No Tomorrow: An Angsty Love Story
No Tomorrow: Chapter 63

I pack my clothes, throw my makeup bag in the suitcase, and kiss Lyric and Ditra goodbye at my front door. I tell them I’ll see them when I get back from my business trip in two days. Lyric, as always, is excited about Ditra staying at our house with her because Dee is going to teach her how to bake a different cake each night. I have no idea when my best friend turned into Martha Stewart, but I hope there’s some cake left over for me when I get back home.

I wave goodbye to them as I back my car out of the driveway, then I drive eight miles across town to the hotel near the park. My stomach burns with anxiety as I park my car in the parking garage and then make my way to the hotel lobby. I bypass the front desk and go directly to the elevator, getting off on the second floor.

Room 1205.

I hesitate in front of the door, fluffing my already-fluffed hair, straightening my already-straight shirt, taking extra breaths I don’t need to take.

I knock lightly on the maple door and time seems to screech to a halt as I wait. My suitcase feels twice as heavy as it did a few seconds ago, the handle slippery in my damp palm.

I shouldn’t be this nervous, and it’s silly that I am, because it’s only….

Blue.

Evan.

The door opens and I’m staring up into eyes the color of faded denim.

He steps to the side and I cross the threshold so he can close the door behind me. After placing my stuff on the floor I turn to face where he’s still hovering near the door.

I expected him to look different after spending six months in a hospital recovering from various physical and mental issues.

But I didn’t expect him to look so much better.

Not that he’s ever really looked bad. He was born with the kind of good looks that can’t look bad no matter what mess he made of himself. But holy shit, the man standing in front of me is like Blue version 2.0 with the extended elite upgrade package.

His wavy hair is a few inches shorter, just a bit past his collarbone instead of the mid-chest length it’s been since I first met him. It makes him look mature and more handsome.

The feather still hangs from his ear, but he’s explained it came from a good bird.

It’s obvious he’s not only put some weight on, but also muscle. The width of his arms and shoulders appears to be almost double what they were and I’m already fantasizing about what he must look like now with his shirt off. I’m surprised with how healthy and vibrant he looks—like one of those people who goes to the gym, gets eight hours of sleep every night, takes vitamins and drink lots of water. He no longer looks like a rock star who spent the majority of his life wasted and battling inner demons. He looks amazing and sexy and… calm. Nervous, yes, but also radiating an inner calmness.

A shy smile crosses his lips from where he’s still rooted by the door, and it sends my pulse into a frenzy. Stuck between smiling back and crumbling to tears, I freeze under his gaze. I’ve missed him so much. For months I’ve loved and hated him and everything in between. That night, he instilled such a deep fear in me. He stripped me of my trust and left me abandoned with a filleted heart. I truly felt as if he was gone and I’ve been communicating with his ghost for all these months.

But he’s here in the flesh and he’s so incredibly vivid and real. His scent has already permeated the room, enveloping me, coaxing memories out of their hiding places. The warmth of his body is ebbing toward mine, luring me.

“Hi.” My voice is a shy whisper when I’m brave enough to finally meet his eyes. The last time we saw each other was just before he left for California. Before it all went to hell. It’s been six long life-changing months since we’ve touched or kissed. The sporadic letters, texts, and phone calls we shared during that time left many gray areas that we’ve been avoiding like sink holes. That is, up until a few days ago when he sent me a text asking me to meet him here for a weekend alone to make things right as he put it.

“Hey.” He slowly steps closer to me, his smoldering eyes still locked onto mine. My heart flutters like a hummingbird as he backs me up against the wall, grabs my face in his hands, and lays a kiss on me that makes my legs buckle and steals my breath. He sweeps his tongue over my lips and into my mouth, seeking mine to dance with his. With a faint whimper, I reach up and wind my arms around his neck, pulling him into me. Forgiving him. Shaking slightly, he moves his hands to my waist and lifts me up like a doll, using his body to pin me against the wall as he kisses me with deeper desperation. I wrap my legs around him and pour all the emotion and passion that’s been bottled up inside me for months into our kiss.

This wasn’t what I was expecting, but it’s without a doubt exactly what I want and need.

Him.

Us.

This.

He pulls back and we stare at each other breathlessly.

