Closer to the Edge Page 11

  “I’m sorry,” she whispers again, holding a towel around her after having stripped out of her wet underwear.

  She managed to scrounge up an old t-shirt and a pair of boxers that I didn’t take with me when I left because she used to sleep in them. I didn’t think to dig through her drawers when I packed up all of my shit and left her alone.

  I left her alone when she was pregnant. With my child. Pregnant and alone to deal with that shit when I should have been there, holding her hand, kissing her stomach and promising her and my child the world.

  “Liv, it’s not your fault,” I whisper right back, crossing the room and pulling her into my arms.

  She struggles for a minute, trying to push me away, but fuck that. I hold on tighter, kiss the top of her head and whisper my own apologies in her ear.

  She sobs against my chest and it rips me in half. In the two years we were together, I’d never seen Olivia cry. Not once. She’d get a little teary-eyed when we watched a sad movie or when she talked about a patient who was slipping away, but she would always hold it together. She was a solid rock of strength, hardened by her childhood and honed by her experiences as a nurse. I remember Garrett, Brady and Austin talking about how all their woman had to do was shed a few tears and they instantly turned to jelly, giving them anything they asked so long as they didn’t have to deal with the tears. I teased them about it, calling them the biggest bunch of pussies in the world. Looks like the tables have been turned. I know exactly what they meant now. I would give anything, ANYTHING to take this pain away from Olivia.

  “It’s my fault,” she whimpers against my chest.

  I can feel her tears soaking through my shirt as I rock us gently back and forth. She wraps both of her arms around my waist and clutches the back of my shirt in her hands.

  I want to ask so many things. When did she find out? What happened? Did my leaving cause her to lose the baby? I want to ask, but I don’t. I’ve hurt her enough and I’m not going to press her for answers she’s not ready to give. I have no right to any of the pain she’s feeling because I left her to handle it all on her own.

  “I was barely eating, barely sleeping on top of throwing up every day. I didn’t take care of myself, I worked too hard… Oh, God, I just wanted you there so much. I didn’t want to do it on my own.”

  Her body is shaking with the force of her sobs and there’s nothing I can do. Nothing I can say will make this better. I can’t stand to listen to her take the blame for this. Whatever happened could never have been her fault. We talked about having kids all the time. Our childhoods were fucked up in different ways, but it never swayed our decision on having a family of our own. We wanted to do everything different with our own kids. We vowed to make sure they knew they were loved every single day and we promised to support them no matter what kind of decisions they made. The first time she held Garrett and Parker’s daughter Annie, I watched her face light up with an excitement and wonder I’d never seen before. I could only imagine what it would be like to one day see her holding our own child.

  Reaching between us, I grab onto her face and pull it away from my chest. I stare into her eyes, overflowing with tears and watch them drip down her cheeks and drop off of her chin.

  “You listen to me right now. It. Wasn’t. Your. Fault,” I tell her with every ounce of conviction inside me. “If you want to blame someone, blame ME. I’m the one who left you alone to deal with this. I’m the one who never gave a second thought to anything or anyone but my own need for revenge when I left. I love you so much, Olivia, you have no idea.”

  Her cries quiet as I lean down and kiss each tear off of her cheek before my lips make their way to hers and I press them against her softly. She unclenches her fists from the back of my shirt and flattens her palms, pressing them against my lower back and pulling me in closer. I can feel every inch of her body through the towel and, as much as I don’t want to get a fucking hard-on right now, it’s impossible when I’m this close to her.

  I pull my mouth away from her and rest my forehead against hers, trying to calm my dick down. She needs comfort, not a horny asshole.

  “I’m so tired of being angry. I’m so tired of being alone and empty,” she whispers.

  “You’re not alone anymore. I will never, EVER leave you alone again.”

  She tilts her face up to me and searches my own face for the truth. I’m done hiding things from her. My past, my love, my future—it’s all hers, if she wants it. It will always be hers.

  “You took everything from me when you left and then your family kicked me when I was down. I want to hate you so much, but I can’t. Why the hell can’t I hate you?” she cries angrily.

  “I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry.”

  My words are ragged and my voice is thick with emotion. I continue repeating these useless fucking words of apology over and over until my voice finally cracks. She cuts me off as I swallow past the lump in my throat and try to continue. Her hands move away from my back, sliding around to grab onto the front of my shirt, yanking me against her and slamming her lips into mine. The kiss is nothing like the one we shared in the pool. It’s full of anger and regret, her mouth moving against mine forcefully, almost painfully. I let her take what she wants. I feel her bite down on my lower lip so hard I’m sure she’s drawn blood and I welcome it. I welcome the pain and the resentment that screams through her body and into mine.

  She leans into me, forcing me to move backwards, never breaking the kiss or slowing down the frantic movement of her hands through my hair, down my face, over my chest and into the waistband of my boxers. As I hobble and limp backwards without the help of crutches or my brace, I forget all about the ache in my knee when her small hand wraps around my dick. I let out a groan as the backs of my legs hit the couch, her hand sliding up and down my length in a tight fist.

  “Take it. Whatever you want, it’s yours. Whatever you need, it’s YOURS,” I mutter as her hand moves faster.

