“Aaaaash,” I breathe out before his lips cover mine and he kisses me senseless. He kisses me hard, biting and licking, until I can taste blood between our tongues. I moan, coming againon his hand. He groans, not letting go of the pleasure spot and sucking my bloody lip into his mouth.
I breathe out, moving my body slowly against his. My hands drop to his chest as he lets go of my lips and slides his fingers out.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, holding my face and smiling at me.
“Thanks.”
The word is broken and breathy, and all I want to do now is take a nap. He fixes my dress—as much as he can, I guess—and carries me out of the water into the car. The drive to the hotel is eternal, even if it’s only two minutes long. Having a wet dress will definitely do that to a girl, but it’s all worth it. Because as soon as we get to the room, he does his words justice and fucks me into oblivion.
FEBRUARY, 2028
Dear Asher:
Six weeks since I saw you. I can’t believe we’re doing this, but I guess we are. Things at work are hard. I hate it, and I’ve never hated work. It’s one of the things that makes me good at it. That I can usually find the light even in the darkest night (see me using your metaphor here?)
It’s Valentine’s day this weekend, and I’m on call. On purpose, that is, because what else am I going to do? I don’t know how much about my personal life you actually want to know; if it’s TMI, just tell me.
The dating pool in Baker Oaks is smaller than ever, and I don’t have the energy or the bandwidth to do anything after work most days. My free time usually goes to helping at home. Since my mother’s Multiple Sclerosis diagnosis, I’ve been picking up more and more things there. This, I don’t want to talk too much about, so you only get one question.
Livie and Alex are trying to have a baby but having trouble. It hurts my heart seeing her cry every month when she gets her period, so a lot of my free time has gone to just cheering her up. I’m picking up extra shifts here and there, trying to pay off all mystudent loans so I can pitch in with my mom’s treatments a little more. All of it is exhausting, which leaves me with little desire to date or try to meet someone outside this town.
My job, well, I hate it. Just thinking about it makes me mad. I used to love being a trauma nurse at the pediatric hospital, but I’ve been doing it for over a decade, and I guess seeing children hurting and dying eventually takes a toll on your own mental health. I don’t know how much longer I can do this.
I’m sorry if I’m being a whiny baby, but I can’t share all of this with Livie or my sisters. They’re going through so much already. Everyone at work either loves it, or they’re new, and well, I guess I’m a loner now. I don’t have anyone else in my life but the guy I’m only able to see once a year and I can’t even call.
Please tell me something funny. Anything. Bring some light into my life again.
Oh, by the way, here’s my phone number: 904-852-9633. I know you said you liked letters, but just in case you needed it for whatever reason.
Xo,
Hales
MARCH, 2028
Dear Hailey:
Happy late Valentine’s Day. I’m sorry you had to work and you didn’t have anyone to celebrate with. You asked for something funny, but my life is anything but right now. So how about a joke?
How do vampires know if they had a successful Valentine’s Day?
Try to answer.
Don’t look yet.
Try again.
Ok, now read the answer.
If it’s love at first bite.
I hope it made you laugh, even if just a little bit.
I’m so sorry you hate work. Nobody should be tied down doing something for hours every day that they don’t love. Because then, you’re basically working twice: once for the actual grind and again to fake a smile that says, “Yeah, this is totally fine and not soul-crushing at all.” Maybe there’s another department you could slide into? Or maybe you’ve got some hidden talent youcan freelance? I’d give you more solid advice, but the only thing I did before this was sling fries and mop floors at a fast-food joint, which, trust me, was far less heroic than what I do now.
Being an AST is a whole different world. I love it. I mean, where else do you get paid to jump out of helicopters into freezing water, drag people back from the edge of disaster, and then still have time to hit the gym afterward? It’s like James Bond meets Baywatch, minus the slow-motion hair flips. (Did that make you smile? I hope it did, because I worked hard to come up with that line).
But it’s not just about the thrill. I love the brotherhood, the purpose, the fact that when things get rough, I’m the one who gets to step up. My life growing up was sad and hard. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, and maybe one day, I’ll tell you all about it. I felt useless most of the time. If I wasn’t the best, I might as well not even come home. So, I learned to be the best at everything. Grades, sports, cleaning my room, doing chores, staying quiet, all of it. I was so good at the latter, most of the time, they didn’t even know if I was right there in front of them. It didn’t matter that I graduated with honors or that I was captain of several teams, including swimming. It was never celebrated. But here, in this place, I am. Here, I’m valued. Here, I matter.
