Forbidden Love (Needle's Kiss Book 3)

by Lola Stark

  Haven

  Lying wrapped up in Dylan’s arms, I couldn’t stop the tears rolling down my face knowing this might very well be the last time I would be held by him. My nights were spent wondering when that moment would come, when I had to say goodbye. My throat felt like it was on fire and I tried in vain to swallow down the lump stuck there. His body looked so tired and I knew the only thing keeping him in a deep sleep were the painkillers.

  The lights where low and the soft slow sounds of music came from the stereo speakers, while the world outside completely oblivious to the fact that I was losing him. He was slipping away from me with every second that passed by.

  “Sugar,” he rasped out. “Promise me something?” His breathing was sluggish as he tried to speak clearly.

  “Anything, Dyl.” I moved my hand up to his chest, resting my palm there, waiting for his request. I’d promise him anything.

  “Let him take care of you.” He struggled to take another breath and spoke again. “Don’t shut him out anymore. I know you love me, but I’ve always known you’ll never stop loving him. And that’s okay, darlin’.” My throat was closing. This was his dying wish? He wanted me to promise that of all things as he struggled through his last breath? I buried my face against his ribs and tired not to break…again.

  Fighting the sob clinging to my chest, I swallowed, pushing past the angry lump in my throat. Yes, I was angry. Not only was my heart being ripped out from within my soon-to-be hollow chest, but his request pulled apart and tugged at the carefully created denial I had been living all of these years.

  Fighting for breath, I fought for control. I desperately wanted to deny his words and was at the point of begging God for it to be over. I couldn’t take anymore. Unbidden, a fierce sob erupted, echoing around the room. Shaking my head in denial, I battled the words I knew he needed to hear.

  “Sugar, I know you love me,” he rasped again.

  I dared not look at his beautiful face, knowing I’d see so much pain in his features. Illness had taken the Dylan I was used to waking up to away. He’d lost so much weight he barely resembled his old healthy self. His face was gaunt and his eye sockets hollow. My own body hurt just looking at him and the pain he was constantly in. I couldn’t count the times I’d dropped to my knees and prayed to the gods or Heaven, or any greater power that might be out there, for a little relief for my sweet cowboy.

  As he drifted off to sleep again, I whispered those words aloud, knowing full well it might be the first and only time I would lie to the man I loved. “I promise, Dylan”.

  The gurgling sound that woke me was a noise I would never forget. I shot up in bed and looked around the dimly lit room; my chest thudding like a stampede of animals was running through it. Struggling to take in a breath, Dylan lay beside me. His lips pale and his eyes lacking anything other than tiredness. Panic kicked in and the instinct to call for help took over.

  “Dylan!” I cried, reaching above him for the phone that lay on his bedside table.

  He shook his head and moved his hand up to grab my arm. “No.”

  That one fragmented one-syllable word broke me apart on the spot. He was leaving me. It was time for him to go and he was asking me not to stop it. Asking me not to call an ambulance and prolong it any more.

  Unstoppable tears poured down my cheeks as I looked into the face of the man I loved so deeply, as I was made to watch him die. Not next week, not tomorrow, not even soon. Right there he was taking his last breaths.

  “What can I do, Dylan? What do I do?” I begged through my sobs. Pain etched his beautiful face, although his eyes, which occasionally focused on my own, relayed his peace and acceptance. The knowledge tore at my heart and left me momentarily paralyzed. This is it. There was no longer anything I could do for him. Powerless, I looked on in panic, my eyes begging him to let me help.

  “Just…” Gasp. “Hold…” Gasp. “Hand…” Gasp. I gripped his hand and sat beside him while he started up at me. The light that normally shone in his eyes diminished.

  “I love you, Dylan. I’ll always love you.” I leaned down and kissed his cool, soft lips, my salty tears mixing between us. I didn’t want this to be goodbye. I had no idea how to do it. Where to start. How to begin, or inevitably how to finish.

  “Always,” he rasped, “sugar.” With his last word, his eyes closed, released a drawn-out breath, and stopped breathing. I stared intently at his chest, willing it to move, willing him to breathe. His chest remained unmoving and his hand became limp in mine.

