Pieces of Summer (A stand-alone novel) (17 page)

Chapter 32

MIKA

“How the hell did she hurt herself?! You swore she wouldn’t have access to anything in here! The fuck are you assholes doing to her? This was supposed to make her better.”

“She broke a toothbrush and filed down the end to a sharp point. We’ll bump up security measures for her. Dr. Kravitz has to push her limits in order to find out what exactly they are. You need to remember your sister isn’t the same person. To help her, we have to study her.”

“You mean you have to fucking hurt her. That’s what you mean. She has a motherfucking brain injury. Stop treating her like she’s some psych patient and treat her like she’s incompetent instead!”

Aidan’s rant reaches my ears, and I stare at the ceiling as they continue to argue outside the door to my hospital room. My stomach aches, but my heart is what hurts the most.

Aidan thinks I’m unfixable. He thinks I’m incompetent. Maybe I was for the first three months when words were muddled and unclear, but as that faded, I began to realize the severity of my situation.

Incompetent? No. Fucking terrified of everything? Yes. It’s like having no filter on anything you feel. Everything is more intense… more severe. Each mistake is dire and consuming. Everything is worse. The part I need to hold me back and keep me rational is… gone. Just gone. And I don’t know how to get it back. But Dr. Kravitz swears he can retrain my brain. He promises I can be functional again without being sedated when something goes wrong.

A nurse is speaking again. “Everything that makes us a rational human being has been stripped from her. It’s what makes her so unique. It’s why so many leading professionals in their field have offered to help her pro-bono. Don’t you understand? Medicine can’t work. The suicidal tendencies it evokes is beyond extreme because the rational section of her mind is dormant. She’s an extraordinary case, and she has a team of the finest who are looking for the best solution to her problem. But in order to find an organic way to fix her, we have to find out what parts are broken and to what extent.”

“You mean you have to make her even worse before you even attempt to make her better. None of you fucking care about her. I shouldn’t have ever agreed to leave her in that fucking place. From a psych hospital to an emergency room. How is this fucking helping?”

The voices drift off as I continue to stare at the ceiling, counting every dirty spot it has and growing increasingly agitated when I lose count. They should have given me a clean ceiling instead of a dirty one.

My heartrate climbs when I lose count for the third time, and the itch to find relief grows to be suffocating. Tears start falling from my eyes as my gaze traces the dirty spots again, counting frantically, but when I lose count once more, a frustrated scream tears through my lips as I fight the restraints holding my arms to the bed, feeling helpless and trapped.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten… Is that one eleven or was it the one I counted for eight?

Another scream rips free as I struggle harder, wanting to get up and mark them off as I count them so I can stop losing count. My body shakes as more frustration wells inside me, almost manifesting in palpable knots.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight…

My body starts to convulse when I lose count again, and the monitor beside me goes wild as the door flings open.

“What’s happening to her?” someone demands, but I’m too busy trying to find my count again.

One, two, three, four, five…

“Her heartbeat is too fast. She’s seizing! I need—”

“Mika!”

I jerk awake, sucking in a painful breath as Chase shakes me gently, staring at me with wide, horrified eyes. “Mika,” he says softer as my heartbeat drums in my ears, matching its beat in my dream… In my memory.

Chase runs his hand along my cheek, brushing away the sweat-damp hair on my face, as I pant for air. I feel my heart slow down, catching up to the present instead of beating in the past.

“Fuck, baby. What the hell were you dreaming? You were screaming and counting.”

Chase hovers over me, searching my eyes for answers. Instead of giving him anything, I pull him down by the back of the neck and kiss him. Hard. Seeking relief in his touch is dangerous, but I need it, and I want him.

He groans into my mouth like he’s torn about what to do, but I keep kissing him, and he doesn’t pull away. He moves his entire body over mine, settling between my legs, as I lose myself to him and let him chase away the sickening memories.

“Mika,” he says hoarsely, breaking the kiss as I grind against him. “What’s going on, baby? What was that dream?”

My breaths are still harsh and labored, but I stare up into his concerned eyes, even though the darkness hides their beautiful color.

“Just make it stop,” I whisper, repeating his words from so long ago when the roles were reversed and I was the one chasing away his nightmares.

His mouth comes back down on mine, and he tears my panties away, moving his body so he can get them off me completely. When he goes for my shirt, I grab his wrists, stopping him.

