CHAPTER EIGHT
Ian
We lie in each other’s arms after a third night straight of lovemaking that only reinforced how much I love Kristina. No other woman has ever made me feel so entirely devoted to her happiness, and although it’s not my usual way of feeling, I genuinely enjoy being the reason she smiles.
Me. Ian Anwell. The reason someone so incredibly sweet and gentle is happy. As I feel her move against me and make that adorable snoring noise, I have a hard time believing I could be so lucky.
The storm outside ended two days ago, so the roads should be passable enough to let us leave and start our life together back in my apartment. I’ve had enough of the sticks.
I gently smooth my hand over her soft hair, caressing her back up and down and feeling more content than I could ever imagine being. Today, we’ll drive back to the city and move her into my apartment, and after a few days of settling in, which I intend on spending in bed as much as possible, I’ll get working on Silk and Steel in earnest and see what magic Sheila can work with Silk.
For the first time in my adult life, I can’t wait for what’s about to happen.
Kristina stirs and gazes up at me with a questioning look in her blue eyes. “I woke you up, didn’t I?”
“No, not this time. I’ve been awake for a while.”
She blushes in her adorable way and smiles. “Good. I thought my snoring woke you up again. Are you sure you want me to move in knowing I spend my nights as a little chainsaw?”
Pulling her to me, I press a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m sure I can’t wait to have you live with me. I was just thinking about it, in fact.”
“I can’t wait either, Ian.”
I slide under her and my hands travel down her back to squeeze her ass. “Me too. I’ll cook every night for you after I write all day, and we’ll spend long hours making love in every room and on every surface. And in the mornings, we’ll get up and fuck like crazy people in that shower you love.”
Biting her lip, she smiles at my plans and asks, “What about when I have to work?”
“Then I’ll text you too many times a day and tell you how much I love you, and when you come home, I’ll cook for you and we’ll make love over and over every night to make up for all the time you were away. And I’ll tell you every morning how much I love waking up next to you.”
“Your little chainsaw,” she says with a giggle.
I kiss her softly and nuzzle her neck. “My little chainsaw.”
This is what we can be when the madness we are subsides for even a short time. Sweetness and love. I could spend the rest of my life just like this with her cuddled up against me.
“What about when we fight?”
I take a deep breath in. “We’ll never fight.”
Kristina looks at me and shakes her head, her expression serious now. “You know we’re going to fight, Ian. What’s going to happen when we do?”
“We’ll fight like we love. Completely. Madly. Wildly. And if the fight is my fault, I promise to only be an asshole for twenty-four hours. But you need to remember who I am, Kristina. I’m going to be jealous of other men I think want you. I’m going to be possessive when I shouldn’t be, even though I won’t want to be. You’re my addiction.”
She kisses me and cups my face with her hands. “And I promise to love you even when we’re fighting completely, madly, and wildly because you’re the only man I want to be with.”
We stay there silent in each other’s arms with the knowledge that no matter what happens, who we are will always be based on the love we have for one another. It’s raw and ragged sometimes, and smooth as silk at other times, but it’s always the most honest emotion we share between us.
I love her with utterly all I have, and she loves me with all she has. Anything less for us wouldn’t be real.
Breaking the silence, I whisper in her ear, “Although I’d usually say we should stay here and enjoy ourselves, I think we should get back to the city as soon as we can. The storm’s over, so I think we can leave whenever we’re ready.”
She rolls off me and kisses my cheek. “Okay. Give me a little bit and I’ll be ready to go. I just have to grab a shower and get back into my clothes. They should be dry by now.”
“You don’t want me to go out to the car and get your bag?”
“No, it’s okay. As long as I don’t have to put on wet clothes, I’ll be fine.”
I love it when she’s cute, and as she slips from the bed, she flashes me an adorable smile. “It’s not like I’ve spent much time in them since I got here.”
