Eight Days (Love Always #1.5)

by D. Nichole King

  “Marcy, I’m going to go speak with my dad for a minute. I’ll be right back,” I lie.

  “We’ll be here,” she sings out. Even with so little sleep, Marcy is more chipper today. That’s what hope does to people.

  In the hallway, I head straight to the stairs instead of wasting time waiting for the elevators. I half jog to room 111, where Ellie’s dad is supposed to be. The door is wide open, and a second later, a janitor backs out with a mop bucket.

  “Hey,” I say, stopping him. “Is Mark Vander Zee here?”

  “Who?”

  “The man who was admitted to this room? Where is he?”

  “Uh, I don’t know. I guess he left. I just cleaned the room.”

  “Yeah, thanks,” I say as I turn away, digging my phone out of my pocket. Now that Kate’s not beside me, I dial Ellie’s number. After the fifth ring, her voicemail picks up.

  “God damn it,” I mutter.

  I make my way back to the oncology floor, telling myself I’ve done all I can. If Ellie won’t answer her phone, there’s nothing I can do. Not even Liam could force her to do that when she sunk into stubborn mode. Sure, he’d go after her, but Ellie doesn’t belong to me.

  I choose Kate. It was never even a choice; it was me being a pussy because Ellie and I have a history. I know I’ll have to tell Ellie eventually, but now doesn’t seem like the best time. That and she’s not answering her phone.

  Standing outside of Kate’s door, I smile to myself. Come hell or high water, I won’t lose this girl.

  Day 8

  This morning, I wake up to a text from Ellie:

  I’m fine, Damian.

  That’s it. And suddenly, I can breathe again. Not because she finally replied, but because last night, I didn’t chase her.

  No, last night, I did what I should have done a long time ago.

  I let her go.

  I’m not sure if that’s the reason I see Kate differently right now, or if it’s all the junk finally making its way out of her bloodstream that makes her seem brighter. She’s not as pale; her skin even looks like it’s taking on a healthy glow.

  I’m counting down the hours. Ticking them off in my head. Tammy said the longer she’s been under, the higher the risk of complications. She’d said more, but the word complications flashed red in my mind.

  Forty-eight hours is the hoped-for time frame according to Tammy, and we’d just passed hour twenty-one. Time couldn’t move any slower.

  “Anytime, Katie,” I murmur against her hand that’s been in mine since before the sun came up. I kiss it again, leaving my mouth on her.

  In my downtime, I’ve worked some on the song, but mostly I’ve contemplated what to say to her when she wakes up. Again, I consider how my feelings for Kate mystify me. She’s consumed my thoughts since day one. Both in good ways and bad. I’ll never be able to live up to her. Yet she wants to be with me, and for the life of me, I can’t figure out why.

  Slowly, I graze my lips over the skin on the back of her hand. And that’s when it happens. Her fingers constrict around mine for a second. Then she lets go.

  I’m stunned for a moment before what happened sinks in. I bolt from my chair to stand over her. As I do, I tighten my grip on her hand.

  I bend down, close to her ear, and whisper, “Do it again, Katie. Squeeze my hand.”

  I hold my breath, waiting. Waiting for the tiniest of movements.

  A whole minute passes, and my lungs are on fire. I exhale and suck in air as if I’d completed a workout at the gym.

  “Come on, Kate. Wake up,” I say a little louder.

  I stare at her, watching her chest rise and fall. But she offers no voluntary motion.

  I glance at the clock and count down another hour. Twenty-two. The wait is fucking killing me.

  Sitting back down, I push a hand through my hair. I’m exhausted. Last night, I’d dozed off for a couple of hours, but it’s been two days since I had a full night’s sleep. I’m cool with it, though. I want to be awake when Kate opens her eyes.

  I want to tell her…

  My gaze slides over her again. Honest to God, she looks like she’s only sleeping instead of working on coming out of an induced coma. I can’t get over how much this girl infatuates me.

  What the hell do I want to tell her?

  That I’ll be here for her.

