Revive Me: Part Three (New Haven #2)

by J.L. Seegars

There’s a brief silence, and then Sloane starts talking, spinning me a wild web of a story about a frat party she doesn’t fully remember from her first week of college where she met Nic, and they, as he described it, fell in love. And just like that, everything I’ve never understood about his approach to interactions with Sloane makes perfect sense. It must have hurt like hell to watch her and Eric together, to see her become a part of our family in a way so different from what he initially envisioned.

She hugs me back. “I don’t want you to kill him any more than you want me to kill Chris.”

“Well,” I sigh. “I guess the bastards get to live another day.”

I’ll never understand men like Gabriel Alexander or Reese Johnson, never know what particular brand of evil you have to be to work so hard to sabotage every morsel of happiness your child finds in the world. And I’ll never be able to fathom how despite being the scum of the fucking earth, they managed to father two good—sometimes foolish—men.

Everyone finding out about Nic’s feelings for Sloane would have only ended in tragedy, a dissolution of a family unit that was integral to the growth and development of two amazing humans who came from fucked up families. Having come from one myself, I understand the desire to protect the good things in your life. The rare, scarce blessings that are few and far between.

“No.” Mal shakes her head. “Not that. Well, I mean, I guess that too, but I was talking about you and Nic. How alike y’all are.” “In what way?” “Both of you need to be the hero. The person making all the tough decisions, protecting everyone, and sacrificing himself no matter the cost.”

“You’re right. I guess it’s a result of being the sons of selfish men and self-sacrificing women.”

“I mean, whether he knew it or not, Nic gave Eric his last chance at love. He got to be a husband and experience real, true love in a way that he might never have if he and Sloane didn’t get to be together. And as much as I hate that Nic suffered for so long, I’m glad there was no strife between him and Eric when he died.”

“No, princess, I won’t give up because even though I know I can live without you, I don’t fucking want to.”

“So, what’s in the box?” I move over to the island, bending at the waist to comfortably rest my forearms on the cold stone. The position forces my breasts up and out, but it also puts other assets on display. I may or may not exaggerate the arch in my back, forcing Chris to choose between losing himself in the luscious swell of my cleavage or the curve of my ass.

“Maybe it would have been, ” I agree, smiling ruefully. “But I always knew I would get it back to you, and when I did, I wanted it to be something new, something to show that our future might not look anything like our beginning, but it could still be beautiful. Remade but still whole.”

“I’m sorry, what?” “Friends,” Mallory says, nodding like she’s trying to convince herself and me simultaneously. “We should be friends.” “Friends,” I repeat, tasting the bitterness of the word on my tongue.

“I just don’t trust it,” she repeats. “Even though I’m tired of lying to myself about being happy to have you around, I can’t deny that I spend every day waiting for the other shoe to drop. For the moment when you leave because your life is always pulling us apart. There’s this cloud of dread around us, Chris, and it’s heavy and gray and impossible to penetrate, so we have to adjust. We have to find a way to be the only thing we can be to each other.”

“Okay,” I agree, a sadness I don’t allow myself to completely indulge caving in my chest. “Let’s be friends.”

“Well, don’t be. You’re a talented and capable young woman; it shouldn’t come as a surprise that someone would take note of that.” “It doesn’t,” I say, but it feels like a lie. Like maybe deep down inside, I can’t believe that someone as smart and successful as Veronica would take note of someone like me.

“I knew it!” She yells, grabbing a dish towel and wiping her hands clean before she rushes across the room and pulls Sloane into a hug first and then Nic. Both of their faces are stuck somewhere between happy and confused, probably because Mama doesn’t seem at all surprised. “Oh, my babies, I’m so glad you two finally came to your senses.”

“I’m glad to see that no rain clouds are hanging over your head today,” she says, that same soft lilting laughter from the night we met outside of Gild tickling my brain. The way memories do when they want to come to the surface, but your subconscious keeps pushing them back down. “Yeah, I guess I’m finding the joy in dancing in the puddles.”

