Beautiful Boy(26)

His confession caused me to hiccup, choke on my own erratic breath. My  heart sped up, my pulse thrumming in my neck. Everything in me warmed  and cooled all at once. Dizzying visualizations danced before my eyes as  I tried to image what he'd been through, but all I could picture was a  lost soldier, alone, with nothing but the innocent love of a girl left  behind.

"I could never explain why you'd come to me in those moments, saving me  from myself. But now I know … it's because I unknowingly had your heart.  But then, during a supply run, my Humvee hit a small IED. I was in the  back, which spared my life, but two of my friends didn't have the same  luck. After that, I hated you."

His words stung, eating away at me until I had to drop my head. I  couldn't look at him while he confessed to hating me, even though he'd  already told me. But hearing the why, the when, and the how … it was too  much, and I had to look away. Thankfully, he continued without forcing  me to meet his gaze.

"I blamed you, because had you not prevented me from ending my own life,  then I would have never been there. I would have never had to go  through that. And I would have never been forced to live in this body.  In my mind, it was your fault I was missing a leg. Your fault I'll never  forget the stench of burnt flesh. And your fault I'll never be a whole  man ever again."

"Please, Nolan … that's enough," I cried out, begging him to stop. I  couldn't hear any more. My tears had turned to sobs, my legs barely  holding me up as I shook uncontrollably.

His lips came to rest on my cheek, his hands running soothing circles  across my back. "It's taken me a long time, Novah, but I finally see  now. I know it was never your fault. I knew it then, but refused to  accept it, because I needed someone to blame."         

     



 

He pulled away slightly, enough to look me in the eyes. And I waited silently for him to go on.

"Six years ago, I sat in a bathtub at my parents' house, my dad's  revolver in my hand. I couldn't take it anymore-the constant pain both  in my body and inside my head, the deep-rooted anger, the haunting  nightmares I couldn't wake up from. The person I became. The son I'd  turned into."

I wanted to close my eyes, block out his words, but I couldn't. I was  transfixed on everything he said. Every word. And they buried themselves  in my head as I visualized it all.

A horrific motion picture of his torment.

His demons.

"It had become too much, and I didn't want to live anymore. I put the  gun to my lips, but then worried something would go wrong and I'd end up  living, only this time, on a feeding tube because I no longer had a  throat. So I pressed the barrel to my temple. I put my finger on the  trigger and closed my eyes."

As he said this, his eyelids lowered. He inhaled deeply, his shoulders  broadening, and then he met my gaze once more. This time, something  bright flashed in them, causing the gold flecks to shine through the  darkness.

"You know the saying, ‘see your life flash before your eyes'? Well, I  don't know if there's any truth to it, but something similar happened.  However, it wasn't my life. I didn't see flashes of my childhood or  close relatives. I didn't see war or my friends. But I did see  something. For no reason at all, I saw a butterfly land on a flower. I  sensed a heavy presence directly in front of me, between my legs, and I  could swear it pressed against my chest. I smelled something sweet, like  shampoo or lotion, but I knew it wasn't mine. It was feminine, soft.  And then I saw blond hair shining in the sun right before I whispered,  ‘now,' and the scent grew stronger. I never saw your face, but I knew,  without a doubt, that once again, you came to save me."

As he told the story of his vision, I could picture it so clearly, but  from a different point of view. I remembered him sitting behind me,  waiting for the fluttering butterfly to land so I could capture it with  my camera. It was a yellow butterfly, and after a few moments, it landed  on an opened hibiscus flower.

"I signed up for college the next day. I made a new plan, one that  included getting a degree, getting out of my parents' house, and then  moving to wherever you were. At the time, all I could focus on was  finding you. I didn't have a clue as to what I'd do once I did, and I  refused to put too much thought into it, because anytime I allowed you  into my head, the hatred disappeared. And I needed to hold onto it."

My chest tightened and more tears leaked from my eyes, joining the  others on my chest. His events gutted me and filled me with despair and  hope all at the same time.

