Head Above Water

by C.E. Ricci

“Grief is like the ocean; it comes in waves, ebbing and flowing. Sometimes the water is calm, and sometimes it is overwhelming. All we can do is learn to swim.”

Grief, like love, is something that binds us all.

No instruction manual will be handed over to tell you how to cope.

Grief is a personal journey, and if I can tell you, my readers, anything with this book, it’s that there’s no right or wrong way to try to keep yourself afloat after the loss of someone—or something—you love.

Even though death is a part of life, it’s too hard to understand—to comprehend—why it’s necessary. And even though you know it’ll come for all of us, no matter how hard you try, you’re never prepared for it. Not the reality of it, anyway.

But even death has nothing on losing someone who is still alive. Knowing someone you love is still walking this Earth, going about their day-to-day life, just not part of your life anymore.

See that hot dude over there? I’d fuck him. Oh, he went to prison for killing someone? Yeah, I’d still fuck him.

The gay guy catching all those unrequited feels for his straight stepbrother. Sounds like the plot right outta some awful gay romance novel.

Cassadee

Im sorry but wtf is that name and why is it spelled like that

David walks in then, with his eyes hard on Cannon, as he adjusts the cuff on his sleeve. He’s always doing that. Watching Cannon like a damn hawk. Something I never understood.

You’ll see my dear

Then again, maybe it’s because, every once in a while, I catch myself looking at him the same way I feel him look at me. Like I said, it’s fucking weird.

Once he tells them he’s gay, it only piques their interest more. Like they’re the one who can magically make the guy switch to pussy over cock.

Honestly, when it comes to the human race, we make things like sexuality far more complicated than it should be.

Heartbreak is part of life. Losing people we love and care for often comes with getting older. But we always make it through to the other side. We always survive. We don’t have any other choice.

I most definitely am obsessed with him. Kinda. Just a little bit. In the least stalkerish creepy way I can be.

“Out of all the hot guys out there in the world, why’d I have to want you? The one person I can’t have.”

“Shut the fuck up, you fucking fag!” My body caves in on itself and I slide down into a seated position against the porch rail, gasping for air that won’t seem to fill my lungs the way I need it to. Glass digs into my palms, but I barely feel it. All my focus should be on trying to breathe again. But the second I see Cannon wrap his arm around Kole’s neck, all thought of oxygen is gone. “The fuck did you call him?” Cannon growls,

Oh lordy

“By daylight, I want you gone. Before either of them wake up, you get your shit and get out.”

This is so fucked

“As of three hours ago,” he says softly, cutting into my thoughts, “both David Tate and Rachel Caldwell were declared brain dead.”

Jesus fuck.... I couldnt imagine

Because, after all this time, one thing still rings true. I’d sell my soul to see that smile.

“I just need an anchor.” I hear the unspoken request in his statement. It rings through my brain, loud and clear. Be my anchor.

Easton’s a filthy fantasy, a dream I never let myself explore. And now he’s calling to me like a siren’s song.

“Then have me.”

My fucking anchor.

“I’ve got you, baby,”

BABYYYYY

Shatter, break, and fall apart first if you need to, I plead internally. But please, just come back to me.

“I know you’re not okay, so I’m not gonna bother asking,” he whispers. “But I just want you to know...it’s okay to not be okay, East. You can break. You can fall apart. I’m here to help pick up the pieces.”

“This is more than consoling each other,” he mutters breathlessly, pulling back again to look down at me. The truth in his eyes speaks volumes. “It’s so much more. You have to know that.”

“Gimme a sec. I might come if I move too soon.” “Just think about dead parents,” I rasp, shifting my hips despite his protests. “Should be good to go then.” His eyes sink closed, and he winces. “That’s not funny, East.”

“You own me,” I utter through the gravel caught in my throat. “Every fucking inch of me.”

“Then just know, I always take care of what’s mine,” he whispers back.

“You’re a dream,” I whisper, my nose brushing his. “You’re a dream in the midst of my worst nightmare.”

I try to let it out, cleanse my body of everything I’ve bottled up. But all that escapes my mouth when I open it is...silence. Yet, somehow, this scream is louder than any other.

Putting him back together is breaking me apart.

“I don’t think anything will ever be able to take this pain away. But you’re the only thing that makes it bearable.”

“What’re you doing?” “Holding on,” I mutter, letting my lips brush over his skin. And never letting go.

“You’re insane.” “I’m really not.”

Relief washes through me, worried he could’ve somehow read my mind in that moment. Hear what I was thinking.

That’s me lol

And now my soul is not mine and mine alone. It’s also his. Just as his is now mine.

Just when things start picking up, his hips making a slow, seductive grind against mine, the ring of the doorbell breaks us apart with a groan.

Jesus fuck it’s Anna

“I have two plane tickets back to Charleston the day after tomorrow,” she says firmly. “Your name is on one of them, Cannon. Until you’re truly needed here, you’re coming home.”

Fuck you bitch don’t tell him what to do

Because…that’s the thing about hearts— Like waves, they break too.

It’s like I was gasping for air the moment I found out he was gone, not realizing he was the oxygen I needed the whole time.

Two Months Later

Fuck this shit

“How could I when I’m in love with you?”

“But your job. Apartment. Your whole life is—” “Here,” he says, cutting me off.

She’s really pretty, which makes him pretty too, I guess.

It tingles a little, his hand in mine, and I don’t think I like it. The feeling only gets worse when he finally smiles at me. But I don’t hate it. I don’t hate him the way I thought I would. I think we could be friends, maybe. “Hi, Cannon.” The way he says my name, it makes my heart feel all fuzzy. My belly does a weird little flip too, and I don’t like that. It’s strange, and my hand still tingles from him touching me, and it’s all too much. And I decide right there, I don’t like him after all. I doubt I ever will.

My heart