“I always knew you were a fighter.” Wonder coupled with pride I don’t understand shines in her eyes. “To go through so much and still not give up takes a lot of strength.”

Who is this old bitty??

“I guess that’s one way to look at it.” I laugh, shocked by how easy and familiar this all seems. This is only our second conversation, and it feels like I’ve known her for a lifetime. “That’s the only way to look at it.”

The woman beside me chuckles, and I pull my eyes away from Mallory just long enough to see the knowing smile on her lips. “That’s her,” she says. “That’s your Mallory.” My Mallory.

“This.” She shrugs off the coat, revealing the open back of her dress and the undone zipper that got stuck right around the cuff of her ass, leaving most of the cheeks exposed because she doesn’t have on any panties.

I close my eyes and groan, not even bothering to try and keep it quiet because I know that I have to let it out; otherwise, I’ll be on my knees in this hallway, undoing what little progress she made with the zipper so I can spread her cheeks open and eat her ass.

“Mallory.” The groan has transformed into a growl. A deep, wounded sound that doesn’t even begin to cover what the sight of so much of her sk...

My fingers press into her flesh, sinking into the pillow-soft rolls at the dip in her hip. And the hallway is quiet. The silence seemingly in observation of this moment, of something settling between us that wasn’t there before.

“There.” I’m whispering, quiet enough to not disturb the fragile thing that’s just begun blooming. Its existence is tenuous, delicate like the thread I’ve just pulled out of the zipper. “I got it.”

From there, it’s easy work. A simple matter of pulling the zipper up the rest of the way, allowing it to come to rest at the small of her back, covering up the dimples that live there now. Another change to her body I wasn’t there to mark with worshipful eyes and reverent hands. They’re stunning in their own right, deeper than the ones in her face, but less beautiful because they aren...

I have to tell her any and everything. All of my truths, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant, belong to her. Her hands are their home, and she might choose to discard them, to toss them over her shoulder or crush them under the soles of her feet, but she’ll never be able to say that I didn’t give them to her, that I withheld information from her or deprived her of the opportunity to weigh in on decisions that impact both of us.

Whether she wants to acknowledge it or not, she’s my partner in this life and the next. And I won’t ever make the mistake of behaving like she isn’t.

“Princess—” Desperation coats each syllable of the nickname I gave her a lifetime ago, the way it always seems to these days, and I’m unashamed. I want her to know that I’m prepared to beg, to bleed, to die for her.

“That shit being where Chris and I are currently living?” Sebastian asks, leaving me wondering about the identity of the woman who has his heart in a vice grip. I don’t know him well enough to ask, but I’m thankful for our camaraderie.

Ah the Sebastian in the next book!

“Mr. Adler,” The young lady says, looking a bit intimidated by the idea of interrupting her boss in the middle of a conversation. “Ms. Hendrix needs to see you.”

I turn my phone in her direction, letting her see the picture of the positive pregnancy test Ash is holding in his hand while Kristen, Nic’s ex-girlfriend, beams at the camera over his shoulder. “Oh, wow,” she says, handing me the phone back. “Lord help the poor child that will have Kristen as a mother.”

“I was pregnant, Mal.” Her voice trembles. “We found out the July before he died, and we didn’t tell anyone because it was so early, but a few weeks later, before I was even out of the first trimester, I started bleeding.”

“I know.” Sloane lifts her head, looking me right in the eye. “Of course, I know that. I was just so raw about it all, and I probably would have told you about it eventually, but then Eric died, and I felt like I’d lost everything, and it was all my fault.”

Shame is a heavy weight on her shoulders, causing them to slump. “We got into a fight the morning he died. I told him I didn’t want to try again just yet, admitted to getting the IUD. He was so upset he stormed out, and I never saw him again.”

I pull in a deep breath, calling up all of my strength to tell Sloane the secret I’ve carried since before we knew each other and ignoring the voice screaming at me. Telling me this—the act of sharing, of unburdening, of trusting—would have saved Chris and me. That if we’d been in the habit of sharing the load, the way Mama, Nic, Sloane, and I have done with each other over the last four years, I wouldn’t be pretending to be friends with the love of my life.