  It wasn’t enough time.

  We barely had the chance to laugh, to dance, to cry, to make love, yet he was leaving me. Left me. I wanted to reach down and shake him, force him to fight, force him to breathe, for me, for him, for us. A sob built deep in my stomach as my heart, once more, shattered. There would be no coming back from this. He was my everything, yet he was gone.

  “No,” I wept, pressing my lips to his still ones. “No!” My voice grew louder and more broken.

  “Dylan!” I wailed. “Dylan. No!” I put my forehead against his and cried. “Please.” My words echoed around the still room, filling the emptiness with my broken pleas. As my words faded away, my fragmented sobs shook me, pushing me into despair. No amount of time, discussion or planning helped. None of the sweet words we’d spoken just the previous night eased the ache in my splinted heart.

  He was gone. My Dylan was gone.

  Jude

  Dylan passed away. I received the call from Teeny. The cancer took him from her in the early hours of the morning as she sat by his side holding onto him. There wasn’t anything anyone could do. She was destroyed. The only thing harder than knowing the woman you love was grieving for another man was being powerless to take that pain away.

  I’d keep that promise I made and I’d be right by her side when she needed me.

  I wanted to heal her heartache. I wanted her to know Dylan asked me to take care of her…but I had to wait. It was too soon. She wouldn’t listen anyway.

  Haven

  The tears threatened to spill over as I stood in the dim light of the overcast day, while looking down into the cold, wet earth. My limbs and heart felt hollow as I stared blankly at the dark mahogany wood of his coffin, his final resting place amongst the hundreds of graves that made up this cemetery.

  I loved him. I loved him yet I lost him. My heart was breaking all over again. Physical pain ripped through my chest as I gazed at the starkness of the marble headstones of pain and loss against the lush, green landscape. I’d never see him again. Never watch him pace when he was nervous, or laugh at one of his silly jokes, never get to pick on him for eating his dinner in color codes, never hear his soft voice tell me he loved me, never feel his pinkie wrapped around mine. I’d never feel his kisses or his heartbeat as I lay tangled in his arms. Never again, any of it. All of it, him, all gone.

  He had become a memory, a memory that would fade with time, like the scent of his skin and the color of his eyes, or the feel of his face when he leaned into my hands. The vision of him, still fresh in my mind, would soon fade away. The only thing left was the hole in my heart, the part of me that would be buried here forever.

  I sank to my knees, the nylon of my stockings soaking up the mud that caked the ground, thanks to the rain that had been there since he left, since he was taken from me. My eyes slipped closed as my silent tears finally spilt over. Agonizingly, they tumbled down my frozen face and dropped onto my ruined stockings.

  Jude came up behind me; the soft ground muffled his footsteps. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway. I felt him.

  He bent down and wrapped his arms around my shuddering frame. “Come on, Haven.” Such a simple request, yet the hardest one I’d ever had to comply to. The last thing I wanted to do was leave. This was my goodbye, but I still wasn’t ready.

  Jude picked my exhausted, broken body from the soggy ground, his arms strong and sure around my middle. I laid my head on his chest, his heart thumping steadily, reminding me of b
oth the man I lost and the one standing with me, holding me up.

  Dylan. Jude.

  Closing my eyes once again, tears continuously fell down my sodden cheeks, the rain washing away the traces of my sorrow. I wanted to sleep, to close my eyes and sleep for days, months maybe. I wanted to rouse thinking this was all a horrible nightmare and that the man I loved wasn’t being lowered six-feet underground, but instead, was waiting for me at home.

  Our home. Our empty shell of a home.

  I clutched Jude’s shirt and sobbed. “Oh, God, he’s gone.” My lungs fought for oxygen as I struggled to catch a breath. “I can’t—I can’t! This is too much. Make it go away! Please!” Desperate pleas through gasping intakes of air, rushed out. My eyes screwed shut while my mouth opened in a silent scream. He just held me. No noise, just Jude.

