“How do you know her?” I hated myself for asking. But I had to know.
“We were in pre-med, then medical school together.” He perched on the edge of the bed next to me.
“You dated.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yeah, for six years.” His eyes didn’t meet mine.
“Wow. Why’d you break up?” That was longer than me and Dawson. I couldn’t imagine what that would feel like.
“I was offered a position on the research team in Atlanta. She couldn’t find a job in Atlanta, so we decided to part ways. She took a job here in Texas. We still keep in touch.” Beckett shrugged like it was no big deal to end a six-year relationship like a business transaction.
I nodded as if I understood. He didn’t owe me anything. We weren’t officially anything. And I wasn’t sure I wanted us to be. I was just in a fragile state. “So, what’s the plan?”
He took my hand in his. “While you were sleeping, I arranged a flight for us back to Atlanta. When we get there, I’m going to admit you to the hospital. I’m afraid you’re in rejection. So, please don’t fight me on this.”
“OK,” I agreed in defeat.
“Take a nap while I pack your stuff up.” He gave my fingers a squeeze before he got to his feet.
“I need to go to the bathroom and get dressed so we can go.” I pushed the blanket down.
Beckett helped me get to the bathroom. I gasped when I caught my reflection. My eyes had dark purple circles beneath them. My cheeks were hollow. My skin looked sickly. And my hair couldn’t be helped. It was no wonder Beckett was all cozy with Rebecca. As I took care of business, my fingers raked through my hair. It was no use. I gave up.
When I emerged, Beckett helped me slip into a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt from my suitcase. It wasn’t the first time he’d had to help me. It was purely clinical. No heat or desire ever filled his eyes.
“Everything’s packed. You ready to go?” he asked as I sat down to slip my shoes on.
“Yeah.”
When I was admitted to the hospital back in Atlanta, they adjusted my meds. For two weeks, Beckett pretty much slept in my hospital room. Until I started recovering.
Once the change in meds kicked in, I improved drastically. The head of the research team came by to tell me I was out of the woods and would be released in a couple days.
I immediately got on my laptop and started planning a trip to Italy. Life was too short to not go to the places I’d dreamed of. Besides, I needed to get away.
When Beckett arrived after his shift ended, he found me with itineraries spread out on my hospital tray.
“What’s all this?” he asked as he picked up one of the papers.
“Doc says I’ll be out in a couple days. So, I’m booking my next trip.” I grinned up at him.
“Where are you going?” His lips turned down as he scanned the paper.
“Italy,” I said, though I didn’t need to since he was holding my travel plans in his hand.
“You can’t go to Italy,” his tone was no-nonsense.
“Doc gave me the all-clear to go. And I’ve always wanted to go to Italy. This whole setback made me realize I can’t keep waiting, or I may never make it there,” I explained.
Dropping the paper back on the tray, he sank down in the chair next to my bed. “I’m asking you not to go.”
“Why?” I frowned.
His fingers wrapped around the metal railing of my bed, the knuckles turning white with the strength of his grip. “Because seeing you so sick and being away from you was so scary. It made all these feelings rush forward. I care about you. A lot. As more than a friend. And I want to explore that.”
“How long have you felt like that? That you might like me as more than a friend?” I whispered.
“A while now. I just didn’t want to act on it for some reason—rules, appearances… But thinking you could die made me realize I didn’t want to wait to examine these feelings. It made me realize I’d like for us to be more serious. But we can’t do that if you’re in Italy.” Reaching over, he gripped my hand.
“I’m not moving to Italy. I’m just going for a visit. Nearly dying made me realize I have to go. I can’t put my life on hold any longer. I’ve been going through the motions the past year and a half. The first thing on my list for embracing my new lease on life is to go to Cinque Terre in Italy.” It was on my travel bucket list with Dawson. Maybe going there would serve as some sort of goodbye to the Dawson chapters in my life. I squeezed Beckett’s hand. “I have to go do this on my own before I can think about other parts of my life. I’m so sorry.”
“I don’t like it. But I understand. I’ll wait for your return.”
And he did.
We kept in touch while I was gone. Mostly through email and texts. But we did share several short phone calls every couple weeks. Surprisingly, we grew closer as we were apart.
I traveled through Italy and Greece for four months. It was amazing. I seized life and started blogging about my art again. After hitting the first spot on mine and Dawson’s bucket list, I realized I needed a new list. It hurt too much to go to the places we’d dreamed of going together. I made friends with lots of locals and just lost myself in creating.
At the end of September when I returned home, Beckett surprised me and was waiting for me at the airport. The joy on his face when I emerged from the airport shone like a beacon, calling me home. I hadn’t realized how much I missed him until I was in his arms. It felt safe.
“As much as I hated for you to be gone, I have to admit, the four months away seem to have done wonders for your health. I’ve never seen you look so healthy,” he gushed.
