Love Without End

by Alyvia Paige

  Alyvia Paige

  COPYRIGHT© 2015

  Love Without End Copyright © 2015 Alyvia Paige

  Published by Alyvia Paige

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.

  This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people.

  If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Published: Alyvia Paige, June 2015:

  Editing: Jennifer Van Wyk – JaVa Editing

  Cover Design: J. Sava – Love Affair with Fiction

  Formatting by: Brenda Wright

  This book is intended for a mature audience of eighteen and older.

  To those who dreamt of their HEA, but life changed your course. Remember that it’s okay to mourn the loss of what you cannot have, but it’s beyond important to accept the fact of things change. Just because your Happily Ever After isn’t what you envisioned, doesn’t mean the one you are given won’t be just as perfect or perhaps even better!

  Beep. Beep. Beep. My blurred vision catches colors of blues and greens hustling about while muffling the sounds of what seems to belong to multiple hushed yet authoritative hospital staff. I ache everywhere, my head barely able to turn side to side and my body feels as though it is cemented to this concrete rollaway table. I squeeze my eyes shut forcing out the bright light being forced into them, but to no avail, I lose the fight when my lids are lifted against my will. More talking, more poking and prodding of my limbs for examination, the voices grow quieter. Beep. Beep. Darkness.

  Opening my heavy eyes to a mere squint taking in my surroundings without stirring around unsure if pain will consume me as it did once before. A slightly calloused thumb brushes over my left hand creating a figure eight pattern, and my eyes immediately draw to the movement as it continues. I fixate on the movement so meticulously covering the seemingly unharmed, perfect area, and then slowly dragged my eyes up his arm until I meet his eyes. My breathing becomes labored as I see his weary face, triggering his deep brown eyes to jolt to mine.

  I barely catch his movement before I hear a nurse sound through the speaker above my head, “The nurse will be right in.” I look to Carter confused as he gives me a tight smile and continues to brush the figure eight pattern over my hand until a tall woman in her mid-thirties knocks lightly on my room door before walking in.

  “Good Evening, Ms. James, how are you feeling?” She asks as she makes her way to my bed and begins to check my vitals and temperature as if this is a normal regimen. She continues her tasks as I look from her to Carter internally questioning how long this has actually been going on as she charts her findings in the tablet she carried in with her. “You seem to be improving as expected. Are you hungry or thirsty, I think you should perhaps try to have a little something since you are finally awake.”

  I close my eyes and moisten my lips before returning my gaze to the open window. The sun is setting, filling the city skyline with vibrant hues of oranges, reds, and deep purples. I feel indifferent aside from the obviousness of hospitalization; something within me is not the same anymore. “Can you tell me wh-what day it is, h-how long I have been here?” I ask no one particular, my voice hushed and raspy.

  Both Carter and the nurse begin to speak at the same time, so he pauses to her voice. “Hannah, you arrived via ambulance the morning of fourteenth and it’s now the evening of the fifteenth. Once you were stabilized, you were moved to the pediatrics - maternity ward, but should be released as long as you maintain these solid vitals and get a bit of food down.” With my head inclined to the side and brows creased, I stopped listening at ‘pediatrics -maternity ward’ coincidentally this is also when Carter stopped drawing that figure eight and is now tightly holding my hand with his fingers interlaced with mine. I am twenty-two, far too old for the pediatrics unit and last I can remember was not pregnant… was I?

  “Wait. What? Maternity? Pediatrics? Huh? Carter?” My breathing accelerates as I look from the nurse to Carter to my stomach back to Carter. I tug my right arm to my stomach splaying my hand over womb; it’s tender to the pressure and my arm is heavy, wrapped in bandages. My chest begins to rise and fall quickly as tears pool and fall from the corners of my eyes. Carter begins to caress my hand again while bringing his other hand to gently brush the hair from my face. He ignores the tears, not once does he wipe them away he just watches them fall, one by one, all the while refusing to break contact as he once again makes the figure eight pattern with his thumb on my left hand.

