Page 5 of Entwined
I blinked away the remnants of sleep, focusing on him. He looked better—there was a touch of color in his cheeks that hadn’t been there the night before. Relief washed over me, and I pushed the covers aside, stretching my arms above my head. My t-shirt rode up, exposing a sliver of my belly.
Colson’s eyes zeroed in on that strip of bare skin, and I saw the shift in his expression—the sharp, predatory gleam that sent a shiver down my spine. He stood up from the desk with deliberate slowness, his gaze never leaving me.
“You’re beautiful in the morning,” he murmured, his voice low and rough.
I couldn’t help but chuckle as he approached, crawling onto the bed with a feline grace, like a predator stalking its prey. The intensity in his eyes made my heart race, a familiar thrill mixed with concern.
“Colson,” I said softly, placing a hand on his chest as he reached for the waistband of my panties, his fingers teasing the edge, “you need to save your strength.”
His lips curled into a seductive smile, his voice a husky whisper as he leaned closer, “Don’t deny me, Josephine.”
His words sent a jolt of electricity through me, and I felt my resolve weaken. The way he looked at me, the raw need in his eyes, was impossible to resist. But beneath the desire, worry gnawed at me. He was pushing himself, and I couldn’t bear the thought of him overexerting his fragile body.
“Colson,” I whispered, trying to sound firm, but my voice betrayed me, trembling with the same longing that filled his eyes.
He didn’t answer with words; instead, he captured my lips in a kiss that left me breathless. His hands were gentle, yet insistent, as they roamed my body, rekindling a fire that had been dimmed by fear and uncertainty. I knew I should stop him, but every touch, every kiss, eroded my resistance until I was lost in him, in us.
His fingers trailed down my side, sending shivers in their wake, and I found myself arching into him, surrendering to the moment. “Josephine,” he breathed against my neck, “let me have this. Let me have you.”
His plea, so filled with desire and something deeper, something almost desperate, broke whatever was left of my resolve. I cupped his face in my hands, looking into his eyes—those eyes that held me captive from the very beginning.
“I’m yours, Colson,” I whispered back, the words carrying all the love, fear, and need I felt for him.
He smiled then, a slow, satisfied smile, before claiming me again, his touch, his kiss, making me forget everything but him. In that moment, there was no sickness, no fear of the future—only the two of us, lost in each other. And as he moved above me, I held onto him, praying silently that we would have more moments like this, more mornings, more time.
Life settled into a delicate balance, a fragile rhythm we clung to as we navigated Colson’s illness. We kept the truth from the staff, though I was certain they noticed the changes. His once-powerful frame had grown thinner, his presence less commanding. He worked shorter days, and I could see the curiosity in their eyes, the unspoken questions that hung in the air whenever Colson walked through AFC, his steps slower than before.
We tried to maintain some semblance of normalcy, slipping into the routines we had before, but it was impossible to ignore the way things had changed. On the days Colson had treatments, he returned home utterly drained, his usual vitality replaced by an exhaustion so deep it terrified me.
I’d help him to bed, where he’d collapse without a word, his breathing labored as he fell into a heavy, restless sleep. The following day, he would often need to sleep well into the afternoon, his body demanding the rest it needed to recover.
One evening, after a particularly grueling day of treatment, I sat beside him on the bed, watching as he struggled to stay awake. The lamp cast a soft glow over his face, accentuating the hollows of his cheeks, the paleness of his skin. He looked like a shadow of the man he used to be, and it broke my heart.
“Colson,” I whispered, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “You should rest.”
He shook his head weakly, his eyes half-open. “I’m fine, Joey,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “Just… give me a minute.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat, trying to keep my voice steady. “You don’t have to pretend with me. I know you’re tired.”
His eyes fluttered shut, and for a moment, I thought he’d fallen asleep. But then he spoke again, his words slurred with exhaustion. “I hate this, Josephine. I hate feeling weak… I hate that you have to see me like this.”
I reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. “I’m here because I love you, not because I expect you to be strong all the time. It’s okay to let go, Colson. It’s okay to rest.”
He sighed, his grip on my hand tightening for a moment before loosening again. “I don’t want you to worry,” he said, his voice breaking. “I don’t want you to see how scared I am.”
Tears pricked at my eyes, but I blinked them away, forcing a smile. “You don’t have to hide how you feel. We’ll get through this… one day at a time.”
Colson’s eyes finally opened, and he looked at me with a mixture of gratitude and sadness. “I don’t deserve you, Joey,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “I don’t deserve how much you love me.”
I leaned down, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Yes, you do,” I whispered against his skin. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
He closed his eyes again, his breathing evening out as sleep finally claimed him. I sat there for a long time, watching him, my heart heavy with fear and love. This was our new normal—navigating each day with the knowledge that time was slipping through our fingers.
I knew we couldn’t keep up the charade forever, but as long as Colson wanted to fight, I would fight with him. Even if it meant pretending everything was okay when it was far from it.
When I finally crawled into bed beside him, I wrapped my arms around him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest. As I drifted off to sleep, I clung to the hope that we’d have more time, more moments like this, where it was just the two of us against the world. But deep down, I knew that hope was as fragile as the man lying beside me.
Chapter 3
