A small smile pushes to his lips.

  “He’s a very rich man, Violet, and I know he never told you that. Besides what he’ll inherit, there’s a trust in his name that will ensure him a very comfortable living for the rest of his life. The thing is, he didn’t want to wait until he gets his money. He was afraid that he might lose you. That’s why he wanted to be independent as soon as possible. He wanted to be a man for you, and when you broke up with him, he felt as if he was nothing but some jerk good for fucking. All this time, he did his best to be what he thought you wanted in a man. That’s why he looked for work overseas, and that’s why he tried to convince you to live with him. He thought, that if he gave you a taste of a different life, you’d understand and want to be with him for good, but he confessed to me. He always felt as if he had to beg you to give him a chance.”

  “I didn’t want to make him feel that way,” I mutter.

  “But you did, and if you want to get him back, you have to show him something different. You have to show him that you really love him. The kind of love that never falters, no matter how hard life is. There can’t be hesitation or seconds thoughts with him. Show him loyalty, and he’ll believe in you, and then he’ll love you back with all his heart.”

  “Is that what you did?” I ask quietly.

  “Yes. That’s what I did...” he says softly, his voice trailing off, his eyes glinting with a warm smile. “If you do that you’re not going to regret it.”

  “I wish you’d love me as much as you love him,” I murmur.

  He smiles.

  “I love you as much as I can without forgetting that you are his woman,” he says, gently stroking my face with his fingers.

  “Do you still think that?”

  He nods.

  “He saw you first. I always have to keep that in mind.”

  A moment of silence slips between us.

  “How was Rome?” I ask.

  He flashes a mysterious smile.

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Everything.”

  “We loved each other,” he says. “You would’ve liked it. It was a nice place.”

  His gaze drops to my lips.

  “The place or you two loving each other?”

  He laughs softly.

  “I’d say us fucking each other, although the place wasn’t bad at all.”

  “He loved it?”

  “Yes, he did. I’ll take you there one day when we get him back,” he say.

  His lips connect with mine so tenderly, and gently, my heart swells and weeps in my chest.

  14

  VIOLET, New York

  His phone goes off, and my eyes flip open. I check the time. It’s five o’clock in the afternoon.

  Braxton’s hand peels off my stomach, his naked body tearing away from mine.

  He rolls to the other side of the bed and snatches the phone off the nightstand.

  “Yeah... What is it?” he asks, his voice hoarse, his eyes closed, heavy with sleep.

  A male voice scrambles words in his phone.

  “What?!” Braxton breathes out and rolls off the bed.

  I pull up to my elbow, my pulse racing. He slides his lounge pants on, rushes to the other room and turns on the TV.

  The breaking news rips into the silence.

  He lowers the volume and talks on his phone, questions rolling off his lips. Suddenly awake, I clamber out of bed, shrug into the robe, and shuffle to him.

  He whips his head to me as I set foot in the room. Before he can say anything, the words streaming from the TV start bleeding in my ears.

  “... one of the worst attacks in London. More than one hundred people are dead, and almost two hundred are wounded in what seems to be a planned attack that has targeted a concert venue. Firefighters were able to contain the blaze that destroyed half of the building where thousands of people crammed to see the latest DJ sensation...”

  My knees give in, my hand shooting to my mouth.

  “Braxton?!”

  He opens his arms and catches me, his back blocking my view of the TV.

  “Braxton?! I scream again, my face washed with tears. “Where is he?”

  His face is as white as the snow outside.

  “They don’t know.”

  “Who’s they?”

  “His parents.”

  “Who called you?”

  “My dad,” he says, and his jaw clenches, his eyes glinting with tears. “I have to fly back,” he says eerily calm, or maybe it’s my mind that process it that way, or perhaps he’s in shock.

  “I’ll come with you.”

  “I don’t know if this is the best thing to do right now.”

  “I have to see him!” I shout, and he wraps his arms around me, holding me tight as I begin to sob. It takes minutes before I finally quiet down. “I have to see him, Braxton. Please,” I say, and he runs his palm over my face wiping my tears.

  “Okay...” he says with a broken voice, “but we have to brace ourselves for the worst,” he adds, tense as if it pains him to speak.

  “What happened?” I ask.

  “There was a fire, and knife attacks and... you’ve heard the rest on TV.”

  He looks down at his phone.

  “We have to rush. The plane leaves in less than two hours.”

  BRAXTON, London

  My heart beats cold as we enter my flat. His clothes lie on the chair the way he had left them before he walked out, the imprint of his head etched on a pillow in my bed, his empty glass abandoned on the nightstand.

  I glance around, my body hollow, my chest tight.

  “Do you want coffee?” I ask, and turn to her.

  The morning light makes her face look even paler.

  Dull eyes gaze back at me, stripped of life.

  “Okay,” she says softly as she shrugs out of her coat.

  I stroll to the kitchen and turn the machine on, and then I rest my hands on the counter and wait. I pull my phone out of the pocket and check the screen.

