Thieves 2 Lovers

by J. D. Hollyfield

  “Sure I can. I stole your heart, didn’t I?” he teases playfully before winking, causing me to blush like a darn school girl. Linc puts on the glove, and starts to perform a Michael Jackson skit. I bust out laughing.

  “You are seriously ridiculous,” I say, wiping the tears from my eyes. He comes at me, causing me to squeal as he wraps his arm around my waist. Pulling me close to him, his mouth just a hairsbreadth away from mine.

  “You, my little thief, are just as guilty.” He presses his lips to mine, then pulls away.

  “Guilty of what?”

  “Stealing.”

  “And what exactly is it that I stole?” I’m very curious about his answer. I’m not the one taking Roman’s dumb crap all the time.

  “My heart.” His brows furrow together as his eyes flicker with what I hope is love. All playfulness is gone. “You stole my heart, Rey.” He pauses for a second allowing his words to sink in before he continues. “Two thieves, you and I. Forever.”

  I’m struggling with how to respond. His admission tugs at my heart strings, tearing open any doubts I ever had about us. He only speaks the truth. We do have each other’s hearts. We have since the day we met. I take in a deep breath, fighting off the tears. “Forever, huh?” I say, my voice hoarse.

  “Forever. We’re in this together. For life, thief.”

  I like the sound of that.

  My eyes open, the fogginess in my head still heavy. I look around at my surroundings and realize I’m in the hospital. I must have been dreaming. I notice I’ve been changed into scrubs. My arms are no longer covered in blood. I lift my head which seems too heavy and then bring myself back down to my pillow.

  “Sweetie, just relax.” I acknowledge Dani’s voice and turn to see she’s seated next to my bed. “Hi, how are you feeling?” she asks, her voice laced with concern.

  It doesn’t take long before the reason why I’m here slaps me in the face. “Linc…how’s Linc?”

  I watch as Dani’s face fights not to show emotion, but I know she has no game face. Her eyes fill with tears as she grabs my hand.

  No.

  “No…” I pull away trying to sit up but the dizziness wins out again and brings me back down.

  “Oh, honey, he’s alive. It’s just… It’s not good.” She begins to cry. I stare at her in shock. I needed her to tell me he was out of surgery and waiting for me to wake up. That he was going to be fine. “He made it out of surgery but there was extensive damage. The next twenty-four hours are crucial, but the doctor told Lana that she may want to get his affairs in order. I’m so sorry, Reagan.” She breaks down crying, holding my hand. I can’t help but stare at her. My mind refuses to process what she said. Because he promised me. He promised me forever.

  I tug my hand away. “I want to see him. I don’t believe you.” Dani jumps at my harsh tone. I don’t care. She’s lying to me. She’s been told wrong information. And I won’t believe otherwise until I see him for myself. He just needs me to wake up.

  Dani wipes her face and stands. I refuse to make eye contact with her, but she nods, and tells me she will let my brothers know I’m awake and want to see Linc.

  It takes a few minutes, but eventually a solemn looking Ram comes in to help me. I refuse his help until I realize I’m still too weak and need his help walking through the halls. Stepping out of my room, I notice Lana in the arms of her husband Roger, weeping. I turn away because I don’t want to see the pain, sadness, loss in her eyes. I say nothing while Ram guides me to Linc’s room and ignore him when he warns me about tubes and bandages.

  When we make it to his room and Ram holds the door for me, it feels like someone takes a bat to my gut. All the air in my lungs escapes me when I see him. I wobble on my feet, and Ram catches me before I faint. I tell him I’m fine and request that he leave.

  It takes me a moment to remember how to breathe. I grab his hand. No one could have prepared me for this. To see a tube helping him breathe. To see half his body wrapped in bandages that aren’t nearly thick enough because I can see the red staining through. His eyes are closed, but they look sunken, his skin so pale.

  I want to be strong for him, for me, but I fail. I start to cry. I hold his hand to my face, hoping my warmth will help his coldness.

