by Angel Lawson
The tide tugged at me, sucking me under a cresting wave. I pushed off the bottom with my toes and on the other side, in the clear spot behind the cresting wave, I saw a splash of water.
“Heaven!” My voice was lost in the wind. “Heaven!”
I dove toward the wave, arms forward, using every ounce of skill, every hour of training, every moment of preparation to save my girl.
The cold water hit me hard, combining with the adrenaline pumping through my system. The denim of my jeans held me back but my arms are powerful and they searched through the water. I surfaced, shouting, “Heaven! Baby! Can you hear me?”
And got nothing back but the sounds of the ocean. I called again, my voice cracking, then smothered by a wave.
I swore I heard a cry.
It was so cold and my muscles trembled and I didn’t know how much longer I could stay out here. I looked to the sky and whispered a prayer. For me. For the guys. For Heaven.
Something hard kicked my leg and I jumped, spinning around. Bubbles floated to the surface and pale white skin shimmered under the water.
A wave rolled toward us and I dove under it, eyes wide in the dark, vast ocean, but she was here and I was going to get her. I would not leave without her.
32
Heaven
The water shocked my system, screaming at my lungs and piercing my skin…but then…numbness crept across my body and I curled into it like a blanket.
The peace I craved came rolling over me, draining away the pain—the heartbreak and loss. My ears filled with the roar of water. I was flung under, sucked down. Spit back out. I cried, feeling the cold air slap my cheeks.
Again, the ocean grabbed my feet and pulled me to the depths. My arms flailed and my lungs burned and flashes crossed my eyes. Anderson sitting next to me, pencil tucked behind his ear. Oliver smiling sweetly, caressing my marred skin. Jackson smirking cheekily and Hayden, his eyes holding mine, looking through my soul.
I reached for them, through the black, murky water, finding nothing. I panicked, flat, hollow screams—water searing my lungs. I flailed, hitting rock and succumbing finally.
Finally.
I bobbed under the waves, the blanket shifting, tugging, dragging me away. Life wasn’t easy. Death would be worse. My father told me I’d paved my way. The hands of the devil were strong and when I looked up, blinking away the salt and the water, he was handsome, too.
Not the devil but an angel, with sharp cheekbones and eyes as green as a field of grass.
“Help,” he cried, and I opened my mouth to speak but my lungs were full, so very full.
He lifted me like a feather and the sound of waves crashed into the skies above. I had no doubt that this angel was here to take me home.
I woke, searching for stars and only finding florescent light.
My mother sat in the chair next to my bed, an old, wrinkled tissue twisted in her hands, staring at my feet.
I’d been here before. Or was it the same time? The beep of machines. The scent of antiseptic. The sound of voices in the hall.
I shifted my head, feeling pain wracked through my chest, like a hundred-pound weight held me down. My hands were tied down. My throat dry and raw.
“Mom?” I whispered, closing my eyes in pain.
A shadow crossed over me. A hand touched my forehead, my wrist. “Heaven?”
“Mom.”
I didn’t know what to say. I’m sorry. How did you find me? Why did you save me?
I felt the tears on my face.
Mine or hers?
A chair moved. Feet shuffled. I waited for the prick of a needle. The sting of alcohol. I felt warmth and weight.
“Babe,” I heard whispered and I blinked, searching for the eyes of the angel.
I found four.
A sob wracked through me. “I’m so sorry.” I meant it. Seeing their faces. How could I give that up?
“It’s not your fault.”
I shook my head.
“It’s not your fault.”
I bit my bottom lip.
“It’s not your fault, Heaven.”
I felt warm lips on my forehead and another on my cheek, followed by a press on the back of each of my hands.
“Rest. Sleep,” a voice said.
I opened my eyes and they stood crowded around my bed. My mother, exhausted and drained, against the wall. “Don’t leave me.”
“Never again,” Oliver said, dropping his forehead to mine. “Never again.”
33
Eight Weeks Later
It felt a little like déjà vu when Oliver arrived at my house looking like a hundred and fifty million bucks in a dark blue suit and with a matching bowtie. He stood at my door holding a bouquet of silver roses that matched my glittery dress.
That I wasn’t wearing because he was an hour early.
I opened the door in my ratty Clemson sweatshirt and a pair of shorts and one eye made up. “What are you doing here? Is something wrong?”
“No,” he said with a lopsided grin. “I just couldn’t wait to see you.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”
“Yep.” He rocked back on his heels, squinting with brilliant eyes. “Love your makeup.”
“Shut up.”
I let him in and he followed me up the stairs to my bedroom. All the new stuff I got for my dorm room was spread around the room. The comforter that matched Amber’s. The shower caddy. I didn’t need these things here but I was living here now, so…right.
“I’m glad you came early, but something tells me you had an ulterior motive.”
He stood in my doorway, looking too big and definitely overdressed. “What? I can’t be excited to see you? Maybe snag a little time alone before the big event?”
I passed him and he grabbed my arm, giving me a kiss. It wasn’t a gentle peck, but the toe-curling, heart-shattering kind.