  My heart remained in pieces, shattered the day Dylan left me. I thought it had once before, but Dylan had put me back together. Now, I’d fallen again and this time, the pieces were unsalvageable. There was no putting my heart back together again. Bile, acrid and sharp, rose up into my throat. Was that what grief tasted like? Acid? The stuff that could burn a hole through anything…it felt as though that was exactly what was happening. A giant hole was burning through the life I wanted, but had mercilessly been stolen from me.

  The rest of the service and Dylan’s wake went by in a blur. I didn’t know if I was even present. I couldn’t remember anything beyond watching him be lowered into the ground. I was numb.

  Except, I remember Jude. He was there. He held me, silently comforted me, while I splintered apart, piece-by-piece in his arms.

  He put me to bed that night. I was wearing one of Dylan’s shirts and sweats, so he must’ve helped me out of my soaked dress and stockings.

  I remembered waking the next morning, smelling bacon and smiling. It felt like a bad dream, and since the bed was cold where Dylan used to sleep, my mind immediately drifted to him just waking and making us breakfast. I padded to the kitchen to find Jude, still wearing his suit shirt and pants from the day before.

  Realization hit hard. The bacon no longer smelling appealing but making my stomach turn. The sounds of clinking glasses and the spatula dropping on the counter were stark noises that rang loudly in my ears.

  Every memory flooded back and tears filled my eyes. I refused to let them fall When Jude looked at me, all I could do was stand before him. After a second, I turned and went back to bed, curling up in a ball of sorrow, unable to face a world where Dylan wasn’t holding me in his arms. I didn’t want to be awake. I didn’t want to talk to anyone or put on a brave face. I just wanted him.

  “Haven.” I stirred at my name.

  “Dylan?” I whispered, coming out of my dream state.

  “No, baby. It’s me. Jude. You need to eat something.”

  I cracked an eyelid and closed it again. Tomato soup and Jude just wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted Dylan. “No.” I rolled over and pulled the blanket over my head. Shutting out the world around me, I curled into a ball and lost myself in the darkness. But even that wasn’t enough to block it out. I craved the oblivion only the drugs could give me. The feeling of not being or feeling anything. The problem being I was too empty and exhausted to get up and check the bathroom for Dylan’s left over meds. And I didn’t have a doubt that Jude would have already removed the temptation from my sight.

  My dream state was a much happier place. Dylan was with me. He was healthy and well…he wasn’t gone. I could keep him while I was asleep. Besides, sleeping hurt less, and the bed where I lay drowning in my own pain was the last place I had him. It was ours and ours alone.

  “Sweetheart, time to open those pretty eyes for me.” I pulled the blanket down from my head, knowing very well I wasn’t about to see him beside me. The weight on the bed wasn’t quite right. The pressure on my arm wasn’t his. The smell that saturated the air wasn’t anything close to Dylan.

  “Come on, lovely.” The voice that woke me from my fantasyland this time was Teeny. “I’ve brought some of Ma’s meatballs. They’re your favorite.”

  “I don’t want to,” I answered in a meek voice. All of my energy had left with Dylan. My heart, soul and body all went with him; only pain remained.

  “I know, honey. I now you don’t want to,” Teeny replied with a wobble in her voice. “We need you to eat something though, Haven. Please.” Even Teeny’s plea didn’t make me want to be present.

  “I’m tired,” I told her and rolled over, trying to find that sleepy place where I could see, touch and talk to him.

  “I don’t know what else to do. I tried. Scarlett, it’s your turn.” I vaguely heard Jude whispering though my haze.

  “What makes you think I can get her to snap out of it?” Scarlett asked as I reached out for Dylan’s pillow. I could still smell him there. A mixture of his cinnamon spiced body wash and a scent that was all his.

  The bedroom door creaked open a little more and the click of heels echoed on the wooden floorboards.

  “Babe?” Scarlett questioned. “Time to eat. We’re all getting damn worried now.” Her voice was stained with a sadness I couldn’t understand. I shook my head and buried it into Dylan’s pillow, inhaling him as far into my lungs as I could.

  “Haven.” She sat down on the bed behind me, brushing my hair off the side of my face. “It’s been a week now. You need something to eat. You need to have some kind of food.”

  “I just don’t want to,” I told her in a muted throaty voice. “I just…it hurts.”

