so, reaching down, I gripped her thighs and lifted her as I stumbled to the bed.

  Once there, she refused to unlock her legs from around my waist, so we fell together, our bodies inseparable, our kisses becoming more desperate. It took every ounce of strength I had to remember to kiss her deeply, slowly. To take my time and give her a taste of what was to come—if I could manage to hold off that long. Because, although she was still the same girl who’d shared every part of her body with me all those centuries ago, she was also a virgin again. Delicate. She didn’t remember the rainy afternoons we’d shared in my barn loft, or the flat rock I used to lay her down on at the creek shared by our families’ properties.

  April had saved herself for me in every life, whether she’d met me or not. She trusted me to gently take the sweetest gift a woman could ever give a man. I would die a thousand deaths in order to make her happy.

  Breaking away, I trailed my lips across her jaw, inhaling her strawberry-scented balm, and made my way down her throat. She turned her head into the pillow and moaned: a small, soft sound that threatened to end me as I journeyed down to her breast and brushed my cheek against it.

  “Scott,” she choked, urging me to remove her underwear.

  I groaned, reality finally catching up with me.

  She stiffened. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m not invulnerable anymore.”

  “So?”

  I pulled back. “So I’m a normal human guy.”

  She furrowed her brow. “And?”

  “And I don’t have protection.”

  “What?”

  “Protection, April. I don’t have any. And considering I’m a normal human guy with normal swimmers right now …”

  Her eyes darted around the room before finding mine again. “But …” She shook her head. “You can’t stop now—not after kissing me like that!” She reached down and wrapped her hand around me, her palm cool against the burning hardness of me. “And … see?”

  I moaned, momentarily forgetting why we’d stopped. “God, I want to.”

  “We’ve done this so many times before without contraception and I didn’t get pregnant,” she said, her voice strained. “I’m going to explode if we stop right now.”

  I pulled back again, my head spinning. “And I’m going to explode if you don’t stop doing that.”

  “Oh. Sorry.” She let me go. “Maybe we could just do it a little bit?” she begged.

  I laughed softly. “No such thing as far as we’re concerned. Besides, that’s still not safe, and we’re not in a position to get pregnant—not until I’ve worked out how to save you and you’re well into your twenties.”

  Groaning with frustration, her head fell back against the pillow.

  “But hey,” I said, bringing my lips against her ear. “That doesn’t mean we can’t have any pleasure tonight …”

  Her breath caught in her throat when I slid my hand up the inside of her thigh and brushed it against her underwear. She raised her hips, allowing me to remove them, and I knelt between her thighs to look upon her and savor the moment. The sight of her stole my breath. My memory hadn’t done her justice. Nothing could compare to the sight of her soft, milky flesh beneath my hands, and the way the light stroked her skin as she lay in front of me. I hadn’t allowed myself this privilege since our first life together. I hadn’t considered myself worthy of her touch, or her body.

  But tonight, she was mine again. She knew who I was—and the choices I’d made over the years—and she still wanted me. She still loved me.

  And for her forgiveness, I loved her even more.

  I trailed my tongue over her breasts, around her belly button and down her body, pausing to gently kiss her heart-shaped birthmark. Pushing herself onto her elbows, she watched intently as I ventured further, her bones turning to jelly when I settled between her thighs. I lost myself in the sound of her moans, the movement of her hips, the way she clutched my hair and cried my name. The way she quickly came undone, then just as quickly focused her attention on me until I was moaning her name. The excruciating pleasure, both satisfying yet leaving us wanting, consumed us for most of the night. There were times I’d considered taking her, to hell with the consequences, and times she’d begged me to do just that. Times when I’d pressed myself against her as we’d kissed, pushing the boundaries, and moments she’d tried to pull me inside of her.

  But we didn’t.

  Not until the early hours of the morning.

  It only took a moment. A lapse in concentration, or a need that was too great—it didn’t matter. As I pushed, she pulled, and we both gasped. We stilled; our eyes locked. Pleasure and pain stretched across her beautiful face. I moved to break our union, but her legs tightened around me, pulling me deeper.

  My head told me it was a bad idea, but my body disagreed, my hips moving without command to take every inch she offered. She moaned, her fingernails biting into my shoulders, and moved her body in rhythm with mine.

  One stroke.

  It was happening.


  Two.

  This wasn’t a dream.

  Three.

  We were making love.

  I was home again. She was my home. In this very moment she’d never been taken from me, and we were lying in the field, giving ourselves to one another for the very first time. We had our whole lives ahead of us, to share and grow old together.

  Four.

  I’d forgotten how perfectly our bodies fit together.

  Five. Six.

  I groaned.

  Her breath shuddered against my lips as a tiny whimper of pleasure escaped her, followed by my name—in the best possible way.

  Seven, eight, nine—oh God—“No,” I gasped, pulling away, my body trembling and aching and desperate for hers as I collapsed onto my back on the other side of the bed. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  April exhaled, her arms flopping to the bed beside her. “Don’t be. That was my fault.”

  “No,” I said, taking her hand in mine and rubbing my thumb across it. “We got carried away. It was just …”

  “Too good,” she finished. “It was perfect.”

  It was. It was innocent and foolish and fulfilling and frustrating. But it was perfect.

  I fought back a smile. “Told you you couldn’t get enough of me.”

  She giggled, then rolled over to whack me.

  I threw some half-hearted pleas toward the Heavens. “Oh God! Help! She’s beating me up again! Please, someone, confiscate the lamps!”

  Her giggles spilled into full-blown laughter. “Stop it!”

  Chuckling, I pulled her down on top of me and kissed her gently. “You can beat me up all you like if it means you’ll straddle me afterward.”

  Her moan squeezed through her smile, into my mouth. “I want to straddle you every day for the rest of your life. Five or six times a day, come to think of it.”

  I groaned with the memory of it. With the promise of it. “I think I can live with that.”

  Our laughter subsided as our kiss grew hungrier, both of us pulling one another, unable to get close enough. I rolled on top of her again, paying no attention to my pleasurable discomfort below. “I guess the night doesn’t have to end completely,” I said, moving my mouth to her neck. “We still have other, safer options to revisit.”