Midnight Lily (Signs of Love) (9 page)

"She walks in beauty, like the night," he read, "of cloudless climes and starry skies, and all that's best of dark and bright." He looked up and caught my eye. "Lord Byron." He paused. "I never knew that this one's about you," he said softly. I felt my blush deepen and looked down at my own hands.

"It's written about Mrs. John Wilmot, Byron's cousin by marriage. She was in mourning when he met her."

He hummed. "Maybe for Byron it was about her, but for me, it's about you." I brought my gaze to his and for some reason I wanted to weep. How often had I sat alone reading that poem and dreaming of someday being admired that way? "Lily of the Night," he said gently. "I knew it was the perfect way to describe you." My heart bursting with joy, I could only smile. He handed the book back, and I replaced it in my backpack.

"You knew it was Byron," I said. "Do you like poetry, too?

"I like literature," he said, a confused look crossing his face, his brow furrowing. He brought his hand up to his head and massaged his temples as if he was grasping on to a memory and it hurt. "Yes . . ." he said, bringing his hand down and smiling at me. "I haven't talked to anyone about that in a long time."

I nodded, feeling pleased that he'd shared something personal with me.

We spent the next hour or so talking about the things around us, the birds in the trees, the types of plants that grew next to the water. I knew the names for some of them, but not all. I'd received a book on Colorado flora and fauna years back and had attempted to learn as much as I could, but as I soon learned, it'd take a lifetime to know it all. And who knew—maybe that's what I had. I'd frowned with the thought, something desperate and yearning that I didn't know how to define filling my chest and making my heart squeeze.
I wanted more than what my life was now. More than the small, dark, lonely world I lived in.

I wanted someone to save me.
But I didn't know what to do about that.

As the hour wore on, I noticed Holden's hands begin to shake, and although the sun was shining on us, he began to perspire in a way I thought was excessive for the weather. I'd seen signs before that he was sick, but I didn't know how—or if that was part of what he was going to address in some manner while he stayed away.

"You should get back," I finally said, my eyes landing on his trembling fingers. He rubbed his hands on his thighs, looking nervous and sad.

"Yes, I should. This has been one of the best days I've spent in years. Thank you for giving this to me. Thank you for spending your time with me."

I shook my head. "It was really . . . I enjoyed it, too." That felt like such an understatement, but I didn't know how else to express to him how much I'd enjoyed our time together, how he'd made me forget that I was so lonely, how I never wanted this day to end.

I collected my things, rolling the fish up in plastic—the one Holden had caught with his hands and two others I'd caught with the pole—and placed them in my backpack. I left my fishing pole behind as I usually did.

We walked in silence most of the way back, Holden looking increasingly nervous. My heart was pounding, too. I didn't know when I'd see him next, and I already missed him. And that terrified me. I wanted more time.
Don't go,
I wanted to say.
Please don't go. Not yet.
But I couldn't, and I wouldn't, and he'd asked me to give him time. Lost in my own thoughts, I hardly noticed when we arrived at the edge of the woods where he would leave me for his lodge. Holden leaned back against a tree and crossed his arms over his chest. He'd put his T-shirt back on, and it was mostly dry, but his jeans were still damp. He closed his eyes, his expression pained.

Forcing a smile and suddenly feeling very awkward and shy, I took a deep breath and stepped closer to him. "The look on your face . . . you look as if you're going off to war," I teased, trying to lighten the mood.

Holden released a gush of air. "Not exactly . . . but it kind of feels like it. Will you be waiting for me, Lily?"

I wasn't even sure exactly what I was waiting
for.
Holden Scott confused me, and I felt completely out of my depth. But, for me, there was only one answer. I smiled. "Yes." His eyes roamed over my face.

"Why do you look at me that way?" I asked softly.

"What way?"

"Like you're trying to memorize me. Like you think I might disappear."

"I didn't realize I was," he said, moving a piece of hair away from my face. "Please don't disappear."

I shook my head. "I won't." I stepped even closer, and he suddenly seemed to become very aware of me, standing taller, his eyes intently focused. I took one final step into his space and went up on my tiptoes and pressed my lips to the side of his mouth, just intending to give him one simple kiss.

