Crazy Beautiful Forever (Dirty Twisted Love #3) (11 page)

C
lay was
the first one awake, coming to only twenty-four hours after the crash. Lewis was second, regaining consciousness long enough to learn that his children had been taken into protective custody before sinking back into a semi-comatose state that worried the doctors.

But not as much as they were worried about their other patients.

Foster was hanging on by a thread, Amanda’s EEG suggested extensive brain damage, and Harley and Marlowe had lost so much blood that they’d both required multiple transfusions.

Marlowe had been hit by the helicopter he’d shot down. It was poetic justice, but it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.

Once he was allowed on his feet, Clay spent his time walking between Harley’s guarded room and Marlowe’s, vowing to kill the bastard with his own hands if Harley didn’t wake up. On day four, Marlowe suffered a stroke and died—the result of extensive damage to the brain and a resulting aneurysm—but the sight of the man’s slack face and empty eyes brought Clay no relief.

There was only one thing, one person, who could bring him relief, and so far her eyes remained closed.

On day six, he took Jasper into Harley’s room, hoping that hearing her son’s voice would succeed where hearing his had failed. He hadn’t wanted to scare Jasper, but he was getting desperate. Every day that passed reduced the likelihood that Harley would ever wake up again.

Seeing Jasper hold Harley’s hand gently—just the way he’d been told—and tell her all of the things he’d been doing with his new grandma, who had flown to Stockholm as soon as she learned of the crash, broke Clay’s heart. But if Harley could hear her son, she gave no visible sign.

On day eight, Clay’s mother convinced him to leave the hospital long enough to grab a proper shower at her hotel and change into clothes she’d bought him. But as soon as he tossed the scrubs he’d borrowed into the dirty clothes and promised Jasper he wouldn’t leave his mama’s side until she woke up, he was back out the door.

Days nine and ten passed in a blur of phone calls from his mother begging him to let her buy him a ticket back to the States. She wanted to take Jasper home and get him settled, but Clay knew neither he nor Jasper would be able to return to day-to-day life until they knew if Harley was coming with them.

She had to come with them.

He hadn’t come this far to lose her now.

On day eleven, he pulled his chair up to her bedside and took her hand the way he always did, but this time he couldn’t bring himself to keep his conversation light and easy the way the doctors had instructed.

There was nothing light or easy about watching the woman you love waste away in front of your eyes. Nothing easy about holding your son while he cried and begged you to bring his mama back.

So this time he didn’t tell her about his day or stories from his past or memories from their time together in Virginia.

This time, he told her the scary, beautiful truth.

“I want to talk to you about this kid we have,” he said, pressing her hand between his, willing his heat into her cold skin. “He is the bravest, best, sweetest person I’ve ever met. In fact, he’s so amazing, I’ve decided I need at least three more just like him.”

He laughed softly. “And that’s all your fault. You did a hell of a job with him. A hell of a job. There’s nothing dark in that kid, not a single shadowy corner. You should be so proud. I know I am.”

Clay paused, pressing his lips together as he traced a gentle pattern on the back of her hand and fought for control. He knew it was crazy, but it felt like this was his last chance, that if he left her bedside tonight without seeing her wake up, her eyes would never open again.

He swallowed, waiting until his throat unclenched before going on. “And I never got to tell you that. I mean, I’m telling you now, but I want to tell you while I’m looking into those big blue eyes. I want to tell you while I’m kissing you and telling you I love you and we’re making more beautiful babies together. Because I— I don’t know—”

His features tensed, the skin around his face drawing in as he fought to keep from breaking down. “I don’t know how to go on without you. A month ago, all I wanted was to raise Jasper alone, but now the thought scares the shit out of me. I’m so afraid I’ll fuck it up, that I’ll ruin all the good things you started and turn him into an asshole. Like me.”

He brought Harley’s hand to his forehead as his eyes slid closed. “I’m so sorry I hurt you again. I’m so sorry I betrayed your trust. If you’ll come back to me, I swear I’ll do whatever it takes to prove I deserve a second chance.”