  Having a hard time breathing, I click on the London attack hashtag, my finger scrolling mechanically as pictures taken by the bystanders fill the feed.

  The fangs of panic sink into my chest. It’s way worse than what they showed on TV. Dozens of bloodied bodies strapped on the gurneys being rushed inside the ambulances. Some completely covered. Most likely burned. Or dead.

  A tear trickles down my face. The dead count went up within the last hour. Some of the wounded didn’t survive, and then there were those who didn’t make it outside.

  I clutch my phone.

  Anger spills in my grip, but in my heart, there’s only silence. I set the phone on the counter, and close my eyes.

  He can’t be leaving me like that. That’s not possible. Our last conversation comes to my mind, his voice and words… haunting me.

  Please, Jagger. You can’t leave like that. Not angry and distant and alone. Please, man…

  My heart wails in my chest, a voice shouting in my mind at this shitty Universe that makes life unbearable at times.

  I chant his name inside my head, calling him again and again. Begging him…

  I try to reach out to him through this big nothing we call fate that’s nothing more than grim reality, somehow hoping to connect with him.

  Is he alive? Wounded? Is he burned? Or missing?

  The beeping sound of the machine jolts me back to the present moment. I fill two cups and take them to the living room.

  She sits on the floor, hugging herself, her face pressed against her knees.

  “Here is your coffee,” I say, and gently touch her shoulder. “You can lie on the bed if you want to.”

  She shakes her head, her chest rocking with a quiet sob.

  I place the cup on the table and sink into an armchair, my eyes flying to the window.

  A thick blanket of snow covers the park in front of the building. Fog sits low on the trees, the street lights glowing dimly on the alleys. A man walks his dog.

  I stare blankly at him, the memories of last summer flashing in front of my eyes. The sun and the beach, the turquoise waves, and golden sand.

  Jagger’s image comes to life. He looks real as if he’s here with me, and I drink him in, relishing every snapshot of him. His sparkling eyes, and handsome face, his soft hair, all messy from the wind. And then, his spellbinding smile, lighting up his features.

  My heart beats faster.

  I feel him close, inside of me, alive and happy. Playful. His body is whole. His heart is free. The sun and sea surrounding him, and loving him… The way I did.

  His laughter echoes in my ears and then I feel the tingles on my lips as if he… kisses me. And in the end, I hear his voice. He looks at me, his eyes dreamy like his words.

  I love you, Brax. I always did.

  Pain rips through my chest as if this is his goodbye.

  “Braxton??”

  Desperate, Violet grips my shoulder and shakes me firmly. I flip my eyes to her, tears streaming down my face, falling on my chest.

  “What? What happened?”

  She hands me my phone.

  “It’s his dad,” she says, her face lifeless.

  I grab the phone and pull out of the chair, stepping near the window.

  She stands at my side.

  “Yes?” I say softly.

  “We found him,” he says, his voice flat, and I brace myself. “He’s alive...” he continues, this time relieved.

  “Okay?” I say, cautious.

  “He wasn’t caught in the fire, and that’s good...”

  “But...?”

  “He was stabbed several times as he was trying to get out and faced one of the attackers.”

  I stay quiet, and he continues.

  “He has an abdomen wound that luckily didn’t touch vital organs, and also his arm and shoulder are slashed. He was in surgery up until an hour ago, but he’s in a stable condition now.”

  “Can I see him?”

  “Yes. But not now. In the afternoon.”

  I turn to Violet and notice the tremble of her lips.

  “Is Sonia with you?”

  “Yes, she is here too.”

  “Okay. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

  I place the phone on the table, and she clamps her hand over her mouth, sobbing.

  VIOLET, London

  We walk down a hospital corridor filled with personnel, family members, and press. A security guy shuffles people around, trying to maintain the order.

  His mom’s blonde hair comes into view first, and then his dad’s silhouette, next to the window.

  They pivot toward us as we get closer, Sonia’s gaze sweeping me briefly before she starts talking to Braxton.

  “He’s awake...” his dad says. “They’re changing the wound dressings.”

  Their voices become a distant hum as I shift my focus away and look out the window at the falling snow, my mind wandering away.

  Six months ago, one summer evening, curiosity nudged me to peek at the man who’s now lying on a hospital bed inside that room.

  I remember the moment I laid my eyes on him. His charm was irresistible. His youthfulness and playfulness put a spell on me.

  Six months ago, he kissed me for the first time and invited me into his world, showing me something different, and by doing so, he’s changed my life completely.

  He gave me a taste for adventure and helped me free my mind and myself, and then, he brought the other man into my life. His best friend. The man he loves. And now, the man I love.

  He stands not far from me, his eyes as beautiful as the sky, his heart deeper than the sea.

  I study Braxton as he tilts his head down and speaks softly about the man we both love and I realize how deeply I care for him, and how much I need him.

  The medical personnel leave the room as Braxton walks inside. I follow him, and I barely go past the doorway when I hear Jagger’s voice.

