Midnight Lily

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Holden

  Watching her walk away was the hardest thing I'd ever done. But I knew what I needed to do. Lily had shown me. She didn't know it, but she had, by giving me a taste of peace, of happiness and comfort. I wanted those things. Craved them with an ache deep in my soul. I'd forgotten, and she'd reminded me what joy felt like, reminded me that I was still capable of holding happiness in my heart. It wasn't too late. Not if I didn't let it be.

  The way she'd tasted . . . like hope, both familiar and unknown. I wanted to beg her to hold my hand as I did what I knew I needed to do, to soothe me as my body withdrew from the numbing chemicals I'd been using to escape my pain and unhappiness for far too long. But I knew this was something I had to do alone if I wanted any chance of offering her all of me—not this fragmented man I was now. And if Lily saw who I really was, saw what I'd done to my body, I knew it would only scare her and probably drive her away. Brandon had been right—I needed to be the one to make the choice. And ultimately, I was the only one who could do the work. And though I wanted Lily in my life like nothing I'd wanted in a very long time, I also had to do this for me. I had to want to get better for myself, most of all.

  Closing the door of the lodge behind me, I went straight to the kitchen where I'd left the plastic bag with the handful of pills I still had left. Not allowing myself to think, I walked straight to the bathroom and opened the bag over the toilet and flushed, watching the water swirl and drain, the pills disappearing. Just for good measure, I flushed again. And then dread filled me. And so I closed my eyes and pictured Lily. Beautiful, mysterious Lily. I would go back to her better than I'd been, and I'd ask her to share all her secrets. And maybe I'd be brave enough to share mine.

  **********

  "Fuuuuuuck," I groaned miserably. By the next afternoon, every muscle in my body had seized up and my stomach was wracked with agonizing cramps. I writhed in pain on the couch, my legs pulled up to my stomach. Sweat dripped down my forehead. I was going to die. There was no way I could survive this misery. Why had I tossed out the pills? God, why? Not able to sit still for more than a few minutes, I got up and staggered into the kitchen and poured myself a glass of water, shaking so badly, I’d spilled most of it by the time I got the glass to my mouth.

  I wanted to escape my own body—get out, get free. The feeling of claustrophobia compounded the fear and anxiety I was already feeling. I was trapped now. Trapped in my own skin. There was no way I could drive and it would take someone else at least a day to get to me. And then longer to get me anywhere I could convince someone to write me a prescription for the pain pills I needed so badly.

  Sometime later that evening, I heard the sound of someone's feet coming up the stairs. I was sitting on the floor of the shower, my arms wrapped around my legs, lukewarm water raining down on me. It had started out hot and had worked for a while to soothe my screaming muscles, but now it was barely tepid. I'd thought about getting in the hot tub, but decided the shower was wiser given the state I was in. If I fell asleep, I'd be safer here. My body was in so much agony, the footsteps barely stirred any emotion in me. I supposed I should be concerned, alarmed, curious at least, but I couldn't figure it out, much less drum up an appropriate response.

  "Well, this is not how I expected to find you," came the female voice. Oh no. No. Fuck no. I was dead. I was dead and I was in hell. And one of Satan's servants had just shown up to torture me. I turned my head and looked blearily through the glass of the shower door. Taylor. The 49ers’ manager's daughter and my ex-girlfriend.

  "What are you doing here?" I managed.

  Taylor opened the shower door, causing me to fall out onto the floor in a groaning heap. "Holy fuck. What the hell is happening with you?" She actually sounded a little concerned.

  I crawled over to the toilet and threw up. "Oh God! Jesus," Taylor yelled, the noise making me feel ten times worse than I already did. I hadn't thought that was possible. I heard her heels clicking on the bathroom tile. A minute later she came back with a washcloth, ran cold water over it, and leaned over me to wipe my forehead and around my mouth.

  "What are you doing here, Taylor?" I mumbled bleakly.

  "I came to see you, to spend some alone time with you." There was a note of disgust in her voice. Clearly me vomiting upon her arrival had not been part of the plan.

