Fading Out

by Trisha Wolfe

  He inhales deeply. “I know, love.” His eyes capture mine. “You’re not your mother. You have to trust that I do know this. Unfortunately for you, I believe you’re more like me than you know. I’m sorry I never allowed you to see that.”

  I feel tears well in my eyes, and I groan. “God, I’m sick of crying for one day. Doctor Brant is not going to be happy with all the loss of fluids.”

  Despite the serious moment, my father chuckles. The sound is such a comfort, I revel in it. “Ryder did prove one thing to me. He put you first, so that’s a start in his favor. But he has exactly one chance with me—” he holds up a finger, his tone darkening “—he ever hurts you… Let’s just say, he better not dare.”

  I don’t take my father’s warning lightly. But I also know that where history repeats itself, it also offers a chance for rebirth. Ryder and I have been given an opportunity to create something new. All of our own. A life for ourselves away from either of our pasts.

  Voices travel into the room from the hallway, and I startle into motion, wiping the tear marks from my face. As Vee and Mel enter, followed by Becca and a nurse, all carrying plastic bags and sodas, I hike my eyebrows.

  “What have you done?” I say, not addressing any one of them in particular. All their faces convey a touch of guilt and mischief. Although, I have some clue as to who was the culprit. I pin Mel with a look, but she immediately points to Becca.

  Becca clears her throat and lifts her chin. “Well, it was hardly an easy task to get decent refreshments for a Super Bowl party at the hospital cafeteria.” She places her bag on the table, and I gape openly at her. “So, we went to the grocery store.”

  I am shock. Shock is me. Becca went grocery shopping. My father’s lips twist into a smirk, and I know he’s thinking the same thing. The fact that this doesn’t disturb me is just the first step on a long route to our own personal recovery.

  Difficult. But not impossible.

  “It’s not the Super Bowl, dear,” my father says, rising and offering his chair to Vee. “This is college football.”

  Becca stares blankly at him. “And? It’s on the flatscreen.” She says this as if it proves her point. “Regardless, I was disappointed they didn’t have quiche, but I did find some canned caviar.”

  Mel makes a face. “I wouldn’t chance that, if I were you.”

  Vee laughs, but I think Becca’s going to have to discover this mishap all on her own. I know my stomach definitely can’t take that kind of abuse. “Thanks, Becca,” I say, and she gives me a hesitant smile.

  The nurse waves at the screen. “Turn it up,” she instructs. “My shift is over and I’m not missing my team take Engleton. I’ve been waiting for this for years.”

  Vee nudges my arm. “Watch out for that one”—she nods to the nurse—“she might have a meltdown when she finds out we’re dating two of the players.”

  I snort. “I can’t believe she’s actually, like, partying here. In my hospital room. With my stepmother and canned caviar.” I shake my head. “What’s next? The doctors and a beer keg?”

  “It’s football.” Vee says this as if it clarifies everything.

  “Of course,” I say, loving the light banter. Just moments before, I was ready to crawl under a rock. Now, even with the championship riding on Ryder, and people filling my room at the worst possible time in my life, I’m okay. I’m not one hundred percent, and I sure don’t feel like going to any after game parties—but I’m grateful to my friends and family for making me feel normal.

  And oddly enough, I never thought that I’d aspire for normality. But it sounds pretty damn good.

  “Look at your man,” Mel says. “Damn, girl. I need to call Boone over here immediately before I punch you with envy.”

  “Oh,” Vee says. “Well, that one right there.” She points to a blip on the screen that she somehow knows is Gavin. His number isn’t even showing. “That one’s mine.”

  Mel sputters. “Yeah, not a fan of bulk. He’s all yours.”

  Vee tosses a popcorn kernel at Mel’s head.

  This, right here, is perfection. It’s messy and flawed and complicated—but life is supposed to be. And on the screen, looking like he was born to play this game, is my future. The fact that I know what he looks like wearing glasses, and how good he feels on top of me, and that he’s the most intelligent and charming jock—that’s just a huge perk.

