I want to torment him like he did me. I lift his head above water ,and he coughs. “Please,” he begs. “Don’t.”
“Please. Don’t. Stop,” I mock him. “Those words sound familiar.” I dunk his head again until his body slows from thrashing, and then I bring him to the surface again. He inhales and gasps for breath, struggling to keep his eyes focused on me. “You know, when you nearly raped me. I still have scratches between my legs.” I dunk him again, but this time I don’t bring him back up. I keep him under until his body stops thrashing and for a few more seconds.
One can never be too sure.
My muscles are shaking, and Grayson dives into the water to get to me.
“Finley.” His hand falls on top of mine where I’m fisting Trevor’s hair. “Let go. Let go. Let the ocean wash him away.”
Let go.
Is it really so easy to do?
“I have you, Finley. It’s okay,” Grayson reassures.
I stare into his beautiful brown eyes, hued with yellows and burgundies, and remember that my future is him. He has me. I let go of Trevor, and Grayson slings me into his arms and carries me away from the shore. I watch as Trevor’s body gets carried away until I can’t see it anymore.
He’s gone.
I can breathe.
“Are you okay?” Grayson asks, holding me wedding style and pushing the hair out of my face. He pinches his lips together when he sees my busted lip. “Bastard. I’d kill him all over again if he were here. We were too slack. He left his phone at the hotel. It was irresponsible of me to leave you out here. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay. Our plan to live our lives without our pasts got started earlier is all. I had it all under control.”
“You did,” he says with pride. “You gave it to him good. You’re so fierce and strong. I’m a lucky man.” He carries me up the natural stone steps back to the Cliff House, and I lean my head against his chest.
I’m the lucky one. Grayson could have turned his back on me after I lied about my age, when I killed two men, and now that I think about it, Grayson must have been insane to stay by my side.
But he did.
And I’ll forever be grateful.
Now I know what love truly is.
It isn’t harsh. It isn’t cruel. Love isn’t supposed to be difficult, but easy, as natural as breathing, and sometimes you have to fight for it.
It’s the victory at the end that’s worth it because now we get to love freely, without pain, without fear, without our past haunting us.
Love is our prize.
Epilogue
GRAYSON
“Go ahead, ring it,” Doctor Gladstone says to Dillon.
Finley has the camera out and recording, and I’m standing there, watching my son about to ring the remission bell. It’s been a long journey, but the transplant worked. He is cancer free. He has to come in every three months for testing for the first year, then after that, it’s every six months.
His hair has started to grow back and it’s the same shade as mine. It’s a beautiful dark brown, shiny, and right now it looks a bit fuzzy, but it’s progress. It’s fucking progress, and it means he can live the life the way he wants to.
“Go on, ring it!” I say as Dillon stares at the bell on the wall like it contains the secrets to life.
His hand reaches out, shaking, and he grabs onto the string and slams the metal ball against the side. Everyone cheers, the nurses, the doctors, but especially my family. Everyone is hollering, whistling and this time, I’m not crying.
My cheeks hurt from smiling so much. Dillon is ringing the hell out that bell, and he doesn’t seem to want to stop anytime soon. Doctor Gladstone is smiling too. Happy faces all around. Even Maggie. She made a special trip to see his ceremony.
Without her, none of this would have happened.
The bell finally stops ringing, and Dillon runs to me, arms spread, and I wrap my arms around him, swinging him back and forth. “I’m so fucking proud of you, Dillon.”
“You said a bad word,” he scolds.
“I think for right now, it’s okay to say.”
“Can I say that I finally fucking beat cancer?” he asks with big eyes.
Finley chuckles, and Heaven sticks out his bottom lip and gives me a supportive nod.
“Okay, but just this once because you did beat cancer.”
He tilts his head back and screams, “I fucking beat cancer!” and throws his fist in the air. There’s roar of laughter and another round of applause. There are a few judgmental patients looking our way since I allowed my kid to curse, but fuck them.
They have no idea how monumental today is. He did fucking beat cancer, and after everything—the sickness, the hopelessness, the fear, if the kid wants to say the word fuck, I’m going to let him.
But just this one time.
“That was awesome,” he says, red in the face from all the cheering and yelling.
I point a finger at him. “No more cursing. That was your wild card, okay?”
“Yes, sir.” He giggles. His eye fall to Maggie. “Maggie!” He wiggles to be let down, and I drop him to his feet, and he runs over to her with his arms wide.
I stand next to Doctor Gladstone and cross my arms. “Thank you for saving his life, for dealing with things you typically wouldn’t have to deal with.” I hold out my hand in a grateful gesture. “He wouldn’t be here without you.”
He meets my palm with his and squeezes. “Just doing my job. I’m happy. I don’t see this near enough,” he says on a long, tired sigh. “It gets draining.”
“I bet. I don’t know how you do this