  The nurse returns to my bedside as a monitor alarm chirps; she quickly silences it while trying to coax me into taking deep breaths. “Hannah, dear, I need for you to take a deep breath in for me, and now exhale.” I do as she instructs multiple times until my breathing returns to normal. “There we go, now let’s try to refrain from doing that again, shall we?” This comment earns her a scowl from me and a chuckle from Carter. I turn my head away from the nurse and find Carter’s brown eyes scanning my features carefully. The left corner of his mouth tugs upwards into a half smile as he leans over and kisses my forehead.

  “Carter, please tell me what all is going on? Please.” I am pleading, my voice barely above a whisper in hopes that he will just treat this situation as a Band-Aid and rip it straight off without hesitation, but I’ve known Carter Grayson Jacobs for 19 years. In all those years, there have only been a few rare instances where he has done just as I have asked. Typically, because he is older and seems to think he knows what is best for me.

  Carter takes a deep breath and squeezes my hand, “Oh Banana, a truck blew through the red light on Fraase, smashing through your passenger’s side door at around thirty miles per hour. You have two broken ribs, a lot of bruising, and a severe concussion.” When he stops talking, I notice the gulp and tears he pushes back before looking into my eyes again. “Are you feeling up to some water or juice? The doctors really would like you to try something.” I nod in agreement, trying to pull apart what exactly he didn’t say in order to formulate a better line of questioning just as the nurse sets a cup of water on the table next to us.

  Reaching for the cup, I wince in pain but refuse to give in until it’s in my hand. Sinking back into the mattress with an exaggerated groan, I gradually sip the ice-cold liquid while bending the straw back and forth. “So, why am I on this floor, and where is everyone else?” I ask blankly in-between sips. Either this water has made me inquisitive, or I am just tired of asking myself questions I cannot answer. Carter runs his hands over his short brown hair, looks into my worrying eyes, and my beautifully planned, organized world comes crashing down just as the sun did into the horizon at sunset.

  I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket as I cross the side street behind Charles Hall and reach my car to shield myself from the bitter, cold air pricking my exposed skin. Folding into my Honda Civic, I pull out my cell to find notifications indicating several missed texts from Tracie. Instant dread washes over me as I swipe the screen to unlock the messages awaiting me.

  Tracie (3:09pm) – Hey sweetie, can you cal
l me when you have a minute.

  Tracie (3:15pm) – It’s nothing bad. I just wanted to check in

  Tracie (4:00pm) – Carter Grayson Jacobs, I know you are NOT ignoring me

  Tracie (4:17pm) – David is going out of town for work, have dinner with me?

  Tracie (5:02pm) – meet me at the bakery, I’m heading there now.

  Laughing loudly in the comfort of my car as I thaw out a bit, thank fuck for auto-start remotes or I’d be freezing my balls off still.

  Me (5:29pm) – Trac… class, I was in class. I’m on my way.

  Just as I am about to shift into drive, I spot a couple on a bench presumably engaged in a very serious conversation. I try to avoid parking on Tiger Lane in order to simply avoid that bench. It brings back so many memories created from the moments shared between Hannah and me, but that single memory nearly eight months ago, I wish I could change, forget, erase… something creeps back into my mind each and every time.

  The night started off great, Hannah was almost herself again and dinner was amazing. The night was turning out exactly like I had planned. I was hopeful it would end that way too, until we stopped at our bench and our world tilted yet again. We had just graduated with honors, and since the accident, we slowly moved forward. That forward movement wasn’t anything short of tension, frustration, avoidance, and shutting down, but it was also full of love, determination, and understanding. I knew she needed time to readjust to everything that had happened, hell I did too, but the continual push and pull reminded us both that what we had and needed was each other… or so I thought until something triggered her.

