Forever (This #5)

by J. B. McGee

  He grunts, then pulls back, releasing me. “What’s wrong, Sam? You’re obviously not in the mood, and nothing I’m doing is helping. I’m pretty sure you’d rather watch paint dry than make love to me.”

  My eyes have adjusted to the darkness of the room, and I can’t help but notice Ryan’s bulge straining through his own scrubs. “I’m tired.” I sigh, running my fingers through my short, pixie cut. “I can’t get my mind to shut up.” That’s the truth. Both statements. He doesn’t need to know that his brother makes me hot every time he’s in my sight, no matter our proximity. Or that Joe frequents my thoughts far more than he should. I’ve just worked thirty-six hours. I’m entitled to fatigue. Sheer exhaustion, even. “I’m worried if I don’t take a quick nap, I’m going to be drooling on your shoulder the entire trip, which would make me horrible company.”

  He kisses my forehead. “Take a quick cat nap. I’ll go check on a few patients one last time before we leave. Just page me when you’re ready, okay?”

  I nod. “Thank you.”

  Two months, Samantha. It’s been almost two months since you last saw Joe. You’ve not been tired the entire time. I keep thinking there’s a decision to be made, but the reality is, Joe pretty much made it for me. And no matter how hard I try, I can’t accept it.

  Rolling over, I pull the sheets over my head. These rooms are freezing. No matter how many linens we use, it’s never enough. It’s mainly my nose. Instead of it feeling like a soft piece of cartilage, it’s hardened, and I swear given the opportunity, it could pierce the Titanic. There are no windows in these rooms, so I have no idea how long I’ve been asleep, but my eyes no longer feel like they are being tugged by anchors. Surely it couldn’t have been too long because I don’t remember having a dream, and I’m thankful in a way. Since Gabe came back in our life, peaceful rest has been a thing of the past. I throw my legs around the side and slowly sit up, letting my body acclimate to the change in position. Gabby has never remembered what we went through, and she’s forgiven Gabe like the only thing he did was drop one of her two ice cream cones in Gatlinburg. Like what he did wasn’t significant, life-changing, life-destroying. But I remember everything in vivid detail when I do dream.

  “Nanana boo boo, you can’t catch me,” Gabby teases. Her thumbs are in her ears, her palms facing out, and her hands are moving. She sticks her tongue out at me. So, I do it back, laugh, and start chasing her around the coffee table.

  Gabby’s long hair blows from the whirl in the air as she runs from me, continuously blowing raspberries with her mouth, effectively spitting on me. Gross. As I swipe the moisture away, Gabby reaches her hand out to tag me, but I dodge her. Instead of her arm making contact with me, the momentum increases as her hand connects with the glass candy jar in the center of the old table. The force sends it flying through the air, as if in slow motion, and I watch it crash into the hardwood floors. My body slams into Gabby’s as it shatters and breaks into a million pieces.

  We both freeze, our eyes speaking a thousand unspoken words.

  “I’ll get it,” I say. “Just sit on the couch. Be still and quiet.”

  Tears stream down Gabby’s face as she plops onto the sofa. “I’m sorry.”

  “Shhh.” I put my pointer finger up to my lips. “It’s okay.”

  It’s not okay. Dad stumbles into the room, his eyes squinted, the lines of his forehead crumpled. “What the fuck happened?” My stomach lurches at his words.

  “Daddy, I’m so sorry. We were playing. She didn’t mean to do it.” By this time, I’ve gotten the dustpan, and I sweep the shards of glass into it, hoping this will all blow over. It’s just a stupid candy jar. “I’m cleaning it all up, I promise. It was my fault.”

  His head snaps back to Gabby, whose sobs are only increasing. She’s so much younger than me, yet she seems to sense the weight of the situation. He lunges at her. “You little good for nothin’ brat. You destroy everything.” He points his finger. “You’ll never amount to anything because all you do is cry. Nobody wants a damn cry baby. All you do is screw everything up.”

