Will she ever find a way to overcome the guilt?
Healing seems impossible.
He’s the only one who can save her.
But it comes with a heavy price.
“I’m not here to save you. i’m here to love you. Because i never fuckin’ stopped.”
To say this book surprised me is an understatement. Right from the first page of the story you really get a feel of what type of story Slyvie will be. It’s packed with emotion, heart ache and strength. It packs a punch and it’s effective. I’ve read a few of K Langstons book and this one is definitely my favourite one. She really portrays heartache well, and despite the book not always being cupcakes and flowers, but the ending leaves your heart full.
Today, I’m helping Linc finish packing. He didn’t have much left to box up. The movers had done most of the heavy stuff already, but there were some personal stuff he didn’t want them touching. Like his father’s things. Most of which he kept in his office. His father’s medals from the war were displayed in a glass case, along with the folded, framed American flag from his funeral. I remember when he died, how devastated Linc was. It took him months before he would even talk to me about it.
It was music that helped him through that dark time of his life. It’s what kept him going.
Carefully, I wrap up the remaining photos in his office. There are several of him and his father when he was younger. One where they are camping. Linc’s father was a real outdoorsman, loved wildlife and nature. They were always going on camping trips. When we were younger, I even tagged along a few times. There are a few shots of his mom and dad together over the years. It’s so obvious by the look on their faces how much they love each other, and I silently wonder, as I tuck another newspaper-wrapped frame inside the large cardboard box, if people say the same thing about us.
Do they see it written all over our faces? How much we love each other, how deep that love runs?
When I turn around to grab the next picture from the shelf, my breath catches in my throat. I blink, not really sure of what I’m seeing. It’s a picture of me, taken when I was about sixteen. I’m sitting on the bed of his truck, my bare feet dangling while my hands cup the edge of the tailgate. I’m leaning forward, a half smile on my face and my hair blowing on a slight breeze. The edges look to be crinkled and worn, as if someone has spent a lot of time looking at it. Tears prick my eyes.
If I only knew then what I know now.
“Beautiful, isn’t she?” His deep baritone voice sends a shiver down my spine.
I gasp and look over my shoulder at Linc. “Jesus, you scared me.”
Linc softly kisses my cheek before slipping the picture from my grasp. He looks at it thoughtfully, a wistful smile playing on his lips as he rounds the desk to sit in the big leather chair behind it.
He holds the photo close, as if seeing it for the first time. “There are certain days that stand out the most in my mind. Like the day we met. The day I sang to you the first song I ever wrote. The day we went swimming at the lake and you lost your top. Prom.”
Exhaling a long sigh, he continues. “We didn’t do anything special this particular day. We’d been to the lake, then shared a pizza at Emilio’s, then we hung out at my house for a while my mom was at work. We sat on the tailgate and I played around on my guitar. It was a day like so many before, yet so different. You kept telling me how proud you were of me and how someday I would shine brighter than any of the stars in the sky. But all I could think about was how the setting sun would catch your eyes just the right way and how they would sparkle every time you smiled. How the summer wind whipped your hair across your face, the delicate strands kissing your porcelain skin. I knew I had to capture the moment or it would be lost forever. So I ran inside and grabbed my mom’s digital camera. You called me a dork, among other things, and refused to smile for me. But I did manage to get this one. Then the very next day I had it developed.” I stand in front of him, my eyes filled with unshed tears. “I’ve carried this around in my guitar case ever since. Every time I opened it you were right there, smiling at me, encouraging me. I can’t tell you how many times I wanted to give up, but every time a door would slam in my face I would look at this picture and remember this day. You’re the reason I kept going. You’re the reason I never gave up.”
I climb onto his lap, draping my legs over the arm of the chair while tucking myself into his arms. “You’re not the kind of man who gives up on anything.”
“I came pretty damn close a few times, with my music and trying to make it in this crazy fucking business, but I could never give up on us. There were times I wanted to, fuck I prayed for my heart to let you go and move on. But it just wouldn’t. It’s like it always knew that someday we’d end up here, that there would be an us.”
The light in the bathroom is bright, revealing the dark shadows coloring the skin beneath my eyes. Even good makeup can’t conceal what I’m trying to hide, the pain that is locked away with the mountain of regret. My worst enemy is my memory, reminding me every single day of the chances I didn’t take and the decisions I waited too long to make.
The knot in my throat is tight, and I just can’t seem to swallow past it today.