  Gravelly and heavy, almost unrecognizable.

  “I don’t want her here.”

  The sky falls on me.

  “Jagger?”’ Braxton calls him, and then he glances at me.

  “Tell her to go,” he says.

  “Don’t do that, Jagger.”

  “I don’t want to see her,” he snaps, and I step backward, my back hitting the wall.

  Braxton whips his head in my direction, and I see the surprise and horror on his face as I turn around and rush outside.

  I swish by Jagger’s parents who look at me, dumbstruck, and I dart to the closest door. I swing it open and fly down the stairs.

  “Violet??”

  Braxton catches me within moments, grabs me and pins me against the wall.

  “Don’t you fucking do that,” he growls.

  “You heard him,” I say, tears shedding from my eyes.

  “Listen... Listen to me!!” he shouts, shaking me, his eyes glinting with desperation. “You have to keep it together, baby. If you run away, you give up on me too,” he says, his eyes washed with panic.

  “He hates me,” I say, and start whimpering.

  “He doesn’t hate you. He’s hurt because he loves you. He’ll get over it. Let him find his way. You have to have patience and strength. You have to show him that you love him, and he’ll come back to you. Please...” he says with a softer voice, his thumbs brushing the tears from my face. “If you love him, and me, don’t give up on us. Go back to my flat and wait for me there. I’ll go and talk to him right now, and I’ll see you later. Okay?”

  I manage to give him a soft nod.

  “Good.”

  He leans in and kisses me softly and then pulls away as I walk down the stairs, exit the hospital, hail a cab, and get back to his place.

  BRAXTON, London

  David and Sonia left to grab something to eat.

  I push the door open and enter the hospital room. Propped on the pillow, he looks outside, his head turned away from me.

  The sky is gray, soft snow sifting from the clouds. I pull a chair close to his bed and sit next to him, my fingers sliding on his.

  “Hey,” I call him softly.

  Without moving his head much, he shifts his gaze to me, the sight of his vacant eyes ripping my heart apart. A desert stares back at me from between his lashes. There’s nothing left in them. His heart is only ashes.

  He looks at me, emptied of life.

  He lost a lot of blood, the doctor said. Dressings cover his abdomen, left arm and shoulder. The other side of his torso is bare.

  His eyes are dark and hollow. His face is pale. His skin is cold. He stares at me or rather through me.

  “Jagger?”

  He cuts his gaze away from me.

  “How is it?” I ask.

  “All right... I guess. It’s better than being burned,” he mutters, cold, the words tearing slowly off his lips.

  “Hurts?”

  He tips his chin down.

  “It would be worse without the meds,” he murmurs.

  “What happened?” I ask quietly.

  A muscle clenches in his jaw.

  “I can’t talk about it…” he says quietly.

  “You want me to leave,” I say, and straighten my back, my hand rolling off the sheet.

  “No, no,” he says, and his hand connects with mine, his eyes locking mine, a bit of light faintly shining through them.

  I pull closer to him and hold his hand between my palms.

  “You’re cold. You need another blanket?”

  He clicks his tongue, and I start to rub his hand until his skin begins to change color and warms up.

  “You lost blood.”

  “The doctor said I'd be fine.”

  “I can help you with some of mine,” I say, serious, and more light glows over his face, tears glinting in his eyes. “I’ll talk to them. All right?” I say, and he gives me a nod.

  Wincing, he pulls up, and I rush to give him a hand. He curls his right arm around my back and doesn’t let go of me.

  I lower myself on his bed, and snake my arms around him, holding him. His chin rests on my shoulder, our cheeks pressing together.

  He’s cold. I’m warm.

  “I’m sorry,” I murmur, hugging him gently.

  He sinks his fingers into my flank as my hand cups the back of his head.

  “I shouldn’t have left. I’ll never leave you alone again,” I mutter, gently stroking his hair.

  He pulls back a little and looks at me with rueful eyes.

  Grappling with my own emotions, I give him a warm smile, my fingers brushing his face softly.

  “You’re gonna get better... You’ll see. We’ll swim again and sit by the fire, and then we’ll watch the sunset together and dream of freedom again,” I murmur, my words trailing off as his lips start to tremble, and tears wash his eyes. “Things will be good again...” I say and hug him again. “You’ll forget all this... I promise you,” I whisper in his ear. “Okay?”

  He nods softly, and I feel him broken, shaking in my arms.

  I brush his bangs away from his brow, and stroke his face, and then, I lean to him and kiss him softly on his lips.

  Smoothly, I pull back, a light enlivening his eyes.

  “Sonia and David will be here tonight,” I say softly. “I’ll stay with you tomorrow, the whole day. If things are good, you should be able to come home soon.”

  “They want me to go back to the States,” he says with a faint voice.

  “And you?”

  He slowly shakes his head and looks at me. “I can’t be away from you... Not now.” He dips his gaze to my hands as he ponders for a moment. “How long is she staying?”