Teach Me To Live (Teach Me - Book One) (37 page)

Swallowing the champagne, I leaned forward in the bed to place my glass on the bedside table. I smiled, feeling so content inside as I reached for a chocolate covered strawberry on the plate Austin set on the bed.

We were cuddled together, laughing, enjoying, and reflecting on all that we had done. Austin was happy, there was no doubt. But I sensed that deep down, he was sad about something. I tried once to push for that something, but he didn’t release whatever it was that was weighing down on him. I could see he was tired because his eyes were heavy and the skin around them was dark. Since we made love (oh, my word, I’ve made love to Austin), he’s been breathless. He just can’t seem to catch it no matter how many breaths he takes. I think he might be getting sick. It’s late August. September is around the bend and it’s always the time when I get a cold. September is the time when the days start getting cooler and October is the season of Madison Avery Flu. I’m always sick in October.

It sucks, but I’m pretty sure Austin will wake in the morning with a runny nose.

Leaning into him, I asked, “How are you feeling?”

He tensed. “What?”

His voice was so deep, and so harsh, I lifted myself from where I’d settled into his side and looked right into his blue eyes. He looked
terrified.
“Austin,”

“Why are you asking me how I feel, Madison?”

“Um,” I frowned. “Because you’re really breathless and you look a little like you’re about to catch the flu.”

He sighed and his eyes fluttered closed. “I’m just really tired.”

“Okay,” I smiled gently. He was tired and obviously a little touchy about it. “How about I go put all this in the kitchen and we can go to bed?”

He swung his legs off the side of the bed. “I’ve got it.”

“Oh,” I nodded. “Kay.”

His eyes softened on my face. “How about you get in the shower? You’re probably a little,” his cheeks reddened. “Sore.”

I blushed. “Sure.”

He smiled, but it looked tired. “I’ll meet you in there.”

I sighed a breath of relief. “Good.”

As Austin loaded his arms with champagne and chocolate covered strawberries, I moved into the bathroom. I hadn’t bothered putting my clothes back on after we had sex, but I had wiggled my way into Austin’s t-shirt. As I lifted it over my head, I caught his scent and I held it over my face and inhaled. I loved Austin’s scent. It was comfort and peace and life. There was so much life inside of Austin. It was a beautiful kind of knowledge to know that someone you love with the entirety of your heart possesses so much life inside of them.

Dropping his shirt to the floor, because I really didn’t want Austin to come back and catch me sniffing his shirt—because that was just
weird,
I moved to turn on the shower. When the head spewed warm water, I stepped beneath the spray and pulled the navy blue shower curtain closed. I had a mini panic attack as I realized that the light in the bathroom was the unforgiving kind of bright—and Austin intended to join me.

At that thought, I heard Austin moving behind the curtain I couldn’t see through. My heart was pumping blood impossibly fast in my chest as I listened to the sound of his boxers hitting the floor. And then, thank all things holy, the light flicked off. In place of the harsh fluorescent bulb Austin had in the bathroom was the flickering gold from the wick of a candle. I sighed in easy relief.

And then I heard him move to the shower. I watched as his hand hooked around the curtain, pulling it to the side, and then Austin stepped inside. We were sharing a shower. Together.

“Hi,” I covered myself in a way I hoped wasn’t obvious. But by the knowing smirk cocking Austin’s lips, I wasn’t fooling him.

“Feeling shy?” He asked as he moved closer to me, planting his hands on my waist to turn my body so my back was pressed against the wall of the shower. Austin stepped into me and I felt that again, he was hard. My heart flipped.

Swallowing hard, I nodded in admission to his question. “A little.”

“Why?” He asked, dipping his head to gaze deeper into my eyes. Water sprayed around his head and shoulders, the left over pebbles of water hitting me gently in the face.

“I’m naked.”

“I’ve been inside of you, sweetheart.”

“I know,” I blushed. But, seriously? That was—way beyond too much information for this moment when I was sure my heart was going to burst out of my very chest. I was—panicking. Oh yes, I was most definitely feeling panicky right now.

As though sensing the growing of my anxiety, Austin asked seriously. “What do you need me to do?”

“I,” I shook my head, my hands moving over my belly where I ached to squeeze myself tight.

Then Austin gripped my chin, tipping my head back. His lips were on mine and everything was fading. I was lost in him—the way I needed to be lost in him.

His mouth on mine was hot. His kiss was firm and filled with want that I knew I couldn’t satisfy tonight. Or could I? I didn’t know any of this. Hell, I didn’t even know if Austin had ever done this before—or if I was his first.

My mind was still whirling when Austin pulled away from me, but I was no longer panicking inside. Instead, I was just filled with questions.

His eyes were so soft as he asked, “Better?”

“Definitely,” I nodded. “Thank you, Austin.”

“Anything to kiss you, sweetheart.”

I smiled, because he would say that. “You’re ridiculous,” I placed my hand on his shoulder before letting it move slowly down his chest. “Would it hurt—if we were to do it again?”

His brows lifted. “You want to do it again?”

I moved my hips, feeling the swollen length of him slide across my belly. “Well,”

“Doesn’t matter what I want,” he said heavily. “I want to know what you want.”

“I always want you.” I whispered in response to his serious tone. “Always.”

“How are you feeling right now?”

“What?” My brows scrunched.