I rubbed my lips when we parted and eyed him skeptically. A year had passed since the Winter Formal at Allendale High, and we’d been invited back to pass the crown down to the next generation of royalty. Oliver had been tasked with driving me and the other guys would meet us there.
“You came here to keep an eye on me,” I said, walking to the bathroom to resume my makeup application. “You’re babysitting.”
He scoffed. “What? No.”
I dug around for my mascara wand. “You know this is the first time I’ve been alone since I left the program.”
The program. The hospital. Peaceful Harbor. Whatever you want to call it.
“Is it?” he asked nonchalantly. He knew it was, because he and the guys were all on the same page; the ‘keep Heaven safe’ page.
It was pretty sweet.
I ignored him and worked on my face. I’d gotten pretty good at cosmetics at Peaceful Harbor. My roommate was obsessed with hair and makeup—she had big dreams of working in the movie business one day. The program allowed us the essentials—it wasn’t prison, but a therapeutic program with constant group, family, and individual therapy. We had art and yoga. During down time, Bianca begged me to be her model and then later I morphed into her student. I realized, after all that dressing up I’d done, I kind of liked fashion and creating costumes. After four weeks of intensive therapy and tutelage from Bianca, I could whip up a hell of a smoky eye.
Through the mirror I studied Oliver as he combed through my bookshelf, pulling out each one. He was assessing me, like I was assessing him—tip-toeing around the fact this wasn’t new but it also wasn’t the same.
Things had changed a lot over the last few months.
It was an odd place—a particular state of limbo—when you tried to take your life and failed.
Everyone around you is relieved but you—I—just feel lost. More confused than before. Embarrassed. Guilty. Raw.
I hated the concern in their eyes. The tense set of their jaws. The fear that lingered and their tentative touch. But the worst thing…the absolute worst thing was the fact that Anderson nearly drowned.
My memory of anything other than walking onto the beach was fuzzy at best, but they told me that Anderson saved my life, diving into the dark, frigid water to find me. Hayden performed CPR. Oliver called the ambulance and Jackson took care of Anderson.
I stayed in the Allendale hospital for a week before they found me an open bed at Peaceful Harbor. My father tried to see me, but I wouldn’t. Couldn’t. I wasn’t ready. My mother and doctors agreed. It was my choice. It should have left me empowered, but I just felt hollow.
Despite all this, there was one person I wanted to speak to alone: Anderson.
“You shouldn’t have risked yourself like that,” I’d said. We were sitting across from one another in uncomfortable vinyl chairs. “You could’ve died.”
“You almost did. I wasn’t willing to risk that.” I started to argue but he looked up at me with haunted, green eyes. The rings underneath were as dark and pervasive as my own. “You’ve never understood that we’re in this as much as you are, have you? That you’re not alone. If it wasn’t me, it would have been Oliver. If not Oliver, Hayden. If not Hayden—”
“Jackson. I get it. But it’s not fair for me to risk your life.” I’d stared at my hands, not his face, because I loved his face so much and it hurt too much to see the worry etched all over his. “You have so much to live for; swimming, the Olympics, school. You’re going to be an incredible man.”
He took my hands in his. They were warm and rough. A scab grew over his knuckles. “I love you, Heaven. I can’t help it, but if you can’t see the value in your life, I don’t know what to do anymore.”
I didn’t want him to leave. I loved him too, at least I thought I did. Right then I felt nothing but pain and despair. The feeling wasn’t active but more passive. A constant pull against my mind and body.
That moment, looking into his beautiful face, knowing I almost risked that, it was when I realized I needed help.
I just needed time to get better. Healthy. For real this time, not just a Band-aid over the old wounds, but healing them for real.
So I started at Peaceful Harbor. And it sucked. They searched for contraband, which could be anything from mechanical pencils to earrings. They confiscated my phone, inspected my shoes. Took my jewelry, laces, and belt. It wasn’t a prison, but at times it sure felt like it was.
I started with a psychiatrist and they fed me round, brown pills. Bianca sat next to me and I saw the gnarled scars on her wrists. For the first time in a long time I didn’t feel so alone—so lost.
Family therapy? Well—it was worse than anything. The boys gave me their unconditional love. They’d always had, but my mother? She had to get her head out of her ass, and my father’s, before we could work through it all.
Stuff came up; like how my dad was a really shitty guy. Emotionally abusive and manipulative as hell. With my therapist sitting next to me I told my mom I wasn’t coming home if he was there. Ever.
To her credit, she kicked him out that day and found her own therapist. She had some shit to work through, too. People like my father spend their lives mind-fucking everyone they know. It makes you second guess yourself. Question your judgement. I understood that a little better now. I looked at my own reactions to things; why I was so reactive? Self-destructive? Why I pushed away the people I loved?
I did have choices. I had control. I had a support system. And frankly, something in my brain was a little out of whack. The meds helped getting the chemicals back in line. When all of that got stabilized and I felt less neurotic zombie and more like Heaven, I came home. The therapy wasn’t over, but the healing had begun.
I coated my eyelid in a final dusting of silver powder, still aware of Oliver as he made it around the room.
He fingered the photographs I’d pinned to a bulletin board. “I like this one,” he said. I was about five years old, holding a giant sunflower as big as my head. Oliver turned to me to say something else but stopped cold.
