Page 16 of Cross the Line
I know this is the easy part of the fight ahead, but it doesn’t matter how hard it gets; I’m not letting him go.
Jayden is the half of my heart that didn’t exist until he came into my life. The half of my soul that was lost until I found him.
A life without him is incomplete. And I’ve trudged through it long enough to know that half a life isn’t worth living.
It’s not living at all.
CHAPTER 4
JAYDEN
What hell is this?
I cringe while lucidity overtakes me. Even with my eyes closed, everything is spinning, and the throb in my head has a direct line to my stomach through my golf-balled eyes and dry throat. Every ache and pain that I’ve ever felt creeps into my muscles and my bones when I shift in bed.
“Momma of fuck,” I croak into the pillow, turning onto my front.
Bad choice.
My stomach lurches up into my chest. Hot lava boils up my throat, and before I puke all over the bed, I run into the bathroom, tripping over the mat on the floor as I lunge for the toilet.
Nothing has ever felt as good as the moment the vomit erupts out of me. My hands wrap around the cool porcelain as though it’s God itself, and I am worshipping it with every wretch and spew.
“Here.” Elijah’s cool hand swipes away the string of sickness trickling down my chin while he places a cold, wet washcloth on the back of my neck. “I’m going to get you seltzer, okay?”
I nod, gag again, and empty out the dregs in sharp bursts that feel like they’ll turn me inside out.
When it stops, the quiet is a blessing. I sag against the seat, forehead to forearm, eyes on the gray granite tile while the flush carries the evidence away. With a few inhales, my brain starts catching up to itself.
Relief lasts all of five seconds. Memory clicks on, and the ache in my chest opens like a trapdoor.
“Take these.” Eli drops pills in my palm and passes a glass. “Drink this.”
I do as he says, slowly. After giving the partially flattened liquid a moment to settle in my stomach, I attempt to pick myself up off the floor.
When he moves to help, I swat at him in reflex, because if he touches me right now, I’ll fold.
“Jayden…”
“No. I got it, okay?”
He nods and rakes damp hair off his face, frustrated, but giving me space. The lights are dimmer than before; thank God. I brace on the shower glass and take him in. Towel at his hips.
Shoulders broad now, body grown into itself. The kid in those photos looked unfinished. This man looks carved.
Which somehow makes the photos worse. They keep burning behind my eyes, and my teeth grind trying to hold the noise down.
“I just… I need a second to get my bearings,” I grumble.
“Do you want me to go? If you need space, I can…” He thumbs toward the door and starts to leave without waiting.
“Eli…”
He pauses in the doorway, stare holding me. Something raw flickers across his face, and a shard of it slices under my ribs.
I don’t want him gone. I want him to see what he’s doing to me. How it kills me to love him. To still want and need him like oxygen.
Like I have for years. Years spent being the friend he needed while he gave what is mine, what I want to…a nobody.
