Forever Embers (Embers Series Book 3)

by L. S. Pullen

  He takes me by the shoulders gently. “Yeah, so if I asked you to walk in a straight line and touch your nose, you think you could do it?”

  I full-on laugh. “Hell no, I doubt I could do that sober.” Admittedly, my coordination isn’t great at the best of times, and I’m not drunk enough to think otherwise.

  “But you’re here now. It would be a waste,” I say, trying to be seductive, hoping to redeem the situation. Now he’s here, the last thing I want is for him to leave.

  “Lottie, I’m not having sex with you if that’s what you’re hinting at.”

  I poke out my tongue. “Spoilsport.” But I’d be lying if the rejection didn’t hurt.

  He lets out a low laugh. “How about I make you a cup of tea before I leave instead?”

  I bite my lip and smile. “Okay,” I reply, hopeful and pleased he hasn’t outright left, and surely, it’s a sign he cares.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Ethan

  I feel her watching me as I move around the kitchen and make us both a cup of tea.

  “Want to watch TV with me for a while?” she asks, and I can tell she’s a little dejected I said I wasn’t having sex with her. When I arrived, I could smell the remnants of alcohol over the smell of her sweet perfume, her eyes glassy with surprise. I know I don’t want there to be any doubt between us that I’ve ever crossed a line.

  Nodding, I follow and place them on the small coffee table. Taking a seat as she retrieves the remote, she sits beside me, tucking her feet underneath her as she flicks through the channels and stops when she comes across a re-run of Buffy.

  She giggles to herself and then lets out a sigh. “Spike was one of my first crushes,” she says.

  “Not Angel?” I ask in mock horror.

  “Well, maybe at first, but then I swapped sides,” she says, leaning forward for her tea, but I intercept her and hand it to her instead.

  She hides her smile behind the mug as she blows on it before taking a sip. I can’t work out if she’s trying to be sexy or if it’s just me thinking with my dick. I shake the thoughts away.

  “What about you? Bet you had a crush on Buffy,” she says, and I don’t miss her eye roll, which is fucking adorable.

  I shake my head. “Actually, it was Willow. Let’s just say I’ve always had a thing for redheads.”

  I’m rewarded as a blush coats her cheeks. She takes another sip of her tea and puts it on the table before settling against my side. I wrap my arm around her and play with the ends of her hair. I find myself becoming invested in a show I haven’t seen for years. It’s only after two episodes that her soft snores let me know she’s fallen asleep.

  Carefully, I move and then scoop her into my arms. Even in her sleep, she leans into my touch, which warms me from the inside out. Using my foot, I push her door open and then gently lay her down. I’m torn between letting her sleep in her clothes or waking her up. I know with her shifts, any sleep is precious, so I opt to leave her dressed.

  Just as I’m pulling her throw over her, her hand clasps mine.

  “Stay,” she whispers, her voice sleepy. Kicking off my trainers, I climb in, and she cocoons herself against my chest, letting out a content sigh.

  I tell myself I’ll wait until she falls into a deep sleep, and then I’ll go. The last thing I want is her waking to find me here and feeling embarrassed. Not that she has anything to worry about. I never thought it possible to sit and enjoy just being with someone. When we have quiet, I don’t feel I need to fill the silence, and it’s refreshing. I also love how she doesn’t ever push. If we’re talking and a conversation veers in a direction I don’t want to talk about, she doesn’t push; she just lets it go.

  Falling in and out of sleep, I force myself to get up and leave, but before I go, I find a pen and paper in the kitchen and rummage in her cabinet before I write her a note.

  I hope you don’t wake up feeling too worse for wear, but in case you do, take these followed by tea and toast. And then text me to let me know you’re okay xx

  Filling a glass with water, I leave it on her bedside table––along with the note and the two paracetamols.