“I love you…” He strokes my cheek. “I miss you…” He moves his thumb across my lips. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No…never.” I pull his lips back to mine and he plunges his tongue into my mouth, devouring me, sucking the air from my lungs. I grip his wide shoulders and tighten my thighs around him as he moves his lips to my neck, his teeth biting into my flesh, his tongue following. Hurting then soothing. Rough fingertips dig into my waist; he grinds his hips into mine, igniting the desire between us.

So many questions; so many things I want to say perch at the tip of my tongue…but maybe the questions have already been answered, and nothing really needs to be said at all right now.

He unbuttons my shirt with one hand while he kisses me, and I follow his lead by pulling his T-shirt up and over his head. My eyes widen at the sight of his muscular shoulders and biceps, the glimpse of hard abs.

I trail my fingers over his tattooed chest, drawn to the solidity and hardness, the new aura of strength he exudes. Once again, I’m a moth to his flame.

He pulls down my bra and sucks my bare breast into his mouth as he unbuttons my jeans, pulls down the zipper and slides his hand beneath my panties. When his fingers glide over my clit and reach my wet lips he groans deep in his throat and flicks the warm slippery metal of his tongue piercing over my nipple. I arch my back against the wall, thrusting my body up into his mouth and hand, clutching his hair.

Reaching between us, he undoes his jeans, shoves them down, then tugs my jeans and panties down just enough to bare me to him.

I gasp and dig my nails into his back when he thrusts the full length of his cock into me, and his growling in response only makes me wetter and wilder for him. I’ve always been completely enamored with this feral sensual side of him that devoured me under the bridge years ago. Thank goodness the medication hasn’t taken that part of him away.

I struggle to spread myself around him but I’m restrained by the jeans bunched around my thighs. Cupping my ass in his hands, he lifts me, then lowers me down, impaling me with his thick shaft.

“Fuck, I missed you, baby…” he rasps against my lips, kissing me ferociously, hammering harder and faster, chafing my back against the textured wallpaper.

“I missed you. So, so much.”

Sighing, his eyes close and he stills, letting me take over. I ride his body slower, calming him, savoring every inch, every breath, every beat of our hearts. “Don’t ever leave me again,” I whisper.

“Never.”

After our wallbang, he carries me to the bed, slowly removes the rest of my clothes, then his own. Wordlessly, he brings the white sheet and comforter up over us and pulls me to him, wrapping his arms around me. I snuggle my face into the warmth of his chest and hug him tight.

I promised myself I wouldn’t cry today, but promises were made to be broken, right?

The moment I feel his heart beating against my cheek I start to sob; unable to stop no matter how hard I try to hold it all in. I was wrong to think I had resolved all the emotional turmoil during my months of therapy. I might have found strength, patience, and understanding, but those things can only reach so far. Parts of me are still broken, and I’m sure the same is true for him.

Stroking my back in slow circles, he presses his lips to the top of my head and whispers, “I’m sorry,” over and over again until I have no tears left. We cling to each other until my breathing calms and the hiccupping sobs have stopped.

“I’ll be right back,” he says softly, and I sit my sniffling mess of a self up and watch him disappear into the bathroom. He comes back with a handful of tissues and a washcloth dampened with warm water, which he uses to gently wipe my cheeks.

The sweet gesture almost renders me back to a sobbing mess. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to cry…I wanted to be strong.”

“Shhh…” He touches his lips to my forehead. “You don’t apologize, Piper. Not for any of this. And you are strong. You’re the strongest chick I’ve ever met. A weak woman would never be able to love me. You’re a fuckin’ warrior.”

I smile weakly, not feeling like any sort of warrior at all. “I just want us to be happy. And together.”

He climbs into the bed again and leans back against the headboard, holding his arm out for me to nestle into his side.

“We’ll get there, Ladybug. I promise.”

“That’s all I want. For both of us.”

I rest my head against his chest, slide my arm around his waist, and curl my leg around his, exactly how we used to sleep in the sleeping bag in the shed. How insane is it that those nights snuggling in the musty shed, listening to the rain fall on the tin roof with Acorn sleeping at our feet, were some of our very best times together? Life was simpler then, when I lived in a comfy bubble of naivety.

“I didn’t want to die,” he says in a low voice. “That’s not what any of this was about.”

Waves of sadness wash over me hearing those words. “Blue…you don’t have to talk about this.”

“I want to.” He moves his hand to the curve of my waist and squeezes. “And I want you to go back to calling me Evan. Like when we first met. Blue’s gotta go.”

“Okay.”