  “Hannah, baby, please calm down. We will get through this. I promise.” I encouraged as we took a seat on the park bench, freshly graduated – her still mourning and angry, me frustrated and agitated as this was not going like I had planned. Dinner was perfect, just like the old us before the accident, before the miscarriage, before shutting me out and pushing me away.

  “No Carter,” she says flatly. “I cannot do this anymore. I will not sit here and watch you put everything, EVERY fucking thing on hold to hold my hand. I am not glass, I will not break.”

  “Han, stop. This was supposed to be a romantic night out, just us. Celebrating together, graduation and moving forward.” I attempted to soothe her. I tried to get her to rationalize and relax. Obviously, I failed.

  “I will not stop, Carter Grayson Jacobs! I am done holding you back. I am done spending every waking moment like this and dragging you along with me,” she cried as tears fall from her lids, she grabbed my hands into her soft, cold ones. It wasn’t cold out though – it was early June. Call it intuition, or maybe just because I knew Hannah better than anyone else, but I could tell that this wasn’t going to end well. Even after – or if – she calms down, it wasn’t going to end well.

  “Would you just…” I sighed in defeat as she cut me off. Her eyes glazed over, tears now pouring down her face leaving black streaks from her mascara. She was convincing herself that what she was about to say was the truth.

  “No. You need to move forward Carter, I need you to let me go and move forward. I will hate myself even more than I do now if you continue to waste your time and sink into the hole I’ve created.” Her left hand drops mine as she caresses my cheek. “You are meant to do great, extraordinary things and I am nothing but a shell of a person, a person you have said more than once has changed. I am not happy; I’m barely hanging on to life here. Everything reminds me of what I lost. EVERYTHING, especially you,” she pulled her right hand from mine and stood, stooping down to where I sat waiting for her to calm down and kissed my cheek.

  “Hannah. I’ll wait. I love you, and I will wait until you are ready.”

  “I’ll always love you Carter.”

  And then she left. She walked down the sidewalk, and I watched until she turned into the duplex apartment that she shared with Brielle – her head down, unquestionably defeated. Well that makes two of us. I ran my hand over face and looked up into the cloudy, overcast sky.

  “FUCK!”

  Standing quickly, I walked to my car, pulled out the black box that was nestled in my front pocket. I climbed into my black Honda Civic, opened the box and stared at the crystal-clear, teardrop shaped, canary diamond. I picked it especially for Hannah to symbolize her strength, our strength, in overcoming the shit deck we were given, with the clarity to begin new and tossed it on the dash.

  Hannah and I had been through nearly everything together, and for her to think that I was unhappy and unwilling to wait for her to be what she needed to be was asinine. Tracie warned me that she was being irrational. That assessment was spot on. My chest began to throb as I punched my steering wheel with all the force I had in me. I stared at the ring that sat on my dashboard, illuminated by the small light shining down on it from top of the box. I closed the box, took a deep breath, and drove to my parents’ house. If there was anything Hannah taught me over our years together, it was patience and determination. I couldn’t and wouldn’t give up on her.

  Then the earth tilted and my world crumbled the next morning when I was informed she picked up and moved without so much as saying a fucking goodbye.

  My cell chimes again pulling me out of my retrospect.

  Brie – She got the congratulations flowers. Questioned me for an hour regarding who sent them. I know it was you, she loves them. She’s still sad but damn does she put on a front. I’ll be home in a few weeks, I’ll email you my itinerary so you can pick me up. BTW I DESERVE FLOWERS TOO BITCH! LOL love you C mwah

  With a heavy heart and exhaustion blanketing my emotions, I shake my head and pull into traffic to head to Marlee’s Cakery to see Tracie.

  Opening the side door to the bakery, I inhale the sweet scents of sugared confections baking – instant comfort envelopes me. Marlee’s is owned by none other than Tracie James, Hannah’s mother, who coincidentally is beaming a smile at me from behind the counter.

  “Hey Momma Tracie, what’s got you all excited today?”

