Our Last Time: A Novel (10 page)

I placed my hands on his shoulders again, smiling like an idiot as he kissed both corners of my mouth.

Or was it my smile that he was kissing?

I made an
mmm
sound, as if I tasted something delicious, like my favorite dessert.

Wyatt noticed, and was kissing my neck, now.

When would this stop?

I hadn’t wanted it to. I hoped I wouldn’t get any more folders for patients, and we could do this until lunchtime.

I could easily skip lunch, though. Maybe it would last until the end of my shift.

“Kissing you is really nice,” he said, kissing up my neck.

His mouth was close to my ear, now.

His breath was everywhere, and it hadn’t even smelt bad.

Wyatt tasted like minty orange juice.

“Mhmm. Yeah. Nice.” I was breathless, and practically gasping the words out of my mouth.

“Mmm.” He was making the same sound I had made, except it lingered for a while longer, and it was a way better sound coming from him.

He was kissing my collarbone, now, and I felt like I was on fire.

“Are those lions?” he asked softly.

His breath was still everywhere, and his mouth was still on my collarbone. That made it hard to answer his question.

“Huh?” I muttered.

“Your scrubs,” he said. His smile against my skin was intoxicating.

You’re going to get me drunk with that smile, Wyatt,
I thought.

“Mhmm. Yeah. Lions,” I answered faintly.

Lionesses, too,
I thought, but I couldn’t convince myself to speak again.

I felt drunk already.

“I want to rip this off, and leave the stethoscope on,” he said, deep and low in his throat.

He was tugging on my top with his one hand, now.

“How animalistic of you,” I whispered.

I was pretty sure he growled like an actual animal that time, and it was hot, hot,
hot
.

My breathing pattern was erratic. His was kind of worse.

Oh, wait…

Oh no.

Oh no.

I placed a hand over his heart. It was the nurse in me. I couldn’t help it.

Was he about to go into another cardiac arrest?

He was still kissing me, up and down my chest and neck. I wanted to tell him to keep going, but I also wanted to make sure his heart was
okay
.

I was trying to count the beats vibrating through his chest, but I couldn’t keep up.

He kissed my mouth a few times, his eyes closed. I wasn’t responding the same as he was, and he noticed that.

He opened his eyes, his lips just barely touching mine. Slowly, he placed his one hand over mine, the one I had lying over his chest.
His heart.

I hadn’t wanted to be the one who hurt his heart.

“What you’re feeling, Willow…that’s not a bad thing,” he whispered against my lips.

I hadn’t known if I believed those words.

“For your heart to act this way?” I whispered in return.

I was curious about his heart.

He kissed me softly. “It acts a little differently when I’m kissing you like this, but that’s not a bad thing.”

“So you’re not hurting?” I continued.

He kissed me again.

And again.

Soft kisses from Wyatt were really, really nice.

“Not the way you think,” he responded.

I looked down at the only other thing he could be referring to.

Yep. There was a tent pitched between his legs.

Wyatt was seriously erect.

I gasped. He noticed.

His one hand moved to my face, and he lifted my chin up so he could kiss me again.

We could only kiss, and he was erect, and that made me want to do more than
just kiss him
.

I was a nurse, and I kissed a patient. He was erect. I was still willingly letting him grope and kiss and grope everywhere his one hand and mouth could reach.

This wasn’t a good idea.

“Wyatt, you’re erect,” I uttered the words.

We were still kissing. We hadn’t wanted to stop.

But we had to.

We stopped kissing suddenly. Wyatt was able to stop.

I was trying to.

He brought his lips to my forehead, and I felt him sigh.

“I need to take a quick shower,” he said.

I knew what that meant.

“Okay,” I said quietly.

I hadn’t left the room when he got off the bed, and went into his bathroom to shower.

I knew he was tall, but not
that
tall. He had to be above six feet.

Taller than I expected, and I thought that was nice.

He looked good in a hospital gown, as morbid as it sounded.

Better than I looked in a dress.

I waited on the edge of the bed where I sat, and I heard him turn the shower on. I continued waiting, and I could just barely see misty steam make its way through the crack of the door.

Holy shit, he wasn’t taking a cold shower. He was clearly masturbating in a hot one.

I smiled, amused.

Wyatt could masturbate with his right hand, but he couldn’t eat his own eggs. I hadn’t minded feeding him, though.

Not anymore.