  The taste of salt seeps past my lips into my mouth as tears billow down my cheeks. Gabby tucks her legs under her, her sobs quieting as I bring my finger back to my mouth, trying to coach her on how to calm him. She immediately puts her head down, as if she’s an abused puppy dog.

  “Girl, you look at me when I’m talking to you. Do you hear me?” His tone escalates, the volume increasing. Gabby nods. “Answer me, dammit!”

  “Yes.”

  Taking a step forward, his large hand strikes her petite, tear-stained cheek. “You can’t even fuckin’ answer me correctly.” He reaches down, spanking her leg, leaving his palm print on her delicate skin.

  “Daddy, stop,” I beg. He’s never hit us, never physically hurt us. “Please stop.”

  “You stay out of this. This is between me and your sister. You understand?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He glares back at Gabby. “See how your sister respects me? When I ask you something, you say yes, sir.” Spit sprays through his clenched teeth.

  “Yes, sir,” Gabby says more loudly, her head still tucked down.

  He hits her again. “You look at me when you talk.”

  Her big, hazel eyes glance up at him under her dark lashes. “Yes, sir.”

  “I can’t even stand to look at you. You’re nothing but a useless piece of —”

  Before he can finish his sentence, the door swings. The knob puts a hole in the wall before bouncing back and nearly hits our mother. “Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Mom’s eyes are bulging as she drops the bags she’d been holding. In an instant, she’s at Gabby’s side. “What have you done, Gabe?” Tears spill from her lids as she takes Gabby into her arms and rocks her. “What have you done?”

  I continue to clean the glass, barely looking up to watch the events unfolding before my eyes. I know better than to do anything other than that.

  “All she does is cause trouble. Get her away from me.”

  Mom’s face turns to me. “Go to your room now, Samantha.” Turning to Gabby, she motions. “Both of you.”

  I wrap my arm around Gabby’s waist, and as we run down the hall, I hear Mom’s calm, steady voice. “You’ve been drinking?”

  “Fuck, here we go again. What I do in my spare time is none of your damned business.” Each of the words is long and drawn out. The walls are thin, and his screams are loud enough I’m sure even the neighbors hear.

  “It is when my children are involved. Get out. Now.”

  “This is my house, you little bitch.”

  “Fine, then we’ll leave.”

  “You can’t afford to leave me. You’re nothin’ but a whore. You’ll never be able to make it on your own.”

  “Watch me.” Mom’s voice rises for the first time since she’s walked into the house. “Girls, let’s go.”

  I grab Gabby’s hand, throw a few of our favorite things into a bag, and we run together through the hall. Mom motions us through the door like a first base coach in a baseball game. “Hurry!”

  She pushes us out as the sound of wood on wood slams behind us. The sky’s clear, the weather completely calm. I am blinded by the sun. The heat of the rays sears my skin. I am forever marked and he never even touched me.

  Blinded. My eyes flash open.

  My life was forever changed after that round of tag, but Gabby’s life was wiped clean when she disassociated all her memories. She got a fresh slate. She became even more introverted than she had been. After years of safety, she started to become more social, and she finally gained some confidence while she was with Ian, her high school sweetheart turned douchenozzle. He shattered her all over again by sleeping with her best friend. She’d let the walls of her fortress down, and look what that did for her.

  My blood starts to boil, my hands ball into a fists, and I grind my teeth. If Gabe thinks he can come in and take her away from me again—to destroy our relationship by his me
re existence in her life—he’s got another thing coming. Likewise, if he thinks she’s going to persuade me to follow suit in accepting he’s a reformed, recovering alcoholic, he’s lost his mind. I’d just started to consider letting the gates around my heart open, but then he came back. My fortress is now fierce—impenetrable.

  I shake my head before lifting my chin. Gabe doesn’t even deserve occupancy in my thoughts, so I push him to the back of my mind and focus on the rest of the weekend.