  The roads are quiet as I drive, and I already miss her warmth, wondering why I didn’t just stay. Not ready to go home, I take a detour and find myself at Ally Pally––North London’s counterpart to Crystal Palace. Henry and I used to go ice skating here when we were younger. I smile to myself, looking forward to when Jacob is old enough for me to bring him here. Parking up, I get out and walk the steep climb to the top of the hill, and I’m so glad I did. The view over London as the sun rises is enough to take my breath away.

  Digging out my phone, I take a couple of pictures, and then before I can talk myself out of it, I send one to Lottie––along with a message.

  Me: I saw this and thought of you x

  Maybe I should regret sending it to her, but I don’t, and the truth is, as beautiful as it is, it would be so much better if she were here to share it with me. Maybe I can persuade her to come up here with me some other time? My mum used to drive Henry and me here when we were kids, and she couldn’t afford to take us to firework displays on Guy Fawkes night or new year. My aunt and uncle would drive here with Nathan and our other cousins, and we’d bundle up in hats, gloves and scarves and climb on the roof of the car and watch the fireworks over London. They’d bring doughnuts and flasks of hot chocolate.

  It’s strange how a memory can lie dormant and then hit you so vividly.

  My phone buzzes, and I think it’s a reply from Lottie, but it’s Henry.

  I swipe the screen.

  “Hey, man,” I say and start walking back to my car.

  “You all right?”

  I move aside for a cyclist and nod as he passes, lit up in fluorescent colours and covered in lycra.

  “Yeah, I was just thinking about when we used to watch the fireworks from Ally Pally.”

  He laughs. “Shit, man, those were the days. We should do it this year. I reckon Jacob would love it.”

  After the very tense funeral for Clara, where we all had to keep ourselves in check not to let loose on Emilio, Henry got the DNA test results back, determining him to be Jacob’s biological father. He was granted parental responsibility and is going through the process of having him live with him permanently.

  I agree. “Sounds like a plan. I’ll catch you at the gym in a few hours?”

  “Yeah, cool, see you later.”

  I need to get home, shower, and catch up on emails before helping him with his training. Not that he needs it; if anyone is ready, it’s him. As much as I miss the buzz, the adrenaline, and the sound of the crowd, it’s no longer a part of me like it was before. If it hadn’t been for the coma, I don’t think I would have kept at it long term. But when the choice is taken away from you, and you’re no longer given the option, there’s a part of you that will always long for what you can’t have and miss what was stolen from you.

  Of course, it could have been a lot worse, and I know all in all that I’m a lucky bastard. Henry has a point to prove with Emilio, and even if I asked him not to, he’d still do it. He’s always been protective, even when we were kids. It doesn’t matter if I can hold my own or not. Henry doesn’t suffer fools gladly, and neither of us has time for bullies. In a few days, Emilio will know what it’s like to lose it all. He’s already lost Jacob and Clara, but Jacob wasn’t his, and he didn’t deserve Clara. I was cautious of her digging her nails into Henry, but for whatever reason, at the time, he went willingly, and if he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have Jacob. I do believe deep down; everything happens for a reason.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Charlotte

  September marks five years since losing Max, and to say I hate everything about it is an understatement. It’s also his birthday month. I used to love the transition from Summer into Autumn. It used to be one of my favourite seasons, but now it’s filled with sorrow and an overwhelming sense of loss. I know Violet feels it too. She keeps her feeli
ngs close to her chest and hides her emotions from anyone who doesn’t know her, but I see them when they surface, and when she thinks no one notices, I do. If something comes on the TV, I see her moment of hesitation as she stops herself from remarking on it, knowing he would get it––they were close. When something good happens, the first person she wants to share it with is him. He was her best friend and my first love.

  And people might say I was young, it wasn’t real love, but it was. Everything about us was vivid and vibrant. He always made me smile, and no matter what was happening, he could always make me laugh.

  It was his eighteenth birthday, the day I gave myself to him. I wanted to give him something to treasure, and he did. It had been three months since his kidney transplant, a double celebration. I was seventeen, and we were both so nervous, and honestly, our first time was sloppy and quick, but it was special.

