Willing Captive (27 page)

This morning, I
uploaded my eReader with the latest smuttiness and I’ve found a
good one. I read and read and read, and before I know it, four
hours have passed. Just when I stand and stretch, I hear someone
move to sit at the opposite end of the bench. From my peripheral
vision, I can see it’s a man with a large build. He wears jeans, a
black tee and white sneakers. He also walks with a cane.

For a moment, I tell myself to face him with a greeting. But
this really isn’t the place for nice conversation. I assume the man
is here to do exactly what I am here to do.

Mourn.

I let him be.
Sitting back down on the bench, I lift my eReader and pick up where
I left off. The book has some serious funnies in it, and I’m trying
really hard to be respectful and curb the laughter that bubbles up
my throat.

I make some odd
choking, gurgling noises. The man turns his head to face me.

Avoiding his eyes, I
turn my bright red face the opposite way and pretend to cough.

Lifting my eReader
so high that I’m hiding behind it, from the corner of my eye, I see
that man stifle his grin.

Busted.

The man clears his
throat before he practically whispers, “Funny book?”

Clearly mortified, I
don’t look up from my book when I whisper back, “I’m sorry. That
was rude. It won’t happen again.”

He leans to the
side, his body close to mine when he replies just as quietly,
“Nothing wrong with laughter. Some people say laughter can heal
anything.”

Shaking my head
slightly, I scoff, “Well, those people have never experienced true
pain.”

Leaning back away
from me, he allows a moment before he whispers, “Sounds like you
know a little something about it.”

My cheeks flush and
my brow furrows.

Suddenly angry, I drop my eReader to my lap with a plop and
point to a grave I see every week, I point. “Look there.” The man
doesn’t say a thing, but from my peripheral vision, I see his head
turn to where I point. I tell him, “That little old lady? She’s
here every weekend.” Dropping my hand, I go on, “Now this is just a
guess, but I’d say she’s in her seventies. She comes here every
weekend and she cries at the grave of her husband. Her husband had
been dead for twenty years, and I see her here every single week.”
I allow a moment’s silence before telling the man quietly, “Death
ends a life. Not a relationship.”

Rant over.

I pick up my eReader
and resume reading.

The man shifts a
little closer to me. Unconsciously, I breathe him in. He smells
woodsy and fresh. He says quietly, “If you know she comes here
every week, that would mean you come here every week, too.” I don’t
answer. He asks softly, “Who are you mourning?”

Suddenly my nose is
tingling. I read on, but reply through quivering lips, “Someone I
knew better than to fall in love with.”

The man shifts even closer to me, leans down, and whispers in
my ear, “Can’t help who you fall in love with, princess.”

I freeze.

No. No. No.

My stomach knots. My
head spins. The man says softly, “Breathe.”

I hadn’t realized
I’d stopped. I inhale loudly. Unable to bring myself to look into
the man’s face, my chest heaves as I ask, “What’s your name?”

He responds
immediately in regular volume, “Well, someone once told me I look
like an Adam.”

I
know that voice. I’ve dreamt of that voice for the last six months.
Every night, that voice haunts my dreams. My eyes blur, and I
whisper, “You sound more like a Nox to me.”

The man scoffs teasingly, “
Nox
?
What the hell kind of name is that?”

I can’t help it. I
chuckle.

My chuckle turns
into a laugh.

My laughter turns
into a sob. Before I know it, I’m sobbing loudly on a bench…in a
cemetery…sitting next to the ghost of the love of my life.

Holy hell. I’ve gone
nuts.

Warmth covers my
hand. I look down to see a large, calloused, scarred hand on
mine.

I sob harder.

He squeezes my hand
before pulling me into his chest, and wraps his strong arms around
me.

“
Oh my God. It’s finally happened. I’ve gone batshit crazy.” I
speak into the warmth of his chest, and I feel his body shake with
silent laughter.

His breath warms my
ear as he whispers into it. “Lily, look at me.” Shaking my head, I
close my eyes tight and cry into him. He repeats himself, “Look at
me, baby.”

“
I’m afraid to.”

He strokes my hair.
“Why, baby?”