  The space in this little on-call room is so tight, I don’t even have to stand to flip the light switch. My eyes close for a few moments, then I check the time on my watch. I’ve slept about twenty minutes. It’s amazing how much of a difference that little bit of time can make. The bag with my change of clothes is on the floor. I guess Ryan brought it in for me. After unzipping it, I pull the skinny jeans, sweater, and scarf out along with a pair of Ugg boots. I transfer the pager from my scrubs to my purse, dial Ryan’s pager number on my cell, and shove it into my back pocket. Just as I do, the door swings open.

  Ryan’s eyes sparkle against the light. “I was waiting on you on the other side.” He motions to the gray locker type room where we keep our stuff. “I didn’t think you’d be too much longer. You look gorgeous.”

  “Like I haven’t worked for thirty-six hours?”

  “You look gorgeous no matter what.”

  My chest constricts so tight to where I can barely breathe. Maybe I was just tired before when I questioned this with him. “Thank you. You ready?” He extends his hand toward the door. “After you, my love.”

  Nat King Cole’s Christmas album is playing on the surround sound, and Bradley picks me up like I’m a child who weighs fifty pounds instead of close to one fifty. A lot of people put bows on top of their trees, but not us. We’re star people. I nestle the topper on the single pointed branch of our brand new Christmas tree from Calhoun’s. “There. Got it.”

  He lowers me and plants short, quick kisses on my cheek, then my ear, and finally my neck. My body pouts when he stops, which he obviously notices because he chuckles, shaking his head. “You have become a little sex fiend. I can barely keep you satisfied.”

  I shrug. “Are you complaining?”

  His brows furrow. “Me?” He points to his chest. He’s cute when he’s playful like this. “Never. But before we plug it in, I have something for you.”

  “Aw. Is this my surprise?”

  “I guess by the definition of the word surprise it is a surprise, but it’s not the one you’ve been asking me about all day.” He puts a finger to my lips. “And before you ask me again what it is, know you’ll find out about that one in a few minutes. Patience, my love.”

  “Patience is a virtue I don’t possess.”

  He laughs. “Ain’t that the damn truth?”

  I give him a playful push, but his body doesn’t move. “Hey. You’re one to talk about patience.”

  He completely ignores me as he reaches in and pulls a small box from his pocket. How did he manage to go all day without me noticing there was something in there? Probably because you get lost in his eyes, not his pockets. It’s wrapped in silver paper. “Go ahead. You don’t have to wait for Christmas to open this one.”

  I frown. “I didn’t know we were making a tradition of gift giving while decorating our tree, or I would have bought you something.” I shrug at the thought of my empty handedness.

  “You’re gift enough. Open it, Gabby. We don’t have all night.”

  “What was that you were just saying about patience? And I need to hurry because of the other surprise?”

  He raises an eyebrow, as if warning me not to ask again.

  I giggle, holding my hands up. “That wasn’t asking what it was.”

  “Right.” He grins.

  I begin to slowly, teasingly undo the wrapping. I’d thought it was maybe jewelry based on the size and shape, but after all the boxes of ornaments I just opened, I should have known it was one of those. The tree is decked out with Hallmark Keepsake ornaments from Bradley’s family. He’s accumulated them mainly from his mom, but he has about twenty from his great-aunt. Each one has a special memory, and he took great pleasure in sharing each of those with me as he gently pulled them from the box, then carefully unfolded the bubble wrap. His dad, the womanizing politician, is not my favorite person. But Mrs. Banks has been nothing but kind to me. Her entire side of the family has to be one of the most thoughtful groups of people I’ve ever met. “You got me one?”

  He nods. “I’m sure you’ll get another from my mom. My great-aunt only buys them for the kids. Once you’re eighteen, you’re…” He drags his hand across his neck. “Cut off.” We both laugh. “Anyway, I wanted yet another of your firsts to be from me. We’ve made a lot of traditions today.”

  A shiver crawls down my spine at the thought of all the firsts he’s claimed. “You can say that again.” I’m not sure I can pick a favorite tradition, but I’d be content to end our day the way we started it.

