Summer by Summer (35 page)

Something already had happened to him, and I realized how stupid I was — how utterly stupid I was to let him go. I promised myself to never be stupid again. And if Bray would forgive me, if he
could
forgive me, I’d never let him go again.

I sneaked past the nurse’s station when I arrived.

Bray’s room was at the far end of the hall, so I entered silently and waited for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. I clutched a copy of my manuscript beneath my arm and felt myself squeezing it closer to my side as my eyes focused on him.

The room was private and filled with enough plants and flowers to make it less like a hospital room and more like a funeral home. And there he lay. Quiet. Flat on his back.

My throat closed.

What were they
thinking
? He wasn’t dead. Just sleeping. I scurried to the wall and flipped on the light, bathing the room in fluorescent hope. Bray didn’t flinch, didn’t move. Just stayed motionless, his body stretched out on the bed.

“Looks like I got here just in time,” I said, forcing the words through my cried-out throat. “Another day or two more and they’d confuse you with the garden.” My voice was hollow. Trembling words bounced off the walls and returned to me. Terror filled them, my attempts at cheer failing miserably.

I stopped at the head of Bray’s bed. A chair had already been pulled along the bedside, but I stood and stroked the hair from his brow.

“Time to wake up, sleepyhead.” Nothing. Eyelids covered the most beautiful part of him. I wished I could see his eyes in that moment. But really, what had I expected? I’d say hello and he’d come out of the coma? Guess I really was gullible.

But this wasn’t right. This wasn’t Bray. He was all life and energy and movement, like a perpetual ball that never stopped rolling down a hill. “Bray,” I whispered.

When waiting for him to answer became too much, I sat down and dropped the book on my lap. “Fine, if you won’t wake up, I’m going to tell you a story. It’s about us. I think you’re gonna love it.”

Before I began, I closed my eyes and prayed. How many times had I prayed on the island? Bray always knew when I did, though I
never told him. He knew because he knew me. He was part of me. And I was part of him. I read for the next three hours without taking a break. My back hurt and my butt was numb from the uncomfortable hospital chair, but I forged on. When I got to the part about Michael, the night I’d huddled in the tarp to tell Bray about the worst night of my life, I heard a noise behind me. I spun toward the door to find a tall, slender nurse in the doorway. I jumped up, clutching the papers.

A Styrofoam cup rested in her hand. “I thought you might need a cup of hot tea.”

“You’re not going to make me leave?”

She smiled, her gray eyes full of compassion. “No. I don’t think you’re doing him any harm. You’re her, aren’t you?”

I took the cup, played with the rim. “Summer.”

“He said your name sometimes before the coma. When he was sleeping, he’d call out for you.”

The cup became a blur as tears puddled in my eyes. “Why doesn’t he wake up?”

She shrugged and took the large lidded cup from beside Bray’s bed. “There’s no physical reason. Doctor Valens says he should be awake, but it’s like he has no will to live.”

“Is that from the meningitis?”

She’d been pouring him fresh water at the sink when she stopped. “I don’t think so.” Her gray eyes cut like lasers into me.

I stepped back. “Why, then?”

The nurse filled her lungs and paused at the foot of Bray’s bed. “I heard of a man in Oregon who died of a broken heart.”

My fingers tightened on the small cup in my hands, nearly collapsing it.

The nurse moved to the side of the bed and sat the water within Bray’s reach. As if he needed it. As if he could just get a drink. She hovered over him, looking down at his closed eyes and smoothed
the hair from his forehead, just as I’d done. “But I’m sure that won’t happen here.”

I watched as she left the room. Goose bumps spread across my arms. I hugged myself. But there was no comfort in it. Just the reminder of how alone I was. All because I was too shallow to give Bray what he needed. Forgiveness. I held his past against him, and that was a horrible thing to do when he’d allowed me to dump all my burdens on his shoulders.

Picking up where I left off, I read about the night I shared the story of Michael with him. I’d expected all the pain to return, hearing the words out loud, but it didn’t. Bray hadn’t kissed me that night, even though he’d wanted to.

In a tremendous rush of emotion, I realized Bray was everything to me. I tossed the papers on the floor and laid my head on his chest. “I’m sorry, Bray. I’m so sorry. You deserve better than this.”

As I cried, more tears came, traveling from so deep within me, it felt like my soul was pouring out. “I was scared. I shut you out, but you never let me go. Bray, I love you so much it killed me to think of you with someone else. I’m so sorry. I should have been brave for you. I wish I was brave.”

I choked on the last words. My hands fisted into the blanket. The scent of bleach was heavy as my tears soaked a spot on his chest. I tried to pull a breath, but each one caused a little more of me to die inside, so I held my breath for long stretches. Even that didn’t ease the pain. I didn’t know what else to do. Bray might not wake up. Not
ever
wake up. Panic filled my heart, causing my head to pound. Then, a tiny thought occurred to me. “I think . . . I think I see a ship on the horizon. I need you, Bray. I can’t get to it alone.” Those were the last words I had. It was my last shot of getting him to move.