  “I just want to forget. For tonight, just make me forget,” she tells me softly before she takes her hand off of my dick and gently pushes against my chest until I flop down onto the couch.

  Everything about this is wrong and I know I should stop her. This is not at all how I imagined making love to her again and I’m sure she’ll hate herself and regret every minute of this tomorrow. The very last thing I need to do is give her even more reason to hate ME, but my good intentions fly right out of the window when she drops the towel from her body and straddles my lap. I want to take my time with her, to drink in the sight of her gorgeous, naked body after so long without it. I want to slide my hands over every inch of her and revel in the feel of her smooth skin. Recalling the nights I spent alone, lying on the damp floor of a Dominican rainforest craving her taste, I want nothing more than to bury my face between her thighs and savor her. I try to slow her movements, but she’s not having any of that. She wants this to be about forgetting, plain and simple. I can’t change the past and I can’t make things right, but I can give her this.

  Her fingers slide into the elastic of my boxers and I lift my hips, helping her move them down and over my cock, which is standing at attention, ready for her to do whatever she wants. They don’t make it any further than mid-thigh before she notches the head of my cock right at her opening, sinking down hard and fast until I’m buried so deep inside of her I’m pretty sure I’m seeing fucking stars. She’s so tight and hot around me that I curse my hand for being such a poor fucking imitation of her pussy over the last year as I jerked myself off thinking about her.

  I grab onto her hips, the half of me that wants to hold her in place so I don’t blow my damn load too soon battling the half that wants to bounce her up and down on top of me so hard we both pass out. Sensing my hesitation, Olivia takes the lead, moving somewhere in the middle, sliding up and down my cock and grinding her pelvis into mine on each down stroke.

  Her nails dig into my shoulders and she throws her head back with a moan. Leaning forward, I
press my lips against her throat, sucking and nipping at her skin while I thrust my hips up, slamming my cock into her, over and over.

  She slides her hands through my hair, fisting large chunks of it as her elbows dig into my chest. I gaze up at the beautiful woman riding me, moaning and whimpering each time she impales herself on me, writhing as her clit rubs against my skin on each down stroke. I want this to last for more than five minutes, but an entire year without sex coupled with the show Olivia’s putting on above me has my orgasm barreling through my body like a fucking freight train. My balls tighten and my cock gets impossibly hard as I run baseball stats in my head, trying to slow this fucker down.

  Realizing I’m fighting a losing battle, I take one hand off of her hip and move my fingers between us, circling my thumb around her clit, determined to take her with me when I fall over the edge. She starts moving faster and moaning louder and I add more pressure with my thumb and thrust my hips harder, pushing as deep inside of her as I can get. I want to scream in frustration that this might be my one and only chance to have her and it’s going to be over before it’s even begun.

  I will never, ever get tired of the way Olivia sounds as her pussy clamps down on my cock, the way her skin flushes as she throws her head back, flinging that fucking beautiful hair behind her. There’s no sight or sound more perfect in the world than this woman when she comes. She shouts my name as her body clenches around me, triggering my own release. I come so hard that I feel it from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. She continues to grind on top of me, prolonging what’s already the longest orgasm I’ve ever had, until I collapse against the back of the couch. Her body moves with me, slumping against my chest with her cheek pressed against mine while we catch our breath. She shifts her hips and I wince as my dick pulses inside of her. When she starts to move away, I wrap my arms around her body to keep her exactly where she is, afraid to let her go. I’m not ready for awkward apologies, eye avoidance and the inevitable walk of shame.

  Surprisingly, she doesn’t resist. She melts into me, her thighs loosening their death grip and her hands releasing their hold on my hair until they’re lazily sliding through it, over and over.

  I hope this worked. I hope fucking on our old couch chased away her nightmares, even if for just one night. I hope she knows I will chase away all of her demons, for the rest of her life, if only she’d let me.

  THE SOUNDS OF waves crashing against the shore and seagulls flying overhead bring a smile to my face as I walk along the sand. The sun is setting just over the horizon and the tide comes in closer, washing over my feet. The water is warm and I walk further into the surf, pulling my skirt up to my thighs to keep it from getting wet as the waves splash against my knees. I stop walking and glance up and down the beach, wondering why I’m the only one out here. Even though the sun is going down, there should still be people lying on towels, soaking up the last of the rays of the sun, daredevils out on surfboards trying to catch that perfect wave or teenagers lighting beach bonfires, enjoying their final days of freedom before school starts up again.

  As I scan the beach around me, I realize suddenly that I don’t hear anything at all anymore. The waves are silent as they crash around me and the sky is empty of seagulls crying for food.

  “Mommy!”

  My head turns quickly when I hear the shout and I have to steady myself so I don’t go under the water. My feet have sunk deeper and deeper into the sand as I stood here and let the waves ebb and flow around my legs. I try moving them through the wet sand under the water and force myself not to panic when they won’t budge.

  The sight of a baby lying in the sand right at the water’s edge, wrapped in a blue blanket, halts my movements and calms my nerves even though I know he shouldn’t be out here alone. He shouldn’t be this close to the water. Where the hell are his parents?