I whisper, “If this
is a dream, I’ll just die.” A tear trails down my cheek. “My heart
just couldn’t take it.”

His lips touch the
shell of my ear. “Show me those pretty, green eyes.”

Goosebumps break out
all over my body. I really want to look, but I don’t want to wake
up from this dream.

Remember what you
said? Even if just for a moment…

Moving back from him, I keep my eyes closed. Holding out my
hands, he takes them into his warm, large ones and holds them
tight. Taking a deep breath, I mutter, “I told myself if I ever got
the chance to see you again, that I’d tell you a few things. So
here goes.” My eyes burn and I thank God I haven’t opened them. “I
love you. And every single day I live with guilt. I wish
I’
d never left
you.” Tears fall from the corners of my eyes. I squeeze his hands
tighter. “I could’ve saved you if I’d begged hard enough. I know
you wouldn’t have left me. Then you’d be alive, and I’d disappear
with you. I hated the life I was living. And you changed me. All
for the better. And I thank God for the day I met you.”

Letting go of my
hand, he cups my cheek and gently caresses it with his thumb. His
nose touches mine. He breathes me in, then places his lips on mine
in a kiss so gentle it makes my heart ache. Reaching up, I grip his
upper arms in a death hold and deepen the kiss, crying all the
while.

I don’t want this to
end.

He tastes just like
I remember. His lips feel the same, too. Unable to stand this sweet
torture any longer, I pull away, dip my head, and sob silently.

“
Please look at me, Lily.”

So I do.

I open my eyes and
look right into his deep blue gaze. I bark out a shocked laugh,
reach over, and squeeze his hands. Laugh-crying, I look up to the
sky. “Thank you. Thank you, God.”

My head swirls.
Sounds fade. And blackness overcomes me.

Chapter
Twenty-Three
Homecoming

Lily

My heavy head
pounds.

And the yelling
doesn’t help.

“
You are out of your fucking mind! Do you know that? You
couldn’t have waited like I asked?
Nooo
.” That sounds like Rock.

“
You think you could wait if it were Boo?”

I know that
voice.

My body breaks into
goosebumps and I bury myself further into the covers of my bed,
listening.

Silence, then,
“Yeah. That’s what I thought. Been too long already. Couldn’t
wait.” Pause, then, “Couldn’t.”

Rock barks out a
humorless laugh, “Yeah, you did real good, buddy. Your girl just
fainted in a cemetery!” He claps, “Bravo.”

Silence.

A long silence.

He says quietly, “I
just couldn’t wait to see her, man. She’s all I think about.”

My heart pounds.

He sounds so
dejected. There are so many things I need to ask. I need answers.
I’m confused and still very much mourning him, even though he’s
here.

My mind is
elsewhere. Left the building. Gone.

Slowly, I get out of
bed without making a noise and creep down the hall. When I get
there, I hear Nox ask, “Where’s Boo?”

Rock replies on an
exhale, “She didn’t want to come.”

Wow. That hurts.

I love Boo.

He adds, “Too hard,
man. She couldn’t say goodbye again. Fucked her up last time. Cried
for weeks.”

Shit. That hurts
even more. But I get it. I was the same.

Nox calls out, “I
know you’re there, baby.”

Busted.

My heart palpitates.
I’m worried. And nervous.

He says softly, “You
take your time, princess. I know this isn’t easy.”

Clutching at the
corner of the wall, I close my eyes, and swallow hard. Giving
myself an internal pep talk, I straighten and walk out into the
kitchen-slash-lounge-room-slash-dining-room.

What? My apartment
is small, okay?

My heart stops at
the sight of him.

He’s real.

And hurt.

Sitting on my crappy
secondhand sofa, he reaches to the right of him for his cane and
stands, smiling softly.

My stomach
flips.

I missed that smile.
I saw that smile in my dreams every night for six months.

I thought that smile
was dead.

My body trembles.
Completely overwhelmed, I cover my face with my hands, and burst
into tears. Nox moves to come to me, but Rock beats him to it with,
“Don’t worry, man. I got her.”

Rock wraps an arm
around my waist and holds me steady while I cry. Wiping at my tears
with shaking hands, I look over at Nox. My breath hitches. “I
thought I’d never see you again.”

