Torn (Connections #2)(2)
She was as beautiful as I remembered and with one glance she took my breath away. She walked my way, pulling a suitcase behind her, and my heart skipped a beat. I knew immediately she was the one sent to interview me and suddenly any negativity I had about doing press was gone. I couldn't help but watch her. I wanted her unlike anyone I had ever wanted before. I had to stifle a laugh when her briefcase fell off the top of her suitcase and she glanced around to see who saw. I wanted to yell, "Only me and don't worry because everything about you is sexy as fuck."
I rushed to grab the door for her, but she pushed it forward and fell into me-not that I minded in the least. I'd catch her over and over. There wasn't a thing about her that I didn't remember from the first time we met and even the awkwardness of the moment brought me to full attention. When her body pressed against mine, I knew in that instant . . . this time I wasn't letting her get away so easily. I'd go on a thousand tours to have her in my life-there was just something about her, a light in her eyes that made everything wrong feel right. And just like my dad, I got a second chance-it was her. But unlike him, I wasn't going to blow it.
When she extended her hand and said, "Hello, I'm Dahlia London from Sound Music. I'm so sorry I'm late," I knew she had to be mine.
Chapter 1
A Thousand Years
A glimmer of light catches my eye through the partially open curtains across the room as I wake. It must be dawn because the sky is turning various shades of pink, red, and orange. Before I know it, the sky blazes with color; it's as if it's on fire-just like my body, but I push my pain aside. It's a glorious new day. And I'm here to share it with him. I look at the gorgeous lines of his body slumped over in the chair next to my hospital bed. He's asleep, but not very soundly. I study him, taking in his strong jaw, sculpted nose, and toned body. But it's his soul, his playfulness, and his amazing personality that made me fall in love with him. He's so much more than I could ever have asked for-he's my soul mate in every sense of the word.
Carefully removing my hand from his, I try hard not to wake him. Then I slowly ease myself up from the bed and make my way to the bathroom. When I return, the sun has fully risen and so has he. He's staring out the window with the curtains now completely open. I sweep him with my eyes so that I can appreciate every little thing-at just over six feet he's glorious. Strong shoulders, a lean waist, abs that seem to flex with his every movement. Arms crossed, his head cocked just so, his T-shirt tucked into his jeans haphazardly, and his stance so straight and sure. The soft bluish-gray sky of the early morning is almost as breathtaking as the sight of him.
Trying to see what he's looking at, I only notice the fluffy clouds drifting by. They appear so white against the morning sky; they make me start to smile. But I know that's not what he's seeing right now, when a bluejay flies by and he turns around I want to erase the pain I see in his sorrowful expression and sad green eyes.
I don't want to dwell on the events of yesterday's incident, but he seems to be preoccupied with it. His mood has been somber ever since it happened. He calls it an attack-I prefer incident. After all, I'm here alive and merely bruised. I'm not going to waste my time thinking about one bad day-I'd rather celebrate the good things in each new day. But he blames himself. I haven't been able to convince him that if anyone was to blame it's me. Then again, a random act of violence couldn't have been prevented and, thankfully, I'm all right. I just want to leave the hospital and go home.
Grabbing my clothes from the chair, I throw them on the bed. I'm standing in front of him on the cold linoleum floor in nothing but a hospital gown. I make a twirling motion with my finger impatiently. "Do you mind turning around?"
Sighing, he runs his hands through his already-messy hair. "I'm not turning around. I want to help you. Seeing what he did to you can't make me feel any worse. Believe me."
I swallow the lump in my throat and try to gather the right words to respond, and help put his mind at ease. "River, it was not your fault. Some perverted animal, looking to get his kicks by attacking women, that isn't your fault."
He can't hide his shudder from my eyes. "Dahlia, it wasn't a fucking incident. You were attacked. If I had been with you it wouldn't have happened. I shouldn't have been sleeping. It's really just that simple."
I stand there shocked by his tone, even though I know he doesn't mean to be so harsh. "No, it's not just that simple . . . ," I start to argue, but he cuts me off.