An hour later after I’ve dug both vehicles out of the snow drifts that nearly cover my car, we’re ready to go back to reality, which includes the media mess we ran away from just a few days ago. I check the fireplace and turn off the lights, already missing our time here, but no matter what we have to deal with back in the city, we have each other.
And that’s all that matters.
Kristina stands at the front door waiting for me, and wrapping my arms around her, I pull her close. “Ready?”
She looks up into my eyes with worry written all over her face. “Do you think we should stay longer to let all that business die down back there?”
“No. I am who I am, and that’s not going to change. As Ian Anwell, I write historical fiction, and as T. Anderson, I wrote our story and I’m writing even more of it. It is what it is. As long as I know you’re by my side, everything will be fine. So let’s go back and show the world we’re together and then hope they go away.”
“What if they don’t?”
“Then that gives us even more reasons to stay inside in bed. I wouldn’t worry, though. Today we might be newsworthy, but trust me. There will be a celebrity who does something tomorrow that will make us as boring as yesterday’s news. That you can depend on.”
“Okay. I’ll follow you and after I give Sienna her car back, I’ll just go to your place. I have a suitcase full of clothes and everything I need, so I’m all set. I can go to my apartment in a few days.”
“Perfect. Be careful on the hill. I’ve driven that road in the snow a few times and it can be treacherous.”
With a big smile, she says, “Got it! I’m more worried about you, though. Sienna’s SUV is made for this type of weather, but all you have is a car.”
“Don’t worry about me. I grew up around this type of weather, so I know how to handle it. Ready?”
She kisses me sweetly and buttons up the last button on her coat. “Ready. See you in a few.”
The roads leading back to the city aren’t as bad as I’d feared they’d be, and as I drive I can’t help but daydream about how life has turned out. What began as my obsession with Kristina as she acted on my television screen has become the kind of love I never believed someone like me would ever have. Addicts just don’t get those happily ever afters. Not in real life, anyway. Only in books and in movies do they get that second chance because of a great woman who truly loves them. The reality is usually far harsher.
A life alone always fighting the demons that live inside and want more than anything to resurface and take over.
But that’s not me anymore. Yes, I’ll always be a recovering heroin addict. That’s a truth that will never go away, so I have no choice. I have to face it. But I’m more than that, and for a long time I didn’t think I was.
Until Kristina. She makes me see no matter what that junk offers, I can have better. I want better. I want that elusive happily ever after so popular in the fiction I write and the movies she makes and so rare in real life.
I look in the rearview mirror to see her behind me smiling like she knows I’m looking back at her. I wave and watch her wave back and blow me a kiss. Even such a small gesture makes my heart swell with the happiness only she can give me.
But then her expression morphs into one of horror, and in a flash, everything changes. Like some slow-motion replay, I take my gaze from her back to the road and see the truck rounding the turn into our lane. I swerve to avoid it, but it’s no use. He’s going too fast and he sideswipes the car, tearing off the mirror next to me. His front end rips down the side of my car, and the noise of metal crushing metal fills my ears.
I lose control and then there’s only spinning. Frantically, I try to see Kristina, but it’s all happening so fast now. At some point, I don’t hear the screeching sound of metal on metal anymore, and everything becomes a blur. I press on the brake over and over, but it’s no use. I crash through the guardrail and careen down the side of an embankment.
Trees fly by me as visions of my life rush through my mind. They’re just pieces of my life, actually, but they make up the whole of who I am.
Me with my parents at the house I grew up in on a spring day, the sun warming my face as my father tossed a baseball toward my glove.
The day I graduated with honors from Cornell and the look of sadness on my mother’s face when she congratulated me, wishing my father could have lived long enough to see that day too.
Standing in the rain at my father’s grave later that day with my diploma and hoping somehow he saw what I’d achieved.
The moment I learned my first book would be published.
That first time I tried heroin and the euphoric sensation of flying it brought with it.
The feeling of complete and utter failure as I walked into rehab the last time.
Alone in my apartment and seeing the most beautiful woman in the world appear on my television screen for the first time.