I had gotten up to clear the floor. All the egg that had fallen, I put back on the tray. The two cartons of orange juice were both lying on their sides, in different directions. I picked them both up. I had put the unopened one on the armrest attached to the bed, and the opened one on the tray.

The packaged utensils, and the used fork, I had put back on the tray as well.

I had left the room with the mess, wondering when I should come back to check on him.

My mind boomed with possible things I would say to him, or what he’d say to me when I’d return, or if he’d still be in the shower…spontaneously chanting my name as he came.

I had a dirty mind.

I dumped everything in the trash can, and then placed the tray with the others. I was about to round the corner when Tessa came around.

We paused, a foot away from one another. Her eyes were accusing, and that made me grimace.

She was pointing at my face.

“What happened to your hair?” she asked, her eyebrows scrunched together. “It looks like you just got done having sex.”

Jesus, Mrs. Detective. Wyatt and I just made out heavily, I swear.

I hadn’t told her any of that, though, of course. Distinctively, I brought my hands to my hair, and ran my fingers through it.

My hair was knotted, and felt like a disaster.

I wanted to face-palm myself.

“Just a bad hair day,” I told her. “No sex.”

She shook her head, her nod suspicious. Her gaze even more suspicious.

I wasn’t lying, exactly.

“You should prep in the bathroom,” she suggested.

I nodded, fighting the urge to gut-punch her.

“Good idea, Regina.”

She looked at me funny.

“Sorry, I meant Tessa,” I waved my hand in the air.

I tried to suppress my smug smile.

She’d walked past me to grab a tray so she could put food on it. “There’s a patient for you in room
208
; Doctor Venice has already started caring for him. He has a broken arm. Looks like you might need to acquaint Doctor Venice during the surgery,” she said to me, her back turned.

I sighed. Damn. I was hoping to check on Wyatt again, but I had a patient on my hands that needed me. I wasn’t going to make Doctor Venice wait any longer.

“Okay, thanks for the heads up,” I grumbled.

I turned, and walked towards the front.

I stared at Wyatt’s door.

I was close to Wyatt’s door.

I approached Wyatt’s door.

Once I was in front of it, I started walking slowly
away
from it, but then… I heard something.

I swore, I had heard something.

I paused.

Faint words. Water. Louder words. Water.

Willow.

He said my name, his voice noticeably strangled and light, but
still
not unheard.

I walked away quickly when the water cut off, like I was about to get caught trespassing.

I wanted so badly to witness what just happened in Wyatt’s shower.

I was grinning when I walked up to make sure the folder had already been claimed, where Denise was sitting. Her stare was no less suspicious than Tessa’s.

She looked at my face, and then she pointed.

Shit, my hair.

“Bad hair day,” I explained, before she had a chance to question me.

She actually laughed. I blushed.

“You look awfully happy for it to be a bad hair day,” she said, biting her smile back. “I saw you when you came in, remember? Your hair wasn’t a hot mess thirty minutes ago,” she whispered those last two sentences, causing my flush to intensify.

I patted my hair down with my hands, which hadn’t helped at all. I took my hair band from my wrist, and then bunched my hair into a tiny ponytail.

“We will never speak of this again,” I said. My eyes squinted, teasingly, because I knew Denise was cool enough to keep this a secret.

She lifted her eyebrows. “Speak of what?”

I loved her.

I winked at Denise, and then walked off towards room
208
.

Willow

The rest of that week
, Calvin Steelton had eaten lunch with me at school and had walked me to class afterward. I told him I’d go on a date with him, and he seemed really happy to hear that.

I became comfortable around him. I considered him a friend, but a
friend
that I was going on a date with.

Our first date was today. He said he’d pick me up at six-thirty. I had told my dad to lock himself in his room, because it was too soon for Calvin to meet him. He had given me a look like he hadn’t wanted to do that, so I convinced my mom to stay in there with him and hold him back.

This was a weird situation for me. I’d never gone on a date before. My mom expected me to start calling Kennedy my boyfriend, but I terminated that analogy of hers about two years ago.

Now I was going on my first date with Calvin Steelton, who neither of my parents knew. I knew him a little.

The fact that I knew him a little was the reason why my mother had allowed my requests.

The doorbell rang.

I stood up from the couch in the living room, then rubbed my hands over the dress I had on.

I only had one dress besides the magenta-colored prom dress and I decided that
maybe
I should wear it on my first date.

