The Ending I Want(112)

But that’s a lie.

Not that I won’t keep her safe because I will. I’ll always do everything in my power to keep Taylor safe.

But this…this is out of my hands, and that scares me.

No, f*ck scared. It terrifies me.

Part of me is afraid that the surgery won’t work. That, after all of this, I will end up losing her anyway.

But I don’t vocalize it. I hide it.

And, when she opens her eyes and gives me a weak smile, I return that smile, forcing mine to be stronger. All the while, I conceal my fears as I lean close and kiss her forehead one last time.





The room is dark, except for the soft glow coming from the television across the room.

We’re back to where we were last night—Taylor in a hospital bed and me by her side. But I’m sitting this time, not pacing around the room, pleading with her to live.

The same, but everything has changed.

I’ve arranged for her to have the best brain surgeon in England to come to do her surgery, and it’s scheduled for first thing in the morning.

Also, we’re in a different hospital room than the one Taylor was in last night. I want her to be comfortable. So, I had them put her in a private room, the best they have.

Donations to the hospital go a long way in getting what you want.

Money brings power, and I have a lot of both, so I will use all of it, if necessary, to ensure Taylor gets better.

Something else that’s different now…I know she loves me.

She loves me, and we’re together.

And we’ll be starting our life together as soon as she’s better.

She is going to get better.

I glance back at her face. Her eyes are closed.

I pick up the remote control from the bed and turn off the television. The moon is full and bright, giving some light to the room.

I stare out the window, up at the moon and the stars glittering around it.

I’m not a religious man. I’ve never been the kind of man who prays, but right now, I’m praying.

Don’t take her. Please.

Turning my chair to face Taylor’s bed, I lean over, resting my arms on the bed, and I gently press my face into her stomach.

I inhale her scent. She smells of everything I want.

Her. I just want her.

Fingers touch my head, slightly startling me.

“I thought you were sleeping,” I say against her stomach.

“Just resting a moment. Talk to me, Hunter.” Her voice is a soft whisper.

I turn my head, resting my cheek against her stomach, so I can look at her face. Even in the muted darkness, I can see how beautiful she is. I will never tire of looking at her.

“What do you want me to talk about?”

“Anything…but not about what’s going to happen tomorrow. Don’t talk about that.”

The surgery.

My mind goes blank as I try to think of something to say. Because the surgery is all I can think of.

“Nothing to say?” Her lips lift into a smile. “Not like you, Hunter.”

“Your beauty has stolen all my words.”

“Did you steal that line from a book?”

“Probably.” I grin.

Her fingers start gently sifting through my hair. “Tell me about the time you sang to that girl. The one you were trying to win back.”

“I thought Cam and Eddie told you all the gory details?”

“They did, and it made me laugh. I want you to tell me, so I can laugh again.”

God, I want to hear her laugh. More than anything, I want to make her happy.

I want her to be healthy and happy.

But I don’t have the power to make her healthy. And I hate the way that makes me feel.

Weak and powerless.

But, for her, I shove my feelings aside and decide on the best and quickest way to make her laugh.

I start singing the words to “I Want It That Way.”

She laughs, and it’s f*cking music to my ears.

“You’re crazy,” she tells me.

“Crazy about you.”

My eyes meet with hers. She’s smiling, but even in this darkness, I can tell she’s not happy. She’s afraid. And it hurts to know that there’s nothing I can do to eradicate that fear.

“You shouldn’t sing that song to me, Hunter. That’s your breakup song with another girl. It’s not our song.”

“We have a song?”

“We do.” She smiles. This one seems more genuine. It reaches all the way to her eyes.

That smile makes my heart beat faster.

“Are you going to let me in on what our song is?”

“‘If You’re Not the One’—that’s our song. So, if you’re going to sing to me, you sing that to me.”

“If You’re Not the One” was the song that was accidentally playing on repeat when I asked her to stay in London with me. The night when she told me she didn’t love me and then ran out of my apartment. The night that was the start of my world spiraling out of control.

Two nights ago.

How was that only two nights ago?

“I don’t know if that’s our song, babe…”

Her fingers stop moving through my hair. “You told me you loved me for the first time while that song was playing.”