“Well, you’ve only known me when I was sick,” I reasoned. But he was right. I could see the difference in myself. I felt better. My mind was in a better place, and my heart was following along. Slowly, but it was moving.
“Very true. So, how about we go grab some food, then we can figure out what you want to do for the next couple of days while I’m in town?” Beckett laced his fingers with mine and led me to his car.
“That sounds wonderful.”
He tossed my bags in the trunk of the car and helped me into the passenger seat. “Sushi sound OK to you?”
I moaned at the thought and started directing him to my favorite sushi restaurant.
“I know we kept in touch while you were gone, but tell me everything,” he demanded.
So, while we shared a variety of sushi rolls, I told him all about my adventures and inspirations. When we were done, he reached across the table and took my hand. “When you left, you said you needed to spend some time on your own before you were ready to start thinking about other parts of your life. And I didn’t really bring it up while you were away because I didn’t want to sound desperate. But now that you’re back, have you given any consideration to moving our relationship out of the casual dating zone and into something a little more… committed?” he sounded so unsure and nervous.
I sucked in a deep breath. I could do this. It had been a year and a half. It was time. I looked at where our fingers were entwined and tried not to see a different hand that had once held mine. His thumb stroked mine while he patiently awaited my answer.
The breath blew out as I answered, “I think I’d like to try a real relationship with you.”
The smile on his face had the wattage to light up the building housing the tiny sushi bar where we were tucked away. “I can’t tell you how happy that makes me. You know, it was seven months ago today that I took you out on our first casual date?”
“Really?” Why would he remember something like that?
“Yeah, we went for lunch after your test results came back to celebrate.” He chewed on his lip. “I need to confess something.”
“That sounds ominous,” I teased.
“On that day, I wanted to ask you for a more serious relationship. I felt like we had potential because we’d grown close over the course of your treatments. And once you were
no longer officially part of the research trial, I was no longer ethically bound to not get involved with you.” He took a sip of water.
“So, what stopped you from talking about more with me back then?” I asked curiously.
“I could tell you weren’t ready for that. I know we never talked about past relationships for either of us. But I could tell you’d been in a serious relationship, and you were healing from its loss the whole time you were battling your illness. I recognized the signs of trying to get over something your heart wasn’t ready to let go of. I know what love lost or released looks like.” His face was so sincere.
“Rebecca?”
“Exactly. And some days, even now, it still hurts. And I still wonder what if.” He smiled sadly at me.
“How long has it been?” I murmured.
“Since we officially said goodbye?”
I nodded.
“It’s been about four years now,” he said with a sigh of longing.
“That’s not a very encouraging testimony for successfully moving on,” I teased, trying to mask my fear that I’d never move on from Dawson.
♪ Incomplete by Backstreet Boys
He chuckled. “I know. And part of that is because I never found anyone I really wanted to try to move on with. I think it was more difficult because Rebecca and I didn’t have a bad breakup. Neither of us cheated or fell out of love. Our lives were just going in two different directions, and we couldn’t see how to merge our paths. So, there was no anger driving me to move on. Just sadness.”
“That makes sense.” I could totally understand what he was saying. I mean, I had my fair share of anger over what went down with Dawson. But mostly, I had sadness and heartache. And we didn’t officially break up. We just stopped existing as an us. We dissolved. Dissipated. Poof.
“Don’t get me wrong, I haven’t lived like a monk for four years. I dated. Casually. But now, I think I’m ready for more. With you.” He looked so vulnerable. The man who’d held my life in his hands. The one who’d saved it. Maybe he could save my heart too. Maybe not. But what could it hurt to try?
“Me too. But still slowly. I’m trying to figure out my life. I’m scared,” I admitted as I stared at the pattern on the tablecloth instead of looking at him.
“So am I,” he confessed and tipped my face back up, so I stared into his eyes.
We sat in silence for a few minutes. Then Beckett stood and offered me his arm. Linking my arm through his felt natural. We strolled to where he’d left the car. Before he opened my door, he took my face in his hands and tenderly kissed me. My heart rate kicked up a notch as I enjoyed the kiss. It had been five months since he’d kissed me. Five months since our only kiss when we’d said goodbye during a quick stint in Tennessee before I flew to Italy. And that kiss wasn’t like this kiss.
♪ Kiss Somebody by Morgan Evans
When he stepped back, he rested his forehead on mine. “Let’s drop off your bags at your place, and you can pick up some clothes to come back to my hotel room… If you want to. No pressure.”
I swallowed hard. My eyes searched his. Could I really do this?
“We don’t have to do anything, if that’s what your hesitation is. It can be like last time. We can stay up all night watching movies and talking. I just don’t want to leave you yet, and my hotel room is really nice.” He winked at me.
I laughed. “OK.”
The relief on his face made me feel bad for my hesitation.
