Life Before Damaged, Vol. 9: The Ferro Family by H. M. Ward Read Free Book Online Page B

same time. He’s usually so full of life, the fighter. He shouldn't be helpless like this. My fingers gently trace the curves of his face. I trace his eyebrows, imagining their usual mocking expression, to his cheeks, where his adorable dimple appears when he smiles, and across to the lips that have kissed me in ways I’ve never been kissed before.
    Fear oozes through my body as I realize he might never wake up. That guy at the rave never woke up. I become frantic, shaking him more vigorously. "Wake up, Pete!"
    I can’t lose him, not now, not after everything we’ve been through. My eyes start to burn, and his face blurs in a film of tears.
    Trying to blink my tears away, they manage to escape and roll down my cheeks. I comb my fingers through his hair, brushing dark strands away from his forehead. I touch him gently at the place where the beam hit him. My fingers feel something warm and tacky. When I pull my hand away, it’s stained red. The hair at the back of his head is sticky with blood and it terrifies me. A sob escapes my lips.
    I bend down and place one small, trembling kiss on his mouth, feeling his warmth. He doesn’t move. Peter remains still. I don’t know what I was expecting. Perhaps I was hoping he’d return the kiss, wrapping his arms around me. He’s unconscious. In the real world, kisses don't magically wake people up from whatever is ailing them.
    I lower my body down on top of his, my ear resting over his beating heart. I place a hand over his firm chest. His heart is beating strong and fast, and his breathing is slow, deep and steady--all good signs.
    I know he can’t hear me, but with a shaky voice, I start talking to him anyway. I need to say it before it’s too late. Life is fleeting and every second counts. I can’t assume there will be time later. Sometimes, later never comes.
    “I’m so sorry, Peter. I should have left with you tonight, but I didn’t know what to do. It was stupid of me, I know, I just didn’t want to believe you. I was afraid you’d hurt me again. I should have listened. I may lose you before I even get a chance to say that--”
    I swallow the dry lump in my throat. The words get stuck. Trepidation at being rejected once more is playing tug of war with my words. I can't say it out loud. Every time I’ve given a piece of myself to Pete, he’s returned it, battered and broken. I’ve had too many regrets over the past few months, and I can’t let this be one of them.
    “I love you, Peter.” Saying it out loud, feels liberating, like I’ve been held back by heavy chains, pulling tightly around my neck which suddenly vanish. It’s bittersweet because all of this is too little, too late. It’s opened up a dam, and the words keep coming out and I can’t stop them. I just want him to hold me, but his arms lay still along the sides of his body.
    My voice is a scratchy mix of sobs and words, sad and happy and desperate. My fingers clutch at his shirt, holding on to him as if my life depends on it. “I love you so much. I have for a long time. I just didn't want to admit it to myself. I believe you, and I want us to try and see if we can be happy together. I want to show you what it feels like to be loved by someone. You deserve to have someone love you and, if you want, I can be that person. Just, please, wake up and stay with me. Don’t leave me, Peter. Please, wake up.”
    I rest my chin on his chest, looking up. I need to see his face. I blink the tears away and blink again. I sniffle back my runny nose. My eyesight is blurry and my eye is swollen, but I see something that gives me hope. His lashes flutter as his eyes move ever so slightly.
    I want to call out his name and kiss him, but the faintest ghost of a smile lines his lips, quirking up to one side. A crooked, arrogant, know-it-all smirk blossoms, making his irresistible dimple appear.
    A mixture of immense relief, giddy happiness, mortification, and frustrating irritation all fight for first place in