Stealing Kisses

Chapter 24 (Three Weeks Later)

Tim POV: 

They transferred me home a little over a week ago, once they were able to get me off the ventilator. They thought I'd be more comfortable here, which is a complete joke. They want someone to be around me at all times, which would've been far easier at a hospital. Right now, Rob's been watching over me, making sure I don't try anything brash for the next few weeks. 

I slowly stand, feeling my legs shake under me. I stagger toward the bathroom, staring at the hole where my door handle used to be. Rob went through the house and took off every lock, except the ones on the front and back doors. He took out every pill, every razor, every piece of rope, and even every belt. I pretend like I didn't notice, but I definitely did. I think if I called it out, he'd think I was preparing to try something again and would send me back to the hospital. I stand at the sink, staring at myself in the mirror for a moment. 

I have a few new scars from the accident, but not as many as one would expect. The road rash has healed, along with the dislocated shoulder. The rod in my leg is hardly noticeable, apart from a few little purple scars and a lingering bruise or two. 

I start toward the living room, noticing Rob knocked out on the couch. I see my keys lying on the counter, causing an idea to pop into my head. 

I sit at the end of the bar, throwing back manhattans until I can feel my fingers start to go numb. A tan blonde across the bar keeps making eyes at me, bitting the end of her straw as she sips on a fruity drink. She slips off her barstool, before walking my way. 

We bust into a hotel room, a penthouse overlooking Nashville. She can't keep her hands off of me, practically hanging off of me as I try to search for the bedroom. I can't find it, causing me to resort to the couch. She immediately begins taking off her clothes, while I find myself getting distracted in the view from the floor to ceiling windows. She gets on her knees, prying off my jeans while I'm hardly paying attention. She climbs onto my lap, straddling my legs, before grabbing my hands and putting them on her waist. She moves rhythmically, in a way that's damn near hypnotizing. 

Faith falls into bed beside me, panting, as I do the same. I place a hand on my chest, before hearing her start to laugh. She glances over toward me, rolling onto her stomach and kicking her legs in the air. Her hair falls over her shoulder, covering her face slightly. I push it back behind her ear, watching her eyes gleam at me. She leans forward and kisses me. 

She kisses me, blending into the memory I had of Faith seamlessly. I watch her closely, noticing similarities. I rest my hand on her cheek, before feeling my chest start to pound. I lift her up carrying her across the hotel room. 

I carry Faith in her white dress across the honeymoon suite. She cackles as I lay her down in the California king bed covered with the cheesy rose petals the hotel staff laid out. I pry the straps of her dress off, as she pulls off my tie, damn near choking me. She starts laughing harder as she notices she made my tie a noose for a moment. She rolls onto her side, tears streaming down her cheeks as she howls laughing. 

"I'm so sorry." She bursts out, knowing she's killing whatever sexy mood we had going. "Oh my god, it hurts." She cries, holding her stomach after winding herself laughing. I can't help but laugh with her, which of course sets her off even harder. "Stop laughing." She says, now wheezing while laughing. I lean down over her, watching her smile up at me. 

She smiles my way as I lean over her in bed. She pulls me down for a kiss, running her fingers through my hair. 

Faith's fingers run through my hair as I lie on the bathroom floor, pale and clammy, after a long night of withdrawal. She leans her head back against the wall, shutting her eyes as she tries to have a moment of rest. I sit up and start throwing up once more, causing her eyes to reopen. She rubs my back, as I hug the toilet, throwing up bile at this point. I heave, having nothing left to throw up. She grabs a glass of water off the counter, slipping it in my hand. I down it, feeling my hand shake as I drink. She continues to run her fingers through my hair as I rest my head on the toilet seat. "Don't stop." She says, as I nod. "You can do this." She reassures me.