  “We can make more traditions of the variety I believe you’re thinking about later. I’ve never even thought I’d want this particular tradition for most of my life—sharing my tree with my wife. I can’t wait for you to add your ornaments, knowing that each one from me represents one year of our marriage.”

  The picture on the package shows a silver heart with swirls over it. It says, Our First Christmas.

  I open the box, pulling the bubble wrap, then unfolding it as we’ve done with all the others. “Oh, it’s a locket!”

  “Yeah.”

  My fingers slowly pry it apart. Inside there are two pictures I’ve never seen before. I drag in a breath because I can’t believe what I’m seeing. It’s a picture of us dancing at Cade’s wedding the night we met. Cade and Sam are friends, and Cade is Bradley’s cousin. Our lips are mere inches apart, and our anticipation, fear, and connection speaks a thousand unspoken words. The visualization I’d had of this moment was seared into my memory, crazy enough, for months against my will after I ran away like a skittish cat. Boy, how wrong I’d been about him back then. “Where did you get this from?”

  “After they got back from their honeymoon, I went over to their new place for dinner.” He picks up the gift wrap and crumples it into a ball before shoving it in his pocket. “I asked to look at the wedding photos, which is something I’d never done before. The request when it came out of my mouth surprised me more than it did them. I was desperately hoping to find one of you in there.”

  “Aw.”

  “I hadn’t been able to get you off my mind. It was really screwing with my head.” He glances down the way he does when he gets shy—when he’s vulnerable. “I don’t know what my expectations were for seeing a picture of you, but when I found that one, it was like someone was squeezing me so tight I could barely breathe.”

  “I know that feeling.”

  When his eyes meet with mine, they’re bright blue and hooded. “I didn’t say anything to Cade about the picture then. Honestly, I left so fast. I didn’t want to be rude, but I needed air. What I didn’t know then”—he takes my head into his hands— “is that I wouldn’t be able to get it until I was with you again.”

  I wrap my arms around his neck and bring his lips to mine. This kiss is different. Our tongues whip and turn, our teeth clash, and with every fiber in my being, I try to express to him that he’s my oxygen too. “Bedroom.” He shakes his head. “Here?”

  He pulls back. “There’s no time for that. Later.” The man is killing me. A slow, torturous death by deprivation. “It’s our first picture, and it’s the only one of us together from the wedding. I had him make me a copy. I’ve had that for a long time. I knew I wanted to share it with you eventually, but I kept waiting for the right time. And this is it.” He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear like he did for the first time that night. I want to pout like a spoiled child who doesn’t get her way, but that would be the brat thing to do. He’s clearly thought out every possible romantic gesture f
or today, and I need to let him take the lead. Ha, as if it’s an option to let Bradley take the lead. He demands it. So, I try my best to ignore the ache between my legs that only he can remove. He points to the other side of the locket, bringing my thoughts back to his gift. I hadn’t even really noticed that one. I was so blown away by the picture of us at Cade’s wedding. “And this is of us in the exact same spot at our wedding. Same pose. I arranged it with the photographer. It was never included in our proofs so you wouldn’t see it until now.”

  My heart pounds a little harder in my chest, squeezes just a little tighter. It’s so full, it could explode at any moment. “I don’t care about any other present or surprise. This…” I shake my head. “It’s so special. I’ll cherish it always.”

  His arms roam down mine and find a resting place on my hips as he starts to rub his hands in circular motions along the base of my back. “I’m glad you like it. Where do you want to put it?”

  I peek around the tree at several different spots until I position it in the front, smack-dab in the middle of the tree. “Here, so I can see it all the time.” Which makes me realize something. “Are these the only copies of these photos?”

  He smiles. “No, Mrs. Banks, there are framed copies beside our bed now.”

  “When did you do that?”

  “When you weren’t looking, of course.”

  “Sneaky.” I give him a peck on the cheek. “So, do you want to do the honor of plugging it in?”

  “No, you do it.”