  “Give me a hug, sweetheart, then pick out some sweets. I’ll grab the coffee and meet you at our table.” Her smile is bright and her eyes are dancing with happiness as she hugs me tight before doing as she said.

  Sitting across from her at the little table in the corner, I give Tracie the best smile I can muster. “So what’s up?” I ask, not masking my true state of exhaustion.

  “First, you need to start sleeping, that means stop going to O’Charlie’s every night you don’t have a morning class,” she scolds in between sips of her coffee. I nod, although we both know her saying what she always says isn’t going to change my newly developed habit. When Hannah left without a goodbye, I threw myself into school, doubling up on classes attending both day and nighttime, and coped with Crowne. No, I’m not an alcoholic, I don’t do it every day and I don’t do it to get drunk.

  “Now, David has left for St. Louis for work again, he won’t be back until Hannah comes home in a few weeks. So, if you could keep me company that would be great…” she trailed off as the trill of her phone cut into our conversation, ‘Han’ and her photo light up the screen.

  “Hello, hey sweet girl.

  Yes, when do you fly in?

  Oh alright, well when is Brie coming back if you aren’t flying together?

  Oh the day before?”

  A sad smile tugs at my mouth as I listen to Tracie talk to Hannah about coming home. She visits regularly, and her momma always fills me in on the details, giving me the scoop when she leaves. Just as Tracie agreed not to tell me of her visit, my cell starts ringing and I silence it as quickly as possible once I see Brielle’s name flashing across the screen.

  “Oh you know I am, no need to worry Han.

  Daddy is going to St. Louis tomorrow –

  Alright honey, I love you too.”

  I look at Tracie expectantly as she hangs up.

  “Where were we,” she pauses, “oh yes, Hannah is coming home in a few weeks, apparently Brie told her
the wrong flight, so they fly in on different days. But… I suspect by that grin you already knew.”

  “Yes ma’am. Brie texted me and emailed me her itinerary. How is she, aside from that call I mean?” My voice laced in worry and concern that she is moving on.

  “She’s getting there Carter, but you can’t stop living just because she is gone. Get your head on straight, so you are ready to get my girl back. She loves you, she just needed to escape.” She takes a big gulp of her coffee before looking to me with softened eyes. “She was talking to you in her sleep, Brielle told me. Then Han, true to herself, called ranting and raving, frustrated as hell that you are everywhere.”

  I smile as tears pool in my eyes. Yep, call me a pussy, but when the love of your life up and leaves without so much as a goodbye, and you find out she is dreaming about you again, it will shake your world too.

  “Fuck, I miss her.” I whisper as I wipe the tears escaping my lids. “I just, what if Trac? What happens if that just goes away and she leaves the memories and feelings behind just as easily as she did me when she took off to Florida?”

  “Oh Carter,” she murmurs then moves beside me and hugs me tight. I wrap my arms around her and cry – cry for the loss of Hannah, cry for the loss of our future, cry for the shit hand dealt to us, and cry from sheer exhaustion. “She loves you Carter, we all know it, and she knows it. Just give her a little more time.”

  I nod and squeeze her tight, letting her words soak into me. “Understood, on all accounts momma T.” I say releasing her.

  The sky fills with vibrant colors of orange, red, and deep magenta, feathering as the sun slowly vacates into the night. A faint smile graces my lips, my eyes close, and I take a deep breath just as I do each time these colors mix just right, painting the mural of the evening Carter told me my life forever changed without my knowledge or consent. Exhaling slowly before my mood slips from celebratory to gloom; I catch the sight of Brielle in the corner of my eye saunter through the patio gate to join me for dinner at the Yacht Lot. Dressed the part to the nines in her three quarter length white button down blouse and fitted khaki skirt, she looks to be nearly 5’8” in those brown stiletto strappy heels matching the chunky belt, damn I’m glad she is my self-proclaimed personal stylist.