Midnight Lily(42)

She nodded slowly and then kissed me again. "Yes, love."

I moved my eyes over her face, trying to read her expression, trying to understand what she felt for me now that she knew. I didn't know what I felt for me now that I knew.

"It shattered me, Lily. Losing him, it," I took a big shuddery breath, "it shattered me."

"I know, Boy Scout, I know."

And it sounded as if she did. "He was the other half of me."

She shook her head. "No, he was your best friend. You're a whole man. You're not half of anyone."

Her face was so beautiful, so sorrowful, so filled with compassion. It was all too much, too much. I grimaced from the pain in my head. "No, I'm not a whole man. Maybe you don't even know me. Do you feel that way? You must."

"No," she said softly, and then with more force, "no. I know your superpower is flying." She smiled. "And I know you like football, and Star Wars, and jazz music, the old kind." Her fingers skated down my cheek, and I leaned in to them. "I know you like comic books, and museums, and fireworks, and travel. If I cooked for you, I'd make you pancakes even if it was midnight, and then I'd take you to a movie in an empty theater on a Tuesday, in a snowstorm. And then," her voice grew even quieter, "we'd come home, and you'd make love to me so sweetly I'd want to cry and sing at the same time. I know you're kind and good and that you love people with your entire heart and mind. I know that when you love someone, you'll love them forever. Are all those things true, Boy Scout?" Her fingers found the scars on my back and traced them lightly, lovingly, her fingertips finding the small, scattered divots.

"Yes," I breathed. "Yes, Lily," I murmured. It was the only thing in me right then. Only her. Only how much I loved her.

Under the blankets, Lily's hand roamed across my hip, her fingernails raking softly down my outer thigh. I shivered, hardening. Her smell, the soft feel of her was all around me, and I needed her so desperately. I needed her to remind me that I was real.

"Lily," I whispered again, my own hands roaming her body now. She was only wearing her bra and underwear and she quickly removed them, helping me take off my boxers. My body hurt, felt bruised all over, but I didn't care. Her lips found mine and I sighed, tasting her, basking in the comfort of her mouth on mine, her tongue tangled with my own. Moaning softly, she gripped me in her hand and stroked me several times until I was throbbing. She positioned her hips and guided me inside her under the blankets. I moaned at the soft, wet grip of her flesh around my own. "Oh," I moaned. "Oh God." Lily moaned, too, as our lips met. This was relief. This was heaven. Warm under the blankets, a safe haven, my body connected to Lily's as we moved together, seeking to find comfort in each other's bodies.

Minutes later, we came together, gripping one another and both crying out as softly as possible. We kept kissing for long minutes as we came back down to earth, Lily smiling softly against my mouth. I wanted to fall asleep again. Making love to Lily had zapped the very last of my energy. Despite her smile, a tear rolled down her cheek. "You know you don't need me anymore, right?" A numb sort of panic arced through me.

"No, no, I'll always need you. Always. I'll always love you." Why did it sound as if she was saying goodbye? I struggled to think. And I was still so tired . . . so very, very tired. I still felt like a ten-ton boulder was sitting on my head. It hurt to think.

Her expression was sad. "No, you need to go get your life back, Boy Scout. You're strong enough now." I tried to keep my eyes open—to keep them on her—but my lids were so heavy. I wondered blearily if the woman who'd cared for me had given me something to make me sleep.

"I'll always love you, Boy Scout. Always." It was the last thing I heard before sleep claimed me once again, stealing me from Lily's arms.

**********

"Hey, buddy, you awake? Wake up, man." I blinked, grimacing against the bright light coming in through the window. Squinting, I opened my eyes, adjusting to the light.

"Brandon?" I asked, my voice gravelly.

"Yeah, it's me. How are you? Jesus, you look like you've been beaten up."

I sat up slowly, looking around. I was in bed at the lodge. I scratched my head, things slowly falling into place inside my head. How had I gotten here? I'd been in bed with Lily. How in the world had Lily and the other woman gotten me back to the lodge? I took a few more minutes, just staring into space as all the pieces came together . . . thinking about everything that had happened since I'd been here. I looked down at my naked chest, bandages wrapped around my torso. There were large black and blue bruises everywhere, a few just turning a sickly yellow. My ribs still ached. A good portion of me still ached. My finger was in a splint and wrapped with bandages as well. Inhaling a sharp breath, the weight of it all—everything I'd experienced, everything I'd realized—crushing my chest. I leaned back against the headboard, gripping my hair with my good hand. "Where's Lily?"

Brandon frowned, sitting down at the end of the bed. "Lily?"

"You haven't seen her?" I asked, pulling myself up just a little bit more. "I just can't figure out how they got me back here." I still felt groggy, but my body felt decent, and my mind was mostly clear, or clearing anyway. Clearer than it'd been in months. I thought about the rooms I'd been in. My God, I'd been at Whittington. The height of the ceilings, the way the paint had been peeling on the walls, the similarity to the pictures I'd looked at online. I didn't understand why Lily had brought me to an abandoned hospital, why she had a room set up there, but . . . "She must have gone back. I have to go find her." I sighed, closing my eyes again, gathering the strength to get out of bed.