Forbidden Love(33)

I smiled in triumph. "Thank you."



Dylan led me back to his bedroom, stopping only to kiss me once before stepping out of his jeans and climbing into bed. He patted the blue linen next to him. "In you go, darlin'."



I took off my shirt, but left my panties on. Crawling up the bed, I plopped down next to him. As if we'd been sleeping together for ages, he instinctively wrapped me in his arms and squeezed me to his chest. I felt his breath in my hair before he whispered, "You smell like maple syrup." He inhaled again, “and raspberries.”



I smiled and nuzzled closer to his body, the heat of his chest against my back a soothing balm for my numbed state.



"Now, where were we, sugar?" He kissed the back of my ear. "Tell me all of it. Don't leave anything out."



I cleared my throat, prepared to share all the revolting details of my past. "So, Jude found me after I had been on a binge for about three days. He took me to a hotel and spent the next week helping me detox. I fought him the entire time. I didn't have a problem, or so I thought." I took a breath. "He held my hair, kept me bathed and fed. He never left my side." My voice cracked. "I guess somewhere along the way, he developed feelings for me, and I him. He was my savior.



"What makes it worse, or better, depending on how you look at it, it became our little secret." I shifted uncomfortably. "No one in my family knew, and Jude protected that. He never told a soul." Dylan's breathing accelerated, as if he were bracing for some apocalyptic revelation.



"I understand a little better now why he gave me the look of death in the shop that day. He feels protective over you." It wasn't a question, but I felt I needed to clarify our relationship a little more.



"Yeah, I guess that's part of it. But mostly, I think he felt obligated to care for me. He knew I wouldn't go to my brothers, and he also knew what would happen if in the event I took things too far." I felt my cheeks warm, tears threatened to emerge as I remembered Jude and everything we had been through together.



"Have you ever heard of Nightingale Syndrome?" I sniffled. "It's a situation where a caregiver develops romantic and sometimes or sexual feelings for his or her patient, even if very little communication or contact takes place outside of basic care." Tears spilled into the pillowcase as I spoke. Dylan wrapped me tighter in his embrace. "I think that's what happened with Jude. It was never going to work long term." I wiped my cheek. "They say the feelings fade when the subject recovers or dies." With that, I let my breath out in long whoosh, feeling both lighter and heavier.



Dylan kissed my neck, my shoulder, and my back. "Thank you." He didn't need to say anything more. The tone of his voice said everything I needed to hear.



I turned in his strong hold and put my hand on his face. He closed his eyes momentarily, my fingers grazing across his full lips. "You okay?"



"Yeah, sugar. I am." And with his whisper-soft response, he kissed me.



We spent the rest of the day entangled between the sheets. We made love, talked, and slept. I couldn't have asked for a better response to the bomb I had dropped on him. Dylan didn't judge me, didn't reject me. He just took everything I had to say and then held me. Loved me.



Yes, he was everything I never knew I wanted…and our time was limited, at best.





Later that evening, I was unable to sit still after Dylan had dropped me back off at home. My nervous energy got the best of me and in order to keep from doing something stupid like drinking myself into a stupor, I started to clean. I needed to get rid of a few things, cleanse my closet and my soul of all the blackness that seemed to have taken over before I let it all go with Dylan.



If only I could erase Jude from my apartment.



I sucked my teeth and grabbed a trash bag from under the kitchen cabinet.

I had already cleaned every crevice of my place. There was nothing left to do but face my past. My memories of Jude, of my addiction, everything I wanted to keep buried was just waiting for me to take a trip down memory lane.



"It's not that bad, Haven," I mumbled to myself as I slammed the cabinet shut and stomped toward the bedroom, a determined stride in my gait. "You can do this." The pep talk became my mantra as I opened the doors and stared at the top shelf.



I stood with each door in my hands, bottom lip clenched between my teeth, and eyes wide. "Music!" I blurted and turned for my phone to put on some tunes. "I need music. What do I want to listen to?" I asked myself as I scrolled through endless playlists.



I knew it was just a way to put off what really needed to be done but I justified my distraction when “Undefeated” from Daughtry started blaring through my little phone speaker. I placed it on the dock, so I could hear it from anywhere in the tiny apartment and bobbed my head as I went back to the closet. Pulling the large box off the shelf, my shoulders protested the weight. "Damn, what's in here? Bricks?" I brought it down and plopped on the floor.