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  2. Severed Heart (Ravenhood Legacy Book 2)

  3. Severed Heart: Part 3 – Chapter 49
Severed Heart (Ravenhood Legacy Book 2)

Severed Heart: Part 3 – Chapter 49

PART 3

“WHAT IS THE most real of what matters? . . . How about pain? Why pain? Try arguing it away . . . so if pain is the most fundamental reality, is there anything more fundamental than pain? . . .
Love.
Really.
So, if you’re in pain . . . love and truth, that’s what you got. And you know . . . if they’re more powerful than pain, maybe they’re the most real things.”
—Jordan Peterson
FALL 2014
“T-TYLER, S-STOP!” I shout through my hysterical laugh as he pins me to the blanket, blowing on my stomach as I do my best to push him from me. And as usual, my efforts are futile because his strength is astounding.
“Non, stop, mercy, please!” I wail as he adds wiggling fingers to my sides, his villainous chuckle filling my ears as he increases the powerful vibration along my stomach.
“S-stop r-right now, you asshole!” I screech, pounding on his shoulders as agitated laughter erupts from me, and my head scrambles due to overstimulation. “Stop, p-please stop before I p-pee or fart! It’s . . . is not sexy!”
Tyler instantly throws his head back, laughter bursting from his every pore as he peers down at me with twinkling eyes before it finally slows.
“So, it’s true? Women fart? I thought that was a myth . . . and now I have to know!” He lowers and blows against my skin as I frantically slap his chest.
“Stop-p fruiting me right f-fucking n-now, or I swear to God, I will kick your balls so hard you can’t fuck for a month!”
He pulls back, his face contorted as he chortles and snorts, barely getting his words through it. “F-f-fruiting you? Did you say stop fruiting you?” He runs his fingers up my sides as I slap his hands.
“O-o-oui, you d-damned imbecile,” I manage, “that’s w-what you called it, fruiting!”
Raucous laughter bursts from him, bellowing down the hillside we’re perched upon as tears form in the corners of his eyes. I scowl up at him where he hovers above me, his outburst taking several seconds to tame until he can finally speak.
“B-baby—” he barks out another laugh before continuing, “It’s called b-blowing raspberries, not fruiting.”
When his amusement temporarily has him loosening his firm hold, I use it to my advantage, wiggling out of his grip before rolling out of reach. I’m nearly free of the blanket when he easily captures me by the ankle, pulling me back beneath him. As he gazes down at me, I refuse to meet his eyes, going utterly limp as I speak in defeat.
“No matter what it’s called, I hate it now, and you will get nothing more from me today, Soldier. You are pissing me off!”
“Whoa,”—his eyes widen—“hey, hate is a strong word, General, but I’m sorry I went too far. No more fruiting today,” he jokes.
“Well, I don’t trust you,” I counter.
“It stops now, I promise . . . but I’ll get no more from you today, huh? You sure about that? That’s a pretty strong declaration,” he muses, running his warm palm under my sweater, over my belly, and up to the lace covering each of my breasts. Lace that I loaded my cart with on my last lady date with Layla. Lace that Tyler made very clear he loved, by words and demonstration. Unable to help myself as recent memories flit in, I stare back up at him, wrapping my hands around his neck.
“Fine, maybe I don’t hate it, but you’ve given me no choice. I need a word of safety with you, now.”
“A safe word, huh?” He grins.
“Oui,” I say, catching my breath, “because you are a brute with even less manners than me. I need to have a word that saves me. A word where you cease all raspberries assault and have mercy because it’s evident ‘no’ and ‘non’ do not work with you”—I narrow my eyes at him—“imbecile.”
“How about fruiting?” he suggests through a chuckle and an added dimple pop.
“Oh, fuck you.” I roll my eyes.
“Oof.” He frowns, his stinging eyes gripping mine as I sink at the sight of them.
“What, what is it?”
“I don’t know . . . I guess ‘fuck you’ is pretty brutal even in jest,” he says, “how about we save that particular brash for really nasty fights?” He whispers his finger along my cheek. “Maybe so I’ll know just how badly I fucked up.”
“I’m sorry.” I palm his jaw. “I didn’t know it would bother you this way.”
“Me neither, and it’s okay, beautiful, really. I can handle any brash you toss my way, and you know it.” His grin returns. “But if I’ve aggravated you to the point of ‘fuck you,’ I’ve obviously gone too far.” His expression turns so sincere that my heart melts at the sight of it.
