by Fiona Keane
“Deal. When do you want to go there?”
Her head fell into my chest and the grasp of her delicate arms wrapped more tightly against me, pulling us together. It was impossible to get closer; we were one in so many ways, the concept of separating Soph and I was inconceivable. I felt her body stiffen beneath my hold, a breeze swinging around us while we stood on the balcony overlooking downtown Vancouver.
“Soph?”
“I’m sorry.”
I pulled my face back, bending my head to look at her, worried about the fog covering her beautiful eyes. In such a quick turn, Soph’s demeanor had altered, her confidence slipping.
“What’re you apologizing for, Soph?” I waited for a response that wouldn’t come, and then it clicked. “It’s too much at once. Isn’t it?”
“No,” she moaned, tightening her hold against me, burrowing her face into my chest, reminding me of one of the best feelings in the world, in my world. I combed her hair, tickling her back while I let her process.
“We’re…” her voice was quiet, breaking between muffled sobs.
My chest dampened from her tears, droplets of her sadness trickling along my body while I held Soph against me. We’re what? What are we?
“We’re what, Soph?”
“M-M-Mur…oh, my God, Jameson.”
And just like that, her legs gave way, the confidence with which she pulled me outside, told me she would be with me forever, it all faded. She faded, falling apart beneath me as the realization flooded her like a violent tsunami of memories. Her nails dug into my arms, piercing the skin of my biceps with such force that I almost felt blood following suit, imagining it dribbling down my skin.
“Sophia,” I called for her, but she was leaving me, her body there but her mind vacating us.
It was going to happen, I knew it was. I hadn’t thought about it because things had been so perfect. The farce was too pleasant, pretending our histories hadn’t followed us across the border. Everything had, the shackles of Soph’s anxiety only tightening when a switch flipped, overwhelming her in a pool of sorrowful torment as our reality cemented in her soul.
I couldn’t lose her to the past. I wouldn’t let her lose herself. She had come so far and, yes, I had killed, but I would kill a million times for Soph.
Her weight had doubled, her body now carrying the powerful load of reality. I struggled to move her, tumbling against the balcony floor with her locked in my arms. The breeze was softened down there, but we could still feel the incoming Pacific mist that tickled whatever it touched.
“Soph,” I whispered, combing her hair.
She was lying on me, consuming me with her fear. I had naïvely thought, blinded by my pride in Soph’s courage, that she had found a way to control her anxiety attacks. I was ignorant, accepting their temporary absence as proof of their death, when the monster had been assembling inside of her this entire time, building strength while eating away at her soul. Time. Give her time.
I let Soph fall into me, my own body responding with rigid security as hers trembled against my skin. Her soul was a rickety boat, caught in a hurricane, thrown around in a hostile and unpredictable current. Caught in a hurricane.
“When you were in the water…” My throat tightened, my heart unable to release the weight this memory anchored against me. “During the storm…it all flashed before my eyes. All of it; you, me, us, this. The thing is, Soph…my past wasn’t what I knew. The past didn’t exist before you. When I felt a piece of me shattering, thinking you drowned, and because of me, I was literally dying. The past, my life, it flashed before my eyes, but it was all you. All I saw was you; you on your first day, the way you wore long sleeves and you were so quiet, the way your smile hid behind your mouth in a way only I could tell. I knew what was there. I had already known, Soph, like I already knew you because we are meant to be. You are my past, you’re my present, and we will have a future. I’m not losing you to a storm. Think of Oregon as the worst and let it go. I’m not losing you to that.”
I knew my words were difficult, a concise attempt to tell her she was my everything while hopelessly attempting to pull her from the panic raging within her mind. I waited, my eyes tightly sealed as she continued to sob against me. The mist tickled my skin, causing my nose to twitch. Slowly blinking my eyes open into the drizzling sky, I scanned the balcony, losing focus in the gray. There was something intimately peaceful about Soph collapsing against me. She knew where she was safe for once in her life. I was her safety. Me. The runaway. Her runaway. A small laugh tickled from my chest at the thought of how similar we were, how perfectly aligned our souls were.