He breaks the kiss again and leans back.

“This comes off,” he says without letting me argue, pushing it up and over my head even as I cringe.

When his hands slide over my middle, I know he’s feeling the scars, and it shatters the confidence I had ten seconds ago. But when his lips come back to mine, I forget anything else exists and he lifts my hips, angling me against him.

He grinds against me, and nothing but his boxers separate us, giving us a thin barrier of torture. Reaching between us, I slip my hand inside the annoying boxers and grab him, feeling his hard length against my hand. He thrusts against my hold and groans again before shoving his boxers off and kicking them away.

He forces my hands up above my head as he devours me, and I feel the tip of his erection pushing inside as my breath freezes in my lungs and the kiss stops. He leans up, watching me as he slowly pushes forward, finding out I’m ready just from kissing.

It doesn’t take too much to leave me ready right now. It’s been so long since I’ve felt anyone’s touch. Couple that with the fact he’s the only person I’ve ever wanted touching me, and it’s like my body is on sensory overload.

He pushes in deeper, stretching me, and a whimper-moan leaves my lips. With one hard roll of his hips, he sinks all the way in, and I swear my entire body trembles just from the connection.

“Fuck,” he groans into my neck as he buries his face there. “Tell me you’re on the pill,” he whispers.

There’s no point in lying or telling the truth. “I’m safe,” I tell him quietly.

“Thank fuck,” he says against my neck before rocking his hips again, and I make some strangled, embarrassing sound that proves it’s been too long.

He shifts up onto one elbow, and his eyes find mine in the dark room, holding my gaze as he rocks in and out, setting a slow, torturing rhythm. My hands slide up his firm chest, and one of my hands settles over the bald eagle there, clutching it like it’s mine.

My other hand slides around his neck, digging into his flesh as he drives in and out of me with steady, measured, incredible thrusts. My head tilts back when the sensations wash over me too soon, and my body arches against him, trying to hurry his rhythm when I start rocking against him.

He steadies my hips with one hand, but he jerks me to him as he thrusts in, and it’s the end of me. I shatter and break apart, feeling the explosive orgasm in my stomach unfurl into a rapturous, mind-numbing climax that has me crying out his name and cursing him at the same time.

His thrusts quicken, drawing out the intensity of everything going on inside me at once, and I continue to clench around him as he drop his face to my neck again. When my name rumbles through his lips, my eyes roll back in my head, practically getting high from the way he clings to me and stills at the deepest point.

My legs quiver with aftershock-like tremors, and just his breath against my neck is giving me chills against the overly sensitive flesh of my body. Limply, I run my fingers through his hair, as he holds me to him, wrapping around me the way he always did when we were kids who were trying to figure all this out.

“You were right,” I whisper softly.

“What?” he mumbles, sounding sleepy against me as my grin spreads.

“You’ve definitely gotten better at this.”

His throaty chuckle is muffled against my neck, and I feel the vibrations of it all the way to my core. My heart clenches in my chest, and I stare up at the ceiling, questioning all the possibilities of a better future.

Once upon a time, we were on different ends of this spectrum. I wish I could see a future where this is all works out to be a fairytale ending, but in the end, I know it’s not possible until I’m better. If I’m ever better.

And Chase is the one who deserves better than I can ever give him.

Now I know exactly how he felt all those years ago, and my heart hurts twice as much as it did back then. When a tear slips down my cheek, Chase kisses my neck, still holding onto me.

I guess I can love him while it lasts. I could use just a little light in the darkness for a change. Even if it is selfish.

Chapter 33

CHASE

“You sure you don’t want to just stay in and cook something?” I ask her, bending over to kiss her neck as she slips into a pair of shorts. “Obviously I’m offering to cook, not telling you to cook.”

“Positive. Hate cooking these days,” she says tightly, but her entire body is relaxed against mine.

“I said I’d cook,” I tell her, grinning when her breath hitches just because I’m kissing a path down her neck.

She woke up at two in the morning, terrified, and for the first time ever, I got to chase her nightmares away like she did mine. Okay, so not exactly the same way. Before we ever had sex, she would kiss me and curl against me. Just letting me hold her was enough to stave off the dark shadows in my mind.