It was light blue, arrived at the knee, and simply cotton. It was so light blue, that it was almost white. I hadn’t liked wearing dresses, but I did like the way people would look at me when I’d wear one.

I couldn’t imagine Calvin Steelton looking at me in a different way than he had been the past week. I liked the way he looked at me already.

I walked slowly to the front door. I was kind of tiptoeing.

I was wearing my gray Keds with the dress. I hadn’t had heels, besides the ankle bruisers I wore to prom - and I was not going to be wearing those ever again. Stiletto’s no longer existed for me after what I endured.

I was dressed semi-casual. My hair was down, and smelt pretty damn good. I thought I was ready for this date.

What I wasn’t ready for was Kennedy to be on the other side of the door, breathing heavily like he had just gotten done running a marathon of some sort.

My eyes widened, and my posture had stiffened.

“Kennedy? What are you-”

“I’m going to kill that fucker if he comes to this house, Willow,” he interrupted me. He took quick breaths, in and out. He was angry. He said the word
fucker
. He had also said the word
kill
.

I stared at his face for a second, blankly.

He looked over his shoulder, and then gently pushed me aside as he walked in the house, and locked the door behind him.

He was facing me, now.

“What are you doing here, Kennedy? Why are you mad? Who are you going to kill?” I questioned him, eyed his appearance, and couldn’t
stop
noticing the erratic rises and falls of his chest as he breathed.

He tapped his foot for a moment.

“Remember when I said I’d be stalking your date?”

I nodded.

“Well…” he paused. “I kind of lied.”

I sighed deeply. “What’d you do, Kennedy?” I asked slowly.

“I stalked
him
. I saw his truck a few hours ago, and followed him to Cape’s,” he shook his head, irritated. “He was with that girl that everyone says he’s been fooling around with. I think her name is Valerie. They were really touchy,” he explained.

“Did they kiss, or something?” I asked.

He nodded vigorously. He had a disgusted facial expression, like I brought up bad memories by asking him.

“So I guess he’s going to stand me up, or call and cancel,” I shrugged.

My feelings weren’t too hurt about it. I hardly knew Calvin, and he was the one who approached me in the first place. He was just making himself look pathetic.

“If that’s not the case, and he shows up over here, I am going to get into a fight in your front yard, Willow,” Kennedy said in a hard tone, raising his voice a little.

Kennedy sounded like a caveman.

“No way in hell are you fighting Calvin,” I dismissed. Kennedy might have been acting like a caveman, but he wasn’t one and I wasn’t going to let him fight Calvin Steelton. Even if Calvin turned out to be even more douche-tastic than I had first thought, I wasn’t going to let Kennedy get hurt.

Kennedy was a bit taller than Calvin, but Calvin was a football player. He worked out regularly, while Kennedy did not.

“Willow, I’ll dismember him if he tries to break your heart. Every single limb. All of them,” he said.

Dismember him with what?
I wanted to ask, but I hadn’t.

“You don’t need to do that for me, though. I’m smart and I know to turn him down now. He’s not even close to
something
anymore, Kennedy. Promise,” I tried to reassure him.

He knew I wasn’t stupid, though. He was just angry that Calvin Steelton was the typical jock and tried to lower me in like a fresh piece of meat.

“He deserves at least one punch in the face regardless. Whether he comes over here, or not. Especially if he comes over here. I’ll punch him at least once if he comes over here,” he said.

I shook my head no, and he suddenly curled his lips into a smirk: like he had an
idea.

Or I could just get Marshall, and he -”

I had cut him off by gut-punching him, causing a small grunt to part his lips. He smiled widely.

“Leave my
dad
out of this,” I muttered.

He paused for a moment. His smile was making me smile, despite the disappointment I had, regarding Calvin. Kennedy made everything durable. I hadn’t known what I’d do without him.

“Come here,” he said.

I hugged my best friend around the waist as he wrapped his arms over my shoulders. My cheek pressed against his chest and I listened to the soothing rhythm of his heartbeat.

He was lucky I wasn’t one of those agonizing criers. Some girls would be hysterical in a situation like this. I just realized quickly that Calvin wasn’t worth crying over. I had Kennedy. Kennedy was all I needed.

After this, I knew I was no longer going to offer conversations with guys that weren’t Kennedy; not until Chicago. It wasn’t worth it, and seeing Kennedy even remotely angry
was a bit unsettling.