  "Why?" I closed my eyes, feeling a cold sweat break out on my skin again. "We broke up over four months ago." The cool washcloth was back on my forehead, and it felt good. My brain was so hazy.

  Taylor was silent for a minute. "It was four weeks ago. Do you have no concept of time? And we did not break up. You just started acting all weird and distant and I needed a breather. Anyway, none of that matters. I've been thinking about you. And when I figured out where you must be, I knew I needed to come to you. This is the perfect place to get reacquainted, don't you think?"

  Think? What? No. "Will you help me get to the couch?" I didn't have the strength to listen to her, much less argue or care about anything she was saying.

  Taylor helped me stand up, and I grabbed a towel with my shaking hands, wrapped it around my waist, and limped downstairs to the couch where I fell onto it.

  "What's wrong with you, anyway?"

  "I'm withdrawing, Taylor. Just leave me here to die, please," I mumbled into the leather.

  "Oh, shit. Listen, I applaud your efforts to get clean, but going cold turkey is just stupid. I've seen this before. I brought you some pills—you left a couple bottles at my apartment and I threw them in my suitcase. You need to wean yourself—"

  I brought myself to a sitting position, grimacing and clenching my jaw as my muscles locked up. "You have some pills?" I asked desperately. Oh sweet fucking relief. I'd do anything to feel better, even just for an hour. Anything. Anything.

  "Yeah, a couple bottles." She came over me on the couch and straddled my lap. She used her index finger to trace my lips and leaned in slowly and kissed me, her long, dark hair creating a curtain around us. "Say please," she said silkily.

  "Jesus fucking Christ, just give me the damn pills," I almost shouted.

  Taylor stood up, giving me a sulky frown. "Okay, okay, testy. Relax." She moved toward some luggage sitting next to the front door and rooted around for what seemed like forever. I wanted to scream. I got up and walked over to her, letting the towel fall to the floor. I didn't give a damn. "Ah, here we go." She held up a bottle of Percocet and I greedily grabbed for it, trying twice to open it with my shaking hands before finally prying the top off and downing two pills without any water. I made my way to the kitchen and drank from the faucet, then stumbled back into the living room and sagged down on the sofa, breathing rapidly, already feeling the drug coursing through my veins bringing relief. Sweet. Blessed. Relief.

  "There, that's better, right?" Taylor asked, again straddling my lap. I put my hands on her hips to move her, but then found I didn't have the strength. "Why are you doing this anyway? Why like this?"

  "Because I need to get back to my life. Back to the team."

  "There's no rush, though, is there? They can manage without you while you take your time getting better."

  I didn't bother explaining anything to her. Either way, she wasn't part of my future. "Get off me, Taylor."

  She wiggled. "Aw, come on. Now that you're feeling better and I'm here, let's have a little fun. You do remember fun, don't you?"

  "I don't want fun. I want to sleep. And I need you to leave."

  She trailed her finger down my chest, looking thoughtful. "Hey, I know you're still messed up about what happened. We all are. But wallowing won't bring him back. He'd want—"

  "Goddammit! Get off me!" You wouldn't know a fucking thing about what he'd want. You didn't even really know him.

  She sat up straight, but didn't move away. "Well, isn't that a real nice thanks I get for coming all the way out here to Bumfuck Egypt, bringing you what you obviously needed at just the moment you needed it, and even," she trai
led a nail down my naked chest, "intending on showing you the fun you've obviously been missing. I even brought some toys. You missed me, didn't you, baby? Come on, we had a good thing, and we only barely got started." She leaned in and sucked on my earlobe.

  I again thought about pushing her off, but the intense relief of finally getting a fix—of the agony in my muscles releasing—was so wonderful, I suddenly couldn't even bring myself to be overly annoyed by her unwanted attention. "Didn't you?" she purred. "I know I missed you." She reached her hand down and squeezed my dick. "I missed this."

  "Enough," I slurred, pushing her hands away. "Get off me."

  She sighed loudly but removed her body from mine. "Fine. I get it. You need to freshen up. Let's go to bed and in the morning, you'll feel better."

  "Who brought you here?" I asked, my eyes still closed.

