Sinner's Creed (Sinner's Creed #1)(79)
“I don’t know what that special thing is. I don’t have a name for it. All I know is that you are you, and that’s everything I need. Your good outweighs my evil and your love overpowers my hate. Whatever makes you you, gives me something that I never knew existed . . .” I can’t name it because I’m too caught up in the realization and truth in my words.
“What?” But Saylor already knows the answer.
“Hope.”
21
NOT TWO HOURS later, Saylor is straddling me in the bed, holding a pair of scissors in one hand and some clippers in the other.
“What are you doing?” I still haven’t mastered the art of not sounding like a dick, but it doesn’t faze Saylor anymore.
“I want you to cut my hair.” No. Hell no. I haven’t said anything because the look I’m giving her should say it for me. “Please?” Her begging will get her nowhere.
“Saylor, no.” She pokes her lip out, but she has already accepted defeat.
“Dirk, yes.” She is persistent, even when she knows she will lose. “If I cry, will that help?”
“Yes.” I can’t lie to her. She smiles, and I’m thankful that she would never guilt me with tears.
“Well, will you make love to me at least?” That, I can do. I grab the scissors and clippers from her hands before she hurts herself, and throw her on her back. The passion for me in her eyes will never get old, but will it be the last time I see it?
I kiss her, letting thoughts of this being the last time we make love run through my head. If this is it, then how does she want it? Slow and sensual lovemaking so I can cherish her? Or fast, hard-core f*cking just the way she likes it?
“Dirk,” she whispers, and I don’t know if she is begging or wants my attention. When she breaks our kiss and pulls away from me, I have my answer.
“Stop overthinking this. I know things are fixing to change, and when they do we will take it one day at a time. Right now, we have to live for the moment. That doesn’t mean it is or it isn’t the last one we will have.”
I decide that from now on, I will do what makes both of us happy. So I make love to her. I love her slow, taking time to kiss her and taste her. Then, I f*ck her hard. I drown her screams with my mouth when she is beneath me, and then let them rattle the windows when she is on her knees in front of me. By the time she is spent and I am too, we both have what we want, and if it’s the last time, it was the greatest. If it’s not, then I’ll make sure next time is even better.
—
It’s Friday, and I’m feeling an emotion I’m not familiar with and I don’t like. Nervousness. We are sitting in a little room, waiting on a doctor to come back with Saylor’s blood test results. The nurse already came in and drew samples, took her vitals, and complimented her wild and untamed hair about ten times. This makes Saylor smile, or should I say smile more. She has been happy all morning.
I think she doesn’t want to show how nervous she is because she doesn’t want to upset me, but it isn’t because I’ve seen any sign of wariness from her. She looks genuinely happy. And regardless of the situation, I can’t help but be driven by her happiness too.
Now I’m taking pictures of her with big ass Q-tips up her nose. Photography is something I’ve gotten pretty good at, considering Saylor has done nothing but take pictures and “capture moments” for the past two months. Every picture she is in, I have taken. Except for the ones where she is with me, or where we are posing with our closest friends. Another brother assumed the responsibility then. Friends. I have friends. I’ve yet to fully grasp that concept, but it’s growing on me.
A knock sounds at the door and before we can get the tongue depressors and cotton balls off our faces, two doctors walk in.
“Miss Samson. Good to see you haven’t lost your sense of humor,” a young man with a foreign accent says. He can’t be much older than Saylor, but the title on his name tag clearly states that he is indeed a doctor. A specialist at that.
I shake their hands, something else I’m getting pretty good at, and introduce myself just as Dirk. I don’t need a title. The love that sparkles in Saylor’s eyes couldn’t make our relationship more obvious than if I wore a name tag that said I’m her man with a big arrow pointing at her.
The doctor introduces himself as Dr. Zi, and then his colleague Dr. Marks, who is a little older, but not by much. I’m guessing he is about my age. I wish they were uglier.
Saylor is talking and I snap myself back to the present, wanting to slap myself for even noticing their good looks when a woman as beautiful as her is so much better to look at. She is telling them she feels good, is ready to begin, and is aware of the side effects. She says this like she doesn’t want them to confirm it. In front of me. They look back and forth between us, and I grab Saylor’s hand, bringing it to my lips and kissing it with a reassuring smile. I can handle it.
The doctor is saying something about him needing to inform her of what’s going on, for legal purposes and all that shit, but neither of us are listening. When he clears his throat, Saylor pulls her eyes from me and nods her head at him, giving him the okay to start the process of ruining our lives. I shouldn’t think like that, but I can’t f*cking help it.
“Your blood work is good. I’m going to administer some fluids to help prevent dehydration, and some steroids to help your body endure the impact of the chemo.” He takes a deep breath and I just wish he would get on with it. Thankfully, he does.