  “I know, babe. I know it does,” Scarlett responded, understanding behind her words. She lay down behind me and wrapped her arms around my broken body, acting as a shield, trying to soak up some of my agony. The moment she kissed my temple, something in me broke apart. Wretched sobs racked my body as I fell apart. My brittle heart unable to cope with the comfort she tried to offer.

  The only difference…I wasn’t completely alone.

  I didn’t have Dylan, but I did have family who loved and cared about me. I cried and sobbed. I let it all out and when I thought I was almost done, another round hit me again. Fat salty drops ran onto the pillow beneath my cheek, drenching the fabric that was once unmarred. Scarlett lay there with me, trying to silently hold the last pieces of broken together.

  Eventually, after what felt like hours, I cried as much as my brittle body could handle and fell back into a restless sleep, joining Dylan in my made-up land of happiness.

  I stirred and rolled over. Mace had taken Scarlett’s place and was cradling me against him like he used to when we were little and I’d skinned my knee.

  “Hey, pretty girl.” He winked down at me. “You’re awake.” I tried to talk but my mouth was sticky and sealed shut with dried-up saliva. He reached over and passed me a cup of water from the nightstand, pushing the straw toward my mouth. “You slept for another two days. I think your mouth might resemble kitty litter.” Mace winked, trying to joke with me.

  I sipped down almost the entire cup of water and pushed it away. My head was pounding and my body felt tightly wound and sore.

  “Want something to eat yet, midget?” he questioned, using my childhood nickname from him.

  “Not really,” I answered honestly, stretching my underused vocal chords out.

  “Too bad. You have to eat. Big brother’s rules,” he said matter-of-factly, leaving my no room for argument.

  “Jude,” Mace called out, his booming voice making me jump slightly. “Haven’s ready to eat.”

  “On it!” Jude called out from the general vicinity of the kitchen. In an instant, I heard plates and cutlery clanging about and the smell of tomato and cheese drifted though my cracked door.

  My stomach took that moment to growl and make its distaste at being empty known. “That’s what I thought.” Mace smirked.

  “Dinner,” Jude said in a hushed tone as he pushed through the door carrying a tray of food. He walked over and placed it on my lap, carefully adjusting it so the glass of juice wou
ldn’t tip over.

  I looked at the pile of meatballs, tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwich that decorated the serving tray and felt my stomach growl again. Funny thing was I didn’t feel hungry. It was as if my body had forgotten the basic things it should need to do. I picked up the spoon and scooped up some of the warm red liquid, the aroma of basil and tomato drifted into my face with the steam. Sipping it gently from the metal utensil, I looked up to find both boys watching me with far too much interest.

  “Are you both going to watch me eat now?” I asked, wondering what in the world they were doing.

  “Yes,” they answered in unison. I didn’t have the energy to tell them off or argue, so I simply sipped more soup and let them have their way.

  I ate as much of the cardboard tasting food as I could stomach and laid my head back against the headboard behind me. “I’m sorry,” I told both of them, and no one specifically. “It just—”

  “Nothing to be sorry for, princess,” Jude cut me off, saving me from hashing out how I was feeling. I watched him as he took my tray and shuffled out of the room quietly.

  “He’s not left your side for a second,” Mace told me when Jude was out of earshot.

  “He didn’t have to stay,” I replied, feeling badly for Jude. It couldn’t be easy on him, watching me grieve for Dylan.

  “He knows that, but there was no possible way he was going to leave you.”

  The room fell into a comfortable silence. Mace watched as realization dawned on my features. These people loved me enough not to let me fade away too. I smiled meekly. “Thank you,” I muttered. “You all…I just…”

  Mace put his hand on my arm. “Shh, it’s all good, Midget. We got you covered.”

  For a week and a half I’d been lying in bed sleeping, yet it felt like it was just a few hours. I realized just how lucky I was to have such caring people around me. Never would I forget that again.

  “Work,” I said aloud, startling myself as well as Mace. “I should be back at work.” I was sure I was leaving Scarlett high and dry by taking so much time off. First with looking after Dylan and since in my pain-laced stupor.