Lovestrong

By Nikki Groom

Copyright@2015 Nikki Groom

Cover design by Hang Le / byhangle.com

Editing and proofreading by Raw Books Editing / rawbooksonline.com

Formatting by Brenda Wright, Formatting Done Wright

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission.

The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorised, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.

All rights reserved.

Dedication

To my Dad, the first man in my life.

For your unwavering support and encouragement.

Love you loads

xxxx

Prologue

His eyes flicker and dart around under his lids. His arm jerks sporadically indicating a less than peaceful rest. He mumbles and murmurs and occasionally lets out a whimper or groan. Watching him reliving the accident when he’s asleep is heartbreaking. The devastation and the blow of reality hits him full force during the very time he should be resting and allowing his body to heal. He’s in such deep turmoil in his mind. He’s hurting, emotionally and physically, and there’s nothing I can do but hold his hand and be by his side until we make it out of this black hole that we’ve been cast into.

“Are you still here?” Spike grumbles from the hospital bed as he cracks open his eyes. They’re a dull grey color, devoid of the blue sparkle I only now realize I’ve taken for granted over the last few years. The flat tone of his voice makes my stomach feel heavy, and I don’t know what to say or even if I should say anything. Of course I’m still here. I love him. Isn’t it that simple?

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “You’re awake,” I say softly, offering him a smile and avoiding his comment.

“Well, yes. Unless I’m talking in my sleep,” he retorts with an unnecessary edge.

His reply stings. In fact, it hurts like most of his words have since the accident. That one second that changed our lives. I remember it all as if it were playing in slow motion in my head. I remember the sound the car made when it connected with his body and tore him from the sidewalk. The car that came out of nowhere and disappeared just as fast with Spike’s body imprinted in the hood. Revenge and evil hit us all in the center of our hearts with the crash. I can still feel the way his hand was wrenched out of mine as he was thrown in to the air, and I’ll never forget the way I felt when I thought he was dead. I might as well have died too. When the car hit him that night, it took away the Spike I know and love. It took away every piece of him that I once knew like the back of my hand. The man that was my protector and best friend, my everything, is gone and I don’t know how to get him back. I’m trying with every last bit of strength and determination that I have left to be strong for him. I really am. But this, the person he is at this moment and his constant rejection, hits me harder than I ever could have imagined.

“There’s no need to be like that, Spike.” The words stick to my throat but I force them out with a harsh tone.

He sighs heavily and turns his head away from me, staring blankly at the window. “Go home, Lottie.”

I stand from the chair abruptly and stride over to him. I’m angry. At the world. At him. At myself for starting to lose the strength and faith I had for his recovery six weeks ago when it all happened. “You’re giving up,” I say, poking him in the chest.

He snaps his head around to face me and pins me with a piercing glare that makes me flinch, his nostrils flare a little and he opens and closes his fists, taking deep breaths in order to battle the new anger that has overshadowed his life. I can tell he’s trying hard to control his temper, something he’s never had a problem with until now. “What do you want from me, Lottie?” He grates the words out through gritted teeth and runs his hand over his dark hair that has grown out of the short, tight cut that he normally wears.

“I want you to fight, Spike. Fight this fucking mess. Fight for us.” My voice is raised but it wavers as I realize the weight behind my words. It’s the weight of my heart right now. I’m holding on to us so tightly, but I can feel him slipping away from me and I don’t know how to pull him back. I just know that I have to try.

“How, Lottie?” He flings his arms up either side of his body, then he indicates to his paralyzed legs. “Tell me how I’m supposed to fight if I can’t even stand to full height, huh? How am I supposed to storm out of an argument if I can’t even use my fucking legs?” He’s shouting now, and the frustration in his voice is evident. “I’ve fought for my life in here, Lottie. And you know the worst part? I don’t even want to live anymore. I’m done. There’s no fight left in me.”

His voice cracks and the look he gives me is that of a defeated man. I feel my heart break into little tiny pieces for him, “Spike,” I beg. Clinging to the very last hope.

I’ll live for him. I’ll live for both of us.

“I can’t do this.” He shakes his head softly, refusing to meet my eyes and drops his chin to his chest.

“You can’t do what?” I ask, my voice starting to shake as a wave of realization rolls through me. I don’t want this to be real. This can’t be happening. I want to turn back time.

He sighs and his eyes soften as he glances up, but his voice stays hard and determined. “You want me to spell it out for you? Are you trying to make it harder for me, Lottie?”

“I thought our love was strong.” I whisper, feeling the despair building in my throat, threatening to choke me.

He looks away abruptly, swallowing hard. “Well, you thought wrong.”

“Spike,” I sob, overwhelmed by the feeling of my heart being torn from my chest.

“Just leave,” he orders in a flat tone.

“But-”

“Go! Just … just get out, will you?” he yells and swipes at the hospital table next to him, sending everything flying across the room including a jug of water which hits the floor with a crash. I jump at his rage, and the water covers the floor as emotion overwhelms me and tears burst from my eyes. Turning on my heel, I run from the room as fast as my shaky legs will take me, and I get a glimpse into the intense despair that he’s feeling. I can’t do this. I can’t live with this gut wrenching turmoil day in and day out. I wanted to be strong for him and give him something to live for. I would never have left his side. I would have supported him every day in everything he did, in every way I could.

But he doesn’t want me.

He doesn’t want me.

I run down the corridor, my surroundings blur into the background and hospital noises echo in my head before I push through the double doors into the parking lot. The bright Las Vegas sunshine is a stark contrast to the harsh depth of sorrow that is threatening to swallow me whole.