My mind’s a jumble of fear and confusion, but somewhere in all that fleeting memories of my time with Kristina begin to appear in my mind. They calm me so as my car finally hits the bottom of the ravine and the air bag explodes into me, I’m relaxed. As the shock of what happened settles into me, I feel my head fall forward toward the inflated air bag and then there’s nothing but darkness.
Kristina sits next to me quietly reading what I wrote that afternoon as I absentmindedly play with the ends of her hair, twirling them around my finger and then releasing them to do it again. I’m nervous to hear her thoughts and opinions on the story so far. Will she like it or will she think it’s useless drivel that makes her question agreeing to be my muse?
I call Silk our story, but in truth it’s hers. I write only because she inspires me. Without her, there is no Silk. Without her, there is no story to be told.
If she knew how much she means to me. I say the words I love you, but they never seem to be enough to convey what I feel for her. They’re hackneyed and tired, overused by people who have no idea what love is and desperate souls who think they’re some kind of magic to keep others in their lives long after they’ve decided they no longer want to stick around.
I wish I knew better words for how she makes me feel. Yes, I love her, but it’s more than just that. I love her. I adore her. She brings out the best in me, things I never knew existed inside me or were possible for me. I’m the man I’ve always dreamed of being with her.
Because of her.
Turning to face me, she looks at me with watery eyes. Is she sad? Does the story I’ve written about her make her unhappy?
“Ian, this is beautiful,” she says in a quiet voice, instantly calming my fears. “I love this story. You’ve made Kate everything I wish I ever was. She’s strong and fearless, but she loves Sean with everything she has.”
“Do you like Sean? Do you think I wrote him the right way for her? I want the reader to see how much he goes through for her and still loves her more than even he can understand.”
Kristina’s smile lights up her face. “Oh yes! He’s just what she needs. The part where she won’t let him in because she’s afraid that her feelings aren’t what his are made me cry. She kept telling him that he didn’t want her and that she was no good for him, but he knew the truth. He knew she didn’t just care about the physical thing between them. He knew there was more. I love that.”
I kiss her gently on the lips and take a deep breath in, happy my muse loves the story I’ve written because of her.
“What happens next? Do you know?” she asks as she leans her head on my shoulder. “I want to hear all about it.”
I lean my head on hers and close my laptop. “Not yet. The story isn’t finished. I have some more to write.”
“Will they end up happy, Ian? Is that how this ends?”
“I don’t know yet. I haven’t written the rest of their story.”
Kristina wraps her arms around my waist and sighs. “I want them to be happy.”
I open my eyes, unsure of where I am. Sharp pain tears through the top of my head. I run my palm over my cheek and pull my hand away to see blood. Slowly, the accident filters through my brain and I remember being run off the road and sent down the embankment. I look around to see if anyone has come to help and see the back of Kristina’s SUV nearby on fire.
Panic rushes through me at the thought that she’s trapped in there. I need to get out of this fucking car to help her! I try to move, but my left arm is stuck between the door and the seat. It should hurt, I think, but that doesn’t matter now. I have to get to Kristina.
I pound on the window hoping someone will hear me. I can’t watch her burn to death in that car and not do anything, so I scream, “Help! Help us! Get her out of there!”
My voice begins to give out I scream so loud, but a terrifying thought creeps into my mind as I see the flames engulf Kristina’s car. Help won’t arrive in time to save her and I can’t save her trapped here. She’ll die because I couldn’t save her.
Why isn’t she screaming for help? Tears come to my eyes as the thought of her already dead from the accident forms in my brain. No. God, no! Don’t let her be dead already.
“Kristina! Can you hear me? Answer me! Kristina!” I yell as loud as I can and hope she hears my pleas. But I hear nothing in return.
I begin to feel weak and keeping my eyes open becomes difficult. Somewhere nearby the sound of sirens floats down to where we wait, but it’s too late.
My eyes close as I accept the reality. It’s too late.