  His health declined pretty fast after that, taking us all by surprise. It started with a urinary tract infection. It’s the risk when taking the anti-rejection medication, your immune system is exposed to more infections. And within six months, he died of sepsis. It’s why I wanted to train to be a paramedic and be a first responder. To help people.

  Knocking on Violet’s door, I wait but hear no answer, so I open it and step inside. It smells stuffy in here. She hasn’t had the window open and has been hiding in bed all day.

  I switch on the light. “Hey, Vi,” I say, approaching the bed.

  She peers up from underneath the duvet, her eyes puffy and red.

  “Room for one more?” I don’t bother waiting for an answer, and as I climb in next to her, she turns to face me.

  “You’d think it would get easier, right?” She licks her chapped lips. “But if anything, it gets harder. The void he’s left is still as unbearable.”

  I reach for her hand and squeeze, not even sure what to say, because no matter how I feel, this is worse for her. He was her flesh and blood.

  She wipes at a tear angrily. “I can’t stop crying. It’s pathetic. You’d think I’d be over it by now.”

  “Violet, you’re not meant to get over it. Your feelings are valid. It’s not wrong for us to miss him.”

  Violet gives me a sad smile. “Thank you. Apart from my parents, you’re the only other person who understands.”

  “You don’t have to thank me, Vi. You’re like a sister to me.”

  She plays with the end of my plait with her thumb and forefinger.

  “You really like this Ethan guy, don’t you?”

  I’m momentarily taken aback by her comment.

  “It’s okay. Max would want you to be happy. I know that’s why it’s never worked out with any of the others before,” she says.

  “Yeah, well, Shaun was an imbecile.”

  It took me two years until I started dating. I didn’t want to get attached, but Shaun was easy on the eye, and there was no denying we had chemistry––and he was persistent.

  “Stop evading my question.”

  I give a tiny nod. “I do, but it’s just casual, no strings.”

  Violet laughs, the mattress vibrating underneath us.

  “Oh, please, that ended the moment he took you to the funfair.”

  I fight the urge to roll my eyes. Sometimes I wish I didn’t tell her everything.

  “What time do we need to be at your parents?” I ask.

  “Seven.”

  I peer over her shoulder at the bedside table.

  “Okay, let’s get ready. We need to leave in an hour.”

  She grumbles but sits up, throwing her legs over the edge of the bed.

  “Let’s do this,” she says, drawing her shoulders back and taking a deep breath.

  Ethan

  I know Lottie’s not scheduled to work. Like a creeper, I listened in on her conversation with Olly when she popped by to see him at the gym the other day. She also hasn’t reached out to get together either, which is fine, she’s her own woman, but the truth is, I miss her. We’ve become friends, and I find myself looking forward to more than just being physical. I enjoy our random conversations.

  When we have the munchies after sex and she slips on one of my T-shirts, my favourite is watching her at the stove, making omelettes. Ever since the first time, it’s a go-to of ours, and now I can’t think of omelettes without getting rock hard. I love how she can demolish an entire box of after-dinner mints, and a giant bag of crisps without even batting an eye. She likes the sweet and savoury combo, and maybe I shouldn’t notice, but I do. It’s why I know something’s up with her. She’s been withdrawn lately. I want her to open up to me, but we both have our secrets, I guess.

  It’s late when I check my phone. Sometimes I get caught up in work and don’t even notice how much time has slipped past. When I was back at home with my mum, she’d always make sure I ate, or stopped for a break. It was hard for her after my accident, and as much as I enjoyed her doting over me, I missed my own space.

  Standing up, I stretch and crack my neck from side to side. My phone vibrates.

  Charlotte: Are you up?

  I smile like an idiot.

  Me: I’m awake, and if you want to help get me up, I won’t say no.

  Shutting down my computer, I wait for her reply.

  Charlotte: That I can do, see you in twenty.

  Moving my chair under my desk, I get a whiff of myself and pull my top off over my head.