Before we ever kissed, she’d hold me to her and run her fingers through my hair while I listened to her voice. I was usually stuck half in the nightmare, unsure of what she was saying, but slowly I’d come out of it, and she’d be talking about something completely random. It almost makes me laugh just thinking back to how easy it was for her to change my life three months a year by simply talking.

She never acted the least bit fazed when I jerked awake and was panicking or screaming as a kid. She never freaked out when I woke up in a cold sweat and clung to her as a teen. She never freaked out when I woke her up and took her as a sixteen-year-old who was desperately losing myself inside her just to forget my reality.

Last night was the first time I’ve ever been her light though. Then we spent the rest of the night getting reacquainted with each other’s bodies. She’s definitely more into it now than when we were kids, and she blew my mind back then. It felt good to blow her mind for once.

The only thing that bothers me is the fact I don’t even know what shadows haunt her dreams.

“You want to talk about what your dream was?” I ask her.

She shifts out of my arms and turns to face me, forcing a smile.

“Not yet. Eventually, but not now.”

Groaning, I turn to follow her out of the room, jogging down the stairs behind her as she goes to grab her purse.

“Mika, you can tell me anything.” The second the words leave my mouth, I regret them, realizing I just took a step back in time instead of being in the present.

She turns to face me with sad eyes. “Twelve years ago, I could have told you everything. And I would have. You were my best friend, Chase. Things changed. Now I can’t just spill my darkest secrets to you. We can’t pick up where we left off as though these past twelve years didn’t happen. It doesn’t work that way.”

She seems like she’s repeating something she’s rehearsed at length with a calm, detached tone I don’t like. Yeah, I realize I forgot momentarily we aren’t the same people we were. But it’s almost as though she’s reminding herself more than she’s reminding me.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” I say on a sigh. “We can take this slow.”

Apparently I have to earn her trust all over again, and I get that.

“Slow,” she repeats while looking down. “It’s not about slowing down, Chase. It’s about enjoying it while it lasts.”

“What does that mean?” I ask her, but before I know it, she’s walking up to me, and my question becomes forgotten when she pulls me down and draw me into a kiss that has me forgetting how to think.

The desperate way she clings to me like I’m going to just disappear takes me back to a time when I was a desperate kid clinging to her and the peace she represented… The hope she offered. She saved my life, and now I feel like she’s drowning but won’t let me save her.

That’s my own fault, even if what I did was to save her back then. I wasn’t around when she needed me because I was too busy pushing her away.

Now I’m in the dark, and she’s not letting me in.

“I still haven’t seen your tat,” I tell her, smiling against her lips.

She smiles back and turns around. I pull her shirt up, grimacing when she immediately covers her stomach, despite the fact I can’t see it from back here. My eyes drop down to the eagle at the small of her back that is flying alone. I trace the lines, feeling a sadness in my chest.

“It looks good. Not as good as it could if I had done it, but it’s nice,” I tell her jokingly to lighten the air.

She snickers softly while pulling her shirt down, and I tilt her chin up as she turns around.

“It needs a companion though.”

Her eyes sadden like I’ve said something wrong, and I internally curse myself for pushing too soon again.

“I got one on my arm too,” I tell her, pulling back so she can study it.

“This sleeve is an eagle?” she asks, confused. It takes her a second to realize it’s half eagle half snake. The head creeps up onto my hand, and the wings turn into scales as it slithers up my arm.

Half of it represents her. Half of it represents the coldness that took place in my life after she was gone.

Her eyes meet mine, and she forces a smile. “Guess we both have scars,” she says softly, getting the meaning of it without me having to explain.

“At least you know all of mine.”

She doesn’t break eye contact, and for a second, I think she’s finally going to tell me everything. But she doesn’t. Instead, she turns and grabs her purse.

“Come on. I want a rematch in bowling.”

My lips twitch, but there’s something that concerns me. She can’t seem to bowl at all anymore, and I watch her as she walks toward the door. Her walk is sexy, but it’s completely different from her walk back then. It’s not just the years that changed it, considering her entire posture is different. She used to lean forward a little when she walked. Now she stands straight. It’s almost like she’s an entirely different person with all her new mannerisms and dark secrets.

But when she turns and smiles at me, she’s still the same girl I fell in love with so long ago. Until I look into her eyes and see the hopeless despair. It’s almost like looking at my reflection back in a time when I was stuck with no future.

Nothing makes sense.