  Yeah, I guess. I can’t promise anything else. Not right now, anyway. I need to get this Ellie thing under control first before I can even begin to figure out all that Kate means to me.

  If I can ever be good enough for her.

  ~*~

  My eyelids are dropping. Sleep is beckoning to me, and my body is rebelling against my mind. I can’t sleep now. Not on hour twenty-six.

  “Damian?” The sound of Marcy’s voice jolts me to attention.

  I rub my eyes as I face her. “Yeah.”

  “Sorry,” she apologizes. She nods her head toward the door. “I’m going to go grab a coffee. Want some?”

  “That would be great. Thank you.”

  She chuckles. “Okay, be right back.”

  As soon as she leaves, I pace the room to revitalize myself. I’ve watched Kate all day, and there’s been no visible change. Dad’s checked on her twice. I couldn’t read his expression, but Tammy’s? Tammy is an open book.

  Two hours ago, she came in. Her bottom lip set between her teeth, she scanned over every single read-out the machines gave up. She took Kate’s blood pressure twice.

  When she was satisfied, she sighed. “Well, we have twenty-four hours left.”

  “What does that mean?” I’d asked.

  She hesitated. “Twenty-four hours is a long time. A lot can change.”

  Since Marcy wasn’t around at the time, Tammy didn’t elaborate. Stupid privacy mumbo jumbo.

  I drop to the floor and do fifty push-ups. I have to do something. It gets my blood moving a little. Enough to give my body the delusion that I’ve had some rest.

  As I wait for my coffee, I sit on the bed beside Kate and stroke her arm. I’ve touched her so much in the last week that I can’t imagine going a day without the skin-on-skin contact. Somewhere inside her, I hope she’s gotten as much out of my caresses as I have.

  I lean forward and press my mouth on hers. It’s not the same when she doesn’t kiss me back, but as soon as she does, I don’t plan on letting her come up for air.

  “Wake up and kiss me, baby,” I say against her lips.

  I pull back to gaze at her, and immediately her eyelashes flutter. This time, I don’t hesitate. I know what I saw.

  “Katie?” I breathe out. “Katie, can you hear me?”

  I study her in anticipation. But like earlier, nothing happens.

  I can’t take this much longer. She needs to fucking wake up!

  After

  At one in the morning, Marcy snores softly in the other bed, and I can’t stay awake any longer. The coffee she brought me earlier wore off an hour ago. Even another set of push-ups didn’t cut it.

  I rest my head on my arms on top of Kate’s blankets. The white noise of the machines lolls me, because that’s what it has become after eight days. White noise.

  My eyelids drop as I tick off another hour.

  ~*~

  A hand skims over my hair. Her light, airy touch electrifies me, and suddenly, I’m awake. Wide awake.

  I take in her eyes gazing back at me. Beautiful brown irises that put nature to shame. For a second, I wonder if I’m still asleep. But then she smiles at me. Me. The guy who came so close to walking away from her because he was too chickenshit to deal with his own insecurities.

  These last eight days, I didn’t keep coming back to her because of me. I haven’t been holding onto her. No, she’s been holding onto me.

  “Hey there,” I whisper.

  I’m grinning like an idiot now as I scoot my chair closer to her. I never did come up with what to say to her. It’s a good thing, though, because there are no words to express how I feel. A strange
concoction of fear, elation, and inadequacy rises in my chest, and I can feel the sting in my eyes as I attempt to hold back my relief.

  She’s awake. She’s okay.

  Her eyelids close, and I can’t let that happen. No, no. She can’t close them again, not after she just woke up.

  I bend over her to press a kiss across her lips. She lightly sucks mine, and it feels so damn good. I pull back a little to look at her. Her eyes are open again, and she’s smiling. Fucking smiling at me.

  I can’t take it. I need her.

  I cup her face between my palms, holding on tighter, but I’m not letting her go. Crushing my mouth against hers, I’m desperate. This girl drives me crazy, and I want all of her.