For a second he seemed frozen, and then a strange guttural sound came from his throat and he turned his head so that my lips slid on top of his and our mouths were pressed together. I jolted slightly and his arms were suddenly around me, making it impossible to move away as I'd almost done. I opened my eyes and saw his were closed and there were lines creased between his brows as if he were in pain. I wasn't sure what that meant, so I let my lashes flutter closed again and waited to see what he would do next. I startled when I felt the tip of his tongue come out and run along the opening of my lips. Instinctively, my own tongue came out to lick my lips where he had so that I could taste him on my mouth. He made another one of those growling sounds I thought meant he liked what was happening and used his tongue to open my mouth wider so he could slip inside. I let out a quick panting breath and opened for him as intense pleasure shivered through me. Holden's hand came to the back of my head and he tilted it, which brought his tongue deeper into my mouth. His kiss sent sensation from the tip of my tongue all the way to my knees, and I let my weight fall against him as I met his probing tongue with my own. I wanted to be closer, to absorb all of him, to experience the shimmery feeling flowing through my veins for as long as possible.

I ran my hands up his back. The feel of his shifting muscles under my hands enhanced the pleasure of the kiss, and I couldn't help moaning into his mouth. He pulled me closer, answering my moan with one of his own.

Our kiss deepened as I followed his lead, letting my tongue dance with his, tasting his masculine essence. He tasted salty and sweet and more wonderful than I ever could have imagined.

I didn't know how long we kissed, but after a little while he pulled back, sprinkling smaller kisses all around my mouth and down my jaw. I gave another little shiver when his lips brushed against the sensitive skin of my neck. "Lily," Holden said and his voice sounded breathless and hoarse, "the things you're doing to me right now. I'm trying to control myself, but—"

"Don't control yourself. Please just kiss me one more time," I whispered against his mouth. "I want to taste your tongue again."

Holden groaned and put his hands on the sides of my face and kissed me again, our tongues stroking and tangling for long delicious minutes. When he finally ended the kiss, he was panting again and I could feel the slight shivering of his body, as if he was barely controlling something.

"I have to stop, Lily. I don't want to, but I have to. I'm going to catch on fire if I don't." I nodded. He sounded so desperate as if he was in some sort of agony. I had a vague idea of what he was feeling.
My
body felt hot and achy and unfulfilled despite having just experienced something so incredible. If more kissing led to more hot achiness, I might catch fire, too. I raised my eyes to his and he looked at me tenderly, using his knuckles to run along my cheek. I leaned in to his touch and smiled. I felt dreamy and giddy and so very, very happy. He leaned forward and kissed my eyelids, and I laughed softly at the ticklish feel of his lips. He rubbed his rough jaw against my cheek and I giggled again, feeling the smile on his lips. "Lily," he whispered. "Lily of the Night. How do I say goodbye to you now?"

"With happiness," I whispered, "because we'll see each other soon. And when we do, you'll kiss me again."

"Yes," he choked out, "yes, I will." I kissed him one final time, softly and sweetly on the corner of his lips, the way I'd first intended. And then I backed away from him, our arms extended, our fingers joined, until they slipped apart. And then I turned and walked away, looking back only once to find Holden still leaning against the tree at the edge of the forest, watching me as I left him where he was.

Holden

Watching her walk away was the hardest thing I'd ever done. But I knew what I needed to do. Lily had shown me. She didn't know it, but she had, by giving me a taste of peace, of happiness and comfort. I wanted those things. Craved them with an ache deep in my soul. I'd forgotten, and she'd reminded me what joy felt like, reminded me that I was still capable of holding happiness in my heart.
It wasn't too late. Not if I didn't let it be.

The way she'd tasted . . . like
hope
, both familiar and unknown. I wanted to beg her to hold my hand as I did what I knew I needed to do, to soothe me as my body withdrew from the numbing chemicals I'd been using to escape my pain and unhappiness for far too long. But I knew this was something I had to do alone if I wanted any chance of offering her all of me—not this fragmented man I was now. And if Lily saw who I really was, saw what I'd done to my body, I knew it would only scare her and probably drive her away. Brandon had been right—
I
needed to be the one to make the choice. And ultimately, I was the only one who could do the work. And though I wanted Lily in my life like nothing I'd wanted in a very long time, I also had to do this for
me
. I had to want to get better for myself, most of all. 

Closing the door of the lodge behind me, I went straight to the kitchen where I'd left the plastic bag with the handful of pills I still had left. Not allowing myself to think, I walked straight to the bathroom and opened the bag over the toilet and flushed, watching the water swirl and drain, the pills disappearing. Just for good measure, I flushed again. And then dread filled me. And so I closed my eyes and pictured Lily. Beautiful, mysterious Lily. I would go back to her better than I'd been, and I'd ask her to share all her secrets. And maybe I'd be brave enough to share mine.

**********

"Fuuuuuuck," I groaned miserably. By the next afternoon, every muscle in my body had seized up and my stomach was wracked with agonizing cramps. I writhed in pain on the couch, my legs pulled up to my stomach. Sweat dripped down my forehead. I was going to die. There was no way I could survive this misery. Why had I tossed out the pills? God,
why?
Not able to sit still for more than a few minutes, I got up and staggered into the kitchen and poured myself a glass of water, shaking so badly, I’d spilled most of it by the time I got the glass to my mouth.

