“You take the photo at the moment of opening and I’ll make sure to have her Xanax close by.”
“It's a date,” I say and then realize that I don’t know where I’ll be at Christmas. I haven’t thought that far ahead.
“Jonas, look at me,” she says and I turn to look at her. She’s stopped on a sketch of her from earlier tonight. She was dozing, hand tucked against her cheek as she curled up in the covers. It was a quick rendering, a reminder for a painting I would execute later. She riffles through the pages and finds some other sketches of her, playing the violin and sitting on the couch in my apartment, her brother by her side. “Is this how you see me?”
“You don’t?”
She cuts me a look that warns me that she’s not going to let me fuck around with the question. “I want to know how you see me.”
I pause, trying to figure out what she’s really asking.
“Don't think about it. Just tell me.”
And then I know what this is about and I’m happy to tell her.
“Yeah, I do. I see you exactly like that.” I reach up and snag her hand, weaving our fingers together. “You can sleep like that because you know who you are and you’re comfortable in your skin. You have a gift that allows you to make music that touches people. You give it so freely, so openly, they just can’t help but respond to you. I think you’re the bravest person I know.”
“I’m not brave,” she whispers, her head dipping forward as she tries to hide behind the fall of her hair. I release her hand and push the strands back behind her ear, letting my touch linger over the soft skin of her cheek.
“You are.” I laugh. “Look at you going on your first trip to Ireland and taking a job that will take you all over the fucking world. I know it freaks you out but you’re doing it anyway. I’d say that’s pretty brave.”
She nods, swallowing hard and chuckling a little bit. “My parents think I’m biting off more than I can chew.”
“They just worry about you. It’s in their job description to lie awake at night and get an ulcer fixating on things that will never happen.”
“I know and I understand why. I was really sick and they were terrified that they were going to lose me and then they worried that Landon would get sick too.”
I hadn’t thought about that before. Mr. and Mrs. Greer must have been insane wondering if their son would get cancer as well. It’s not such a leap when you consider they are twins. It must have been a nightmare.
“What was it like being sick?” I’ve never asked her before but suddenly I feel like she might be one of the few people who might get what is going on in my head.
“The worst part about it is worrying about how it impacts other people,” she says. “At first I was worried that I would die but I got over it when my life became nothing but appointments and needles and my hair falling out. The worst part was the fear in my mom’s eyes and trying to hide it when I was knocked on my ass by something. She’d get this look, a thousand yard stare. I hated it because I knew she was trying to hide from all of the terrifying shit going through her head.”
“I know that look. My mom had it when I got my diagnosis.” It sucked and I felt a little guilty for putting her through this even though it isn’t because of anything I did. “I always make sure I keep it upbeat around her because I don’t want her worrying more than she already is. If I’m cool about it then she can handle it better.”
“Exactly,” she agrees, nodding as she places the pad on the bed and begins that amazing sift of fingers through my hair again. “The treatments, being tired all the time, the constant doctors gave me clear focus. I just wanted to get through the next phase and I took each day and every little victory like I'd won a gold medal at the Olympics. One foot in front of the other.”
“And now?”
“I’m just tired of living under the weight of the words ‘remission’ and ‘cancer survivor’.” She stops the caress of my head to clarify. “I’m glad I got better and beat it, don’t get me wrong, but I’m ready to find out who I am beyond those labels.”
“I think that’s good.” I pause and then nudge her with a poke to her side that makes her giggle and squirm away. “I’d say that’s pretty brave, Red.”
She makes a face at me and tugs on my hair. I swat her hands away but relax into her touch again when she resumes stroking my scalp. It’s late and I think we should probably go to sleep but I can't move. The quiet, her hands in my hair and her soft naked body against mine is pretty damn perfect.
“Jonas?” she asks.
“Yeah?”
“Are you afraid?”
I stop breathing. My skin crawls with awareness as I weigh my options of fight or flight. I don't want to argue with her, she’s only asking because she cares about me. And I don’t want to run either—not from Leighton. This night is flying by and I want to wring out every moment I have with her. It’s been an escape, a respite from the reality of what is coming. But her question brings it all crashing down and plants it right in the middle of the bed with us.
She takes my silence as anger and quickly backtracks. “Forget it. I shouldn’t have—”
“Yes. I’m afraid,” I blurt out because I don’t want her to feel like she can’t ask me, like we aren’t close enough. I didn't hesitate to tell her about the diagnosis and I know I can trust her with this part of it too. “I’m fucking terrified.”
She murmurs something low but unintelligible but I don’t need to know the words to understand the feeling. Her lips brushing against my forehead is almost too much and I reach up to grab her, holding her close and wrapping my arms around her neck.
“I know in my head that this is manageable and that I can have a full life. Fuck, I might have most of my life with mostly normal vision before I’m unable to see.” And here is where I get down to it and bare it all. “But my Grandpa was forty-three and the thing pinging loudly in my head is that it is only twenty years from now and twenty years doesn’t feel so goddamn long.”
“So the traveling...”