  At three seconds to go, Ryder sends the ball spiraling through the air. It’s caught and run home for the winning touchdown. Braxton University wins the championship, and this one, defining moment will forever change Ryder’s life.

  Our life.

  He found me. He chose me. When I was fading, his love shone bright enough to chase away my darkness. He was willing to sacrifice his future—all because he believed in us.

  Sometimes love means fading out so another shines brighter, but our love means never having to dim; we burn for each other.

  Epilogue

  Years Ahead

  Arian

  Torches blaze. Halos of illuminated warmth cast a celestial glow against the twilit backdrop, flames licking high into the night. The last of the string lights have been strung, and a ring of seashells and family heirlooms has been laid out, setting the stage. The crash of waves our soundtrack, the sand beneath our feet our runway.

  My nerves flutter to life in my belly, and I grip my bouquet with the force necessary to strangle.

  “You’re going to squeeze that poor calla lily’s head right off.”

  “Oh.” I immediately loosen my grip and the bouquet slips from my hands. “Crap.”

  Mel laughs and attempts to bend to pick it up, but she gets stuck halfway. She grabs her back with one hand, her thigh with the other, bracketing in her enormous belly. “Okay, a little help here.”

  Laughing, Sam rights Mel, and Becca sighs and grabs the bouquet. “It wasn’t bad enough you chose not to have a church wedding, you had to insist on a maid of honor who’s about to go into labor?” Becca scolds.

  “Hey,” Mel says, resting her forearms over the top of her rounded stomach. “I threw one hell of a shower.” She winks at me. “And this kid will stay put. I still have a few more months to go.”

  Becca raises her perfectly groomed eyebrows and says, “What have you been eating?”

  Mel doesn’t even hesitate. “Everything.”

  Sam, Vee, and I burst into laughter. It’s just the tension breaker I need. “She handles my mom so much better than I do,” I whisper to Sam and Vee.

  When Becca turns her attention on us, Sam feigns a serious expression. Becca only shakes her head and resumes applying makeup to Sam’s shoulder tattoo. Becca was mortified when I announced my bridesmaids would wear beachy, strapless dresses…and go barefoot. But she’s been mortified with every decision I’ve made concerning the wedding—that’s just her. I’ve learned to accept most of her criticism for what she intends it to be: her way of showing her love.

  Becca can put on the best of airs, but I glimpse the shimmer of tears in her eyes. She’s been waiting for this moment since I was a little girl, and finally, it’s here. I did allow her to pick the reception venue, and handle all the arrangements—but the ceremony is ours.

  I hear the small string ensemble start up, and my hands slick with sweat. Just on the other side of the high sand dune is my fiancé—my husband to be. Very, very soon—and a large enough gathering of our friends and family to make my head start to spin.

  “Breathe,” Sam says. “It’s just people. They’re only here for the food and alcohol.”

  I smile. “Thank you.” She nods, then bats Becca away, making me laugh again.

  After I was released from the hospital, I did follow up on doctor’s orders for aftercare treatment. And it was through Mel that I discovered an ideal therapist who did video sessions online; Sam’s therapist.

  My father and Becca were interviewing local counselors like it was their profession, and all the attention (even though I understood it was
their way of offering support) was adding to the anxiety. So when Mel suggested I speak with her friend Sam, I did, and I welcomed the idea of working with a professional from the comfort of my dorm room. And when Mel, Vee, and I took a trip to stay at my parents’ brownstone in NYC, I met Sam for the first time. These women have become an extension of my family.

  To think, I used to feel like I had no one. Now, I’m surrounded by my friends and my family, and I’m marrying the most amazing man. A girl could die of happiness.

  “I just got the text,” Vee announces. “She’s here. The ceremony is about to start.” She glances over at me, green eyes bright. “Ready?”