I wanted to escape my own body—get out, get free. The feeling of claustrophobia compounded the fear and anxiety I was already feeling. I was trapped now. Trapped in my own skin. There was no way I could drive and it would take someone else at least a day to get to me. And then longer to get me anywhere I could convince someone to write me a prescription for the pain pills I needed so badly.

Sometime later that evening, I heard the sound of someone's feet coming up the stairs. I was sitting on the floor of the shower, my arms wrapped around my legs, lukewarm water raining down on me. It had started out hot and had worked for a while to soothe my screaming muscles, but now it was barely tepid. I'd thought about getting in the hot tub, but decided the shower was wiser given the state I was in. If I fell asleep, I'd be safer here. My body was in so much agony, the footsteps barely stirred any emotion in me. I supposed I should be concerned, alarmed, curious at least, but I couldn't figure it out, much less drum up an appropriate response.

"Well, this is not how I expected to find you," came the female voice.
Oh no. No. Fuck no.
I was dead. I was dead and I was in hell. And one of Satan's servants had just shown up to torture me. I turned my head and looked blearily through the glass of the shower door.
Taylor.
The 49ers’ manager's daughter and my ex-girlfriend.

"What are you doing here?" I managed.

Taylor opened the shower door, causing me to fall out onto the floor in a groaning heap. "Holy fuck. What the hell is happening with you?" She actually sounded a little concerned.

I crawled over to the toilet and threw up. "Oh God! Jesus," Taylor yelled, the noise making me feel ten times worse than I already did. I hadn't thought that was possible. I heard her heels clicking on the bathroom tile. A minute later she came back with a washcloth, ran cold water over it, and leaned over me to wipe my forehead and around my mouth.

"What are you doing here, Taylor?" I mumbled bleakly.

"I came to see you, to spend some alone time with you." There was a note of disgust in her voice. Clearly me vomiting upon her arrival had not been part of the plan.

"Why?" I closed my eyes, feeling a cold sweat break out on my skin again. "We broke up over four months ago." The cool washcloth was back on my forehead, and it felt good. My brain was so hazy.

Taylor was silent for a minute. "It was four
weeks
ago. Do you have no concept of time? And we did
not
break up. You just started acting all weird and distant and I needed a breather. Anyway, none of that matters. I've been thinking about you. And when I figured out where you must be, I knew I needed to come to you. This is the perfect place to get reacquainted, don't you think?"

Think? What? No.
"Will you help me get to the couch?" I didn't have the strength to listen to her, much less argue or care about anything she was saying.

Taylor helped me stand up, and I grabbed a towel with my shaking hands, wrapped it around my waist, and limped downstairs to the couch where I fell onto it.

"What's wrong with you, anyway?"

"I'm withdrawing, Taylor. Just leave me here to die, please," I mumbled into the leather.

"Oh, shit. Listen, I applaud your efforts to get clean, but going cold turkey is just stupid. I've seen this before. I brought you some pills—you left a couple bottles at my apartment and I threw them in my suitcase. You need to wean yourself—"

I brought myself to a sitting position, grimacing and clenching my jaw as my muscles locked up. "You have some pills?" I asked desperately. Oh sweet fucking relief. I'd do anything to feel better, even just for an hour.
Anything. Anything.

"Yeah, a couple bottles." She came over me on the couch and straddled my lap. She used her index finger to trace my lips and leaned in slowly and kissed me, her long, dark hair creating a curtain around us. "Say please," she said silkily.

"Jesus fucking Christ, just give me the damn pills," I almost shouted.

Taylor stood up, giving me a sulky frown. "Okay, okay, testy. Relax." She moved toward some luggage sitting next to the front door and rooted around for what seemed like forever. I wanted to scream. I got up and walked over to her, letting the towel fall to the floor. I didn't give a damn. "Ah, here we go." She held up a bottle of Percocet and I greedily grabbed for it, trying twice to open it with my shaking hands before finally prying the top off and downing two pills without any water. I made my way to the kitchen and drank from the faucet, then stumbled back into the living room and sagged down on the sofa, breathing rapidly, already feeling the drug coursing through my veins bringing relief. Sweet. Blessed. Relief.

"There, that's better, right?" Taylor asked, again straddling my lap. I put my hands on her hips to move her, but then found I didn't have the strength. "Why are you doing this anyway? Why like this?"

"Because I need to get back to my life. Back to the team."

"There's no rush, though, is there? They can manage without you while you take your time getting better."

I didn't bother explaining anything to her. Either way,
she
wasn't part of my future. "Get off me, Taylor."