“But just so you know,” he emits so softly it’s barely above a whisper, “your laughter . . . does good things to me.”
“What does it do?” I ask, utterly captivated, as the world blurs around him like it so often does now.
“So, we’re fishin’ for compliments, are we?” He winks.
“Ah, finally,” I draw out, “a metaphor so easily interpreted”—I roll my eyes—“it only took you eight plus years to deliver.”
“Yeah, maybe,” he says, his voice mournful, his expression dimming, “but it took us so long to get here.”
Just as he relays that, a rush of wind carries a flurry of foliage from the trees atop the hill along its wake, which rains briefly down on us. Cool leaves start to land on our faces and hands, covering some of our blanket. Taking our cue to take notice, we both scan the orchard, inhaling the crisp air and soaking in the deep green hillsides. Temporarily mute, we gaze upon the enchanted land as peace settles over us both.
“For me,” he says after a few long minutes, pulling my focus back to him. “The wait has been worth it, Delphine,” he adds before biting his lip thoughtfully.
“For me, too,” I whisper. “So worth it . . . I just wish it wasn’t so painful.”
“If you want more honesty,” he relays, tearing at some grass at the edge of the thick blue quilt he bought just for today, the low sun glinting off his lengthening brown hair. Hair which is long enough now to wrap around my fingers. The slight curl I love back. One I beg him not to cut, which he doesn’t, just for me.
“I always want honest,” I tell him, soaking in his every feature and expression.
He brings his eyes to mine. “Your laughter heals me.”
“Tyler,” I croak, tears threatening as I palm his jaw. “Then I don’t hate it at all. You can fruit me anytime you want.”
“You would endure that for me?” he jokes, but I don’t smile as I speak from my heart.
“I would do absolutely anything for you, Soldier.”
His return stare intensifies as he absorbs my words before he speaks again.
“You know I saw this for us years ago, before we ever touched each other, got intimate,” he rasps out, eyes briefly losing focus. “I saw this in my mind. Days exactly like today, on this hillside, talking to you, making love to you on a blanket just like this one. Over the years, I’ve imagined dozens of similar moments, in every kind of weather”—he swallows—“the two of us together and happy.”
“I did, too,” I whisper. “I swear I did, too. Especially when you were gone,” I admit. “I dreamed of this every day after you left.”
“The mind is a powerful thing,” he relays softly. “Such a fucking powerful thing. Our thoughts are so convincing that if we focus on one of them often enough, we eventually start gravitating to act on it. Taking actions consciously and subconsciously to make whatever that focus is and make it a reality. Manifesting is what most people call it, but it’s not all magical.” He tosses the grass. “It seems so simple, but in sorting and deciphering an average of fifty thousand thoughts a day, it can get dangerous and complicated. Fixating on the wrong thoughts can make it the opposite of simple,” he relays with an ache in his voice.
“No, it’s not simple”—I take his hand—“and I need you to realize I do know how hard I made it for us to get here. I don’t expect you to, Soldier, but I do hope that one day you forgive me for that.”
He stares back at me again for a long moment as he strokes my skin, always touching me, forever affectionate, and I can’t get enough. Pulling back slightly, he lets out a long exhale before he speaks.
“As much as I’ve fucking fought it those years ago—insisting and practically demanding that you believe our age difference didn’t mean shit—the truth is, it’s the very thing that kept us apart, isn’t it?”
“Not the only thing, but oui.”
“I was a kid, a fucking teenager making promises to you that probably seemed over the top, but I swear I didn’t feel that way. I didn’t feel like a kid. I meant them. I wanted to mean them, keep them.”
“I know, Soldier.”
“But that’s not why I’m at peace with it.”
“You have made peace?” My heart lifts with hope.
“Yeah, baby . . . I think I just did in this moment, with you, and here’s why in all its fucking painfully simple splendor—I was eighteen.”
My eyes water, and I nod.
“And now that I’m around the age you were when we got started—I can see why you would doubt my words and fear for my future, thinking you would hold me back from whatever path you hoped and help to pave for me. As much as it pains me to admit that.” He gently shakes his head. “Jesus, the distance in perspective from then to now. Of what’s happened, of the amount of life I’ve lived during all those fucking blinks, Delphine.”
“So, you forgive me?”