  “Always wanting to steal the show, huh? Just wanted to be the damsel, didn’t you,” I say, trying to make light of this dark situation. I wait for him to laugh and tell me that he would look amazing in a dress, and that he would let me save him as long as it came with hero sex, but he doesn’t move. His eyes don’t open and he doesn’t offer me his perfect laugh.

  “Please, just wake up so I can tell you how stupid you are for trying to play the good guy.” I squeeze his hand pressing a kiss to his palm.

  “These doctors here think you’re not doing well, but I know you. Faking it for the attention. I know you just want to pretend you’re sleeping and let everyone confess how much they love you so you can wake up and hold it all over their heads.” My cheeks are soaked, and my words are interrupted by hiccups of emotion.

  “If this is what you had to do to get me all sappy, then so be it. I love you, Lincoln Carter. A love so thick that I can’t even begin to explain the deep, solid emotion of what my heart feels. I loved you the moment you stepped into my life. The moment you made me feel like I could be someone’s forever. You made me feel that way. I want us to be that forever. The one you promised. You told me you were never going to leave me so just wake up, okay? Wake up and tell me more about how you want to take my last name, like the goofball you are.” I have to pause. I can barely see him through my tears and my chest feels like it’s going to explode.

  “Don’t you leave me, Lincoln Carter. Come back to me and be my forever like you promised. Please… Please. I need you to wake up. I love you and I need—”

  The loud sounds of the monitors interrupt me. I’m startled and look to the machines—his heart rake spiking—then watch as the heartbeat line quickly drops.

  The machine plays a solid tone and indicates a straight line.

  And that’s when I begin to scream.

  The Past…

  The Chaos is My Calm

  “YOU SUCK,” I TELL MY little sister as I take a hit of my joint.

  She huffs and tosses the spray can into the dumpster. “I don’t see your dumb ass doing any better. It’s a pretty heart.”

  I pass her the roach and pick up the untouched black spray can. She used the red one until it ran out. Ugliest fucking heart I’ve ever seen. “Watch and learn, loser.”

  She punches me, and I laugh. Truth is, she’s not the loser. I am. Well, was. When Mom married Roger, and Andrea came to live with us, the ever-present ache in my chest seemed to loosen its grip. Andrea didn’t look at me as though I was a fucked-up teenager like my teachers and parents did. She saw through to me. Became my friend and loved me in spite of the fact I had no future in front of me.

  I shake the can and toss the cap at her. She grunts, which makes me chuckle. My sister is a mean ass. Gives my step-dad Roger a helluva time. It’s funny as shit. “Five bucks says my heart will be better.”

  “If your heart looks better than mine, I’ll buy you a Big Mac and a chocolate shake,” she agrees, but her tone is smug. She’s pretty fucking proud of her ugly ass heart.

  I start tagging the back wall of the old abandoned grocery store and zone out. When I paint or draw, I get lost in the moment of it all. My bedroom is littered with dark drawings. Portraits of myself, two people in one. Smiles and fucking sunny on the outside. Broken and messed up on the inside. And just like those drawings, I put my own heart on this wall.

  Smooth and strong on the outside.

  But the tear in the middle of my heart reveals the twisted wreckage within.

  The heart is huge, just like my own, and takes up nearly a six foot by six-foot space. It’s giant, anatomically correct, and tries desperately to do its job correctly. But the peek of the inside is enough to see that it’s a mess. It is
broken. It doesn’t understand how to be healthy and whole.

  When I finish, I drop the can to the concrete. With my fingers, I steal some of the blood red runoff from Andrea’s heart and smear it along the outer curve of my black one. It’s poetic, really. A direct parallel to my real life. I desperately take from others what I hope to somehow restore within me. Andrea is hardened and sad but within she is good and loving. If I could have one ounce of her goodness, maybe my own heart wouldn’t be so fucked-up.

  “Linc.” My sister’s voice is shaky with emotion.

  I step back and blink away my daze. When I dart my eyes to hers, she’s crying. This is what I do. I make them cry. My mother. My step-sister. My teachers. I’m not whole like they want me to be. I’m a shattered mess inside, barely tied together in a shiny package. Those sharp edges bleed through, and everyone sees my imperfections. Late at night, I vow I’ll be a better person the next day. But when the next day rolls around, I’m back to stealing or lying or fighting. The chaos is my calm.

