No other man in my life could set my body ablaze like Garrett Finnegan. One heated gaze, and I was on fire. One single touch, and I was begging for more. When I was young, I’d never questioned it. He was my ever after, and I loved the way he made me feel. Leaving him, knowing everything I was giving up, had been the hardest thing I’d ever done.
But now, returning and finding myself still hostage to his touch, was the worst kind of agony imaginable. Knowing my heart belonged to someone I couldn’t have felt like walking through life with half of my soul missing.
I dropped my purse on the kitchen counter separating the tiny kitchen from the equally small living space. The entire apartment was pint-sized. With Garrett’s six-foot-plus size, he looked like he was standing in the middle of a hobbit hole.
“Have you lived here long?” I asked, noticing the absence of wall art or decorations.
There was a black couch pushed up against the far wall with a small end table standing next to it. The end table was littered with black-and-white drawings. Some were shoved into notebooks and others were stacked into messy piles. Now, I knew what Garrett did with his free time.
“Since I moved back from college,” he answered.
I chalked his lack of decorative skills to the fact that he was male, but it felt like he’d never really settled, or he’d refused to.
“Do you want a drink?” He shuffled through a cupboard and pulled out a bottle of whiskey.
I cocked my eyebrow, remembering the state he had been in this morning when I arrived.
He quickly defended himself. “One drink,” he clarified.
“Okay, but no whiskey. I don’t know how you can stand that stuff.”
I gave a sour face, and the corners of his mouth curved into a slight smile. It was the first time I’d seen a hint of one all day. He turned back toward the cupboard and pulled out some rum and orange juice from the refrigerator.
“I don’t have pineapple juice, but orange juice will be a good stand-in,” he said.
Malibu and pineapple was my favorite drink, and he still remembered.
He began mixing everything and chuckled to himself. “Do you remember the first time we got drunk?”
“Ugh, yes. You stole a bottle of whiskey from your parents’ liquor cabinet, and we sat at the river with Olivia and whoever she was dating.”
“You ended up puking your guts out into the river that night,” he said.
“You held my hair, and I kept telling you to go away because I was mortified of you seeing me get sick.”
“I would have gladly held your hair back any day,” he replied as he handed me my drink.
It wasn’t the last time he’d held my hair while I got sick.
“Hey!” Garrett greeted me with an enthusiastic grin, “You ready for lunch?” With his green eyes blazing, he looked young and vibrant.
“Yep, let me just drop this stuff off in my locker!”
I twirled around the lock, and I had to start over several times when Garrett kissed my cheek, flicked the pendant around my neck, or tickled me.
“We will never get to eat if you keep doing this!” I teased.
He immediately stopped but had a devilish grin on his face.
“Can’t have that. Man’s gotta eat. In fact—” He took my backpack without letting me unload it, and he threw it over his back. He grabbed me around the waist and hoisted me up and over his massive shoulders.
“Garrett! Put me down!” I screamed.
“Nope. I’m hungry, and we need to eat,” he said, slapping my ass.
“Oh my God!” I said when I heard everyone in the hall laughing and cheering.
He didn’t set me down until we were all the way into the cafeteria. His shit-eating grin said he’d loved every single second, and to be honest, I had, too—minus all the blood rushing to my head.
“Come on, babe, let’s get some food.”
As soon as we hit the line, my stomach rolled. The instant smell of pizza, french fries, and hamburgers made me nauseous. Cafeteria food wasn’t the best to begin with, but I usually could stomach it without much fuss.
“Hey,” Garrett said, cupping my chin. His emerald eyes were filled with concern. “You okay?”
“I don’t feel so well all of a sudden.”
“You want me to get you some crackers or water?” he suggested.
Just the mere mention of food was making me gag. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
I ran for the restroom, passing everyone who’d just cheered for us in the hallway, and I made it just in time. My stomach unloaded everything, yet I was still gagging and heaving.
Suddenly, someone was behind me, holding me and protecting me.
“Shh…it’s okay,” Garrett soothed.
I was clammy and sweaty from being sick. I flushed the toilet, and we walked out of the stall, so I could wash my hands. A freshman looked over at us and saw Garrett, and she quickly scurried out.
“Flu maybe? Do I need to take you home?”
I shook my head, finally coming to terms with what I’d been fearing for weeks. It wasn’t the first time I’d been sick.
“Garrett…I haven’t had my period in two months.”
While his parents had still been at work that afternoon, he’d held me, and we had cried together as we waited those three minutes for that stupid stick to tell us our future. It was called a pregnancy test, but it should really be called a crystal ball. Gaze into it, and it will tell you your future. When it had come up positive, I hadn’t known what to do, but Garrett had.
Sitting on Garrett’s couch, I found myself staring into an empty glass. I didn’t even realize I’d finished it.
“Don’t go,” Garrett said.
I looked up and found him moving toward me. He sat down on the couch and took my glass before setting it down.
“I saw that look in your eye and knew you were thinking of leaving. Please don’t.”
“Garrett…”
“I just don’t want to be alone, not tonight. Look…” he said with a sigh. “Ever since you came back, I’ve been trying to push you away. Every time I push, I find myself right back on your damn doorstep, so I push harder, and I’ll be damned if I don’t find myself right back where I started. The harder I fight it, the stronger the urge to give in becomes. It’s exhausting, and I’m f**king tired. So, for one night, please…help me forget about all the shit going on in my life, and let me finally fall asleep with you in my arms again. Help me forget.”