Page 123 of Pretend
My mouth falls open slightly at her condescending words.
I breathe in deeply, and it barely releases the tension I have on my shoulders. “Ma’am. I…”
Who am I to tell her no? Who am I to tell her to fuck off? I can’t do that. I won’t be that woman who tells someone’s wife to give up on her husband.
Her once polite smile turns into a deadly grimace of disgust. Unmasking her true feelings toward me. “Just think about it. I’m going to be here when he wakes up because I have no doubts he will. I’m going to take care of him. I suggest you leave, Ms. Valentin.”
She walks by me, nudging her shoulder into mine, and I take her rude gesture with a grain of salt. I stand there, mortified with her and myself.
I stare outside the window, watching traffic fly by and people walk in and out of one of the other hospital buildings from across my room.
What do I do?
“Ms. Valentin! He’s going to make it! He’s still asleep, but he’s alive. He made it through surgery.” I turn around to see a bright Ari. She looks like she hasn’t slept all night. Sweat on her forehead, reddened cheeks like she’s been running amarathon, a pink cross necklace shines against the sun rays behind me, and she’s still in a surgery cap.
I burst into tears as I hug myself. I sob hard, not caring if she sees me like this. A wave of relief hits me hard, knowing he’s okay. He’s alive. He’s going to be okay. Ari runs toward me and crashes her body against mine. She hugs me tight, rubbing my back in circles.
“Is Mr. Hannibal your boyfriend?”
I don’t say anything. I can’t. I don’t know what we are. I’ve never really known.
“You don’t have to say anything. I’m married to a SEAL myself. Danny Rider is my husband and his team leader. He’s going back to work soon, and I know Hannibal is one of the men he’s in charge of.”
I let her go. I smile while tears continue to pour down my puffed cheeks. The white flag I’m about to start waving back and forth haunts me. I need to do the right thing. I must.
“Ari, do you have a pen and paper?”
She pinches her brows together.
“I have a notepad and pen.” She arches one brow, plucks a small pink notepad out of her scrubs pocket, and hands it to me with the Navy hospital brand pen.
I take the paper and pen in my shaking hands. “Perfect.”
50
DAEGAN
I feelher lips brushing against mine. I know these lips. They’ve been engraved into my fucking broken soul since I first touched them. I know every curve and the way she moves when our fleshes collide. I know these lips so well. The way they press, move, and the shape. I know how her bottom lip is slightly fuller than the top. And her taste. It’s too heavenly familiar, and I will always willingly get lost in her.
But I can’t move. I can’t kiss her back. I can’t talk. I can’t tell her to keep going.
Alessia, please keep kissing me.
Because I want to drown in the way she touches me willingly.
Blood rushes down. My heart beat thunders, and still. I’m paralyzed.
Am I dreaming?
Then, just as fast as this undeserved blessing came, it vanished.
Why the fuck can’t I move?!
Frustrated and helpless, I get lost in the black shadows again. The darkness swallows me whole, but instead of having nightmares about the time I was tortured, my dying mother, Dario, blood, and gore. I dream of Alessia.
Her voluminous tits, her goddess body, an angel, a gift, my little valentine. I dream of her and me on my go-to spot on the rooftop. When we watched all the stars twinkle against the night sky, making wishes on C17s and military aircraft.
My muscles,my voice, and my mind come alive. The dream I was in slowly dissolved, and I’m groaning. I feel the soft and yet rough fabric of hospital blankets beneath me. Pagers are going off, nurses are chattering about other patients and familiar voices of the assholes I work with.