That night in his hotel room, without pressure or planning or even profound passion, we carried our relationship to the next level. Afterwards, as I lay naked in his arms, I reveled in the physical contact I hadn’t realized I’d missed. It was nice to be held and adored again. It had been so long. Being with Beckett was different from what I’d known before. It wasn’t a consuming inferno, but rather a comforting warmth. It didn’t make me desperate, but it left me sated.
So, for the past several months, Beckett and I had been seeing each other exclusively. Growing our relationship, mainly through lengthy video chats. Because of the distance, we only got to see each other about once a month. I usually visited him in Atlanta. And the couple of times he came to see me, he always rented luxurious hotel rooms, so he could spoil me. He’d never stayed at my apartment. Which was good, because I couldn’t quite bring myself to be with him in the same places I’d been with Dawson.
Shaking my head, I snapped back to the present and looked at the stack of art I’d gathered. The pieces were ready for Charles. Now I just needed to choose some edited photos to have printed, and I’d be ready to go to Columbia later this week.
Chapter 12
Dawson
Dear Universe
Hearts are broken
Pieces dispersed.
Do I gather them
Is this the path I traverse?
I beg you please
Don’t let us become a blank verse.
Days had passed with no new words. Then bam, another verse flowed from me onto the page as I sat looking through the memory book Izzy had made me. And in less than five minutes, this verse came to me. Maybe the small glimmer of hope living in my heart had unlocked the words.
♪ Our Lives by The Calling
I set the words to the music I’d already worked out, and within an hour, four verses had been written. Elation spread through me. It was time to tease the Loyals again.
In seconds, I was logged into Facebook. Before I went live, I decided to check the comments on the video from the other day. Over fifty thousand likes, four thousand shares and fifteen hundred comments. I started reading through the comments.
Ted: Girls are nuthin but trouble.
Kaylie: Forget about her. You can marry me.
There were several marriage proposals.
Becky: Thanks to the mystery girl who inspired you to sing.
A lot of fans sent messages of thanks to the woman who’d put me on the path to music.
Jane: Wow, your words made me cry.
Jack: Most people only dream of finding a love like that. You’ve got to go after her.
Maggie: Talk to her.
Zane: Sing to her.
Alice: Big romantic gesture she can’t refuse.
Jimmy: Good luck.
And the messages of encouragement continued for pages and pages. Fortified by our fans, I lifted my guitar onto my lap and stared into the computer’s camera. Then I sang the first verse of “Dear Universe”. My voice cracked on the last line, but overall, I was pleased.
My doorbell ringing kept me from basking in the joy I felt over finally finishing a whole song in nearly two years. The last time it happened…
I hadn’t heard her voice in over a month. I hadn’t seen her face in six weeks. I hadn’t held her in my arms or kissed her lips in two months. Two long months. Did most people realize something was going to be the last time when it was actually happening? I didn’t. I wished I had.
I’d have savored it instead of rushing her through the airport, so she wouldn’t miss her flight. If only someone had told me that kiss would be our last kiss, I never would’ve come up for air.
But now, what if I forgot how she laughed? How she smelled? How she tasted? How she kissed? How she felt in my arms?
I spent the whole day writing and singing about our last kiss; that way even if I forgot, I’d always remember how I felt today. The day I realized our last kiss happened without my permission.
How didn’t I know?
Why didn’t I see?
Where was the memo?
Why didn’t you tell me?
I close my eyes
And remember.
It makes my heartbeat rise.
And no matter how hard I try
I can’t find the answers.
How didn’t I know?
Why didn’t I see?
Where was the memo?
Why didn’t you tell me?
There was nothing in your smile.
Nothing in your touch.
To warn of the coming trial.
If I’d known that was the end,
I’d have savored every second.
How didn’t I know?
Why didn’t I see?
Where was the memo?
Why didn’t you tell me?
Your lips whisper my name
Sweetest word I ever heard
Set my heart all aflame
Fire’s gone out now
My heart’s falling cold.
How didn’t I know?
Why didn’t I see?
Where was the memo?
Why didn’t you tell me?
Your kisses were so sweet.
They stole my breath.
They made me weak.
I wish I’d known that kiss
Would be our last kiss.
How didn’t I know?
Why didn’t I see?
Where was the memo?
Why didn’t you tell me?
If you had told me
I’d have stopped time.
Frozen us in place.
So, I’d never miss
One second of our last kiss.
Once the words were out, I rushed out to the closest mall and found Izzy’s strawberry lip gloss. Thankfully, I still had the perfume and shampoo she’d left on the bus after her last trip. For the next year, I sprayed her perfume on the pillow next to me and dabbed her lip gloss on my lips, so I’d never forget her smell or her taste…
♪ Miss You All the Time by O.A.R.
The doorbell pealed again.
“I’m coming,” I shouted.
When I threw open the door, I wasn’t surprised to find Brooks there with his bass in hand. “What are you doing here, man? You should be sick of me by now.”
Lyrical Odyssey Rock Star Series: Box Set 1 Page 28