“I’m terrified that I’m not going to see all I can see before it’s nothing but blackness.” I ball my hands into fists and press them against my eyes, unable to stop the shaking that has now taken over my body. Fear and anger is a very powerful combination and I’m suspended between the two. “Even if I get my twenty years I think of all the shit I’m going to miss. Forget all the Hallmark card bullshit about cherishing a sunset, I’m going to miss seeing my parents as they age, my own kids and wife. They'll all be perpetually whatever age they are when I lose my sight. I might never see my grandkids.” I grit my teeth and spit out the rest of my venom and wait for her reaction. “So yes, I’m afraid but I’m also fucking angry at this shitty hand I’ve been dealt.”
“I can’t stand the thought of you being alone somewhere in the world and working through this on your own,” she whispers against my cheek, her fingers resuming their soothing pattern in my hair. “Can’t you come back? Stay with me. Finish school and let me—”
I cut her off because this is the place where we cannot go. I cannot go. How can I ask her take on a future with a man who will one day be blind and dependent? She can have anyone she wants, someone who will be whole and I can’t tie her down to me. I grab her hand and stop her movement, looking at her until she lifts her gaze to mine.
“Leighton, don't ask me this. Just don't.” I give her hand a squeeze, letting her know that I am serious about this point. “I have to go and find my way on this and I can't ask you to do it with me.”
“What if I want to do this?”
“It doesn’t matter.” I soften my tone when the hurt flares in her eyes. The last thing I want to do is hurt her, but lying would only lead to pain for her in the long run. “I am barely hanging on right now and I don’t know where I’m going or where I’m going to end up. You’ve caught me on a good day or you’re the reason it’s been a good day but I’m not a person you want to be around right now. I need to work through
this and I can’t do it if I’m worried about how you are handling all of it. I’ll slip into a black mood and lash out and you will be hurt.”
“You wouldn’t hurt me.”
“Yes, I will.” I cup her jaw, running my thumb along the plump swell of her bottom lip. I lean up and kiss her, lingering over it with a gentle brush of my flesh on hers. “You have a wonderful opportunity ahead of you and you need to just go and do it. I can’t saddle you with a future that I’m not even sure of at this point. Just forget me Leighton.”
“You’re asking the impossible,” she says with a stubborn steel in her voice.
“Well then, you just need to let me go.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Leighton
I wake up with Jonas between my legs, tongue sliding along my clit in slow, easy strokes.
The covers are thrown off the bed and my overheated skin is exposed to the chill of the air in the room. I shift as a pulse of pleasure ripples through my body, a moan escaping into the silence. It’s loud and long and alerts him that I’m fully awake.
He raises his head, lips slick, eyes dark with lust but his grin is all Jonas. “You sleep like the dead.”
“And you’re trying to kill me.” The last two words stutter as he trails a hand across my body and captures a nipple with his fingers. A lazy swirl, the slightest tug and I’m thrusting my sex towards him, begging him to put his mouth back on me. “Jonas, please.”
“Red. You should never have to beg,” he whispers and lowers his head back to me and delivers his carnal kiss.
I am a mess. Hot. Cold. Shivery all over. Just on the edge of flying apart. I don’t know how long he’s been going down on me but I’m ready to shatter into a million pieces.
His tongue zeroes in on my clit. He’s wasting no time to get me off. Not teasing. It’s like he wants me to fall apart at Mach 1 and I’m ready to oblige.
It begins deep inside me, a flash and tingle in my belly and the next thing I know, I’m on fire and it is the most delicious burn. Instead of running from it, I reach for it and try to hold on as long as I can.
Jonas rises from between my legs, a sleepy but intensely feral look on his face as he lifts me up and dives in for a deep, possessive kiss. Our tongues spar for dominance and I wrap my arms around his neck as I crawl into his lap. His hands roam everywhere, my back, my shoulders, and my ass where he ends his exploration with a squeeze.
This embrace is intense and suddenly all of the playfulness from earlier is gone. This is it. Our last few hours together. We’ll get on separate planes and I don’t know when I’ll see him again. I clasp his face in my hands and pour everything into my kiss. I can’t tell him what’s going on in my head. I know what he needs to do to be at peace and I can’t take that from him.
My body won’t lie though and I can only hope that he doesn’t fully understand its language.
His erection is hard and demanding between us and I grind into it, my own arousal spiking again with the memory of how good he feels inside me. It is the only thing that will soothe the ache in my chest.
I break the kiss and we are both breathless.
“I need you,” he whispers, voice soft with tenderness that makes my chest ache and expand to the point where my whole body hurts with the want of it.
“I need you too.” I get another condom out of my bag and hand it to him and watch as he slides it down over his length.
He remains seated on the side of the bed and I move to straddle him. I loop my arms around his neck, watching his face as he slowly enters me. He is big, hard and I’m tender from last night. It’s almost too much but I wait, letting out a sigh when my body melts around him.
He groans, no doubt feeling the moment I let all my guard down and welcome him inside. He’s so deep. Not just in the physical sense but inside me—inside my soul. Inside my heart.
I lean down and kiss him softly and it’s the signal he needs to begin the slow glide, the intimate push and pull. I lift myself up and let gravity pull me down, relishing every stretch as I strive for the climax that is right there already. I want him so much. I need him so much.