But Bray remained still. And with his lack of movement, the last of my energy waned. So, I stayed right there, head on his chest, eyes closed and empty of life. I’d failed him. I’d so completely failed him.

I don’t know how long I’d been there, but my hair was stuck to my face where dried tears had turned to glue. I started to move, but felt pressure against my head. Someone was holding me there. My eyes shot opened and I pivoted. Bray’s arm was folded across his stomach and disappeared from my view. His hand was on my head. I reached up and grabbed it, excitement and joy causing me to grip it too tightly. I kissed his fingers, pressed them to my face, kissed them again. His hand wasn’t moving on its own. I pressed it to my heart and took a deep breath before I turned to look at Bray’s face. He looked the same. Eyes closed. Just sleeping.

“Bray?” I whispered.

His lids opened slowly, dusky blue eyes having trouble focusing. Then he found me.

“Summer.” It was barely a rasp. “I heard you calling out for me.”

My heart erupted. “I love you, Bray.” I kissed his hand again, then his cheek, then the top of his head.

He blinked, frowned as if trying to track my every movement and unable to. “Slow . . . down.”

“I’m sorry. And you might hate me, but I love you. I love you so much and nothing will ever,
ever
cause me to doubt you again. I’ll be brave, Bray. I swear I will if you’ll just give me one chance.” I knew he was still groggy and probably only catching half of what I said, but half was enough to hear
I love you
.

“Told you . . .” He licked his lips — they looked so dry — his tongue a pale shade of pink. “I’d never give up on you. I never did.”

I clasped his shoulders. “You gave up on
yourself
, Bray. That’s just as bad.” I shouldn’t be scolding him, but couldn’t stop.

His face creaked into a smile. “Am I in trouble?”

“No, not if you marry me.”

For a man who’d been comatose for several days, his strength surprised me. Before I could protest, he dragged me into his arms.
There was nowhere else I’d rather be. And no one else I’d rather be with. Bray belonged to me and I to him.

After a long time, he took my face in his hands. “Can we plan that wedding now?”

“Yes,” I said, through happy tears.

He coughed, and I reached for the big lidded cup beside his bed. He took a few sips.

“I love you, Summer.”

I curled onto the bed beside him. “I think we finally reached the ship on the horizon.”

EPILOGUE

My fairy-tale wedding
was everything I’d dreamed. I hadn’t wanted a huge, flashy wedding, just a small one that was a reflection of Bray and me and the love we shared. The honeymoon I left to Bray. My only request: no tropics. I did love the ocean though, and Bray took that into consideration as he drove me to the beach house he’d rented for us on the South Carolina shore. Salty air, sand beneath our feet, but this time all the comforts of home.

My book sold after three New York publishers fought over it at auction. The publishing house that won the bidding war expedited the process so the book would be on the shelves in the next few months.

It was crazy, and the only person more excited about it than me was Bray. We shared it all. He completed me. I completed him. Together, nothing could stop us.

We dropped our bags on the floor of the living room, and he took me by the hand. At the top of a wide staircase, a door opened into a beautiful loft bedroom. I stepped inside and tried to look in every direction at once, but it was impossible. A thick rug covered the floor, white flowers dotted with greenery sat on every surface, and a set of French doors that led to a balcony overlooking the Atlantic Ocean took up one entire wall.

“It’s beautiful.”

He smiled and headed for the doors. “Open?”

I nodded. “Yes.” Instantly I was hit by the gusting wind. It wove into my hair and pressed my dress to my body. The breeze was chilly, but wonderful. Bray stepped behind me, his hands roaming over my arms. We knew each other so well. Knew the curves of the other’s body though we’d never broken our vow to wait. But the island had caused an intimacy between us. I wasn’t nervous. I belonged to Bray, and this was just one more step to joining ourselves forever.

When I angled to look up at him, he captured my mouth with his, and I was swept away in the sea that was Bray. My protector, my friend, my husband. Eyes dark with desire drew away to look at me. “Are you scared?”

“No.” Every part of me was at perfect peace. A hand slipped behind my knees and he scooped me into his arms. He’d be my first and only. I didn’t give myself away easily. And Bray was worth the wait.

Later that night, we lay side by side, listening to the ocean crash against the shore. Bray wound his hands into my hair. “Any regrets?”

What could I regret? I was with the man I loved and we’d proven our commitment by honoring a promise I’d made to myself long before I ever knew him. Bray had saved my life, pulled me from the grave of depression, even took a bullet to protect me, but I’d never, ever felt more safe than at this very moment. “None. You?”

“Only that I’ve got just one lifetime to spend with you.”

“Well then, let’s make it count.” I leaned up, letting the silk sheet slide from my shoulders, and took his face in my hands to kiss him. I didn’t hold back, I didn’t draw away. I was fully and completely his. And every ounce of difficulty it had taken to not give in to him on the island was worth the suffering. It was worth the waiting. This, this was perfection.

And even if we loved each other from this lifetime right into the next, it still wouldn’t be enough.