"Then I found out you still lived here, and I got started on opening my  business with a friend from college. I figured I'd move here first and  get settled before reaching out. I found out four months ago about your  studio, and for those four months, my hatred grew until I couldn't take  it anymore. I thought I had it all figured out. But then you showed up  in my office with the photos you'd taken."

A lump formed in my throat. My stomach churned, and I had to slap my  hands over my mouth in fear of becoming sick. I pushed past him and  raced down the hall next to the kitchen. I had no idea where I was  going, but I hoped the door I found myself in front of was a bathroom.

It creaked as I opened it. I rushed inside and closed it harshly behind  me. But it wasn't a bathroom. It was an office, a dim room with one  window above a small oak desk. Before I could escape, the door opened  again, pushing me out of the way and farther into the room.

"Novah, let me finish."

"No," I said and stumbled to the desk. I used the cold edge of the wood  to hold me up on my shaky legs. "I don't …  I can't … " I spun around,  finding him directly in front of me, defeat evident in his pinched brows  and downturned lips. "I honestly have no idea what I expected you to  say, but I can't listen to this. It's too much."

He dropped his gaze and slowly shook his head, leaning against the desk  with his arms on either side of my trembling body. "You said your chest  feels full, like I've filled it. But it's not because I've given you  back your heart, Novah. It's become my lifeline, and I'll never return  it. I think your chest feels full because I've given you my heart."

Time froze for a brief moment, allowing his words to soak in. Unable to  hold back the impulse, I took his face in my hands and kissed his lips,  feeling him tremble against me. "That's all you had to say from the  start, Nolan. You didn't have to torture me with your story."         

     



 

His brief hesitancy waned as he held me tighter, pulling my chest flush  with his. The way his rough, warm hands searched my body, my bare skin,  left me on the edge of desperation.

"Can I eat now?" he asked with heavy breaths.

"I'm not in the mood for lasagna anymore."

He picked me up. My legs automatically wrapped around his tight waist,  and he gave a laugh. "I wasn't talking about the lasagna."

Before I could answer, only barely registering his words, he set me down  on top of the cold, hard wood. The wall behind me pinched the skin over  my spine, forcing me to arch in order to relieve the stinging pain, but  then the back of my head hit the window. The wood slats of the blinds  rattled as they moved against the glass pane and filled the room with  noises parallel to destruction, yet it didn't interrupt Nolan in his  plight.

His lips trailed achingly down my neck to my cleavage, his hands moving  behind me where he swiftly unclasped my bra. With unhurried movements,  he dragged the straps down my arms and pulled the cups away from my  breasts before tossing the flimsy material behind him. I was left in a  heady cloud of lust when he pulled the chair out from beneath the desk  and sat in it, directly between my legs. After getting situated, his  mouth traveled south, his tongue leading the way to my navel.

I gripped his shoulders and dug my fingers into his taut muscles,  needing something to ground me. Convulsions took hold of my body. My  nerves went haywire as his attention continued its path to the band of  my cotton shorts. When his fingers hooked beneath them, prepared to pull  them off, I had to steady myself on the desk. I pushed up to lift my  hips in order to keep him from dragging me completely to the floor.

My panties had been yanked off along with my shorts and tossed over his  shoulder to join my bra on the floor. The air from the vent settled  between my legs, and it sent a shiver up my spine as it instantly cooled  the overheated arousal that left me slick with desire.

His fingers taunted my bare sex and his lips seductively met the  sensitive flesh over my pubic bone, warming my entire body with each  breath he exhaled. My hands trembled. I frantically held onto his head,  wishing his hair had been a little longer to grab onto while my hips  uncontrollably rotated toward him.

A sharp gasp rolled through my throat as my head tilted back. I squeezed  my eyes closed with my mouth opened wide. He'd filled me with a thick  finger, slowly working me open before adding another. Every time I began  to relax around him, he'd do something else to cause my muscles to  clench and my back to arch.