  "Kelly. She was here for one of Brandon's parties and kept the directions. She'll be back to pick me up in a few days." Jesus, presumptuous much?

  "How'd you know I was here?"

  "Brandon told someone who told someone . . . you know how it goes." No, that didn't sound like Brandon. More likely she used some more devious method to find out. What Taylor wanted, Taylor got. Conniving bitch.

  I sighed. "You need to call Kelly and tell her to turn around."

  "Excuse me?"

  "Call Kell—"

  "I'm going to make myself a drink," she said. "You want something?"

  "No. And there's no alcohol here."

  "Not to worry," she sing-songed, her voice fading as she moved toward the kitchen. "I brought my own."

  Jesus, what a clueless idiot she was. And so was I. I'd slurped down her pills without a second's thought. And now the past day and a half was all for nothing. Nothing.

  I gripped my hair, self-hatred assaulting me. I sat up slightly and turned my head toward the window.

  Lily was standing just a couple feet from the deck staring upward.

  I bolted to my feet, clutching my scalp and yelling an obscenity as the blood rushed straight to my brain, causing the throbbing in my head to sharpen. I picked up my towel, covered myself, and ran to the door, calling Lily's name as I threw it open. She'd turned and started to head back toward the woods, but when she heard me calling her name, she halted, but then picked up her pace again, now running.

  The look on her face . . . pure devastation.

  Oh God. Oh God. She'd seen Taylor sitting on my lap fondling me, seen my hands on her hips, but not pushing her away. "Lily," I called again, clutching the towel around my waist. I wanted to shout out a stream of expletives. "Lily, please," I begged.

  When she reached the shadows at the edge of the woods, she finally slowed and turned toward me. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come. I was just worried about you. I just . . . wanted to make sure you got home okay. That you saw . . ." She bit her lip. "I just wanted to check on you. It was . . ." She shook her head as if she didn't know how to continue. I wanted to grab her and haul her body into mine. I wanted to tell her how to me she was an oasis in the middle of the desert I'd been crawling through for the last day and a half.

  "What are you doing out there?" Taylor yelled from the deck.

  "Jesus Christ! Go inside, Taylor. Now," I yelled over my shoulder. Taylor crossed her arms and even from the distance, I could see she was glaring daggers at me.

  "God, Brandon said you were acting nuts!" Taylor shouted and stomped inside. "But you're really just a fucking dick!"

  When I turned back to Lily, she had moved more deeply into the woods. "Wait," I called, running after her, holding the towel around myself, my body only barely strong enough to run at all. Lily started moving more swiftly.

  "Lily, Lily, please, just listen to me," I called after her. "Wait, please, Lily. I want . . . I want . . ." She whirled around, her cheeks flushed, her eyes wells of hurt.

  "What?" she demanded. "What do you want, Holden? What do you want with me? It certainly doesn't look like you're lonely."

  I shook my head. "Please, what you saw back there is not what you think it was. Taylor is not my girlfriend. Or at least . . . I didn't consider her my girlfriend. She . . . the point is, I haven't thought about or seen her in months. Please, it's not what you think," I repeated.

  She shrugged, letting out a small brittle laugh. "I don't think anything. I have no idea what to think. God, what do you want with me? What do you want?" She turned without waiting for an answer and for a moment I stood frozen. What did I say?

  A wave of insecurity washed over me. What did I want? To get better. For you. So I can kiss you, so I can plant my nose in the soft, fragrant spot between your shoulder and your neck and feel like I'm worthy enough to be there, to date you, romance you . . . however that might work. To know about your life. To tell you about mine. What? What did I want? "To spend time with you," I finally managed. "Just . . . to be with you, Lily. God. I want to be with you."

  She stopped and turned toward me slowly. Shrugging, she said, "It just won't ever work. We just don't make any sense together."

  I shook my head and leaned against a tree. God, I was still so weak and sick. "You're the only thing that's made sense to me in a very long time. If you only knew." Sweat had broken out on my forehead, and I swiped at it, gripping the tree so I stayed upright. Lily looked at me warily.

  "You should get back, Holden. You're not even dressed." I wanted to resist. I wanted to fight for her, but I couldn't and I hated myself.