  I make quick work of my shower, and just as I’m pulling on my T-shirt and joggers, there’s a soft knock at the front door.

  Opening it, I smile, but it slips when I see Lottie’s face––she looks exhausted.

  “Everything all right?” I ask, moving aside for her to come in.

  “A lot on my mind. I hope you didn’t mind me texting so late.”

  Shaking my head, I close the door and pull her to my body, her hands going to my biceps.

  “Not at all, and I’d like to think we’re past that now.”

  She smiles softly. “Yeah, we are.”

  “So, talk to me. Believe it or not, I’m a good listener.”

  Reaching up on tiptoes, her lips touch mine. “Duly noted,” she says. It’s something we’ve both said to one another since we met. They may be two simple words, but they mean something to me, and I’m certain they mean something to her as well.

  Her hands slip under my joggers and grip my arse.

  She raises an eyebrow. “Commando?” she says.

  Pushing her back against the wall, I take her in a hard kiss and thrust into her. I’m rewarded with a low moan. I don’t get to see her as much as I’d like. With her work schedule, Henry’s training and Jacob, the time I’ve spent with her hasn’t been anywhere near enough.

  I draw back, and only now do I take in her outfit.

  “Wow, you look nice. Been on a hot date?” I ask, only half-joking, and feel the tension crackle in the air the moment the words leave my lips. “Shit, I didn’t mean it like that, and even if you were, it’s none of my business.”

  Lottie closes her eyes for a moment but not before I see an emotion cross her face, one of sadness.

  “Hey…” I raise her chin with my forefinger to get her to look at me.

  “I was with Violet. We went out to dinner with her parents.” I think she’s divulged as much as she’s going to, but then she continues.

  “It’s the anniversary of their son’s death tomorrow, so they make it a point to go to his favourite restaurant.”

  “Shit, that’s rough.”

  She nods. “It doesn’t ever get any easier. Max was only eighteen.”

  Max––the tattoo she has on her hip with the infinity symbol. The one I’ve always wondered about but never asked.

  “He was special to you,” I say.

  “Yes,” she replies, her voice cracking, tears filling her eyes.

  I pull her to my chest and she begins to sob. I pick her up, carry her to the living room, sit down on the couch, and stroke her hair.

  “It’s ok
ay, just let it out,” I whisper into the dimly lit room. And she does, and when her tears finally subside and she lets out a hiccup, I feel her tremble in my arms.

  “Are you cold?” I ask.

  “Yeah, sorry,” she says, her teeth chattering.

  Without another word, I carry her upstairs and to my room, pull back the covers and sit her on the edge of the bed. I slip off her heels and gently push on her shoulder for her to lie down.

  She sniffs, clearly too tired from crying to argue, and does as I prompt. Climbing in beside her, I drag the duvet over us and pull her back against my chest. Linking her fingers with mine, she squeezes but stays quiet––other than the occasional hiccup or sniffle—until her breathing evens out. I think she’s fallen asleep until she breaks the silence.

  “I met Max when I was in the hospital for dialysis. Technically, I met Violet first… well, heard her. She started talking to me, and then before I knew it, she declared us best friends and we have been ever since.” Her soft laugh vibrates through me.

  “Max wasn’t as loud as Vi, but on occasion, it was just him at the hospital for treatment and we’d talk. Is it weird that I looked forward to going if it meant seeing them?”

  I kiss the back of her head. “No, not weird at all.”

  “He was my first real boyfriend, and I loved him. Everything was so good… until it wasn’t. It was an infection that took him away from us––sepsis. I still don’t understand it, even now. He was cheated. We all were.”

  “I’m so sorry, Lottie.”

  She turns to face me and reaches a hand to my cheek. “Most of the time, I get by, I keep busy, but the grief is just below the surface. And then it hits me all over again, and I can barely breathe. I tried to move on, to prove to myself I wasn’t emotionally fucked up.”

  Lottie snorts out a laugh. “And then I find my boyfriend with his dick down his receptionist’s throat. Could that be any more cliché?”