She wiggled. "Aw, come on. Now that you're feeling better and I'm here, let's have a little fun. You do remember fun, don't you?"

"I don't want fun. I want to sleep. And I need you to leave."

She trailed her finger down my chest, looking thoughtful. "Hey, I know you're still messed up about what happened. We all are. But wallowing won't bring him back. He'd want—"

"Goddammit! Get
off
me!"
You wouldn't know a fucking thing about what he'd want. You didn't even really know him.

She sat up straight, but didn't move away. "Well, isn't that a real nice thanks I get for coming all the way out here to Bumfuck Egypt, bringing you what you obviously needed at just the moment you needed it, and even," she trailed a nail down my naked chest, "intending on showing you the fun you've obviously been missing. I even brought some toys. You missed me, didn't you, baby? Come on, we had a good thing, and we only barely got started." She leaned in and sucked on my earlobe.

I again thought about pushing her off, but the intense relief of finally getting a fix—of the agony in my muscles releasing—was so wonderful, I suddenly couldn't even bring myself to be overly annoyed by her unwanted attention. "Didn't you?" she purred. "I know I missed you." She reached her hand down and squeezed my dick. "I missed
this.
"

"Enough," I slurred, pushing her hands away. "Get off me."

She sighed loudly but removed her body from mine. "Fine. I get it. You need to freshen up. Let's go to bed and in the morning, you'll feel better."

"Who brought you here?" I asked, my eyes still closed.

"Kelly. She was here for one of Brandon's parties and kept the directions. She'll be back to pick me up in a few days."
Jesus, presumptuous much?

"How'd you know I was here?"

"Brandon told someone who told someone . . . you know how it goes." No, that didn't sound like Brandon. More likely she used some more devious method to find out. What Taylor wanted, Taylor got.
Conniving bitch.

I sighed. "You need to call Kelly and tell her to turn around."

"Excuse me?"

"Call Kell—"

"I'm going to make myself a drink," she said. "You want something?"

"No. And there's no alcohol here."

"Not to worry," she sing-songed, her voice fading as she moved toward the kitchen. "I brought my own."

Jesus, what a clueless idiot she was. And so was I. I'd slurped down her pills without a second's thought. And now the past day and a half was all for nothing.
Nothing.

I gripped my hair, self-hatred assaulting me. I sat up slightly and turned my head toward the window.

Lily was standing just a couple feet from the deck staring upward.

I bolted to my feet, clutching my scalp and yelling an obscenity as the blood rushed straight to my brain, causing the throbbing in my head to sharpen. I picked up my towel, covered myself, and ran to the door, calling Lily's name as I threw it open. She'd turned and started to head back toward the woods, but when she heard me calling her name, she halted, but then picked up her pace again, now running.

The look on her face . . . pure devastation.

Oh God. Oh God
. She'd seen Taylor sitting on my lap fondling me, seen my hands on her hips, but not pushing her away. "Lily," I called again, clutching the towel around my waist. I wanted to shout out a stream of expletives. "Lily, please," I begged.

When she reached the shadows at the edge of the woods, she finally slowed and turned toward me. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come. I was just worried about you. I just . . . wanted to make sure you got home okay. That you saw . . ." She bit her lip. "I just wanted to check on you. It was . . ." She shook her head as if she didn't know how to continue. I wanted to grab her and haul her body into mine. I wanted to tell her how to me she was an oasis in the middle of the desert I'd been crawling through for the last day and a half.

"What are you
doing
out there?" Taylor yelled from the deck.

"Jesus Christ! Go inside, Taylor. Now," I yelled over my shoulder. Taylor crossed her arms and even from the distance, I could see she was glaring daggers at me.

"God, Brandon said you were acting nuts!" Taylor shouted and stomped inside. "But you're really just a fucking dick!"

When I turned back to Lily, she had moved more deeply into the woods. "Wait," I called, running after her, holding the towel around myself, my body only barely strong enough to run at all. Lily started moving more swiftly.

"Lily, Lily, please, just listen to me," I called after her. "Wait, please, Lily. I want . . . I want . . ." She whirled around, her cheeks flushed, her eyes wells of hurt.

"What?" she demanded. "What
do
you want, Holden? What do you want with
me
? It certainly doesn't look like you're lonely."

I shook my head. "Please, what you saw back there is not what you think it was. Taylor is not my girlfriend. Or at least . . . I didn't consider her my girlfriend. She . . . the point is, I haven't thought about or seen her in months. Please, it's not what you think," I repeated.

She shrugged, letting out a small brittle laugh. "I don't think anything. I have no idea what to think. God, what do you want with
me
? What do you want?" She turned without waiting for an answer and for a moment I stood frozen. What did I say?