only person left who knows me, the real me, and when she forgets, I wonder if the only good things about me will die along with her already fading memories.
Logan
I enter through the back door then lock it behind me, thinking of how Abby was barricading herself in when she walked in earlier. Abby, since I met her, has always been larger than life, that unattainable creature that only exists in myths that pretends to be flesh and blood like the rest of us.
But if seeing her in a hospital bed didn’t convince me, then watching her when she returned home proved Abby’s fragile. Possibly more fragile than anyone else. It’s not the ones that know how to ask for help that can shatter, it’s people like Abby who are made of glass and carry the world on their shoulders that are going to break.
Nate lifts his head from a novel and nods as I stride up the stairs. Her grandmother’s door is closed and a light shines from beneath Abby’s at the end of the hallway.
Isaiah and I had a long talk this afternoon and neither of us is happy. What’s going to happen next depends on Abby’s answers to conversations she’s not going to want to have. I lightly knock on the door and at her answer of “Come in,” I open the door.
First thing I notice is pink wallpaper and the next thing I notice—bare skin.
Blood flow in my body redirects south and I can’t stop staring at the curve of her naked back. Abby’s dark hair is wet, making it longer and black. She eases a tank over her head, then pulls it down until that delicious skin is covered.
She glances over her shoulder at me and that devilish grin that sucks me in is on her lips. I clear my throat, because...yeah...that shut down most of my brain processes. “Trying to seduce me?”
“Not really, but it was fun. If you’re going to be insistent on being annoying, then you can help me out.” She walks over to her bed, picks up a bandage, and waves it in the air. “I’ve got a nice entry wound I can’t reach.”
Abby hops up onto the high bed, sits in the middle with her back toward me, sweeps her hair over her shoulder, then tugs at her tank top to reveal the bandage. I set the bag of food on the dresser and head over to join her. Don’t miss that I’m about to get into a bed with Abby.
I take the bandage from her and begin the process of peeling the old one off. “You’re doing this to scare me off, but it won’t work.”
“Just need help, Logan. I’m not nearly as manipulative as you think.”
Bet she’s more. “You have a trained nurse downstairs who could do this better. You’re trying to prove being around you is dangerous.”
“It is,” she says simply.
I focus on trying not to hurt her when removing the bandage, but the fastest and most human way is a quick rip. Abby sucks in a breath as she straightens and my fingers lightly massage her skin. The wound is smaller than I would have expected. Raw, light red, and the skin surrounding it is bruised.
Memories of the first few months of diabetes shots and how sore I was causes me to lean forward and kiss her soft skin an inch above where she hurts. Abby’s breathing hitches again, but this time, it’s not from pain.
Over a week ago, Abby and I kissed and we were supposed to kiss more later that night. It all feels like lifetimes ago.
“Paying me back for the reverse striptease?” she asks.
More like giving in to temptation. I press the new bandage on then place both of my hands on her shoulders. My hands look huge against her body and my heart skips a beat with how smooth and hot she is under the pads of my fingers.
“What are you doing?” Abby asks in a hushed voice.
“Touching you.” My fingers dig into her skin, not too rough, but enough that it penetrates her tight muscles and Abby’s shoulders roll forward with the massage. A low moan also escapes from her lips and the sweet sound causes my longing for her to intensify.
“That feels good,” she whispers.
Having my hands on her also feels good. Too good. Too right. I continue to push my fingers into her muscles and she continues to relax under my touch. With each stroke though, the