“For what? I’m the one who didn’t keep my promise. I let you go without any real fight. You were right, you did reach out, and I didn’t. Honestly, I should be seeking your forgiveness.”
“There is nothing to forgive,” I relay adamantly.
“That’s not true though, is it?” He rakes his lower lip again as he stares over at me, trepidation littering his expression. “I don’t know if I can handle this answer, but I have to fucking ask it.”
“Please don’t,” I utter, knowing his question.
“So, it’s true?” He swallows. “You gave up the night I didn’t cross that fucking street.”
“That is not so simple either, Tyler. Please—”
“Jesus.” He shakes his head, his expression one of devastation. “If I would have come back that night. Or the next fucking day. Or any fucking day after, I would have found you waiting for me, wouldn’t I?”
I bite my lip, refusing to answer but he sees it.
“I knew you were lying. I knew you were trying to protect me. Free me. I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so fucking sorry,” he whispers hoarsely. “I’ll forever regret I got in the way of us, too. I’ll never forgive myself for the time we lost.”
“No, no, please, you have to forgive young Tyler. Please forgive him. And maybe some part of you was relieved not to have to keep that promise?”
His eyes drop in confirmation as his entire being rattles with regret.
“How could I blame you for this? You were so young, and I was not a good woman to invest your precious future in.”
When he opens his mouth to object, I shake my head.
“Please, please listen to me,” I implore earnestly, and he nods, his eyes misted with guilt as he licks the corner of his mouth. The sight of it is so painful that I bring myself to kneel in front of him and grip his face.
“Soldier, I am begging you not to waste a second regretting it because it was never once your job to save me. It was my job.” I palm my chest with my hand briefly. “It was my failure not to save myself. I have myself to forgive for that, not you. Please try to understand that and take that into your heart as the truth. But, there is more I need to say.”
He nods, his eyes tracing my face so carefully, so reverently that I almost lose my words, but for him, I find them.
For him, everything.
“It’s also my job to make myself happy.” I recite what I’ve learned and taken as truth in therapy. “And I want very much to bring joy to your life, Tyler,” I declare. “To care for, appreciate, and comfort you, and so much more.”
“Then mission already accomplished, General,” he whispers as he brushes my cheek sweetly with his thumb, before I dodge his kiss.
“Whoa, okay, this just got a lot heavier,” he says, moving to sit across from me as I also adjust myself to sit. Facing each other fully, our bent knees touch as he palms the blanket and leans in, his face inches from mine.
“It is not easy for me to give words of affection. It never has been. Never. I have felt many things very intensely, but most of them have been left unspoken.”
“I know that, baby,” he assures, reaching out to gently stroke my cheek. “You don’t have to expla—”
I palm his mouth to quiet him, and he chuckles against it before mumbling into it. “The floor is yours, my French menace.”
The man of my life stares back at me, his warm brown depths softening as they do as I face him, hoping my own expression is full of all I feel for him. Pulling my palm from his mouth, I press it to my chest while summoning the strength to put words to the truth I’ve been numbing for two decades.
“I am a victim of severe child neglect from my father and abandonment by my mother. I am a victim of domestic abuse, including rape and attempted murder. I am also a victim of the cruel mentality of strangers who wished harm against me and acted on it. A victim of their bullying.”
His eyes widen slightly as I finally recite the truth I have long denied.
“I am also a victim of self-abuse, which robbed me of all dignity, to the extreme point that I helped sabotage my health with my illness so I could finally free myself of the embarrassment and shame.” I blow out a breath. “You were right, I wanted to die. Ironically, I was scared to.”
Tyler’s eyes hold mine with strength as I summon my courage to voice the things I’ve held so close for most of my life. Speaking them aloud to acknowledge them for myself and for my soulmate to hear before I leave them as they happened—in my past. And for our future.
“With the heartbreak of Matis, my papa, who I do know and feel in my heart did love me but did not at all protect me in the ways a father should. To Alain, who terrorized me and manipulated me. Who beat and raped me when I became wise to his manipulations. And the strangers who taunted me and physically harmed me . . . for all these things, I gave up on myself, on life many times. But it was the haze and Celine’s death that took all the fight I had left.”
I swallow as he holds my gaze, fusing me with strength.
