by Stella Noir
Finally, we stop in the intensive unit, where we have to get the doctor’s permission to be finally left inside. When we do, Andrews stops my wheelchair in front of a door and kneels down in front of me so we’re eye-to-eye.
“He’s in there,” he explains to me. “I don’t want you to get too scared when you see him. Keep in mind, he’s out of mortal danger, and everyone in the hospital is doing the best they can.”
I nod stiffly, unsure of what to make of this. I have no idea what to expect when that door opens, and I don’t know if I want to have my questions answered …
“Okay, here we go,” Andrews says with a sigh, deciding for me. He opens the door and wheels me in, placing my wheelchair next to the bed with the patient, then leaves quietly, the door clicking shut behind him.
But I’m too busy to notice any of that, because my eyes are glued to the figure in the bed.
It’s Dylan.
But this time around, he looks nothing like the man I love.
He’s bruised, his lip split and mended with stitches, his left eye so bruised and purple it’s swollen shut. He has wires coming out of his body and I’ve never seen him look so vulnerable.
But try as I might to fight it, the love swells inside my body as soon as I set my eyes on him, and one thing becomes abundantly clear.
The man who tried to hurt me, the man who was living in my house … he was not Dylan at all.
I realize this with a shocked gasp just in time to see Dylan turn towards me weakly. His mouth splits open in a blissful smile, which immediately fills me with terrible guilt.
How could I ever think that man was Dylan?
He never made me feel this way just by looking at him, never made my heart ache and swell with love for him. He was just similar look wise, but that’s where it all ends.
“Dylan,” I whisper softly, wheeling myself even closer to the bed. He groans and reaches a hand out for me, which I take in my cold and clammy palms, ignoring the wire that is coming out of it.
“I can’t believe it,” I say, repeating the sentence over and over again as I shake my head. I feel my eyes filling up with tears almost immediately, but I don’t let them fall. Not just yet.
“Lola,” he groans, his voice hoarse, but strong. And that only confirms what I already know – this is undoubtedly the man I’ve loved my whole life. Strong, handsome and always with me on his mind, trying to save me … Maybe he finally got his chance.
“What happened?” I ask, my voice trembling as I speak, not knowing whether I really want to hear the answer, but desperate for it nonetheless. “What happened to you, darling?”
He breathes a heavy sigh and then chuckles lightly. And that makes my heart hurt even more, just knowing he can still smile even after all of this, everything that went down.
And I immediately know there must be an explanation for what happened.
I hold his cold hand in mine as he slowly relays everything that has happened to him since I last saw him, the story becoming clearer and clearer in my mind as he goes on.
“First thing you need to know,” he begins, his eyes pained as they find mine, begging me to understand. “Is that I have a twin brother.”
With that sentence alone, everything clicks in my mind.
Of course.
It explains the striking similarity between him and Marc, but the subtle changes, as well. It explains why he looked different, why he had a completely different personality. I suddenly understand it all.
But at the same time, I still have no idea what the rest of the story is, and my eyes beg him to go on. Dylan sighs heavily before delving further into the story, and I soon realize it’s going to be a long one.
“We used to live together,” Dylan begins to explain, his voice getting less hoarse as his confession spills out of his mouth. “Back when we were children. He was with us until I was about 4 years old … which is also when we started coming to the beach house, and I met you. But the real reason we started coming there is different.”
He gives me look full of apologies, but I don’t blame him for anything, knowing that he will soon explain the whole story.
“My brother, Marc, was different than me. We looked exactly alike since we were twins, but it became apparent early on that there was something not quite right with him.”
He swallows harshly.
“I remember when we were just children, he used to hit me. We shared a bedroom and he would pinch me and make me be quiet, though I was covered in bruises the next day. When my parents noticed, I lied to them, but they found out what was going on soon enough. And then I wished they hadn’t, because he started taking it out on others, like our pets …”
“Oh, Dylan,” I say compassionately, squeezing his hand in mine.
“He never took it out on Venetia, though,” Dylan says thoughtfully. “They got along well, in fact, and I never understood why he didn’t like me. Finally, when we were four, there was a scandal at the preschool Marc and I went to. A kid was pushed off of a climber, and he got severely hurt … He ended up on a wheelchair. My parents made sure it was all kept quiet, but it was Marc’s fault. He pushed him off the climber without any real reason.”
I can see the pain in his expression and I want to help him so badly, yet I have no idea how to make the hurt go away, so I just keep listening, hoping to relieve him at least a little bit.
“He was taken to an institution in America, which is when we bought the beach house. All those long days when we weren’t around and you were looking for me, we were visiting him.”
“At first he was so violent; they had to keep him sedated a lot of the time. But then, he started getting better, almost miraculously. They let him out eventually, when I was already sent away. I only learned of all of this later on … He decided to study to become a doctor, but ended up as a nurse.”
He gives me another pained look, and I know the bigger part of the story is going to follow now.
