Silently, Mia unlatched my belt and unbuttoned my slacks before taking my hand and walking me to the bathroom.
Pausing in the doorway, I leaned into the frame to steady myself as she bent over to turn on the water. “I’m running you a bath,” Mia muttered. She was angry, and I couldn’t blame her. I’d allowed my mum’s presence to throw me off.
Voices from the telly competed against the water running from the bath, a crime show she had been watching still playing in the background. She turned and approached me, and her hair was piled high on top of her head, wisps framing her face as she slid off my belt. “Will you let me take care of you?”
I managed to nod and let her undress me. Both the slacks and boxers rolled down my thighs until the wet clothes hit the ground at my feet.
After sinking inside the bathwater, the hot temperature burned my wounds, but my shakes slowly declined before going away completely. Mia sat over the floor, leaning over the edge of the tub. “I’m so mad at you right now,” she scolded, dabbing a hand towel over my busted lip. Another tear slipped down her cheek, and I closed my eyes, unable to see her like this.
“I’ll be alright, love,” I whispered, cringing. It hurt to breathe let alone speak. Mia dropped her hand and tucked her head into her arms over the tub. I’d seen her break down, punch walls, mirrors, letting out her absolute worst, but never had I’d seen her so defeated at my expense. My hand came up, and I wrapped my fingers around her neck and in her hair. “I promise. I’m going to be fine. It’s going to be alright.”
She lifted her head, her chin resting over her arm. “I can’t lose you.”
“You’re not losing me.”
“Promise me.”
“You’re never losing me,” I repeated. “I promise.”
Mia nursed my wounds and helped me into the bed. I’d been through worse before, but it seemed to make her feel better to help.
I spotted my book lying over the nightstand and asked her about it.
“They have a bookstore close by,” she shrugged from the other room, picking up my wet clothes from the floor and disappearing into the bathroom, her voice trailing after her, “I went and grabbed a copy of Oliver Masters poetry book, volume one.”
“Oh, yeah?” This made me smile. I’d left her a few ponies, and I knew how much the book cost. “I could’ve given you a copy, love.”
Mia re-appeared into the room, cleaning and unable to sit still. “I wanted to buy it to support you. But it didn’t occur to me until I was walking back to the hotel that you pretty much just paid for your own book because it wasn’t even my money, to begin with.”
“Your money,” I corrected her, wincing as I turned on my side so I could watch her.
Her brows bunched together. “Huh?”
“Everything I’ve built was for our future. It’s as much yours as it is mine.”
“Don’t say that,” she shook her head, “It’s all your hard work. I haven’t done anything to deserve it.”
Mia walked around the room and slipped under the covers beside me in the king-sized bed, careful not to touch me, but I wanted her to. I tried to sit up, but an ache shot through my back. Groaning, I fell back into the bed. “Have you read the poetry, Mia?” White teeth dug into her bottom lip as her eyes locked on mine. Slowly, she shook her head, and my other hand came up to graze her jawline and down the base of her neck, despite the amount of pain coursing through me. “My love for you bleeds onto those pages. I write because I can’t contain my feelings for you, but I publish because I want the entire world to know a love like ours exists.” Her breath shuddered, and my thumb moved over her bottom lip. “It gives people hope, something to believe in. Something to never stop searching for.”
“Will you read to me tonight? You know, if you’re up for it.”
I smiled. “I couldn’t think of anything more I’d rather do.”
Mia twisted in the bed, and I caught a glimpse of her arse peeking out from under my large tee she wore as she grabbed the book from the nightstand. Soft legs instantly tangled with mine, as she laid close to my side, jasmine filling my senses. Momentarily, I closed my eyes to cement this moment and stir the many memories of us the past two years. The Links could do whatever they wanted to me, but as long as I got to come back to my home beside her, I knew everything would be okay.
I opened the book to the dedication page.
“A poet’s lullaby,” I read, then went on with the rest of the poem as her hand lightly moved over my chest, and my heart thumped against her palm.
“That’s beautiful,” Mia hummed against my neck.
“No talking, love. We’ll never get through this book if you keep making comments,” I pointed out, and she looked up from thick lashes, and I offered a grin before turning to the next page.
It was a Tuesday morning,and we’d been camped in the hotel until Ollie fully healed.
He was still asleep when the sun rose and yellow and orange rays swept through the hotel room through the partially opened navy blue curtain. His arm rested over his head as his face tilted away from me, and I took the time to trace my fingers over his sculpted features daintily. My fingertip outlined his tattoos, hard chest, down his abdomen where bruises had changed colors, and over the curves of his abs. His body, branded in black ink, was the eighth wonder, and I’d wished I could hang him in the sky, his iridescent vibe raining over this somber earth. Maybe, then, people could finally stop and see the world the way he saw it and have a reason to smile again.
Ollie hummed in his sleep at my touch, and I lifted my gaze to catch his lashes fluttering and lips part as a breathy moan escaped. I waited until he stilled before moving my hand south, feeling the light trail of hair beneath my fingertips. Last night, we laid naked, twined parts, anchored hearts, and twisted souls, and this was what love with him was like.
