Let You Go: a heart-wrenching second chance romance story that will make you believe in true love

by Jaxson Kidman

  Rose kissed up my chest and put her head back again to gasp for air. A few sweaty strands of hair clung to her face. She looked hopeless with eyes burning with pleasure.

  That was all I could take.

  I lowered down to kiss her.

  But before our lips could even attempt to flirt, we both began to climax…

  I wore my jeans and had a beer bottle on the nightstand. I brought a chair across from the kitchen table and put it right next to the bed. I held my guitar and Rose was curled up tight in my blankets and sheets. She stared at me, smiling. I knew that under those blankets and sheets she was naked. I would have much rather been holding her body instead of my damn guitar.

  But she asked me to play her to sleep.

  When we were younger, right before everything exploded one of the times, she confessed to me that one of her fantasies was for me to play guitar and put her to sleep with it. There was nothing sexual about that fantasy, yet in some way it made me feel wildly ready to have her again.

  Maybe that was just the way romance worked. The heart, brain, and body, all trying to find their place and forever bumping each other out of the way for more power. That’s why people were stupid when they were in love. That’s why nothing else in life mattered when they in were love.

  That’s why I sat there, playing my guitar, picking at the strings, coming up with the slowest and softness notes I could think of. Almost like a sad song or lullaby written just for Rose. To ease her beautiful body and mind. To send her off into another night of sleep. Because we both knew that tomorrow would be another adventure.

  I plucked the strings and moved my left hand up and down the neck. Amazing how six strings and some fancy wood allowed me to do what I was doing.

  Rose’s eyes slowly began to shut and I kept playing long after she was asleep.

  I hit the final note and bent it a little. I slid the guitar off my lap and placed it on the bed. I reached for my beer and sat in the chair, watching her sleep.

  I rubbed my jaw.

  There weren’t the words written yet for how I felt about her. I wanted to write those words for her, but those words would lock her into my forever. She’d blindly follow me into that forever. It made me love her even more.

  But my forever wasn’t made of fairy tales and castles and princes and all that stuff. My forever had started a long time ago and there was no changing it and no escaping it.

  My forever would show Rose a love she would never find anywhere else.

  But my forever… would forever hurt her.

  25

  Just a Bug Thing

  Rose

  I snuck into the bathroom while he was still sleeping. Something didn’t feel right. It was like I was getting sick, but never got sick. That teetering feeling, not sure if I was going to throw up or what. I stood at the sink and gripped the edges, swallowing hard. I wished I could have blamed booze on the feeling, but I hadn’t had a drink in a while. Truthfully, I had no urge to drink for some reason. Not even at the end of a long day. Just being near Foster was good enough to relax me.

  What about a sex hangover?

  Was that possible?

  Because it felt like I had been with Foster every night for weeks now. And each of those nights… it wasn’t just one time fooling around with him. It was like a marathon session, over and over, as though we were making up for all the days and nights that we had spent apart.

  After a few minutes of deep breaths, the feeling subsided.

  I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked like crap.

  I turned on the water and splashed it to my face.

  “Hey, you okay?” a voice said.

  I jumped and turned to find Foster standing in the doorway. No shirt on. Jeans unbuttoned. His arms folded with sleep in his eyes and his hair messier than normal.

  Sexy enough that I forgot about the strange hangover feeling, because it was replaced with a tingling feeling that started you know where and spread throughout my body.

  “Fine,” I whispered.

  “Good,” he said.

  He stepped into the bathroom and came right for me. He struck like a snake, fast and accurate, hands grabbing my waist. I had managed to get a shirt on when I left the bed, but nothing else. He put me on the sink, the shirt pulling up enough that my bare ass touched the cool porcelain. I shivered and hissed.

  His hands slid around to my lower back as he got as close as possible.

  He kissed me, his tongue gently rolling in my mouth, making me groan and melt. At least I was on a sink, right?

  Foster pulled away. “Good morning, Rose.”

  “Good morning,” I whispered. “I can feel how good of a morning it is.”

  He grinned. “That happens no matter what.”

  “Oh, good to know.”

  “I’m joking, Rose.” His fingers playfully slid down the side of my bare leg, making me shiver. “I love the way you feel at night. And in the morning. And all day long.”

  “I know you do,” I whispered. “Know what I love?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Something… hot. Steamy. First thing in the morning too.” I kissed Foster’s bottom lip. I sighed. “Oh, Foster… something so hot, you can’t touch it.” I groaned. I kissed his top lip. “So fucking hot…”

  “Damn, Rose,” he said. “What are you…”

  I pulled back and smiled. “Coffee.”

  “What?”

  “Hot. Steamy. Coffee.”

  “You’re evil,” he said.

  “I know.”

  He stole one more kiss and left the bathroom.

  I loved flirting with him. I loved all these romance games. It made my heart pound inside my chest. Because it was real. It went beyond being fun or just fooling around.

  I got dressed and went to the kitchen as the shirtless Foster stood there pouring two cups of coffee. He picked one up and turned, holding it out for me.

  “The hottest thing I could give you this morning,” he said.

  “I doubt that,” I said.

