Page 82 of Indigo Sky

“I was in the hospital for a long time after the accident,” I said, placing my hands on her hips and kneading my fingers against flesh, so silken and soft that it was hard to believe it was real. “I was in a medically induced coma for about a week to let my body heal because the doctors knew that, if I was awake and aware of what was happening, I would’ve lost my fucking mind, and … it would’ve been bad. Worse than it was.”

My fingers traced vertical lines from her waist to just below her breasts, and I smirked with every jolt of her breath whenever my fingertips grazed her rib cage.

“My skull was fractured, I had a brain bleed, my skin was”—I lifted my hand to hover over the right side of my face—“allkindsof fucked up, especially before they started putting me back together like Humpty fuckin’ Dumpty … and of course, my eye …”

I dropped my hand back down to cradle her cheek in my palm. “Anyway, when I finally woke up and the doctors and my parents explained what had happened, it fucked me up. Because you have to understand, the last thing I remembered was my dad lighting this kick-ass firework, and then all of a sudden, I was waking up with all of these fuckin’ machines beeping incessantly and half of my face bandaged up and a tube being pulled out of my throat …” My voice broke toward the end there.

Fuck. God, it had been a while since I’d delved that deep into what had happened to me, and the rise of sudden emotion had been unexpected.

Kate glanced up at me, sympathy shining in her eyes, and I sucked in a deep breath to get my shit together.

“So, a couple of days after I woke up, this nurse walked into my room, and she looked around at my parents and me and said, ‘Nobody gets better when everyone acts like they’ve already died.’ She forced me to get into a wheelchair, and she pushed me down to this little courtyard in the middle of the hospital. All it was, was just a couple of shitty benches, a pine tree, and a bunch of flowers, but the sun was shining, and it felt good on my skin. And I remember looking around with my one eye and thinking I had never seen anything more beautiful. And I realized then that, yeah, I might’ve lost the one, but at least I hadn’t lost both because if I had lost both, I wouldn’t have been able to see how vibrant and pretty those flowers were. And as fucking lame as it probably sounds, that’s what I think about when I look at you.”

She barely smiled as she whispered out a laugh. “What, shitty benches and a pine tree?”

“No,” I said with confidence, stepping closer to invade the space between her spread thighs. “I think about sunshine after days of darkness, I think about vibrant and colorful beauty when everything else is so fucking dull. But probably more than anything, I think about coming back to life after too long of believing I was better off dead.”

The words left my mouth, and I couldn’t believe I had said them. For a moment, the only sounds to be heard were the heaviness of our breathing and the muffled noises from outside.

Kate dropped her gaze from mine, and I wondered if I had said something wrong. I mean, fuck, maybe I had crossed a line. Maybe it had felt too forced, too fake, too much like I’d been reading from a script somewhere.

But then she flattened her palms to my chest, her fingers twitching only slightly, and she said in a way that almost sounded like she was laughing, “God, you are just full of that shit, huh?”

Surprised, I burst with a short guffaw. “You think I don’t mean what I said?”

She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, shook her head, and looked off to somewhere behind me. “No, it’s not that. I think you do mean it, and that’s why I’m—"

Knock, knock!

We turned abruptly at the banging against the door, followed by Crystal saying, “Indie, girl, you in there?”

Kate squeezed her eyes shut and sighed out a, “Yeah, I’m here.”

“Oh, okay. Saul was freaking out, asking where you were. You almost ready? The doors open—"

“Yep, just finishing up.” Kate glanced up at me, and her eyes flashed with mirth and excitement. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

"Okay," Crystal called back.

We waited for a moment before tearing our eyes from the door and speaking again, giving her the opportunity to walk away. When we assumed the coast was clear, Kate laid her hands against my chest and slid them upward to my shoulders, then my neck. She held on tightly, her long fingernails grazing over my skin as she pulled me down to her open, waiting lips. I groaned into her mouth and against the seductive dance of our tongues.

But then she slowly retreated, lowering her hands to my chest once again, and I suppressed the need to whine pitifully.

Kate opened her eyes and smiled dreamily into mine. She sighed contentedly as her arms slid around my waist to give me one tight hug, her cheek pressed against my chest, before letting go altogether. She had to get ready to work, to give pieces of Indigo Sky to the clients who would come to see her dance.

But not before she said, "My life has felt very dark and dull for a long time, but you … you make me think of sunshine too."

***

Something shifted between us that night. An invisible electric wave that seemed to be tethered between us at all times, even when she was dancing for other men or delivering drinks between performances. Her eyes would find mine in the dark club, and her lips would quirk with a reassuring smile. I would find that I didn't need it to feel confident in this, what we were … but I did needher.

Twice, she stopped at my table to kiss me, club rules and customers be damned. Once, she dropped her ass into my lap to give me an impromptu dance that lasted all of thirty seconds before she moved on to another table. Her fingertips found my shoulders, my neck, my scalp frequently. All these tiny reminders that, while she worked for them, she was mine, and I reveled in that, even as she left the floor to give someone a private dance.

It was a good night—no, it was agreatnight. All worries, all insecurities seemed to jump out the fucking window, and I couldn't wait for Kate to be off work so we could sneak into the dressing room and make out again.

I had meant what I'd said to her. I felt alive. I felt sure of where I was in my life after years of simply existing, floating from one day into the next. This place—Midnight Lotus—had given me purpose; it had given me happiness and a renewed look on what I even wanted to be. And, fuck, I felt incredible and invigorated, and I itched with a desperation to wrap my arms around her.

But then my skin prickled with a shift in the air, like the wind had changed directions and it was now blowing directly in my face. I narrowed my view of the stage and looked overmy shoulder, curious and unsure of why I suddenly felt this unsettling in my gut.

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