“What?”
“You’re just beautiful. I never get used to it.”
I shook my head. “You know, if you say it too much it may lose its effect.”
“I’ll take that risk.” He walked over, nearly killing me with the lines of that suit. It accentuated his everything and it stirred the spark of desire I’d only recently been feeling again. He stood before me and touched my neck. “You know Anderson used to talk about this sweatshirt all the fucking time. I think he went home and jacked off to the Clemson spiritwear catalogue the way the rest of us used Victoria’s Secret.”
I wrinkled my nose. “That’s ridiculous and a little gross.”
He laughed and shrugged. “Now I get it, because that is the sexiest damn thing I’ve ever seen.”
I pressed my back into the bathroom door frame and looked into Oliver’s eyes. What was going on here? I’d been certain he’d come over early because my mom had a shift at work and I needed watching. All the guys had kept their flirting pretty PG since I’d returned home—sliding right back into protective mode. We’d watched a lot of Netflix and shared a lot of hand-holding and kisses. It’d been nice.
But right now? Oliver wasn’t giving me babysitter vibes.
“I really should probably change.”
His eyes flicked over to me. “Are you sure about that?”
His hand connected with my hip and his eyes searched mine. I pushed up on my toes and touched his cheek before kissing him. It started slow, his mouth and tongue exploring mine. His hand inched up my side, brushing underneath my bare breast.
Oliver swallowed and held my eye. “Before all this went down you told us not to hold back, that you weren’t a fragile, vulnerable girl. You’re the strongest person I know, Heaven. So incredibly strong.” He cupped my face with his hands and his voice trembled as he spoke. “I’d never held out on you. Not once. I was waiting for the right time—the right moment. We could have fucked at any point. In the car, in my apartment, behind the dugout at the field, but that’s not what I’ve ever wanted with you.”
His words rushed over me, bold and honest. His hands slid down my shoulders and around my waist. He pulled me tight and whispered in my ear. “When you’re ready—if you’re ready—I want to make love to you, Heaven Reeves. I want to adore you, worship every inch of you.”
Tingling warmth spread through my body and limbs. I loved the feel of his body close to mine; the weight, the want. He looked like a movie star in that tux but he held me in my ratty clothes like I was already in my fancy dress.
“Now,” I told him. “Let’s do it now.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Now? I didn’t mean now.”
“I don’t care.”
“We have, like, forty-five minutes.”
“We’ll be late.”
A slow grin appeared on his face combined with dark intensity in his eyes. He leaned forward, licking my bottom lip. I snaked my arms around his neck and he lifted me, carrying me over to the bed. After laying me on the bed he said, “I’ve got to get off this suit before I destroy it.”
I nodded and watched him undress. Shrugging off his coat and tugging the bowtie out of his collar. He fumbled with the buttons, revealing his muscular chest. I fought a laugh as he draped it over my desk chair along with his pants. My smile froze when I saw him in his shorts, erection hard and pushing for freedom. I’d known Oliver was big—and not that I compared, but lord, he was bigger than the others. He climbed on the bed and kissed my ankles. He moved up my calves and I seized when he reached the soft spot behind my knees.
“That tickles,” I said, squirming away.
“I know.” He continued, slowly making his way up my inner thigh. “I like it when you get riled up and squirm.”
He pushed at my shorts before reaching for the waist and tugging them down. Coming back, he kissed my hips, my belly, and reached for my breasts. I wanted him badly and god he was patient. I should have known this from how long it took us to get here. How he’d bided his time to do it the way he wanted. I sat up and re
ached for his neck, “I love you, do you know that?”
His eyes lit with fire. “Yeah, I think I do.”
The remainder of our clothes fell and I tried not to gawk at his size when he finally kicked off his shorts. I was ready for him. So very much ready, and he took it slow, kissing me the whole time, loving me the whole time, whispering in my ear the whole time, until he filled me and I felt a special sense of completion.
“When I look to the stars you’re all I see,” he said, pushing inside and touching me the way I liked. “You’re the sun and the moon and everything in between.” I kissed him and he kissed me back. I rocked my hips and he rocked his, until there was no more talking, just the sound of two people in love, making love, being in love and all the ecstasy that came with it.
34
Heaven
“I know this is a cliché, but damn it looks so small,” Oliver said, just outside the door.
“No, you’re right.” I studied the gym entrance, one I’d taken a million times before. “It does look small.”
“I guess it means something when you’re bigger than the place you came from, right?”
Bigger. Stronger. Whatever the word, I’d take it.
Oliver moved to the door but I’m stuck in place.
“What?” he asked with a frown.
“You think they’ll laugh when they see me? Do you think they know what happened?”
He pulled me against his chest. A group of younger girls in low-cut, pageant-style dresses walked by. They looked forty years old. They didn’t giggle when they passed but I saw wide eyes and dropped jaws as they took Oliver in.
Oh, the Allendale Four. The stuff of legends.
“I think that you’re beautiful and a survivor, but if you don’t want to go in, then that’s fine too. I’m ready to get out of this suit and go eat some waffles down at the diner.”