  Shoring up my courage, I nod. “Absolutely.” And I mean it. Nothing could keep me from him.

  Becca gives the train of my dress a fluff and stretches it out behind me as I move forward to meet my father. He offers me the crook of his arm. “You’re the most beautiful bride, Ari,” he says, and I blink hard at the moisture gathering in my eyes.

  I sneak a peak behind me once to see my bridesmaids lined up with their escorts. Mel and Jake. Sam and Coach Carson. Vee and Gavin. Offering a sympathetic smile to Vee, I mouth, “Thank you.”

  She rolls her eyes, but gives me a genuine smile.

  Then we’re off. The rising music guiding my steps.

  As we approach the ceremony—torches blazing, the light-filled canopy twinkling, chairs filled with bodies on either side, heads all turned my way—a small niggle of doubt worms its way into my head. Maybe I should have jumped at the offer to elope.

  We stayed engaged for years…me always making excuses in order to postpone the actual wedding. There was never any reservation about marrying him—just this part of it. The crowd. Attention. Stress.

  I’ve been able to overcome much of my illness, but the threat always harbors just beneath. A current of awareness, inviting me to purge my anxiety away, or skip a meal to feel in control over a social situation. I understand my disorder better after working with Dr. Hartman, but even she admits it’s ever-changing; more being discovered about the link between anxiety and eating disorders all the time.

  I suddenly regret not taking Becca up on her offer to get my prescription refilled. The one I was so sure I no longer needed.

  My feet sink into the loose sand, then I watch as I step onto the satiny white runway. My grip on my father’s arm tightens, and he cups my hand encouragingly as we move alongside the crowd. My heart knocks painfully against my breastbone, my pulse beating in my ears.

  Only, when I force my gaze up to look ahead, and my eyes connect with Ryder’s—those clear blues that still ramp my heart, that still offer me comfort—the ceremony and the people filling it fall away. It’s only us.

  He’s my anchor.

  And it’s always been him. I finally have my chance to prove that to him.

  I hold his loving gaze, allowing his faith to draw me in, and I walk with purpose and confidence toward him.

  My father kisses my cheek before he pats Ryder once on the shoulder and leaves to take his seat beside Becca.

  Standing before Ryder, looking up into his beautiful face as he gazes at me adoringly, every obstacle we faced to be here right now washes away, like it’s being swept out to sea by the shore behind us. He’s gorgeous in his black tux, his strong, muscular chest and arms filling it out just as sexy as he fills out his uniform. If you would’ve told me I was destined to marry a super bowl star years ago, I would’ve laughed. The idea so foreign from what I just knew my life was fated to be.

  But oh, he’s so much more than a football god—though yes, he’s absolutely one. Ryder Nash is the reason I’m thriving, the reason I’ve recently been promoted to an editor at the publishing company where I started interning during college. I never even knew I could dream of another future, never mind have one, until him.

  He leans in close to my ear, sending a shiver of yearning through my body. “You’re breathtaking,” he whispers. “How long do receptions last…because I’m not sure I can wait to get you out of that dress.”

  I laugh. And like that, this moment is perfect. Ryder is perfect for me.

  * * *

  Ryder

  “I thought Becca was going to pass out when she tasted the wedding cake,” Ari says. “You so should’ve prepared her for that.”

  “And what?” I say, wrapping my arms around her tighter, bringing her close. “Ruin the surprise? It was totally worth it.” The wedding cake was the one responsibility Ari’s stepmother allotted me. And I made my only contribution to our wedding count: carrot cake.

  She shakes her head. “You’re too much,” she says, her amber eyes glistening in the starlight.

  “And you’re my wife, Misses Nash.”

  I lean in and capture her soft lips with mine. I will never tire of tasting her, of desiring her.

  The low, melodic chime of classical music surrounds the balcony, and our movements slow, the dance forgotten as I lose myself in the feel of her. I’d wait all over again, fight through every barrier ceaselessly, if that’s what it took to get here with her.