“Killing myself isn’t what I wanted. There wasn’t a plan. I didn’t want to leave you. Or Lyric. Everyone just assumes I must have hated my life, and that’s not true. I didn’t hate my life at all. In fact, I was loving my life more than ever. There was finally a light at the end of the tunnel of getting out from under the band, I was looking forward to having a quiet life with you and Lyric.” He takes a deep breath and rubs his bare foot against mine under the sheet. “But then shit kept popping up from the band, legal stuff, tons of decisions. A lot of the fans were pissed. I was getting hate mail every fuckin’ day. The guys were getting it too and they didn’t deserve it. It was my decision to end the band, not theirs. All this doubt seeped in. I was afraid you’d leave me. I didn’t know which way to turn or what to do. My head started to fuckin’ spin. I was going crazy from the agony and the noise and the voices and the fucking bird and I needed it to stop. I couldn’t think beyond that. Everything else went black. I don’t know how else to explain it, but I need you to believe that I never wanted to leave you.”

It terrifies me to hear him talk about pain and voices and imaginary evil birds. What did that feel like, in his head? I can’t even imagine.

“I believe you. I didn’t at first, but now I do.”

“I’m not going to hurt you again.”

I rub my hand over his chest and weigh his words. I know it’s very possible that while he might mean what he’s saying one hundred percent right now in this very moment, that someday, he might unintentionally hurt me again. The part of him that he doesn’t have full mental control over could come lurking out of its medicinal prison someday and wreak havoc on his life.

And mine. And our daughter’s.

“What if it happens again?” I ask. It’s the question Reece told me not to ask but it’s also the question that continues to run rampant through my mind. How can I not ask such an important question?

His body stiffens, and he hesitates a beat before he lets out a deep breath and answers.

“I’m not gonna lie, Piper. It could happen again. But it shouldn’t as long as I stay on my meds, try to keep my life as stress-free as possible, and stay in weekly therapy. Forever, basically. So if I start to get fucked up again, it’ll get caught before it gets out of control. I feel great, though. Better than ever. A little tired and moody sometimes, but nothing crazy. No pun intended.”

“Okay. That’s good.”

“If you see me acting weird, just say something, okay? I don’t want you to be scared.”

I chew my bottom lip. I am scared, but I don’t want him to know that. He needs me to trust him, and have faith in him and his recovery. If I’m analyzing his every move and mood, waiting for him to have a meltdown, neither one of us will ever be happy.

“We’re going to need some time, Piper,” he says softly. “I thought a weekend alone together would be a good start. To see if you still want to be with me. I left you alone for a long time. Maybe I’m not what you want anymore. Maybe someone like Josh would be better for you, even though it fucking kills me to say that.”

I lift my head to look at him. “No, he wouldn’t be. I want to be with you and only you. That’s not going to change. You should know that by now.”

“Even if I have to take ten pills a day?”

“Even if you have to take twenty.”

“Even if I’m not gonna be a rock star anymore?”

“I loved you before you were a rock star. That means nothing to me.”

He grins playfully, and it’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. “Even if I want to ravish you every day?”

Smiling, I lean forward and kiss him. “You better.”

“Even if I want to run away and marry you because I’m the luckiest guy in the world?”

It feels like I’ve been chasing the dream of spending my life with him since the beginning of time. It’s been like trying to capture a butterfly—getting so close every time, only to watch him fly away out of reach again.

“And we have dreaded silence.”

I snap out of my worrying headspace. “No… I was just thinking.”

His smile morphs into an embarrassed lopsided frown.

“I shouldn’t have said that. It’s too soon for you to even think about that.”

I shake my head and gently push his hair out of his face. “It’s not. And you know what? That’s what I want to do when the time’s right. I don’t want a wedding.”

“What about all those wedding magazines with the color-coded Post-Its on your favorite stuff?”

“Eh. That just felt like what I should be doing. I’d much rather just elope with you and Lyric.”

The silver specks in his eyes light up like tiny holiday lights. “Yeah?”

I nod. “Yeah.”

He cups my chin in his palm and kisses me feather-soft, lingering near my lips.

“Thank you for always waiting for me,” he whispers. “Want to know a secret?”

“Okay….” I say nervously.

“I knew I wanted to be with you forever right from the start. That’s why I told you the ladybug myth. I wanted you to want me, too. And when you did, it scared the ever-lovin’ shit out of me.” He kisses me again. “Now that I know you’re not going to abandon me like everyone else, I’m not scared anymore.”