by Carian Cole
Will I ever hear those sounds again? Or will the whoosh drown out her little whispers that drive me wild?
I'm pretty sure the same thought just crossed her mind when she makes an abrupt exit. "I'm going to take the dishes downstairs."
* * *
I never thought I'd feel proud of myself for taking a shower without help, but yeah, I do. I had to stop twice on the way to the bathroom to hang on to a piece of furniture while the room twirled around me, but I made it. I had some visions of falling through the glass doors and slitting every vein in my body and dying in a pool of blood, but I took my chances.
I won't let this shit run my life. Every second I give in to it, it's winning, and I can't let that happen.
Now I'm sitting in bed, inhaling the scent of vanilla and lavender drifting into the bedroom from Asia's bath. She knows that's my favorite of all her bath concoctions, so I take this as a sign she's missing me just as much as I'm missing her.
"You look like you feel better," she comments when she comes out of the bathroom wearing my T-shirt and pink satin panties.
"A little less dizzy, a little more tired." The meclizine seems to be helping a little with the vertigo and nausea, but it's definitely making me more tired than I want to be.
As soon as she gets into bed next to me, I reach for her. She immediately comes to me, half lying on top of me. We kiss deep and slow while I run my hand down the length of her body, stopping to caress her ass. She feels so warm and soft, and she smells like heaven. I’ve missed her like crazy. She leans up and takes off her thin shirt, then returns to my lips, her breath quickening as I push her panties down. She wiggles out of them quickly, and I waste no time sliding my hand between her thighs, sighing when I'm welcomed by her wet, slippery lips. She still wants me. She reaches between us to push my boxers down, and she grabs my already hard cock, stroking me from balls to tip. Groaning, I roll her over onto her back and she spreads her legs wide for me as I slide into her waiting pussy. My heart pounds and my brain spins as I thrust in and out of her. This is what I need to forget all the shit that's happening to me.
She rubs my chest gently. "Slow, Tally…" she whispers.
"I can't. I miss you so fucking much, baby."
"I miss you too." She glides her hands up to my shoulders and pulls me down, breathing heavily against my lips as I kiss her. Her thighs widen more and she raises one leg, bending it around my waist, pulling me deeper into her. I kiss her neck, nipping the tiny pulse at her throat and move my lips down to suck her nipple into my mouth, flicking my tongue wildly over her taut flesh. She arches up and runs her hands down my back, lightly scratching me, an action she knows I love.
"Talon…" She mouths, but I can't hear her this time because the whooshing is getting louder. Her hand tangles in my hair now, gently tugging me to her. I raise my head and meet her lips and it hits me like a brick wall—gravity is gone and I'm falling, grasping at the blankets, fighting back nausea. I pull out of her quickly and roll over onto the side of the bed, scared I'm going to get sick on her.
"Talon?" Her voice, a second ago laced with lust, is now filled with worry and fear.
"Shit. Everything is spinning…" I grab my head, trying to make it stop, but everything is twirling in circles even with my eyes closed.
She sits up and pulls my head into her lap, gently rubbing my temples. "It's okay, hon. Just take a few deep breaths. Don't panic."
I fight back the nausea, refusing to get sick in our bedroom. My dick shrivels as every part of me fights to stop the uncontrollable roller coaster in my brain.
Her lips touch my forehead. "It's okay," she whispers, her fingers lightly massaging my scalp. It helps to soothe me, giving me something to focus on, a reference of where up is.
I don't know how long we lie like that, but the sick feeling finally subsides. She helps me back to my place sitting up against the pillows and holds a glass of water to my lips in the dark.
"Baby, I'm so fucking sorry." I grab her hand and bring it to my lips, kissing her fingers.
"It's okay. I think it was too soon." She snuggles up against my chest and pulls the blanket over us.
Too soon to fuck my wife.
"You want to sleep sitting up? Is it better?"