  "Please," I whispered, "please . . ."

  Lily walked back to where I stood and brought her hand up to my forehead. "You're so warm," she said. "You should go back inside."

  Behind me, Taylor was shouting on the deck again about what a dick I was. I ignored her and Lily did, too, pretending she wasn't there at all. "I want to come with you," I sighed. Her hand slipped down to my cheek. Behind me, Taylor's voice rose and the door slammed again, causing me to curse her name under my breath.

  "Didn't I tell you that you should learn to recognize a snake? Or you're likely to step right on one."

  I sighed again. "I know," I said wearily. And they're everywhere. My life is so full of them I'm scared to make a move.

  My eyes slipped closed, and I pressed my back against the rough bark of the tree. When I started to slip down the trunk, I caught myself, jerking back to reality.

  Lily was gone.

  **********

  I made my way dazedly back to the lodge, my bare feet scratched and wet. When I got inside, I sagged down onto the couch. Taylor was glaring at me from the other side of the room, her arms crossed under her large breasts. "What in the hell were you doing out there in a towel?" she asked.

  I shot her an impatient look. I barely had the energy to deal with her. "I was talking to Lily," I said.

  "Who's Lily?" She looked at me blankly.

  "The girl. Didn't you see her?"

  Taylor narrowed her eyes. "I didn't see anyone. It looked like you were shouting into the woods. What's going on with you? I'm seriously worried."

  I let out a long breath. What had I been thinking, spending any time with her at all? Oh right, I hadn't been thinking. I'd been drunk or high or both. Suddenly I not only felt exhausted, but I felt depressed. A soul-shaking depression that made me want to fall into a black hole. I'd tried so hard to get off the pills and the second, the very second, they were put in front of me again, I'd given in. Of course, it had been in the midst of intense physical agony, but even so . . . I'd hoped I was stronger than that. And now I had confirmation I wasn't. So was I going to give it another try? I shuddered with the memory of how completely awful I'd felt. Was I willingly going to go back there so soon? Somewhere in the background I heard Taylor's phone ring and she answered it, walking into the other room. I didn't attempt to overhear her conversation. When she came stomping back into the room, she said, "Kelly will be back in the morning. She's staying at a hotel in Telluride tonight."

  "Good," I murmured, leaning my head back on the couch and throwing m
y arm over my eyes to block out the light above me.

  After a minute, Taylor came over and sat down on the couch next to me. "Can I at least sleep in the same bed as you tonight? I miss you. I miss your arms around me," she said sweetly, trying another tact.

  My head felt so woozy, and all I wanted was for Lily to come back. But she wouldn't, and I couldn't go after her in the condition I was in. I had promised myself. And I'd promised her. She didn't know it, but I'd promised her, too. Not in those words—but it was what I'd meant all the same. And I refused to break a promise to Lily. I just had to make things right with her first, though. "Taylor," I started, "why did you date me anyway? What did you see in me? What did you like about me?"

  Taylor looked confused for a moment. "You know what I like about you. Was I so hard to read?" She ran one finger down my arm.

  "Other than the . . . physical, though."

  Taylor sighed. "Does there have to be more than that? Isn't that enough?"

  I thought about that for a second. I guessed, for a while, that was all I went after. But had it ever brought me more than momentary satisfaction? "No, it actually isn't. And Taylor, you can do better than that, too, whether you realize it or not," I said, pulling myself up into a standing position, one hand on the couch for leverage. "Good night. If Kelly gets here before I get up, I'll say goodbye right now. And for the record, we are broken up."

  I heard her gasp of surprise, but she didn't come after me. I locked the door behind me once I'd climbed the stairs to my bedroom. And with that, I collapsed on the bed and fell fast asleep, Lily's sorrowful face following me into my scattered dreams.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Lily

  "The garden is bursting with flowers," my mom said, picking up a stem and clipping the bottom before placing it in the vase with the others. "Smell those roses? That's what real garden roses smell like, not those store-bought ones that barely have any fragrance at all." She made a clicking sound as if the idea of store-bought roses offended her greatly.