  “You know, teasing me will get you nowhere,” he said.

  “Is that so?”

  Foster stepped forward. I took the coffee from him but he kept coming at me. His hands at his sides. Somehow standing a certain way that made him seem two feet taller. The burning look in his eyes. The way his lip curled. Staring straight down at me.

  “Don’t fuck with me, Rose,” he whispered.

  “What are you going to do about it?” I whispered back.

  “I’ll put you back in that fucking bed and when I’m done with you… you won’t know what fucking day, week, month or year it is.”

  “Oh, that’s a punishment I could handle.”

  Foster touched my cheek with one finger. “No, you couldn’t handle it.”

  He leaned down and kissed my other cheek.

  Okay, fine, you win, Foster.

  My legs felt like rubber. They started to shake so much that I side stepped to find the table. My cheeks flushed and I felt my chest getting tighter. I wasn’t sure if I was turned on or threatened. But I liked it.

  “So, what’s on tap for the world of the coffee queen?” Foster asked. He looked over his shoulder and grinned.

  I sipped the coffee and curled my lip. “First things first, you need better coffee.”

  He laughed. “I’m surprised it took you this long to complain about my coffee.”

  “Just saying,” I said. “You’re dating someone who works for a coffee company and you’re buying off brand store shit?”

  Foster turned. “I drink coffee like I drink beer, Rose. For a purpose. It does the trick and I’m happy.”

  “Is that how you think of women too?”

  “Of course. They serve my purpose and I move on.”

  “Asshole,” I growled. I shook my head. “I hate when you play into stuff I say.”

  “You say it to get me to react,” he said.

  “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” I took another sip of the coffee.
It wasn’t all that bad. But it wasn’t good either. When I put the mug to my lips for a third sip, I felt my stomach flip. I lurched forward and quickly put the coffee mug down.

  “Rose?” Foster asked.

  I jumped forward, my eyes locked onto the sink.

  No, no, no, no…

  I had never gotten sick in front of Foster before.

  But there was a first time for everything in life.

  I grabbed the edges of the sink and shut my eyes.

  I pretended I wasn’t making a horrible dying sound as I got sick.

  “Holy shit,” Foster said. He put his hand to my back. “Rose. I didn’t know the coffee was that bad.”

  “Shut up,” I said, my stomach tightening. I heaved and growled a few more times. Then the feeling passed. “I hate you, Foster.”

  “Hate me? For what?”

  I groaned. “Hand me a napkin or something.”

  I wiped my mouth and slowly lifted myself up. I took a deep breath.

  “Damn, Rose,” he said. “What was that?” He turned on the water to wash away the evidence. “Do you feel sick?”

  “No,” I said. “I don’t know. I just…”

  “Yeah, you just did,” Foster said. “Damn.”

  My cheeks burned red hot. I felt embarrassed, but there was no reason to.

  I touched my stomach. I felt uneasy but not sick.

  “How do I look?” I asked.

  “Pale,” he said. “Why don’t you sit. Let me make you some toast.”

  “Toast?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “You can’t have a sausage and egg sandwich on a croissant. Right?”

  “Oh, that sounds good though,” I said.

  “Back to bed, Rose.”

  “What?”

  “You just threw up everything you ate in the last six months,” Foster said.

  My face burned hotter. “Thanks for that.”

  “What?”

  “I feel gross right now, Foster. Don’t make comments like that. Okay?”

  “Whoa, okay. Fine. Jeez. You think I haven’t seen someone throw up before?”

  “It’s not that.”

  Foster smirked.

  “What?” I asked.

  “You’re too fucking cute, Rose.”

  “Cute…”

  He closed in on me. “Hey, this is all part of the gig. Sometimes we get sick. You’ve seen me throw up.”

  “That’s because you drank too much of my father’s cheap beer.”

  “Still…”

  “Foster.”

  “Rose. Go back to bed. You know you could work from your phone. If you need a computer or something then tell me where to go to get it.”

  “I’m staying here today?”

  “Yes.”

  I looked back at Foster’s bed. I liked my bed, but I liked his more. I liked his apartment more. I liked that it smelled like him. I liked that it looked like him.

  “You can watch TV right from bed,” he said. “The bathroom is next to the bed. I’ll get you a bucket and washcloth.”

  “I’m going to get germs all over the place,” I said.

  “Good. I want your nasty ass germs.”

  “Ew,” I said with a smile.

  “Come on,” he said. “Turn and go.”

  I made it two steps and paused. “Oh, shit.”

  “What now?”

  “I’m supposed to go visit my father. Make sure he eats and goes for his walk.”

  “Like a dog?”

  “Foster, seriously? His heart. If he doesn’t-”

  “I’ll take care of it,” Foster said.

  “What?”

  “Me and Frank.”

  “I don’t like that. He can’t…”

  “Rose. Think logically. You’re worried about his heart. You go over there and give him this bug or whatever, how’s that going to help him?”

  “I can call Viv,” I said. “Shit. She’s got clients all day. But it’s Dad…”

  “I’ve got it,” he said.