“Leighton,” he breathes against my neck, his face buried in my hair.
I hang on tight, closing my eyes and memorizing every sound, every scent. I don’t want it to end but with his next thrust I am falling. Coming. Melting.
“Yes. Give it all to me,” he murmurs and then he is still beneath me as his orgasm hits. He tightens his arms around me as if he wants to absorb me into his body. I hang onto him not loosening my grip until he relaxes.
We stay like that, wrapped around each other for what seems like forever but it is still over too soon. My eyes burn, tears scalding me as I struggle to keep them in. I’m breaking apart inside and I just know I will fly apart when he lets me go.
I am strong. He is strong. I know we can do this but I don’t want to. We shouldn’t have to.
“Jonas. Don’t go to Rome. Go to Dublin with me and then come back to school. Don’t end us before we have a chance to begin. Let me be there for you, no matter what happens.”
The words are out of my mouth before I realize what I’ve said but the utter stillness of his body against mine tells me that he heard every word. When he does move it is precise, careful motions that unwind us from each other. He stands beside the bed but will not look at me. I open my mouth to take it back, to apologize. I may argue with him. It is completely moot when he beats me to it.
“I asked you not to do this.” He walks towards the bathroom, stopping just inside the door and delivers his final verdict before going inside and shutting me out. “All this does is break both of our hearts.”
I hold back the tears until I hear the shower running.
CHAPTER NINE
Jonas
I might be making the biggest mistake of my life but I’m going to do it anyway.
The rest of the morning after my exit into the shower had been strained. Leighton was hurt and maybe embarrassed and I was angry at the whole damn situation. She didn’t look at me with eyes that condemned me for last night, her expression was much worse. She was unhappy.
Everything about her screamed out her broken emotions but she put on a brave face and tried to act like nothing was wrong. She made small talk which made my teeth ache, laughed and chatted with the staff at the hotel and trudged through the snow with no complaint as we tried to make our new flights.
The snow had stopped and the sun was bright in a sky so blue it looked like I painted it. The airport was open and ready for business and we were in the terminal ready to head to our separate gates. Leighton was anxious, the tight grip of her hand on her backpack and the strap of Wonder Woman’s case noticeable. She was ready to ditch me as soon as she could and I'd be lying if I said it didn't kill me to let her do it.
“Thank you for rescuing me from a night spent on the floor,” she says, refusing to meet my gaze. “I better go.”
“Red, wait.” I grab her arm as she turns away, stopping her progress when I wrap my arms around her and hold her close to me. She’s stiff as a board and no matter how much I try to soothe her, she’s unresponsive. “Leighton—”
“Please let go of me Jonas.” Her voice is low and almost lost in the various noises in the terminal but I catch the words and her underlying tone of heartbreak. Fuck, I know it. I feel it too but there are so many reasons that we don’t work right now and may never work. So why can’t I let her go?
“Leighton.”
“Let me go Jonas.”
I hear the decision in her voice and feel the resolve in her bones. She is doing as I asked and the one thing I can do is not make it harder than it already is. I release her, memorizing everything from the smell of the hotel shampoo in her hair to the coffee she drank before we ventured out into the cold.
“Have a good flight Jonas and please let Landon know where you are and that you’re okay.” She meets my eyes for the briefest second before it skitters away and she turns towards her g
ate.
I watch her go, only sheer determination turning my body in the opposite direction towards my own departure gate. I weave in and out of the people, dodging rolling suitcases and sleepy kids as I settle in to wait. My flight boards in a little over an hour so I find an empty seat facing the large expanse of windows and the planes all lined up outside.
Snow is plowed and pushed to the sides in huge mounds dirtied by all the grit and grime from the airport runway. Men and women scramble outside in the cold to load luggage and inspect the planes. It’s normally a scene I would sketch, the wealth of different faces and body types almost irresistible, but today I don't want to pull out the pad and flip past the pages of Leighton. I just can’t.
I decide to make a necessary call and I pull out my phone, hitting speed dial for Landon. The phone rings on his end a few times before he picks it up with a sleepy, “Hello”.
“Hey Landon. It's me.”
“Jonas!” He perks up on the other end and I can hear his bed sheets rustling over the line. “So did you and Leighton survive the blizzard?”
I want to tell him that I barely made it out alive but I stick to the facts. “She’s fine and headed to her gate. Her flight leaves at 1:20. Same flight number as yesterday.” I relay the facts I know he’ll pass on to his mom and prepare to get off the phone. I’m not really in the mood to talk.
Landon apparently is up and ready to chat.
“So, last night was okay? I really appreciate you looking after her. My mom was driving me nuts.”
“It was fine. We had a decent room and went to a pub and grabbed a bite to eat. It worked out great.” I hesitate and then add. “I told her about my diagnosis.”
He whistles, long and low on his side of the phone and I hear him move as he sits up in his bed. I’m kind of anxious to see what Landon thinks about this whole thing. He’s my best friend and he’s wicked smart but he’s Leighton’s brother and I can’t imagine he’s going to be happy about what happened.
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