“He has no clue what he is missing out on, Willow. I’m glad I caught him, and I’m glad
I’m
the one you’re hugging tonight,” Kennedy whispered. I had my head tucked under his chin.

“Me, too,” I agreed. I doubted any other hug would be as good as Kennedy’s hugs, anyway. Though I liked the way Calvin had talked to me, his words I had always questioned. In the end, he had turned out to be one of the least genuine talkers of history. Somewhat, I had known better. I was just afraid of losing Kennedy.

That night, Kennedy and I ran into my parents’ bedroom. We surprised them. They were happy to see Kennedy instead of Calvin. We had gone downstairs together.

My dad would always ask stuff, like, “When are you moving in, Kennedy?”

And my mom would always counter his question, and say, “No, honey. When are
you
going to fix up their home, so they can move in
together
?”

Nothing was ever awkward with Kennedy. We were like family, except I hadn’t looked at Kennedy as my brother. I looked at him as my other half. Most of my soul was coherent because of Kennedy. I owed him everything, but he’d probably say he owed
me
everything.

My mom had dinner cooked, and we all ate in the living room, our plates sitting on our laps as we watched a movie on VHS.

Kennedy was sitting close to me, but our thighs weren’t touching. Every second, I’d scoot closer to him until our thighs were touching. Slowly, he had placed his hand on my knee. He was welcoming my closeness, and I knew he was smiling.

My mom was sitting on the far end of the couch, lost in the movie. A wine glass was in her hand, her lips just barely tracing the rim of the glass. Her plate was empty at her feet, now.

I caught my dad staring at my mom from his recliner, his empty plate on the coffee table. He was sipping on a glass of water, because he had some scotch about an hour ago. He gave me a light smile before turning his head towards the television. He had caught me catching him staring at my mom, but really, I appreciated the love my parents had for one another. It was a rare thing. They loved each other more than they loved themselves. It’d be torture without control. Somehow along the way, they had found their control. They had found the right time to start controlling it. They made love work.

I found myself wishing that I’d find love one day like my parents had - a type of love that I could control with someone whom could control it with me. Not just a comforting love, a love that made sense, a
love
that was worth fighting for. I just wanted to make love work with someone whom I loved more than myself.

I looked at Kennedy as he stared ahead. I forced my eyes to take him in more than they ever have before.

He was mine forever, but he was running out of time.
We
were running out of time. I never wanted to admit that. I wanted to pretend, to wash it away. I wanted to look at him as
just
my best friend.

But we knew it all. We knew each other. We knew what was right, what was wrong, and how many spaces we had to even out before our time was up.

Our ending we could not decipher. We wanted to pretend forever, no pauses. No rewinds, either.

We were afraid, because either way, we would have our last time. We wouldn’t have any do-over’s, or repeats, because there would be an ending
eventually
.

We just hadn’t known when that was.

We were simply screwed, and it was no one’s fault. No one was to blame. No one got to pick, or choose their forever. Some were lucky to live a long and fulfilling life, while others were cut short.

We hadn’t said anything as we sat there, watching the television screen. The volume was mild, but I couldn’t pay attention. My thoughts were too loud.

At this time, as I sat here with him - I had no idea the cancer was back. I just knew we had different plans. I was moving to Chicago, while he was planning to attend the local community college in Nolensville, Tennessee. He wanted to keep his momma company. Kennedy’s pop was practically nonexistent. Kennedy hadn’t known his father, or his father’s first name, for that matter. But Kennedy loved his momma, and the last thing he wanted was for Trace to be here alone, in one of the smallest towns in Tennessee. He also wanted a simple, quiet life. He wanted to save the rebellion within him for when his time was almost up, and he told me that a long time ago. I was just oblivious for a while. I hadn’t known it was already happening, right in front of me. Or that I had been a part of it.

When the movie was over, my parents said goodnight, then went to their room after collecting all the plates. They had trusted Kennedy. I had trusted him, too.

“Are you ready to go home, now, Willow?” he asked quietly. His mouth heated my ear, it was so close.

I nodded, turning my head to face him. “Yes,” I whispered.

We rose from the couch. He had put his arm around me, because he had somehow known that I reached the dark side. He knew I needed to retreat. That was why we were going home.

He brought his mouth close to my ear again as we stood motionless in front of the couch. I closed my eyes, expectant.

“Then let’s go home,” he said.