Page 30 of Frozen Flames

I don’t realize the implication of my words until I’ve said them. I wish I could take them back when Gemma looks as though I’ve slapped her.

“So if she wasn’t, I’d have a reason to worry?”

Seriously, she’s going to turn this on me?

“Nope! I’m just trying to give you some peace of mind. I’ll be fine.”

“Alright.” She nods, making her way to her bedroom.

I wish she were more preoccupied with the fact that she agreed to travel, probably with her young boss, to LA no less, after he dropped her off at home last Friday, rather than if I’ll survive without her constantly watching me.

I head to my room, blasting music through my earphones while I draw. My drawing quickly turns into Gemma, marking her beautiful features. Sometimes I feel as though she’s more alive on these pages than in real life.

I continue my sketch, waiting a while after the light goes out in her bedroom before wheeling myself in there and next to her bed.

She looks so small with the light from the hallway reflecting off her skin.

I swallow, watching her take deep inhales in and small exhales out.

I could watch her sleep all night.

Many nights I can barely catch any sleep of my own. I have nightmares revolving around the accident. Or this massive fear, pestering and poisoning the insides of my mind, that I’m going to lose Gemma.

I still fault myself for putting her in the hospital because of my dumb ass.

My baby could’ve died.

My throat clogs up, and I gently caress her cheek with my forefinger.

I’m so sorry, Gemma, for everything.

I wish I could do better.

I wish I could be better.

I wheel back to my room and transfer to my bed. I take off my long tee and gray joggers before removing my compression socks.

Once I’m in my adjustable bed, my body tires out and eventually leads me to a slumberous sleep.

Harvey

Claire’s cheering me on two days later on Wednesday afternoon.

I take steps without holding on to the bar. I repeat the movement one more time while clenching my fists tightly by my side.

“Harvey!” Claire squeaks when I’m done, and my smile is large and wide, my heart fluttering as if I were high out of my mind. It takes me a second to register the gesture when Claire throws her arms around me and gives me a big hug.

My smile fades, yet I can’t help giving in to the hug.

It feels so damn nice.

Her tits are warming my chest, and when she looks up, eyes round and hopeful, she tells me, “I’m so proud of you.”

And I die a little. Then I’m reborn.

A weight lifts off my shoulders.

She lets go of me, though my arms miss her touch. She’s beaming when she proposes that I sit back on the chair and start weight training.

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