God, will I ever be able to go a day without crying?
Turning away from the mirror I press my back to the wall, trying to stifle a runaway sob. But they rack my body in relentless waves of grief and despair. I ride it out, until I feel a little bit of the weight ease from my shoulders.
But it’s only temporary. The heaviness is back with a vengeance when I look in the mirror once more. I can’t escape it. No matter how hard I try.
Wiping my nose, I dry my eyes. Grateful my small breakdown hadn’t been worse.
Usually once I start, it’s nearly impossible to stop.
I stand facing the mirror as I release my blonde hair from a ponytail then pull it neatly back in place, a meager attempt to conceal the evidence of my consuming misery.
It’s a wasted effort.
I’m still a mess.
Feeling only slightly better, I make my way back out front, refill several glasses and serve another table before noting the hostess has seated a new customer in my section.
I retrieve my pen and pad from my apron as I make my way over. “Hey there, what can I…” I blink, my brain and heart still trying to play catch-up while a flock of butterflies take flight in my belly.
Am I dreaming?
A smile I haven’t seen in a long, long time, and it’s such a welcome sight. Tears burn behind my eyes, and I swear my heart damn near stops altogether when he stands from the table.
My name is like a solemn vow, wholesome and pure, tugging at the strings of my stumbling heart. Without hesitation, he pulls me into his strong arms, and I immediately sag against him, soaking up his warmth.
It feels like it’s been a lifetime since I could breathe without it hurting.
I steal a moment of comfort in his arms and his familiar scent has me struggling to let go.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, forcing myself to release him.
Guilt gnaws at my stomach, remembering the hateful words I’d said to him the last time we saw each other. Linc and I were once best friends. We told each other everything. But we haven’t spoken in over a year and even though there was still so much left unsaid, it was as if he never really left.
His brown hair is a little longer but it looks good on him. A light dusting of scruff covers his sharp jaw, making him appear rugged and hard, but his soft green eyes remind me of his kind heart and kindred spirit.
His warm smile slowly fades, and that’s when I notice the pain in his eyes. “Mama has cancer,” he says softly.
I fall to the chair next me, my knees unsteady from the blow of this devastating news. “Oh God, I’m so sorry, Linc.”
He takes the seat across from me. “Doc says her chances are really good. They caught it early, but her treatment will be aggressive, so she’s got a long road ahead.”
I cover his hand with my own, a sharp pang piercing my chest. He lost his father when he was seventeen. His mother is all he’s ever had; it would kill him if he lost her, too. “Please let me know what I can do to help. I had no idea she was sick. I…I haven’t seen Gwynn in a while. I should go visit.”
He smiles again, but this time it’s weak, sad. “She’d love that,” he says. “She misses you and Caroline.”
I miss you, too.
He doesn’t say the words out loud but he doesn’t have to. Those eyes of his tell me more than I care to know. We’ve always had a way of communicating without speaking.
He knows me in ways no man does. Or ever will. There’s a heavy amount of comfort in that but there’s also an incredible amount of guilt.
I stand, eager to put some distance between us. “What can I get you to drink?”
He clears his throat. “Sweet tea.”
“Comin’ right up.”
I feel his eyes on me as I move through the tables. I cash out one of my customers and refill a few glasses before eventually pouring his glass of tea.
My skin prickles all over as I approach. “Have you decided what you want yet?” I pull my order pad from the pocket of my apron.
Linc pins me with his sharp, unforgiving eyes. “Yeah, I know what I want, Sylvie.”
“What’ll it be?” I ask, my voice just as shaky as my hands.
It’s nearly dark when I wander out onto the porch and find Linc packing up his tools and loading up his truck.
“I won’t be here tomorrow so make sure you bring water and your lunch.”
He chuckles, the sound soothing and warm. “I will.”
Slamming the tailgate of his truck, he walks to the foot of the steps. The porch light illuminates his face as a smile teases the corners of his lips.
I fold my arms across my chest.
I’ve never had to fight so hard at it. When Dean was here it was easier to mask. But now that he’s gone, it’s taking everything I have to cover it up.
He props a booted foot onto the bottom step. “We’ll be finished tomorrow.”
“Doesn’t mean I’m finished with you though.”
“Told ya I ain’t goin’ nowhere.” Linc plants his feet on the porch, standing directly in front of me, eyes gleaming with affection. The green irises set my body on fire and build an inferno of heat, raging in my heart and between my legs.
“What’s for dinner?”