Sloane wraps her arms around me. I didn’t even notice her move, but I’m glad to be in the safety of her embrace, enveloped in the kind of love and acceptance she promised but I still feared I wouldn’t receive.

“And he looks at you all the time. Even when you’re not looking at him, even when you’re rude and mean to him, he still looks at you like he loves you. Like his whole world revolves around your smile.”

“We’re not married anymore, Giselle, so picking up your phone calls is not my responsibility.” Neither is hopping on a plane to help her solve her problems. The realization dawns on me, working together with the image of the disappointment on Mallory’s face the night of the engagement party to send a final spiral of shame to curl around my ribs.

Exactly u should've blocked her and kept it pushin captain-save-a-hoe!

“Okay, then, what is the truth?” I love you. I was wrong about so many things. I have so many regrets in this life, but you’re not one of them. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I love you. I’ll always love you.

Mallory’s brain has always been one of the sexiest things about her. I have vivid memories of disrupting our study sessions during college with hungry kisses and loving bites just because I couldn’t watch her absorb the information in a book without wanting to devour her. And I’m pleased to find that my reaction to her intelligence hasn’t changed at all. If anything, it’s more acute now, demanding in a way that’s at direct odds with the control I’m trying to exercise.

“Yeah, I gave him an edited version of events, focusing mostly on my fucked up family shit and leaving out your stuff. I wouldn’t do that, princess.” I swallow, pushing the words past a lump in my throat. “I wouldn't tell your secrets without your permission. You know that, right?”

Since then, the quiet has bothered in me in ways I didn’t know were possible. I miss my brother and his stupid jokes. I miss his smile and how he always got me a prank gift before he let me open my real one. And I miss the way his presence made the house feel fuller, alive with joy, possibility, and hope for the new year. Christmas hasn’t been the same without him.

Every time I looked at the message, all I could hear was Mama and Sloane telling me that this time could be different, that I shouldn’t run, that our love could be enough if I let it. So I’d sit down and write a response with content ranging from ‘Yes, let’s get together.’ to ‘I love you. Can we please have that forever you promised me a lifetime ago?’ and back again.

“Annette.” Vanessa smiles, and I feel a familiar surge of love for my mother and her talent for making everyone feel like they belong here, in this place with us. She doesn’t even know Vanessa, has no idea about how she lost her parents and then her aunt Margaret—who raised her while she was working as a nanny for Chris’ family—but she’s still doing it.

That thing she does that I can’t ever find the words to describe. She did it with Nic when the turmoil of his parent’s relationship made him a fixture in our home and then again with Sloane, who had everything she could ever want in this world except a loving mother. And even though she and Chris had only known each other briefly during our college years, she left the same mark on him. The imprint of a mother’s love.

<3

Everyone in the room joins in on the laughter, and for a second, I’m stunned by the sound. Of joy filling the room. Of family and love that expands, slipping into the empty cracks left by loss. A rough palm lands on my forearm, the warmth of it bleeding through the fabric of my sweater and snapping me out of my thoughts. I look down and fall face-first into two pools of honey, sinking slowly into the warm, viscous depths without so much as a single cry for help.

But it doesn’t stop me from looking, from hoping for another seating option that won’t put me beside the man who won’t stop looking at me like I’m the reason the sun rose this morning.

Sloane, Van, and Ter all look up, and I pause just long enough to take in the sight of my two worlds colliding. My heart soars. I never thought I would see this day, never thought I would get the chance to have this. All my favorite people in the same room, laughing and talking like old friends, creating relationships that will exist outside of me.

Something about her, no, everything about her reminds me of the girl she used to be when we were in college. Back in the honest, unguarded moments, we had together after I’d learned all her secrets and she unearthed mine. After we realized that the nightmares didn’t come as often when we were wrapped around each other, tangled in the safety of each other’s skin.