"Yes." Lying flat makes the vertigo so much worse. What I really want to do is curl up with her like we always do, her chest against my back, my arm around her waist, my head resting next to hers. With the way I feel right now, there's no way in hell I can sleep on my side that way.
I can't hear.
I can't play.
I can't fuck.
I can't sleep.
I can't spoon my wife.
She leans up to kiss my cheek, then brushes her lips against the ear I can barely hear out of before laying her head on my shoulder to sleep.
I'm pretty sure she said something, but the noise in my head took it away, so I tell myself she whispered the words I've been hoping to hear.
Hope seems to be all I have to hang on to right now.
Hope really does die last.
Chapter 36
Talon
I've decided most medication is bullshit. It makes one thing feel slightly better, but then it makes you feel like shit in ten other ways. The pills I have to take might lessen the vertigo, nausea, and the headaches somewhat, but they make me tired as hell and give me so much brain fog I can hardly put two sentences together. That, combined with the pressure in my head and the nonstop whooshing, has put me in a perpetually bad mood and made me have random outbursts of anger, usually over completely ridiculous things.
It's been two weeks since my header off the stage, and I feel slightly better. So I'm sitting in the living room with my laptop, answering emails and dealing with social media crap. I hate seeing the recent concert pictures on our website of fucking Finn on stage, playing my songs.
The band manager and publicist decided it was best to say that a flu caused the stage incident, rather than tell them I now have a chronic disease, because it may ruin sales if the fans know I might have trouble playing live again.
I've become a dirty little secret.
Our next mini-tour is in April, and I'm expected to get my shit together by then.
Movement out of the corner of my eye catches my attention, and I look up to see Lukas standing in front of me. I didn't even hear him come in because this is my fucked-up life now. People can sneak up on me.
I put the laptop off to the side and slowly stand up.
"Hey, man, you look better." He gives me a quick hug. Lukas is a lovey, huggy type.
"Thanks. You ready to go?"
"Yeah."
We say a quick good-bye to Asia and head outside to the driveway. It's colder out than I expected, but it feels good after being in the house for almost two weeks.
"Thanks for coming to get me," I say when we get inside his Corvette.
"Anytime, Cuz. Whatever you need."
I nod, bracing myself for the car ride. The mountain road we live on has become a source of pure evil for me now. Whether I'm leaving the house or coming home, I can count on some major car sickness on this mile-long, twisty road. The lowness of his Corvette doesn't help at all.
"You okay?" Lukas asks when we reach the bottom of the hill.
"This shit fuckin' sucks." I ease my grip off the armrest of the door. "It's like a goddamn roller coaster."
"So you want to go to the jeweler's first, then Asher's?"
"Yup."
"What's at the jeweler's?"
"A few weeks ago, I bought Asia an engagement ring. I wanted to propose to her for real at the end of the experiment." I tighten the wristband Asia gave me a few days ago. It's supposed to reduce motion sickness, but so far I'm not sure it's working.
"That's a cool idea. She'll love that."
"Yeah…" I'm not sure about that anymore. "We'll see. Things are different now."
"Why? Because you got sick? That doesn't change anything, man. You're still the same."
"That's bullshit, Tal. Don't let this wreck your plans. It's only been a few weeks."
Lukas waits in the car while I go inside to pay the final balance, and I leave with a tiny black glossy bag holding a diamond ring that cost almost as much as my motorcycle. She's worth every penny, I just don't think I'm worth it anymore.
"That's fuckin' beautiful," Lukas says when I get back in the car and show him the ring. "You better give it to her, or I'll kick your ass."
"I'll think about it. Let's just go."
My head is pounding by the time we get to Asher's studio, but I'm determined to get back to practicing every day and writing new music.
"Hey, you're here," Asher says when we walk in. "Grab a guitar and let's get started. We were just about to start with 'Links of Lies.'"