I smile because, damn it all to hell, when it comes to him, I can’t help myself. “Fish sticks and macaroni and cheese.”
He smirks. “You know that’s my favorite.”
One minute I’m standing on my front porch, trying desperately to resist him. And the next minute, I’m in his arms…
His lips claim mine, soft yet hard paired with unmistakable determination. His warm tongue tangles with mine, tasting of deep longing and strong desire.
The kiss of that desperate boy long ago pales in comparison to that of this unyielding man.
I throw my arms around his shoulders as he backs me into the door. “I’ve waited a fucking lifetime for this?” he whispers across my lips before seizing them once more, renewing his passion.
I’ve dreamed of this moment for so long, to feel his touch, to taste his lips once more. The possessive manner in which his fingers brand my skin, the way his tongue greedily slides against mine.
Linc begins to slow the kiss but I’m not ready for it to end, so I dig deeper and pull tighter, in my vain attempt to soar higher.
I don’t want to let this moment go.
His hands cup my face and I can sense him trying to pull away, so I let him, because otherwise I’ll beg him to take me right here and now. His forehead rests against mine, and I take this opportunity to breathe him in.
“God, I’ve missed you so much.”
“I’ve missed you, too,” I say, still trying to grasp the reality of what is happening. “I still can’t believe you’re here.”
His eyes meet mine as confusion settles on his face. “Why?”
“Because of everything that’s happened between us. Because of everything I said to you. I thought you would hate me forever. It’s what I wanted.”
“I could never hate you.”
“I would hate me,” I whisper.
His hands move to my back, pulling me into his chest. “Know what I hate? I hate what he’s done to you. I hate what he took away from us, and most of all, I hate that you’re still letting him.”
God, I hate it, too.
“I know.” I agree, because even though I don’t deserve him, I need him in order to survive this.
When we pull to a stop, I let the engine run. It’s already ten forty-five. I have to be home by midnight. We can’t stay long. My sweaty palms grip the steering wheel while blood rushes my ears, anxious to know what will happen next.
The alternative rock station we’re listening to switches songs and “All I Need” by Radiohead pours from the speakers, the dark sound setting the tone as he catches my eye, turning it up.
“Love this song,” he says.
“It’s one of my favorites, too.”
He continues to smoke his cigarette casually and damn it all to hell if he doesn’t look hot doing it. Then he swings his eyes to mine once more as the dark lyrics fill the space between us, his gaze bringing me down to a level of need I don’t understand.
But the need is not within me.
It’s in him.
With a sense of resolve, he drops out of the truck and rounds the front, flicking what is left of his cigarette into the night before opening my door.
Reaching for my hand, he pulls me out. “Dance with me.”
There, on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere, with nothing more than the low beam headlights guiding our way, we dance. His arms wrap around me and so does his scent, intoxicating and new.
He pulls me closer, our cheeks touching, breaths meeting warm skin while my heart races in my chest. I want him to kiss me. He’s probably kissed tons of girls, good-looking as he is.
Girls who know how to kiss.
Girls who know how to do lots of things I don’t.
He is a man, after all. And I’ve never kissed a man before. I’ve only kissed two boys and their sloppy tongues and groping hands were nothing to write home about.
His fingers press into my lower back before his warm mouth whispers in my ear and my body tingles.
“I’m going to kiss you now, Sylvie.” A rough thumb works back and forth across my fevered skin as he pulls back to gaze down at me, my heart thunders so hard in my chest I think I might pass out. His face is but a shadow in the still of the night, however, there is no mistaking the want in his eyes.
It tugs at something inside of me, calls to me in a way that I cannot fathom.
Then his mouth descends on mine, paralyzing me. I’m not sure what to do with my hands so I let them hang loosely by my side, but the moment he backs me into the front of the truck they gain purchase, fisting in the sides of his shirt.
He tastes of smoke, fire, and desperation. It’s overwhelming, frightening, and addictive—his need for me.
The kiss begins to slow but my blood rushes faster, eager for more.
“Sylvie,” he breathes against my lips.
My panting heart grows sluggish and weak as he brushes his thumb across my swollen lips. His forehead drops to mine, his shoulders tense and tight beneath my hands. Something flickers in his eyes, something dark and mystifying, luring me in.
“You’re going to make me fall in love with you, aren’t you?” Warmth sings in my blood while resolution settles in his eyes. He breathes the words against my lips, a whisper of possibility that has me flying across the star-covered sky.