  I scan the beach again and it’s still empty. By the time my eyes make it back to the little bundle, it’s no longer a baby I see, but a toddler. The blue blanket is draped over his shoulders and he’s shivering.

  I know him. I’ve seen him before, but I don’t know where or how. I know I’ve run my fingers through his short black hair and I distinctly remember the silky texture of it floating through my fingers. I’ve stared into his beautiful blue eyes, so much like my own, making promises I knew I couldn’t keep. It’s him. How is this possible? He looks so different, but my heart would know him anywhere.

  “Mommy!”

  He cries out to me again, his arms raised towards me and my heart breaks in two. I’m overcome with the need to get to him as quickly as I can. If I can get to him, hold him in my arms, smell the clean scent of his skin, I know everything will be okay.

  “I’m coming, baby!” I yell back, motioning to him with my hands to stay where he is and not come into the water.

  I twist my hips and the muscles in my thighs strain as I try to pull my feet out of the sand. Each wave that crashes around me brings the water up higher and higher until it’s at my waist, the sand still refusing to let go of my feet.

  “You can’t save me, Mommy.”

  The little boy speaks softly from the shore and I stare at him over my shoulder with tears streaming down my cheeks, no longer caring that the water is quickly inching its way up my body and will be over my head soon.

  He starts to back away from the water’s edge and my eyes widen in fear.

  “No! Stay where you are, please! I’m coming for you!” I yell.

  The wind kicks up, forcing the waves to slam against me and whipping my hair around my face as I watch the boy move further and further away from me.

  “Please!” I scream, twisting and turning as hard as I can to try and break free from the ocean that refuses to let me go. “Please don’t leave me!”

  He’s not the baby I remember, but he’s still mine. He’s mine and I won’t lose him again. I’ve already lost so much time with him, I refuse to lose any more.

  I claw at my thighs trying to free my feet as I scream and curse at the water, trying not to take my eyes off of the little boy for one second even though he’s moved so far away that he’s just a blurry figure in the sand.

  I cry out in rage and frustration, choking on mouthfuls of salt water as the waves crash against my chest. Bringing one hand out of the water, I try to pull my hair out of my eyes as the wind kicks up even more, obscuring my vision of the shore. A flash of red catches my eye and I stare at my hand, no longer dripping with salty ocean water, but with blood. The wind immediately dies and the water stops rising around me as I look down. I’m no longer standing in the ocean, but in the hallway of a hospital. Doctors and nurses rush around me like I’m not even there, calling codes and pushing crash carts into a room down the hall. I know I shouldn’t go in that room. I know I won’t like what I see in there, but I have to go. My feet move automatically, one in front of the other until I’m standing right outside the door. I see medical personnel surrounding someone in the bed, shouting orders and passing equipment back and forth.

  They all back away from the bed and my vision clouds and vomit chokes me as I see myself lying there, my eyes closed, my body lifeless. Blood. There’s so much blood. It covers my lap, pools on the bed between my legs and drips down onto the floor beneath the ‘me’ on the bed.

  As a doctor moves towards the bed, carrying the defibrillator paddles to shock my heart, I notice the blood is gone. The blue hospital gown is spotless and the white sheets pushed down around my ankles don’t have a spot on them. I feel something drip down my legs and I tear my eyes away from the scene in front of me and look down.

  My dress is covered in blood from the waist down and, before I can scream, I feel a hand press down on my shoulder. I look up and see Vivien and Cole standing next to me, staring into the hospital room at the flurry of activity.

  “It’s better this way,” Vivien murmurs.

  Cole nods his head in agreement. “It’s not your fault, Olivia. It’s not her fault, either.” He points towar
ds his mother.

  I open my mouth to argue with him, to scream and cry and try to make him understand that it IS her fault. She did this. SHE took this away from me. I can’t make the words come out. My mouth is open, but I can’t make a sound.

  “I did what I had to do. No one will ever blame me for that,” Vivien says with a smile. “You need to find the person with blood on their hands.”

  Someone in the room shouts, “CLEAR!” just as I bring my hands up in front of my face and see them dripping with blood. I scream as the doctor presses the paddles against my chest and I watch as my body bows and my back arches. I close my eyes and scream until my throat aches and the windows on either side of the room explode.

  “Baby, wake up!”

  I feel hands on my face and my eyes fly open, the scream dying in my throat. Cole is leaning over me, a look of worry on his face as he moves my hair out of my eyes. My heart is beating erratically and my skin is sticky with sweat. I sit up quickly, trying to get my bearings, and the blanket that was draped over me drops to my lap. Looking down, I realize I’m still naked and yank the blanket back up to cover my breasts.

  “Are you okay?” Cole whispers, shifting on the edge of the couch to give me more room.

  Am I okay? Physically, I feel fine. My heart has stopped trying to burst out of my chest and I can finally breathe. My throat is scratchy and it hurts when I swallow, making me realize I was screaming out loud, not just in my dream, and my face heats in embarrassment. I haven’t had a dream like that in weeks, and I don’t think I’ve ever had one that was quite that real. I could taste the salt of the ocean water and I could smell the raw iron in the earthy scent of the blood.