Ah. "Links of Lies" is a new rock song I wrote right before we left for the Halloween tour. The plan was to save it for our next CD coming out this spring. It starts with a killer violin solo that Lukas plays, then the drums come in, followed by the rest of us. I'm doing fine until the drums start, which sound both incredibly loud yet muffled at the same time. When the other parts come in and Asher starts to sing, none of it is making sense in my head. It's like I'm not hearing the music in any order. It's a horrific mess filtering through my ears, and I can't find the beat. The whoosh and screech are like gremlins, not letting in the sound I want to hear. I have to move to the side in an attempt to get away from the rest of the band and I stumble in the process, tripping over a wire I didn't even see.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa…" Asher yells, rushing over to me. "Everyone stop."
I lean against the wall and try to focus my vision, which goes south sometimes during an episode.
Fuck me.
Asher touches my shoulder. "You okay? Your eyes are twitching again."
I shrug his hand off me. "I'm fine. It's just louder than usual."
His eyes stay on mine. "Tal, listen to me. It's not any louder than it ever is when we practice. You're not ready for this yet. I told you I thought it was too soon."
Storm appears next to him, peering down at me while I kneel on the floor so I don't fall the fuck over.
"You should rest for a few more weeks. Give yourself time to adjust."
"I'm sick of fucking resting."
"We know that. But you have to. You can't just ignore this."
I rub my head, wishing the noise would stop. If it would just fucking stop, I would be fine.
"I couldn't ignore this if I fucking tried, Ash. It's ruining my goddamn life."
"It's not." He glances over at Lukas. "Can you take him back home?"
I push myself to my feet. "Stop treating me like a fucking baby."
He steers me away from the setup, his arm around my shoulders, and I hate that I have to lean on him to walk straight.
"Ash, you don't know what this feels like…"
"You're right, I don't. But I can tell it's horrible. Take another week or two—as long as you need. We're all worried about you, and we just want you to get better." This reminds me so much of when Vandal was out of his mind with grief and we all asked him to take a break from the band. I swear we are all cursed.
I want to punch something or bang my head against the wall—anything to end this torture that's living in my ear.
"Let Lukas take you home. Keep taking your meds. You quit smoking and drinking, right?"
"Yes, I quit both. I'm not stupid."
"I didn't say you were. This is gonna take some time. But we'll be here when you're ready to come back. You're the one who writes the killer songs, man. We need you."
Bit by bit, I'm being forced to let go of every piece of my life that makes me me.
"It'll get better," Lukas says after a few minutes of driving in silence. Well, silence for him. Not so much for me when it sounds like I have an airplane taking off in my head.
"I'm going to lose everything."
"You're not. Have you tried just playing acoustic? At home?"
I shake my head, a habit that's hard to break but throws my balance off for a few seconds every time. "No, I haven't. Why would it matter?"
"I want you to try it later. See how it feels and sounds, and then call me."
"Why?"
"Just do it. Stop being so defensive with all of us. We're all on your side, here, Tal. Give Asia the ring, go on your honeymoon, maybe find a support group for people with this same thing."
I turn my head to laugh at him so fast that I almost throw up on the front seat. "A fucking support group? And I can't get on a plane, so where would we go on a honeymoon? She deserves better than this shit."
"You can honeymoon in a tent in your own fucking backyard, man. It's not about the where, and trust me, she doesn't care about any of that."
"She told you that? When have you talked to her?"
"Take it easy. She texts me sometimes. She's worried about you. She says you're distancing yourself from her."
"That's great." I know Asia well enough to know this is bad. She would never reach out to Lukas unless she were incredibly unhappy. She uses Kat as her venting post. If she's escalated to Lukas, then she's feeling way worse about us than she's letting me see.
"You can't be mad at her, Tal. She feels alone. She misses you. A relationship can only take so much stress, ya know."
"Tell me about it," I mumble. My marriage is crumbling just as fast as my career.