“I never knew he was working with Venetia, but they had kept in touch for all these years,” he admits. “He started working in the city, and then he was transferred here, which she took as the perfect opportunity to use against you. They had it all planned … That night, when Venetia attacked us, he came in the ambulance which took me away. He hid from you. But when we were in the ambulance, that sick fuck changed places with me.”
My eyes widen and so many questions pop in my head immediately. “What about the gunshot wound?” I ask worriedly, not sure how they managed to pull this all off.
“He had some connections in the hospital, and said the bullet just ended up grazing him,” Dylan explains. “And that same night, he helped Venetia escape. And since then, I’ve been with them … My brother and sister, who set out to destroy me and the person I love the most in the world.”
My heart swells with the significance of his words, but his bitter smile puts me back in the real world.
“They kept me in an abandoned house, tied up and gagged. I was their prisoner.”
At this point, the pain in his eyes is getting too much to bear. I’m an only child, but I know what he’s talking about since my parents kept me locked up for years after Dylan’s arrest when we were only teenagers.
But while my imprisonment was more mental, his was physical, and his battered body is here to tell the tale. I squeeze his hand again.
“I’m so sorry you had to go through all of that, Dylan,” I whisper softly. “I knew something was wrong, I realized he wasn’t you that day … Though you looked so much alike, I admit I was fooled for a long time.”
He gives me a sad smile that compels me to go on.
“We didn’t …” I pause awkwardly. “We didn’t sleep together, Dylan … He kissed me, but it felt so wrong. He wasn’t you, and it made me even surer in the knowledge that you are the only one for me.”
A smile lights up his face and it’s as if the sun started shining on a cloudy day. My face mirrors his expression and I immediately feel some of the ten
sion lifting as we gaze at one another.
He pulls me closer and I get up awkwardly, getting up on his hospital bed and settling in the crook of his arm, trying not to disrupt all the wires that are coming out of his body.
He cradles me closer, whispering my name in my hair as he holds me like he’ll never let go again.
“Always, Lola,” he says softly in my ear. “It’s always been you and me.”
“No matter what,” I reply, my voice confident and strong, and in that moment, I know we’ll get through whatever life throws at us, because this is real, this is love and it’s meant to be.
And if it isn’t, I’m willing to fight for it.
Fight hard.
Chapter 54
After Dylan’s prolonged stay in the hospital, we’re informed by the police we’ll be placed in a protection program since they still haven’t managed to catch either Marc or Venetia.
We have a choice of selecting separate living arrangements or stay in a house together, and we don’t hesitate when we choose to stay together no matter what.
During Dylan’s stay at the hospital, I’m at his side night and day. He’s malnourished, and it takes weeks to get him back on his feet, during which I’m always next to him, supportive and strong even when he loses his faith.
Because his gunshot wound was left unattended, they had to do some surgery on him which will leave him with a weaker heart for forever. I could kill his siblings just knowing they had managed to scar him for life, and probably shorten it a considerable amount, too.
But I know my chance is yet to come as soon as they finally find them and justice is brought to the pair in court. I only hope that day comes soon.
Finally, after three long weeks of the scent of hospital, the beeping of Dylan’s heart monitor and consulting with doctors, he is dismissed and finally allowed to go back home.
Except there is no home, at least not for the two of us.
We are told we’ll be staying in a house on the outskirts of the city. When I have a spare hour, I go with Andrews to look at it, and what I see pleases me, which I never would have imagined. It’s a small house, just one story, and it has a huge garden where there are vegetables and fruits growing in abundance.
There’s even a chicken coop in the back and the hens look at me curiously when I come in, scurrying away when I try to come closer.
Somehow, that makes me think of calmer things, and I believe we will be safe here. The house is old fashioned but perfectly functional, and a story starts forming in my head. I believe we will be happy here – at least, as happy as we can be.
Finally, the day comes when Dylan is dismissed from the hospital, and we’re driven to the house inconspicuously in case we were being followed. The drive takes a long time, and Dylan and I stare out of the window, watching as the landscape changes from skyscrapers and business buildings to vast land, hills and mountains.
When we finally arrive to our destination, an officer explains how everything works in the house. It has a state of the art security system, which makes the house lock up at night so no one can get in. He gives us all the security codes and information and finally leaves after two long hours of explaining everything.
Dylan and I end up on the cozy couch in the homely living room, with him cradling my feet as I cuddle closer to him, needing the comfort only his body can give me.
“Finally alone,” he say softly, and I smile in his direction. Our eyes meet across the small distance between us, and it surprises me when I see the heat in his gaze.
It suddenly hits me, too, and a want for Dylan to be inside me is so strong deep in the pit of my belly I have to fight back the urge to straddle him right there on the couch.
I think back to that day when we made love, our bodies blending perfectly together, making more sense than anything else in my life ever has. A longing to have that back fills my body, but I immediately think of Marc and Venetia guiltily.
An internal struggle goes on in my body as I try to fight my survival instincts and the need to make love to Dylan right here, right now.
Finally, his hand finds my face and he gently lifts my chin until I’m looking him in the eyes.
“Don’t fight this,” he says softly. “We have to put everything behind us.”