  Pulling back, she says, “I’m happy she could make it, Ryder. Your mom looked so happy.”

  A pang resonates in my chest. “She did.” When Jake showed up with our mother, it was more than a surprise. She stopped treatments a few months ago, and her doctors said she most likely wouldn’t live past this year—that’s why Ari decided to officially give us a wedding date.

  Still, I didn’t think her health would allow for her to attend the wedding. And even though I was reluctant to invite my brother, Ari asked that I trust her. Having him there was worth the discomfort to see my mother happy.

  “So, Vee was in on this scheme, too,” I say.

  She nods, swaying lightly in my arms. “Yep. We’re a bunch of sneaky sneaks.”

  “Maybe we should’ve paired her up with Jake…” I start, then reconsider. Jake is the last person I’d wish on one of Ari’s best friends. Although he’s trying to do better, he’s still a far ways away.

  “She was really okay with Gavin. And she’ll find someone again…she’s just going through some stuff right now.” Ari looks away. She’s worried about her friend, but trying not to darken our moment. Gavin gave me the clipped replay of what went down between them to finally end things, but I know there’s more to it.

  “Besides,” she says, grazing her fingers along the back of my neck, bringing all my attention back on her. “I think they did have a little fun together decorating your car.”

  “Ah, no. I don’t believe for a second that was all their idea.” I mock glower at her, and she struggles to hide her knowing smile. “Just married spelled out with spoiled milk and condoms… You finally took your payback, huh?”

  “I plead the fifth,” she says.

  I swoop down and lift her into my arms, loving the contented squeal she gives me. I walk us toward the private hot tub of our suite, and her eyes go wide.

  “Ryder, you know that I’m not materialistic…but this dress does not deserve a chlorine bath.”

  I lower her, gently setting her feet to the tile floor. Then I move behind her and take the clasp of her dress. Pressing a kiss to her bare shoulder, I drag the zipper down slowly, reveling in her shaky exhale, the tremble of her body against mine.

  “I would never…” I say near her ear. As I push the dress down her body, my hands mapping every delicate curve, I run my lips along her neck, sending a heated breath of desire over her skin.

  “Oh, you so would,” she says, her playful tone giving way to passion. “But I prefer this way much more.” Turning in my arms, she lifts up on her toes to kiss me.

  Bending at the knee, I grasp the back of her thighs and lift her against me. She wraps her legs around my waist, and I release a low groan. “I, on the other hand, have no qualms about ruining a rented tux,” I say, taking us toward the edge of the hot tub.

  She only has a second to gasp as I begin to lower us into the water before my lips are back on h
ers. I hold her to me as I submerge us below the bubbles. My hands slide over her slick skin, my mouth devouring hers, and I quake with need as she expertly works my tux open, connecting us skin to skin.

  “Oh, no,” she says, pushing back. “We had a deal.” She begins to refasten her bra as she sits up, her legs still straddling my waist.

  “You’re kidding me,” I say. “It’s our wedding night. We have to consummate, Ari. It’s the rule.” I roam my hand up her thigh. “I promise, I’ll finish it. Tonight, even. Just later.”

  She shakes her head. “You’ve been saying that for a month. What are you waiting for? You brought your laptop, right?” She runs her hands over my chest, working a long groan from me. “Finish the last chapter…and then I’ll consummate the hell out of you.” Her wicked smile heats my blood.

  I reach up and cup her cheek. Bringing her face close to mine, I say, “I’ve been waiting for you—for this day, for this moment. And I won’t know how to complete the book until we finish this scene…” Then I seize her lips.

  She caresses me sweetly, tenderly, then deepens the kiss, accepting our ending.

  This may work for fiction, but it’s far from the end of our story.

  Start the Living Heartwood series with the first book, The Darkest Part, now.

  Health is the soul that animates all the enjoyments of life, which fade and are tasteless without it.

  ~Lucius Annaeus Seneca

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