“Are you sore now?” He lowered his eyes. “Inside?”

“Well,” I shifted. “Not really.”

“Then you can probably do it again . . .” He looked uncertain. “Don’t know if we should, though.”

“I want to have you again tonight.”

“I want you again too.” He grinned, dipping his head.

“Austin,” he paused in his descent, waiting. “Have you—have you done this before?”

“A woman’s curiosity,” he shook his head with a shocked looking grin. “It’s a mood killer.”

“So, you have?”

“Will it upset you?”

“No,” I added. “The only thing that would upset me is you not trusting me with the truth.”

“You ask, sweetheart, I’ll always give you the truth.”

I believed him, so I said that. “I believe you.”

“This wasn’t my first time.”

“How many, um, lovers,”

“A few.”

I nodded, because that was vague. “Okay.”

“I never slept around,” he announced. “Not like Kai.”

“That’s a relief.” I teased, not quite feeling the full force of that statement. If he were comparing himself to Kaiden, a few would be like a million. I knew I was exaggerating—but
really.

“Madison,” he caught my chin in his hands, tipping my face back again. “Talk to me.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

“Why shouldn’t you?”

“Well . . .”

“If you’re curious about something, I’d like for you to talk to me about it. Letting it stew will do nothing for you or me.”

I blinked. He was right. “Have you ever been in love?”

“Never like this,” his thumb moved over my bottom lip. “I’ve never felt for anyone the way that I feel for you. The thought of being without you terrifies me. The thought of losing you is actually painful. I’ve loved, but I’ve never been in love.”

I don’t know how, but his answer was satisfying. It didn’t hurt me at all. I wasn’t jealous or put out. I was curious. “Who was she?”

“Her name was Chloe,” he replied. “She was my first girlfriend in high school.”

“What happened?”

His breath caught. “I got sick and she couldn’t deal with it. She left me and I let her. She’s happy now.”

My breath caught. “You got sick?”

He nodded. “I did.”

“But you’re better right now?”

“Right now, sweetheart, I’ve never felt better.”

I smiled. I was so in love with Austin. “We’re wasting a lot of water.”

“We are.”

“We should probably finish up and go back to bed.”

He raised a brow. “Already wanting to go back to bed.”

I blushed. “Not for that.”

“Liar.”

I laughed, because it was really all I could do. Laugh.

And goodness, it felt so good.

I was awake in bed with Madison. She was sleeping, wrapped around my body, and I couldn’t help but imagine that I was a man who had years left to live. I let myself live in a world, for just a few minutes, that allowed me to look into a future I would never have. I let myself picture us—ten, twenty, thirty years from now. I let myself imagine the house we would build, and the garden she would plant, right here on this land. I let myself live through her first pregnancy, and I decided she would crave spicy pickled beans (because I could store a copious number of jars in the basement for whenever a craving chose to strike), like a good husband would. I let myself imagine that I could be the man who slipped a wedding band on her finger. I let myself envision the picture of us on that day that would hang over our bed. I let myself imagine the day our children would leave the nest and it would be just us again, until they gave us grandbabies. I let myself imagine the day she found her first gray hair, and how I would show her again, and again, that night that I thought she was still the most beautiful woman in the world.

I let myself imagine—and I suffered the pain that stabbed my heart when painful reality crashed through imagination in its harsh death of all I wanted and all I could never have.

I had to tell Madison. It was earlier than I intended telling her, but I just had to tell her. What if she was imagining all the ways our future could unfold? What if she was hearing wedding bells, and seeing the dream house, and envisioning the babies we could never have?

I had to tell her . . .

I just didn’t know how. How does one break the heart they love more than their own? How does one break the heart they would die to protect?

She shifted in my arms and I felt my heart pound painfully. I wasn’t ready for her to wake. But I wasn’t ready for a lot of things the Universe was determined to force me to live through.
I wasn’t ready . . .

But I didn’t have a choice.

She lifted her face from my chest and smiled sleepily. “Good morning.”

“Morning, beautiful.” The smile she gave me was the sweetest thing. It broke my heart. It shattered the already brittle organ into what felt like a million shards of ice.

Madison sighed, lowering her head to my chest again. “I like this—a lot.”

“What?” I asked through the building agony in my throat. It was desperation unlike anything I had ever known. It was killing me. Slowly.

“Waking up with you,” she kissed my chest. “After loving you all night.”

I liked it too. “Me too, beautiful.”

She shifted tighter into me. “I talked to Mom yesterday about having you over for dinner today. It’s cool with her. She said she’d make sure Dad was okay with it too.”

I’d forgotten about dinner. Maybe I could wait until tomorrow to tell her . . .

No, if I didn’t do it today, I would never do it. There would never be an easy time to tell her that I was dying. That any day could be my last. That it was only a matter of time. I was already a miracle. I was already in the ten percent mark. I doubted I’d make it into the one percent of people who lived five years after their diagnosis. And I’d only fought it for a year. It was remarkable I was able to do anything at all with my days. I knew there were those who lived without pain until they died. There were those who suffered an exorbitant amount of pain. There were those, like me, who suffered a shortness of breath and a slightly painful tightening in their chest. There were those, also like me, who stopped fighting a battle that was more painful than allowing myself to live through the days God wanted me to live. I was here because He wanted me here. I would be here until He called me home. I might not be ready, but it was never my choice.