The tears he’d been fighting slipped through his closed eyes to swim down his cheeks. “You can lock me in a sensory deprivation cell or make me hike naked through the jungle, whatever you want. I just need you to come back. I need that night you promised me.”

“Just…one night?”

At the sound of her sleep-rough voice, Clay’s eyes flew open and his head snapped up, his throat working as he saw her gaze fixed on his face. “You’re awake.”

“Had to…wake up,” she said, lips curving gently. “You said one night, but I want them all.”

Clay’s breath rushed out even as his chest clenched tight. “You can have them. Every last one. Let me go get the doctors. They’ve been waiting for you to wake up.”

“No,” Harley said, tightening her grip on his hand. “Don’t leave. Don’t leave me again.”

“I won’t. I promise.” He squeezed her fingers before reaching out to press the nurse call button though he knew from experience that it would take them at least three minutes to respond. “I won’t leave ever again.”

“You promise?” she said. “Even if I decide to fight with you once I’m feeling better?”

His lips curved even as fresh tears filled his eyes. “Even if you decide to fight with me. Hell, I’d rather fight with you than make love to anyone else.”

“Sicko,” she said, but she was smiling. And she was awake and she refused to let go of his hand, even when the nurses bustled in and then the doctors, all of them asking him to step away from the bed.

But even fresh from a coma Harley was more stubborn than the entire hospital staff put together. It was one of the things he loved about her.

She was prickly and stubborn and an expert at getting herself into trouble, but she was also fierce and protective and pretty damned good at getting back out of trouble again. She was also passionate, loving, and on those rare occasions when she let her guard down, heartbreakingly sweet.

“I kept thinking about what you said that night in Prague,” Clay said when they were alone again, waiting for his mother to bring Jasper to the hospital. “About the way love works.”

“Oh yeah?” Harley blinked, clearly sleepy but unwilling to rest until she’d seen their son.

“Yeah. You were right.” He kissed the back of her hand. “The past, the ugliness, the mistakes we’ve made, none of it matters as much as this. As loving you, as holding your hand and knowing I’m home.”

Her eyes began to shine. “People are going to think we’re crazy.”

“I don’t care what people think. Do you?”

She shook her head gently. “Nah. As long as we’re good crazy.”

“We’ll be beautiful crazy,” he said. “Crazy beautiful.”

“Forever,” she said, reaching up to cup his face in her hand.

“Forever,” he echoed.

And then he kissed her and it was the best kiss he could remember, even better than the kisses they’d shared before because he knew it was true. He had found his forever and he was never going to let her go.

F
irst and foremost
, thank you to my readers. Every email and post on my Facebook page have meant so much. I can’t express how deeply grateful I am for the chance to entertain you.

M
ore big thanks
to my Street Team, who I am convinced are the sweetest, funniest, kindest group of people around. You inspire me and keep me going and I’m not sure I’d be one-third as productive without you. Big tackle hugs to all.

M
ore thanks
to Kara H. for organizational excellence and helping me get the word out. (No one would have heard of the books without you!) Thanks to the Facebook groups who have welcomed me in, to the bloggers who have taken a chance on a newbie, and to everyone who has taken time out of their day to write and post a review.

A
nd of course
, many thanks to my husband, who not only loves me well but also supports me in everything I do. I don’t know how I got so lucky, man, but I am hanging on tight to you.

I
love reading
your thoughts about the books and your review matters. Reviews help readers find new-to-them authors to enjoy. So if you could take a moment to leave a review letting me know your favorite part of the story—nothing fancy required, even a sentence or two would be wonderful—I would be deeply grateful.

L
ili Valente has slept
under the stars in Greece, eaten dinner at midnight with French men who couldn’t be trusted to keep their mouths on their food, and walked alone through Munich’s red light district after dark and lived to tell the tale.

T
hese days
you can find her writing in a tent beside the sea, drinking coconut water and thinking delightfully dirty thoughts.

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