  “You win,” I say gruffly and kick the can toward the dumpster. “Your heart is better than mine.”

  I stalk off toward McDonald’s, which is a half-mile up the road. Andrea’s footsteps can be heard behind me as she runs to catch up. I’m stopped dead in my tracks when her skinny arms hug me from behind. Her cheek rests against my back.

  “You’re wrong, big brother,” she whispers tearfully. “Your heart is beautiful and strong and the only thing that keeps me alive most days.”

  My chest pounds with her words which are no longer about the artwork. “My heart is dirty and ugly.”

  “You’re wrong,” she murmurs again. “So wrong.”

  I scowl but make no moves to break from her hug. I love Andrea more than anyone in this world. One day she’s going to go off and do great things. She’ll meet some cool guy and have awesome kids. I’ll be the dumb uncle that can’t keep his shit straight.

  “You’re wrong, Linc.”

  Her words keep echoing inside of me, giving me the slightest inkling of hope. Hope isn’t an emotion I’m familiar with. Hope is fucking stupid. And yet…here it is, blossoming inside of me, like a contagious disease. I’m infected by it. Andrea seems to love me despite my shortcomings. Maybe one day I’ll find a girl who sees straight inside me to my jagged little heart and thinks it’s beautiful and strong, just like my sister says.

  “So what you’re saying,” I say, my voice tight with unshed emotion, “is I’m the best motherfucking artist you know and you’ll be glad to buy me a Big Mac.”

  She chuckles and sniffles. “I’m saying,” she teases back “that I let you win sometimes. I can’t always be the best at everything. Don’t want my big brother to go home and cry to his momma.”

  I reach back and tickle her until she squeals, running away.

  “Asshole!”

  I grin at her and take a bow. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  She’s beaming at me. My sister isn’t one for smiling much since she’s come to live with us. When she does smile, she lights up a room. I may not be good for much but I am sure as fuck good at making her laugh. And that’s something I can be proud of.

  “Let’s go, punk,” she orders as she starts marching down the road to the restaurant.

  I trot to catch up to her and sling an arm over her shoulders. “Thanks, Andrea.”

  “I meant every word,” she says, her tone solemn once again. “You were wrong. One day you’ll realize that.”

  Fucking hope multiplies inside of me again.

  God, how I want to believe you’re right, little sister.

  The End

  LIFE IS A PRECIOUS THING. Something that most take for granted. We spend our entire lives almost blind to how beautiful it really is, and we walk through it ignoring the small signs. Signs that implore us to stop for a second and enjoy it. To take a look around and freaking notice all the beauty around us—because in an instant it could all be gone. Fragile and not promised. But people rarely do that. They don’t stop. They don’t take the time to be thankful for the life they have or the love they’re surrounded by. I didn’t stop. I just went along my merry little way. Those moments were there for my grasping all along. I ignored them because I thought I had time to enjoy more of them. But I didn’t. Just like everyone else, I took them for granted. I let the beauty pass on by without ever taking the time to fully acknowledge it. I won’t ever make that mistake again.

  This is what fills my mind as I sit in the hospital chapel. Thinking about the years, hours, minutes, even seconds of life I’ve taken for granted. I think about all the time Linc and I fought against our feelings. How much time we wasted fighting what we knew was right from the start.

  I think about how life is never guaranteed. No matter what promises people make in life, nothing is guaranteed. Linc promised me forever. I promised him I would always be there for him. Promises that will soon mean nothing. Because he won’t be here long enough to give me that forever he promised.

  Linc flat lined while I held his hand begging him to come back to me. My screams, along with the sirens alerted staff and I was quickly pushed aside while they worked on him. The horror of watching them take a machine to his chest to revive his heart. The yelling, the orders, the unbelievable feeling that it was the end. For him. For us. A nurse tried to escort me out of the room, but I refused. I wasn’t leaving if he was about to take his last breath. I owed him that much. The least I could do was stick to my word and be there for him.

