Page 38 of One Night With You

He slid his hand over my leggings, in between my legs over the seam. It pressed me just right that I let out a shocked exhale of air.

“This room isn’t soundproof,” he whispered against my neck.

“Oh.”

He rubbed against me, his hand underneath my tank top and over my sports bra, the other between my legs. I pushed back against him, rubbing along his length, as we both groaned. We weren’t touching skin to skin, but it was one of the most erotic positions of my life.

Pent up, eager, I arched for him, wanting more, nearly at the edge, when his phone buzzed.

He cursed under his breath, and stopped, kissing the side of my neck.

“That’s the emergency line.”

Still thrumming, my heart racing, I nodded, and pulled back, bending over to take gulps of air.

Kingston’s gray sweatpants were tented in the front, the lead pipe between his legs swinging to and fro. I really wanted to know why the man wasn’t wearing underwear, but then again, I did not need to think about that.

Kingston frowned when he read the readout, his face graying a bit, as he answered. “Samantha, is everything okay?”

It would make sense that Samantha would be one of the ringtones that got through for emergencies. As we were still waiting on the final results for the bone marrow transplant, we were all on edge.

I was already moving toward him as his face fell, and he kept nodding even though I knew Samantha couldn’t see.

“When?” A clipped word, and yet it spoke of so much.

My heart shattered, the world feeling as if it screeched to a stop as Kingston stood there, his face stoic, his jaw tight.

“Thank you for letting me know. I’m so sorry, Samantha. Yes. Yes. I’ll be there. I’ll get all the information.The team will be there too. You won’t be alone. Is your family with you? Good. They’ll handle things too. Sit down, Samantha. Drink some water. I’m so sorry.” He ended the call, and stared at me, his eyes wide, bleak. “Eddie died. He threw a clot during the final procedure and he’s… gone. Just like that, I couldn’t save him.He’s gone.” His voice broke, and when he fell to his knees I was there, holding him close to me.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“I thought we could save him. I thought it was going to work this time.” He kept repeating it, my shirt growing wet with his tears, and I cried into his hair, holding him close, knowing that there was nothing I could do to make anything better.

In his mind and heart, Kingston needed to save people. It was in his blood. It was his purpose. And he couldn’t save his friend. It didn’t matter that it was medicine, and cancer, and such a small percentage of success, Kingston had given everything he could, and it hadn’t been enough against cancer.

In this moment, there was nothing I could do, nothing I could say, so I held him, and let the strong man who had just protected me, and taught me how to protect myself, fall into a million pieces and break.

9

KINGSTON

“Eddie Walker Silver lived a life of joy, love, and strength. And he died as he lived, in the arms of his doting wife, under the care of those who wanted to see him thrive, and under the strength of his own perseverance. We do not say he lost a battle. For this is not losing. This is merely an outcome that nobody wanted. He did not lose his fight, for that would outweigh the battle he clawed his way with bravery through. Eddie Walker Silver was a man of love and devotion. And he will be missed.”

I squeezed Claire’s hand after the speaker continued on about Eddie’s power, his multiple awards in life, and everything that he had lived through.

I hadn’t seen Eddie day-to-day in our lives. We hadn’t worked together but he would come in thebuilding with Samantha for her tattoos, and both would come in for coffee and sweet treats at the cafe. They’d even attended an art exhibit at the art gallery on the other end of the building. They had bought a piece of my cousin’s art.

No, Eddie and I hadn’t been best friends, nor did we share each other’s deepest, darkest secrets. But our lives had been entwined in a way that you were with strangers who hadn’t realized how close you could be. And I had bled for him and had tried to save him. I had tried to do so much.

Only a single blood clot had changed the game.

The next person stood up to speak, then Samantha, then Eddie’s father, another friend, and then another.

And now I was supposed to sit here as the others spoke of Eddie, holding Claire’s hand as Eddie’s family—as well as mine—watched, and pretend that I could be as strong as the man who now lay in ashes in front of us. A wooden box carved for him by his grandfather. A grandfather who still lived and sat there with his chin up high as if he could fight back the tears with just a glare.

My friend lay in a wooden box, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, and it was all I could do not to scream.

Failed.

---