Gripping his cane so
tightly his knuckles turn white, his face pained, he shifts from
foot-to-foot. And just like he used to, he says something so
perfect that I shiver. “I promised I’d come for you.” Still
standing, he asks quietly, “I’m sorry, babe. Do you mind if I
sit?”

My head clears, and
I notice his hand on his cane is shaking as if he can’t hold
himself up any longer. I nod and he sits back, breathing
heavily.

All that from
standing a few minutes?

Placing my hand on
Rock’s at my waist, I squeeze and he releases me. Suddenly stronger
than I’ve been in an age, I walk over to sofa and stand in front of
Nox. He whispers, “Hey, Maude.”

Biting my lip to
hold back my smile, I whisper back, “Hi, Hank.”

It’s slightly
awkward. It feels like I’m stuck in a dream. But my heart
kick-starts after six months of hibernation.

He doesn’t move to
touch me and I’m grateful. Too much is happening right now.

I take a moment to
search him.

This Nox is not the
same Nox I grew to love. There’s something missing from this Nox. I
can’t tell what yet, but it almost looks as if he’s lost a part of
himself. A part of his soul.

There is scarring
all over his hands and some on his face and neck.

He looks tired. And
defeated.

His hair is long
now. So long, that he runs his hand through it to keep it out of
his eyes.

Those eyes.

I remember those
eyes.

As if he hears my
mental thoughts, he looks up. His icy-blue eyes meet mine and I
inhale quickly.

Stepping a little
closer, I move between his legs, holding his gaze all the while.
His eyes flash before they turn soft. Reaching up, he takes hold of
my hand and mutters, “Hey baby.”

My heart beats
faster. Warmth encases my entire body. It’s a feeling I haven’t
felt in a long time. It feels strange and unfamiliar.

Letting go of his
hand, I reach up and hold his face in my hands, and really
search.

My hands cup his
cheeks and he swallows hard, shutting his eyes tightly. He breathes
deeply before exhaling softly. When he opens his eyes again, I see
only one thing there.

Love.

The smile that forms
on my face is huge. I utter quietly, “There you are.”

His eyes crinkle, and he says softly, “Baby.”

Oh my god.

It
just hit me like a chair to the face.

This is real!

I’m not dreaming. I’m not crazy. Nox is
here
!

He came back for me.
Just like he said he would.

Stepping back a
moment, I look back at Rock, and say to both of them, “I’m really
happy, guys. Really happy.” They both smile. I add, “But I need
answers.” My breath hitches, and my eyes burn. “Because I don’t
know if I can get past this.”

Rock nods in
agreement while Nox runs a hand over his face. I don’t think I’m
going to like what I hear.

Rock starts, “We
never lied to you, Lily. We thought he was dead.”

Okay. Good. Well,
not good, but at least I know they didn’t lie to me on purpose.

Nox rubs a hand at
the back of his neck in restlessness. “I know you need to know, so
maybe you can sit down for this. It’s kinda long.”

Moving to sit at the opposite end of the sofa, Nox looks hurt
that I want to be so far away from him. It’s still so unreal. I’m
nervous and scared. All I really want to do is jump onto his lap
and kiss him until I can’t remember the last six months.

He starts, “Okay.
When the first explosion went off, and the windows were blown out,
I saw something in the backyard. That’s why I told you to go with
Boo. And when you finally did, I made my way out there, and
realized it was Jett Harrison.”

Nodding, I tell him,
“Terah told me he had shrapnel all over his body.”

Nox agrees, “Yeah.
He was cut up pretty bad.”

“
She said he died from it.”

Both Rock and Nox
shake their heads.

I’m confused. Terah
wouldn’t lie to me.

I’m about to ask the question when Nox says clinically, “I
killed him.”

My body breaks out
in goosebumps, and I suck in a quick breath. I exhale, “Oh.”

Looking down at his
hands, he plays with a finger nervously. “He was there. In the
back, all cut up. Gun in hand, ready to shoot. In pain, as he was,
he didn’t see me coming. I picked up a shard of glass, and ran it
through him.” He lifts his head. “Not sorry I did it.”