I lean my head back against the headrest and close my eyes. I want this all to stop.
* * *
I hide the ring in my jacket pocket so she doesn't see it when I come into the house, and I make Lukas leave instead of walking me inside like I'm some kind of wasted fool.
I find her in the craft room, fitting an outfit on one of her mannequins.
"Hey, you're back soon." She kisses my cheek.
"I couldn't play… The noise was just too much. I dunno. It made me feel disoriented. It fuckin' sucked."
She cocks her head at me and smiles with a hint of sadness. "Maybe you should try the hearing aid."
"No. No fucking way."
I can't do that. To me, that's like giving in—throwing in the towel and letting this win. Admitting that it's crippling me.
"Okay. Just a suggestion, I don't want to fight. At all."
She turns toward me fully, forgetting her creepy mannequin, and grabs the sides of my jacket, pushing it off me and letting it fall to the floor. She reaches for me and runs her hands under my shirt, her fingers gliding over my stomach, then going for my jeans zipper. Her eyes lock on to mine with a defiant fire I've never seen in her before.
"What are you doing?" I whisper.
"Taking what I want."
I hiss in a breath as she tugs my zipper down and grabs the waistband of my jeans, popping the button with her fingers and pushing them down, kneeling in front of me to pull them off, along with my boots. Standing, she closes the small space between us and kisses my lips while unbuttoning my flannel shirt.
"I'd blow you, but I don't want you looking down at me." I try to quell my anger over that as she tugs my shirt off and kisses my chest before lifting her head to look up at me, her eyes still dancing with sensuality. She makes a huge effort to look directly at me when she talks now, and I love her even more for that. "Right now, I want you to fuck me standing up, cuz I'm going crazy wanting you."
Oof. The sultriness of her sweet voice talking about sex instantly gives me a monstrous hard-on. I grab her face in my hands and kiss her hard, invading her mouth with my tongue. Two weeks without her has practically driven me insane, but my last failed attempt was one too many for me. She reaches between us and grasps my cock, stroking me slowly up and down, her fingers curled around me. I moan against her lips and suck her tongue into my mouth, making her grip me harder.
"You want that?" I ask, losing myself in the way she feels, tastes, and sounds. The whoosh is even fading.
"Yes…p
lease."
I twist her around and yank her pants down, and she bends over the table, her beautiful round ass rubbing against my cock. I push into her slowly, both of us moaning at the same time with the pleasure of finally connecting again. And my girl's right, it's less dizzying doing her standing up. I grip her hips, rocking into her with slow, smooth thrusts, afraid if I move too much or too fast, I'll set off another episode. I refuse to leave my wife midfuck again.
We both come fast and hard, in unison. After a few moments of catching her breath, she turns around and circles my neck with her arms, planting a soft, sweet kiss on my lips.
"You're the best, ya know that?" I brush my hand across her cheek.
"I think if you stop being so angry at the things you can't do right now, you'll see there's a lot you can do to work around it."
"You're right. You keep finding ways to help me. Don't know what I'd do without you."
"You'd be falling over in your food and not fucking me. I'm not okay with either of those things," she says with an impish grin, pulling up her pants. "Now, stand still, I'm going to dress you, too."
I hang on to the edge of the table while she kneels in front of me, helping me step into my jeans, then my boots, and tying them for me. I'm not sure if seeing my wife on her knees dressing me is kinky as hell or totally pathetic.
Or maybe it shows how much she loves me, even if she won't say it. I can cling to that wishful thinking, right?
My eyes glance over to my leather jacket, thinking about the little treasure buried in my pocket. Even though we're already married, proposing to her scares me. She never said yes to me. She said yes to the idea of me, based on a pile of papers with little check marks in the right boxes.
If she knew what she was getting into, would she ever have married me? Especially with the shit that's going on now? If I had known, I wouldn't have married her. Not because I don't want her in every way, but because I hate that I've hurt her and I think she deserves better.