“Stay with me.” I pressed my lips against her forehead, rewarded by a sniffle. “Stay my Soph.”
I waited. We waited. Our hearts were pounding through her tortured silence. My skin hummed with the pulse of her blood, her body beginning to calm against mine. The sigh that left my lips rid my gut of its hostage nerves and I simply waited. I couldn’t push Soph through her panic. We had all the time there ever would be and, even if we aged to one hundred, I would wait with Soph in my lap, in the drizzle and gray, for her to look at me once more.
And so, I remained, scanning the sky, following drops of rain as the mist began to weigh with its soft moisture. It continued to wash away the pain, the panic, the memory. Moments passed, my eyes glossed over while holding Soph protectively against my skin, thinking of how soft her hair felt between my fingers as I mindlessly stroked it, how sweet she smelled each time I bent to kiss her head.
I glanced once more, taken off guard by her face lifting toward mine. Her eyes were brazen, wild and open, aged and renewed. The blue of her irises dimmed in the dull light, but their sparkle was there, catching fire against my gaze.
“Jamie.” Oh, Christ.
I swallowed, my throat drying with heightened nerves. “Y-yes?” I stilled, freezing while she moved, lifting her body over mine to straddle my lap.
Her hands, still shaking as remnants of her panic haunted her body, tortuously made their way along my arms, pausing at my biceps. I love her. All of her. I need her. All of her.
“I’m already yours,” she urged, stressing her need with fingernails breaking through my arms. “I was yours the moment I saw you. You had me then, you have me now. Jameson, you have me forever. Please.”
Please? My tongue poked between my parted lips, desperate to moisten them as my mind wreaked havoc with my heart over the possibilities of her request. Please? Soph’s eyes caught my mouth, freezing their burning gaze against my lips. Her fingers climbed along my neck, fireworks crackling beneath my skin and shattering my resolve with her touch. Please. My head tilted toward Soph, hesitantly pausing with my mouth centimeters from hers. Her warm, quickened breaths silently fell against my lips. Please.
“I wish you wouldn’t beg me for something I want, Soph. That makes it impossibly…difficult…and you know…” Her lips crashed against mine, strength leaving my body as I had to focus on holding her with one arm and catching my body as it fell against the cement beneath Soph’s beautiful force.
“Wait,” I pressed, coming up for air and regretting each second my mouth was away from Soph’s lips. “Wait…”
“No,” I felt her whimper against my mouth. “I have waited, Jamie.” My body stilled at her voice, reacting in ways deliciously foreign to me each time she called me that. “Please.”
Please. She was calling me that on purpose, entirely aware of the effect it had upon my soul and my zipper. Please.
“Tomorrow,” I stumbled, my fingertips pressing into her back as our mouths broke for air. “Marry me tomorrow.”
Her eyes sparkled, flashing a storm of vibrant blues beneath the gray mist surrounding us, the perfect storm of everything that was the girl I loved brewing in my reflection as Sophia’s lips parted to smile at me. My storm, my thief, my Soph.
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Acknowledgements
Creating Jameson and Sophia, developing the twists and turns of their story while bringing it to life, has been an incredible experience that I will forever treasure. Working with Limitless Publishing through this journey has been an honor and privilege through which I have made incredible, lasting friendships and continued to develop myself as an author. I would like to thank the Limitless Publishing team for believing in me and my phenomenal editor for continuing along my side as we journeyed further with Jameson and Sophia. Thank you to the marketing teams for helping us find our voice and audience, and for continuing to help their storm impact others in such a supportive way. My family and friends have been my foundation through this experience and I am forever grateful. To those of you lost in your own storm, remember to hold your anchors. We're all lost at some point, but we always make it home.
About the Author
Fueled by coffee and rainy days, shelves of books consuming her home in the Pacific Northwest, and a vivid imagination, Fiona writes about love because she believes the world needs more of it. She could spend eternity lost in a story, taken into someone’s thoughts while she is left lingering there long after the pages have turned. Fiona works to meld themes in the current world and spin them into stories of longing, determination, and hope. Her characters are relatable and relevant, as they battle their own fictional version of existence.
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