“After her death, I allowed myself to finally break for good. Selfishly, to the detriment of my nephews, whom I loved but could not take emotional care of because I was done taking care of myself.” I swallow and swallow again. “I was so fucking intent on paying back life for what it gave to me that I did the minimum for Celine’s sons, isolating every day, living in the haze, the numb, the hell I felt I deserved for giving up. That was my life, my cycle, every single day until you . . . and my God, you.” I allow my tears through, elated tears for being able to finally express this to him.
“But people are supposed to save themselves, Tyler. They must, even if they need help, they have to save themselves with their actions. People are supposed to fight for themselves, to free themselves of the chains in their minds. I might have failed in doing that without you, but because you saw me and loved me as I was, without limit or condition, you ripped me from a place where I had no more belief in myself. You showed me those chains and gave me a way to unshackle them. With y-you . . .” I falter. “God, please help me say this,” I croak. Tyler instantly cradles my face, eyes darting back and forth as he soaks in every word.
I stare back into the eyes of the one human being who refused to give up on me. Who refused my fate, who walked through the hellfire I helped create to drag me out—more than once—kicking and screaming as I tried to re-enter time and again. The gravity of that takes hold of me as I bare myself to him fully.
“What you have done for me, Tyler, is far, far beyond what most people would do for anyone they love when they so relentlessly abuse themselves. So, though we are not supposed to wait for some miracle to save us, you saved me. You are my miracle, Soldier. And here I am now, mere months free of that hell . . . and with you, I feel safe, happy, content, and free.” I break on the word but continue. “I feel beautiful, so beautiful, and I want to be beautiful. With you, I feel cherished, adored, sexy, so sexy, respected, desired, heard, and seen. And for the first time in my life, loved. I feel truly and deeply loved.”
He sits utterly still as I exhale and speak more from my heart. “From hell, you brought me into living in this heaven with you. A dream which became so much more in loving the man in front of me with all of my heart.”
He instantly leans in, gently pressing his forehead to mine, eyes closing as his shuddered exhale hits my lips. I grip his neck, running my fingers through the hair at the back of it.
“Lift your eyes to me, Soldier, please,” I beckon before he slowly lifts his watering eyes to mine. “Je t’aime, Tyler, I’ve wanted for so long to tell you. For so, so very long. Before and after you left, and the second you came back, but felt it was so important to put actions before these words. Because actions are all you gave me for the years you denied yourself the words. But I felt it. I felt your love before you ever uttered the words, as I hope you have felt mine in our time here before I spoke it. That you know and feel with just as much confidence that I love you just as much, just as deeply. And that I am yours, loyally and faithfully yours.”
His eyes spill over as we exhale into each other’s mouths before he lays me beneath him. Hovering above me, he gazes down upon me with so much love before slowly dipping to rain unhurried, reverent kisses upon me. In turn, I deliver the same type of kiss. Along his jaw, his throat, everywhere I can until our mouths meet, our salted kisses mingling as we frantically shed what clothes we must to connect. Tyler wraps the blanket around us just as I sink onto him, palming his face with both hands as I begin to move.
Every second of our lovemaking excruciatingly beautiful as our hearts pound together, and we lose ourselves in the divine connection. Not a single movement is predetermined as he grips my hips, thrusting into me so deeply that I come undone around him. Utterly gone in my bliss as my love for him pours from me. I kiss every inch of his face, his cheeks, his jaw, and take his mouth as he comes inside me. The diminishing of our lost years mixing on our tongues as we banish them together before we finally part.
It’s as we lay back, staring at one another for long minutes, caressing the other, that I realize I have one battle left to face. It’s then I make the decision that for myself and my soldier, I’ll endure this last battle to protect our paradise, our happiness, and the peace we’ve again reclaimed.
“It was you who was worth waiting for, Tyler,” I whisper as he stares back at me. “Je t’aime, Soldier, creator of my newborn heart. Mon seul véritable amour.” My one true love.
A harsh breath exits him as he pulls me back to him, gripping me so close as if he blinked, this dream would disappear. I clutch him to me just as tightly, preparing myself for what’s to come—for what’s left to face. The burden made more bearable and then forgotten as he takes me again on that hillside. Thrusting into me, harder and deeper each time, his eyes holding mine during every second, strengthening me as his long-ago spoken promises write themselves into my flesh. Branded permanently into my heart which pounds unguarded against his. He presses himself into me as he kisses away the tears he causes with his intense lovemaking and my release, some of it mental, much of it physical, while murmuring “forever” against my elated cries.
And then he takes me again.
And one last time on our merged clouds before we drift away together.
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