  Feeling as if eons of time had passed, eventually the room filled with the small beeping sounds of a heartbeat. He hasn’t left me. Not yet.

  I broke down, and this time allowed the familiar hands of my mother to pull me out of the room. I wanted to stay. I begged to, but my mother convinced me I needed to let the doctors do their work. It was a short time later when the doctor came out to talk to us.

  “He’s stabilized. We were able to get his heart going again, but his organs are struggling to function. We will keep him comfortable, but I won’t lie. His situation is grim. To be safe, you might consider saying your goodbyes to him before it’s too late.”

  I watched his mother collapse into her husband’s arms. Andie howled as if it was her own heart that was stopping. I just stood there, my universe feeling as if it stopped. Watching the reactions of people as if they were already letting go, when he was still alive. He would pull through. He was Linc. He wouldn’t leave me. He promised.

  But promises are just words. And I’d quickly come to realize that you can promise the world, it doesn’t mean you can actually deliver it. Within the room of hurting loved ones, a retched scream breaks through. It’s when everyone turned to me that I realized that sound was coming from me.

  How could he do this to me? How could he just leave me? Make my life feel so loved and whole. He lied to me. And now he is going to leave me feeling empty and lost. I took off, away from the worried eyes of my family, and eventually found solace in the chapel.

  I sit in here, the silence comforting. Away from the sobs and the looks. The way everyone tries to comfort me as if that’s going to fix the hole being torn inside me. As each one holds their loved ones, knowing they will go home with them tonight. Unlike me, who will go home alone.

  “I will never forgive you for this, Lincoln Carter,” I whisper to no one, feeling sorrow so deep in my soul. I wipe at the tears that won’t stop. I fear they never will.

  They want to me to go say goodbye. And I just don’t know how to do that. How can I say goodbye to the one person who showed me how it felt to finally live?

  “I’m not jumping off this ledge, Linc. You’re crazy. Plus the water has to be freezing!”

  “I’m not crazy, beautiful, I’m adventurous. Plus, I wouldn’t bring you here and make you jump, unless I knew it was safe. You’re my prized possession, remember? I can’t let anything bad happen to you.” He leans in and kisses me, helping me forget about the levy below us and the high rock cliff we’re sta
nding on. Finally pulling away, I feel breathless and free. Almost careless enough to take his word and jump off the cliff into the frigid lake.

  “Hey, you’re the one who said you wanted to feel high without the help of illegal substances.”

  I laugh, smacking him in the arm. “Yeah, but I kinda crossed that off my list after the romp we had with the choker and clamps. If I felt any more pleasure, my eyes would have popped out of the sockets.” His smile is absolutely infectious as it spreads across his face. Such a typical male, loves hearing what a stallion he is in bed.

  “Well, thank you for the kind words. I will make sure to let Chef Cock know you approved of the meal. But in the meantime, this is different. You said you wanted to feel free. This will hit the spot.”

  Linc always throws me off by how observant he is. He listens when even I’m not paying attention to myself.

  “Rey, I want to do everything with you. Experience life to its fullest with you. And I promise to do my best to make sure all your dreams and aspirations are met. Just stick with me, okay? Don’t give up on me.”

  I wrap my palms around his cheeks, bringing his lips to mine. “I’ll never give up on you, Lincoln Carter. Even if you think about giving up on yourself.”

  Our eyes scream with so much meaning, you can feel the echo of emotion against the rock levy. My nerves have suddenly calmed and I know I trust Linc with my heart, my soul, my life.

  I grab his hand. “Never give up.”

  “Never give up.” And with that promise, we both take a huge leap off the cliff.

  I pull myself back from the memory, feeling the vibrations of my phone. I know they are looking for me. I know I can’t hide in here forever. I check my phone and find a text from Ram.

  Ram: Don’t put it off any longer. He would want you to say goodbye.

  No.

  He would want me to fight for him.

  But it seems I’m the only one doing that. Am I being foolish? Unwilling to see the truth?