  I looked at Foster. What choice did I really have? If it wasn’t Foster going over there then I would have had to call in serious favors or have Vivian cancel her entire day. Last time she and Dad were together for the day, it didn’t end all that well.

  Foster walked me to the bed and tucked me in. He kissed my forehead and did everything he said he would do. A bucket. A washcloth. The TV remote. My phone. A charger plugged into the wall. And some dry toast and a cup of tea.

  He was perfect. Walking around with no shirt on, taking care of me.

  I felt okay though. Completely and totally fine.

  “I’ll stop over there and take care of Frank,” Foster said. “You rest. Call me if you need anything.”

  “A kiss?”

  Foster planted his lips on mine. “Gross.”

  “Thanks,” I whispered.

  “I’m going to get sick now. But the kiss was totally worth it.”

  “Enough with the romance, Foster.”

  “Fine. You’d better feel better by tonight because I’m going to rail you.”

  I cringed at the word I had innocently introduced to Foster.

  “Go,” I said. “I might throw up again.”

  Foster laughed and got a fresh t-shirt out of his dresser. I hated that he could wear the same jeans as the day before and just change his shirt to make it a new outfit. He sat on the corner of the bed and put on his socks and black boots and gave me a wink as his goodbye.

  It made my stomach flutter.

  He left and I clutched the sides of the bucket. The fluttering kept coming and going. I wasn’t sure if I was going to get sick again.

  I didn’t.

  I put the bucket down and sent a text to Molly.

  She sent a text back, a playful question…

  But then it hit me.

  The way I had been feeling for the last week or so. Now this morning with the sudden sickness that was now mysteriously gone.

  “Holy… shit…”

  My mouth went dry and I felt sick again.

  But for a different reason.

  It felt like me and Foster were really going to get our forever.

  26

  Hanging With the Big Guy

  Foster

  I slammed my fist on the door over and over. I didn’t stop either. Grinning as I did it, I knew it would force Frank to walk to the door. And it would piss him off. A long time ago, I feared pissing him off. But now it didn’t worry me so much.

  The door was ripped open and Frank stood there, teeth clenched tight, eyes wide.

  “Foster?” he said.

  “I’m here to check up on you. Rose has a stomach bug going on.”

  “What?”

  “I brought us drinks,” I said.

  I lifted a brown paper bag and peeled away a six-pack of bottled water.

  “You’re fucking kidding me,” Frank said.

  “Nope,” I said. “We’re going to get hydrated and then go for a walk.”

  Frank waved a hand. “I should have shot you when I had the chance.”

  “Probably,” I said.

  I entered the house without being invited. I knew how stubborn Frank could be. I’d seen it for years. And he’d passed that trait down to Rose.

  “Foster, I don’t need anyone here,” he said.

  “I don’t mind.”

  “I do,” Frank said. He grabbed my shirt. “I…”

  “What?”

  “I feel weak,” Frank said. “Okay? I don’t like feeling weak.”

  “Oh, Christ, Frank,” I said. “You almost died. You need to rest up. You think I’m going to judge you? Tell you what, I’ll go get one of your guns. I get out of line, you shoot me in the ass.”

  “How about your mouth so you stop talking?”

  “Deal,” I said.

  Frank made a growling noise. He took a labored breath. “Give me one of those waters.”

  I peeled two away from the holder and twisted off the caps.<
br />
  I held my bottle out. “Cheers, Frank.”

  “Punk kid,” he whispered.

  I laughed.

  We each took a big gulp of boring water.

  I nodded toward the kitchen. “So you decide what’s first. A walk. Or lunch.”

  “You’re really doing this?” Frank asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Rose is really sick?”

  “Threw up in my kitchen sink this morning,” I said.

  “Thanks for the visual.”

  “You asked,” I said. “No getting out of this, Frank.”

  “Right. Let’s go for a walk then. I need to get out of the house.”

  “Good,” I said.

  I turned and Frank pulled at my arm again.

  I stopped and raised an eyebrow at him.

  “I don’t know what you two are doing. If things are real or not. But I’m pulling for you.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “We’re just figuring things out.”

  “Yeah. Figuring things out.”

  Frank seemed a little off, but I blamed it on his heart.

  We were outside, halfway around the block, when he stopped for a breather. He touched his chest and it left me uneasy. I did my best to stand normally and not make a big deal out of it.

  “Ready to walk again?” I asked.

  “Go get a car like a normal person.”

  I laughed. “Nope.”

  “You’re a prick, Foster. You’re enjoying this.”

  “I’m not enjoying this at all,” I said. “You really gave everyone a scare.”

  He eyed me. He nodded. “You know, I sometimes regret not taking you in, Foster. I think about what you could have been. Not that you’re nothing now. I just… I don’t trust your father. I’ll tell you what I told Rose. I smacked him around once in a bar. Then he sweet talked his way into getting money from me. Thought he was going to use it for you and him. He didn’t. He got himself stoned and arrested.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  Frank cleared his throat. He stood tall, a hand on the building next to us. “You heard me. It’s bothered me to this day. I made a fucking mistake by believing your father. I’m sorry about that.”

  “You gave my old man money,” I said. “And he got himself arrested. When was this?”