  She presses a hand on my chest and pushes me back. She’s gasping for the air I’ve robbed her of. Her gaze pierces into me as she touches her fingertips to her lips. Hot damn, that’s sexy.

  “Sorry,” I say, staring at her mouth and wishing I could kiss her again.

  She searches the room as she catches her breath. “Uh, um,” she pauses, her brows pinched together. “I’m…in the hospital.”

  I’m not surprised she doesn’t remember. After all, she was passed out when we brought her here.

  “The virus took over your system, and, because of the chemo, your body couldn’t fight it,” I explain, trailing my fingers down her face. I can’t stop touching her.

  She seems to have her breathing under control now, so I dip down to steal another kiss. “You’ve been out for eight days,” I say against her lips.

  “Eight days?” she repeats, her eyes widening in surprise.

  I nod, then motion toward Marcy. “Your mother has been sleeping in the empty bed over there.”

  Kate doesn’t glance over. Her focus remains on me.

  “And you?” Her voice cracks a little when she asks.

  Oh fuck.

  I take her face in my hands again and peer into her eyes. They glisten under the soft light above her. “There’s no way I’d leave you,” I say, because it’s true.

  The corner of her mouth tips up at my words, and she has me. I can’t live without this girl.

  She peeks over at her mother. Before she settled down, Marcy popped two Tylenol PMs, so she’ll be out for a while. Like me, Kate’s mother is low on sleep.

  “Would you like me to wake her up?” I ask.

  Kate shakes her head. “No, let her sleep.”

  “I think she’d want to see that you’re awake.” In fact, I know she would. I’ll do whatever Kate wants, though I hope she’ll tell me not to worry about it. I’m selfish, and I want this moment all to myself.

  “I know. But I don’t have the heart to wake her; she looks so peaceful.”

  Her answer doesn’t surprise me. Kate’s the opposite of me—selfless.

  “You should probably get some sleep too,” I say, thinking of her well-being.

  The silly expression on Kate’s face makes me chuckle. “Apparently, I’ve been asleep for eight days.” A small giggle passes her lips, and the sound shoots straight to my chest.

  This moment is better than I expected.

  “Okay, but it’s four in the morning,” I point out. It’s not like there’s anything we can do at this hour.

  Kate studies me for a second before she pats the mattress beside her. “If it’s not too much to ask, can you just hold me?”

  The way she asks creates a longing inside me that I don’t know what to do with.

  This girl. This beautiful, sick girl wants me. Not Liam. Not even someone like Liam. Me. Messed-up, broken, undeserving me.

  I may never be the man she deserves, but maybe that’s okay. Because maybe the man she deserves isn’t the one she needs. And that man, the one she needs? Yeah, I can be him. I am him. For as long as she wants me.

  I slide in beside her and pull her against me. I’m still scared. Afraid of how she moves me and how this might turn out. But I’m not walking away. I’m in this.

  Pressing my lips to her temple, I revel in her. With her, I’m alive for the first time since before Liam died. I feel again.

  My scars heal with every kiss, every touch from Kate.

  “It’s never too much to ask,” I say.

  I don’t know what I’m diving into, but two days later when she asks me the question I’ve asked myself over the last week, I finally have an answer.

  Kate drops her gaze, her voice unsure. “Why me, Damian? I’m sick.”

  I lift her chin and stare into those stunning eyes of hers. The eyes I longed to see over those eight days. “Because you don’t expect me to be someone I’m not,” I tell her.

  And for the first time in years, I don’t either.

  The End

  Coming 2015

  From Limitless Publishing

  Love Always, Damian

  By d. Nichole King

  Chapter 1

  Damian

  The box under my bed taunts me. I ignore it. This year, I won’t succumb to its cries on this day.

  “Fuck this shit.” I roll off my bed and search the dresser for my keys. Not there.

  Where the hell did I put them?

  I yank the door open and round the corner into the bathroom. Nothing but the usual.