“But …” I start to speak up, but he gently shushes me and pulls me closer into his arms. Suddenly, I’m dangerously close to that full mouth of his, our lips almost touching, but not quite.
A fire begins burning in my stomach and I feel the butterflies emerging from it. All these weeks at the hospital, we didn’t exchange so much as a kiss, always being under surveillance by the police and nurses. This is our first private moment together in a month.
“I need to have you, Lola,” he says, and his voice sounds so broken it makes mine burst at the seams with the pain it’s emanating. “I need to know we’re okay. I need you to make it all right again.”
I nod slowly, understanding perfectly. I see his need to make things right, and match it with my own. We’re so broken, so beaten down … And if we can make each other feel at least a little bit better, that is what we should do.
Slowly, hesitantly, I press my lips to his, and I’m immediately enveloped with the heat of our sweet, innocent kiss. As soft as it is, I feel the need in both of our bodies, which are already demanding more of each other. I know I can’t turn back time, but at least I can make him feel complete again.
Pulling me closer, Dylan slides me into his lap until I’m straddling him. His hands find my hips and I grind into him greedily and with so much need he looks at me questioningly. What he sees in my eyes is a silent prayer to make everything right, if only for a few hours or days.
I just need the reassurance, need to feel us connect once more, to make me believe Marc was a fraud. To let me know we can fix it all … together.
Our lips crash together again, our mouths devouring one another, trying to fulfill the need we have for each other. I kiss him deeply and needily, not caring what it looks like, just trying to satisfy my selfish needs. It seems like Dylan has the same thing in mind though, as he places me gently on my back and climbs on top of me right there on the couch.
“Are you sure you’re ready?” he asks me softly, his eyes imploring me to answer him truthfully. I don’t hesitate for a second before nodding vigorously, needing him inside me as soon as possible.
So painfully slow, he slides a hand under my shirt, under the cup of my bra. His fingers find my pebbled nipple and he flicks it gently, and then takes it between his fingertips. His eyes are locked on mine as I gasp for him to do more, to claim all of me.
“Take your clothes off,” he says roughly, his voice raspy with the need I know he feels for me. I don’t need to be told twice, pulling my shirt off and sliding down my skirt until I’m exposed to his watchful eyes in my lingerie alone.
“You’re so beautiful, Lola,” he whispers in my hair, breathing heavily as his rough hands roam my body. His eyes lock on mine, and he offers me a grin, my favorite thing about him. He looks like a naughty school boy, and I try to ignore all the pain I can sense in the back of his eyes as his hands latch on to my ass.
“I’m going to take my time today,” he promises me and I giggle like some stupid girl when his other hand finds the clasp of my bra, undoing it quickly.
The bra falls away from my body and he groans when my exposed breasts come into view. It’s cold in the room, but even if it weren’t, my skin would still be peppered with goose bumps, my nipples hard and begging to be taken into his mouth.
As if he could read my mind, he leans down against me, taking a hard, pebbled nipple between his lips and biting down gently, but just rough enough to make me moan with pleasure.
His free hand, the one that isn’t supporting my ass, finds its way to my thong, gently moving away the fabric until my wetness is exposed. As the cold air hits my gentle skin, I take a sharp breath.
He moves away for a split second, looking at me to check if
what he is doing is okay. I give him a small, almost imperceptible nod and he keeps going, just like I need him to.
Dylan’s finger slips between my folds, and even I can feel how dripping wet I am without him telling me. “Baby,” he murmurs in my ear. “So wet … so ready for me.”
I moan for him, asking him not to stop, and he does exactly what I ask of him. He slips two fingers inside of me, first softly and gently, but then adding pressure and going deeper and deeper.
His mouth is exploring my chest, moving from one nipple to the other, his scruff gently rasping my soft skin as he moves along. I throw my head back in ecstasy and try to picture how good it will feel to finally have him back inside of me.
If this is anything to go by, it will be pure perfection … And I need him deep down right now.
“Dylan,” I say, my voice raspy with the need to feel his cock lodged inside me. “Move away your fingers. I need you inside me … need your cock.”
He looks at me with glassy eyes, but I don’t need to ask twice. Cursing softly under his breath, he pulls off his tee in one swift motion, and his jeans and boxers are soon to follow.
His cock springs out of them, already rock hard and ready for me, and I shiver with the need to feel him deep inside me.
“Take me, please,” I beg him, but he takes me in his arms so gently, I know this won’t be to show me who is dominant. We both need this, need to make love and make each other feel whole again. But it’s not a play of who is stronger, who has the upper hand. It’s pure affection, love in its brightest, most beautiful form.
He holds me like I’m a porcelain doll that might break any minute, his free hand placing his cock at my dripping wet entrance. He looks into my eyes, searching for confirmation, and I whimper weakly, needing him inside me right now.
Finally, he plunges inside me, soft at first. But as soon as my pussy clenches around him, Dylan curses again and whispers in my hair, holding still before he pumps inside me.
“You feel so damn good, baby,” he says softly. “I can’t hold back … I won’t be able to resist you much longer.”