“ Okay, but no sleeping,” I grinned.
He chuckled and then grasped either side of my cheeks to tilt my mouth toward his. “Okay, no sleeping, Abby Mae.”
I closed my eyes and pressed my lips to his. A glimpse of the old Abby, the pre-Beck Abby, flashed before my eyes and deep awareness spun through my mind.
My life had taken quite a few sharp turns in the past few years. I’d prepared myself for the end and had come to terms with the abrupt conclusion life seemed determined to provide for me.
And then my beeper went off.
That archaic piece of technology vibrated on my night stand, telling me that I had a donor.
Suddenly, I had an abundance of life and no idea what I wanted to do with it. Being in Boston, in college, was a surreal feeling. I’d been given a second chance. A chance to make dreams and see them through. A chance to make mistakes and fight to make them right.
But it didn’t always feel that way. When I first had the transplant, there was this immense pressure weighing me down at every turn. To prove I was worthy of receiving the heart, I felt like I had to live every single moment to the fullest. If I wasn’t being the best, living the most, screaming the loudest, then I wasn’t doing Colby’s heart justice.
I was living for everyone around me. Caroline, Colby, my parents. I couldn’t breathe for fear that the decisions I was making weren’t the right ones.
I couldn’t ignore the nagging questions in the back of my mind:
Are the lives of some people more valuable than those of others? Had the world lost more from Colby’s death than it had gained from my life?
Is value based simply on one person’s impact on the world around them? How many friends we leave behind in death?
A year ago I thought I knew the answer to those questions. But now I realize that no one has the capacity to judge the value of a human life.
We all value different things and life left out a conversion chart on purpose.
We aren’t supposed to know the answer.
I couldn’t live for Colby or Caroline any longer.
The fact is, I was given a heart. I was given this gift of life that few receive and I had to decide how I wanted to use it. Not how others would deem noble.
So I finally stripped away the fear and anxiety, and suddenly life became crystal clear. I wanted to write. I wanted to create stories like the ones I’d written in my journal. I wanted to be with Beck, and I wanted to wake up each morning and appreciate the feeling of my heart beating beneath my scarred chest.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
BECK
I couldn’t believe she was finally back. The awkward, beautiful, unathletic girl that stole my heart when I was trying to steal hers. She looked so innocent perched up on my kitchen counter. I couldn’t keep my distance from her. On some level I thought I should play it cool, but I wasn’t fooling anyone. She’d kicked my ass last year when she told me to leave. I’d fought with her about it for a week, and when she brought it up again the day before I was scheduled to leave, I couldn’t handle it. There’s only so much a guy’s ego can handle, and she crushed mine under her tiny frame as if I was wearing my heart on my sleeve.
Who knows, maybe I was.
I can’t help it around her .
Her jade green eyes swam with desire as my hands drifted up over her slim stomach. I tugged her shirt over her head and tossed it onto the kitchen floor behind me. The sexy moan she didn’t think I could hear told me how much she approved of each action.
“ Abby…”
I stood back and stared at her for a moment, taking in her breasts hidden beneath a pink bra. I bent low and scooped her golden hair behind her shoulders so that I’d have better access to her chest. Her beautifully imperfect scar sat just where it had the last time I’d had a chance to be with her. I traced my fingers and lips along her collarbone, down the center of her ribcage, and around her scar in a testament to her innocent sexiness. That was the thing about Abby. She had no fucking clue what she did to me. She thought her Keds and girl-next-door style kept her safe, but in reality it just begged me to tease her more.
It drove me wild to see a side of her that no one else had the chance to witness.
“ I’ve missed you so much,” she murmured as my lips pressed against the small swell of her breast, just beneath her scar. Her words could undo me like no one else’s. To know that she was here, healthy, and happy…I shoved the thought away and pulled her close to me. My hands wrapped around her hair as I forced her lips to mine. There were too many layers left between us. She was clinging to my shirt as my hands unclasped her bra. I needed her here and now. Our movements were urgent and hurried. Nails on skin, hands tugging off clothing. She was breathing hard and I could see her chest rising and falling in a quick rhythm.