  Out in the living room, I throw the cushions off the sofa and check the chair and the coffee table. A handful of loose change, a couple of empty condom wrappers, three McDonald’s French fries, and a ten-dollar bill, which I pocket. No keys.

  “God damn it!”

  I stomp into the kitchen and grab Dylan’s motorcycle keys from the drawer. Dude never misplaces anything. Predictable bastard.

  Apparently he heard me because when I get back to the living room, he’s standing there.

  I glance at him on my way past. “Borrowing your motorcycle.”

  “What are you doing, Damian?”

  Turning around, I dangle the keys in front his face. “Borrowing. Your. Motorcycle.” I repeat it slowly, enunciating every word so maybe he gets it the second time.

  “Last day of finals is tomorrow.” My roommate is annoyed. “Look, bro, it’s been four years since Ka—”

  Suddenly, I have Dylan pinned to the wall, my hand around his throat. I squeeze hard enough to make him understand. “You’re my best friend, man, but I don’t need your psycho-babble bullshit again. Not today.”

  Dylan sighs and nods as best he can.

  I take a step back, letting go of him. He rubs his neck, and I feel a small pang of guilt. Dude means well.

  “I can’t deal with this right now.” I flip the keys into my palm and walk out the door.

  I love the sound of Dylan’s motorcycle when I rev it up. The noise drowns out everything, especially the shit in my head. Her memory hasn’t faded, not even a little.

  Speeding down the street, I don’t think. The route is on autopilot in my brain.

  I park in my usual spot and stuff the keys in my pocket. It’s Tuesday night, so the parking lot is almost empty. Good thing, too, because tonight, I want to be alone.

  Loud music assaults me as soon as I walk in. I don’t even look around to see who’s there. No need; everything I want is behind the counter.

  “What’ll it be, Damian?” Max asks.

  “Tequila. Straight up,” I say, pounding my fist twice on the wood.

  “Sure thing, man.”

  I don’t sit on a stool, and I don’t wait. On my way to a booth in the corner, I shoot a quick glance at the guys playing pool. I recognize a couple of them from school. For them, tonight is about relaxing. For me, it’s about forgetting.

  I slide in, running my fingers through my hair. The way her dark eyes still pierce me guts me to the core. They’ll always haunt me.

  “Damian, my love, my final wish is for you to let me go.”

  I can’t do it.

  “Two tequila shots.”

  I almost jump out of my seat at the sound, but when I stare at the waitress, I realize the voice didn’t belong to her. Of course sh
e would never have said that. She hated me drinking.

  I give the new girl a quick nod. She turns, and I down the first shot, watching the way her ass moves as she walks away.

  Flipping the glass over, I send a wave to Max, then knock back the other one. He usually cuts me off at ten, and tonight, that won’t take long. It won’t be enough to drown her out of my head, but it might be enough to make the images fuzzy.

  “Are you happy, Damian?”

  I squeeze my lids shut. What the fuck kind of question is that? A knife stabs me through the heart, and I want to vomit.

  I hear two more glasses hit the table in front of me, forcing my eyes open. My gaze darts to the nametag on the waitress’ t-shirt, just inches above her left nipple poking hard into the cotton. I lick my lips.

  Cameron.

  I guess she’ll do.

  “Another round,” I say.

  As I wait, my mind takes me back to that morning, and how she waited until sunrise to leave me. Maybe it was her way of reminding me.

  “It’s amazing, isn’t it? No matter how dark it gets, the sun always rises and starts a new day. The darkness is forgotten.”

  God, I miss her so much. Everything about her.

  Cameron sets two more shots on the table, and I don’t look at her this time. I’m gonna need more alcohol for that.

  I rub my face with my palms.

  “I’ll always be with you.”

  Fuck, no!

  I jab my fists into the seat, pain racing through my knuckles. She fucking left me all alone! She’s gone and I’m here. It’s not fucking fair.

  The sting of tears threatens, so I kill the shots, one right after the other. I slam the second glass on the table too hard, but I don’t care.

  When Cameron comes back over, she sets two more in front of me and says, “Rough night?”