Memories flooded back. The first time he sat down next to me. The first time we kissed. That night in his room, where he stripped me of my clothes and made me feel things no other boy had. I remembered waking up to him in the middle of the night. Feeling his body wrapped around mine. And the only regret I had was that I hadn’t stayed that first night. My only regret out of anything was sneaking out that first night and not cherishing the time we did have together.
“Clint, please!”
My shrieking voice echoed off the trees. Off the water. Off the caverns underneath the bridge. I heard people crying out my name. Telling me to stay put. But I didn’t give them the time of day. I placed my forehead against Clint’s chest, no longer feeling his heartbeat. No longer feeling life pumping through his veins. And as I sobbed against his chest, I lay down next to him.
“No, please. Clint.”
I gripped his shirt. I cried until I heaved. My fingers slid down his arm, checking his pulse at his wrist. There was nothing. No beating. No rushing. No blood pumping through his veins. He felt cold as night. As cold as that fucking water that had almost whisked him away.
“You’re a fighter, Clint. Fight for this. Fight for your life.”
My words were nothing but a whisper in the wind. I kept repeating them, over and over. Hoping beyond all hope that he heard me. In the distance, I heard people coming down the ravine, headed for us as my sobs filled the space around us. The words kept tumbling from my lips like a prayer, reaching out to any God that was willing to look past my indiscretions and fulfill my only wish. I curled up next to his body. His dead, lifeless body. I clutched his chest, unable to make any sounds as my grief swallowed my voice whole.
Until…
“Holy shit.”
The gasp startled me so badly I yelped. I shot up from Clint’s side, gazing down into his eyes. Holy fuck, his eyes were open. Holy fuck, he was talking!
“Clint! Clint. Clint. Can you hear me, baby? Clint?”
“R-Rae?”
I cupped his cheek. “Holy shit. I—oh, my God. Clint! Don’t close your eyes, okay? Don’t close them again. The paramedics are coming. It’s almost over. Just—Clint!”
I tapped his face as his eyes closed, and he groaned out in pain. I’d apologize later, but not right now. Because I sure as hell wasn’t about to let this miracle slip through my fingers.
“That hurts.”
“Because your nose is broken. Keep your eyes open, okay?”
His reddened eyes slowly rolled over to me as the voices and footsteps grew closer. I smiled down at him, my heart filling with joy and relief as he attempted a smile back. He winced, though. I knew his nose was giving him some trouble. And rightfully so.
Because it was practically flat against his face.
2
Clinton
“Clint!”
“Mom?”
I whipped around, looking down as I saw myself clad in white. A white leather jacket, a white pair of jeans, and a white fucking turtleneck. Who the hell put me in a turtleneck? I looked up as I heard the sound of soft feet falling against a tile floor. I saw my mother running toward me, arms outstretched. And when I saw her, I smiled.
“Mom!”
I rushed for her, scooping her up into my arms. I twirled her around, hearing her giggle and laugh as my face fell against her bosom. That soft, glorious place I’d sought comfort in as a child. As a young boy, wanting nothing more than to seek shelter away from my father with her.
I spun her around for what seemed like an eternity before I put her down.
I buried my face into her shoulder. “It’s so good to see you.”
She ran her fingers through my hair. “I’ve missed you so much.”
“Where the hell are we?”
“Language.”