J. Salsbury - Fighting to Forget

I’m pumped and feel alive for the first time in my life. The music curls around me like an embrace, and looking out into the faces of adoring fans and my family is something I never thought I’d do.

The words flow from my lips as an extension of my soul. Pouring out my heart in lyrical form, I belt out the words and hope that she knows there for her. I pray that they penetrate to erase the memories of the past again so that we can replace them with possibilities for our future.

You came into my life, like a gentle breeze.

Bringing me fresh air that enabled me to breathe.

And with all that you are, your kindness filled me up.

The first taste of your lips I knew would never be enough.

Your body’s my sanctuary; I worship at its gate.

Unworthy of its treasure, you let me in anyway.

I found my cure within your heaven and the miracle of you.

I devote my life to proving I’m worthy of everything you do.

Because . . .

You I will remember.

Your love’s my safety net.

Keeps me from memories that destroy.

Gives me strength when I’m fighting to forget.

The road ahead is paved with pain and shards of a broken past.

Life offers no guarantees, and no good is good that lasts.

But when the darkness closes in, we’ll do what gets us through.

We’ll clasp hands through the storm; I’ll find my refuge in you.

Because . . .

You I will remember.

Your love’s my safety net.

Keeps me from memories that destroy.

Gives me strength when I’m fighting to forget.

And I’ll fight to forget.

Together we’ll fight . . .

Keep fighting to forget.

With my eyes closed, I sing the vow I wrote to Gia, while sitting in the hospital waiting for her to come back to me, my promise to devote my life to her and do everything I can to bring light into the darkness of our souls—to give our love a chance despite all the shit we have to work through.

The last chord rings out, and the room erupts in hollers and whistles. I squint into the crowd, searching for the bright hair and gray eyes of the other part of me. Finally, I find her. She’s standing close to the stage, eyes brimming with tears, her full lips pulled into a shaky smile.

So gorgeous and all mine. Forever.

I put my lips to the mic. “The girl does cry.”

She smiles through her tears and it hits me hard. That’s what she’s always done, faced the worst possible circumstances with a grin and her fists raised.

Fuck, but I love this woman. Her passion, fight, determination to take on the worst of evils and come out on top.

My girl.

My Gia.

Gia

“Are you sure we’re doing this right?” I stand back and study the six-foot Christmas tree that’s sitting crooked in its stand, lights hanging off in places, and ornaments shoved between branches.

Rex scratches his head and shrugs. “No clue. I’ve never done this before, but shit, how hard can it be?”

I chew my lower lip. It shouldn’t be that hard, but neither of us has celebrated Christmas before and I had no idea how hard decorating a tree would be.

“They never had a tree for the kids in the group home?” I shove my fingers through some branches, pushing back a red glass ball until it disappears behind the needles. Huh, that doesn’t look right either.

“Nope.” He shoves the tree upright only to watch it lean back when he steps away. “The institution never put up a tree?”

I string the multicolored lights up higher on the tree. “Nah. It would’ve been considered a hazard. You know, electricity, sharp things.” I study the tree again. “You sure these are the right lights? They seem too big.”

“Honestly, baby, I have no fucking clue. The box said lights.”

“Huh.” I check the digital clock on the oven. “Everyone’s going to be here in an hour.”

We stare at the tree for a few seconds and then burst into laughter.

Rex decided he was ready to have people over, and we thought a Christmas Eve get-together would be the perfect excuse. But everything that comes easy to most is hard for us. We didn’t have conventional childhoods and lack the traditions that make things like decorating a holiday tree easy.

“Fuck it.” Rex picks up an empty ornament box and throws it in a big trash bag he pulled out earlier. “I think it’s perfect.”

“It kinda is, isn’t it?” I look at our pathetic tree again. “It’s our kind of perfect.”

He kisses my forehead. “That it is, baby.”

The last couple weeks have been hard. We’re both in intensive therapy twice a week, once together and once separately. We’ve had to rehash things that we’d both wish to forget, and Rex’s memories are still filtering back little by little.

The other night he woke up shaking. He’d had a dream about his mom. She was crying, and he felt so desperate in his dream to get her to stop. He said he’d actually felt her arms around him, telling her that he was the only man in her life who truly loved her. She called him “her little man.” He curled into my arms, and I sang to him until he fell back to sleep.

As wonderful as it is for Rex to have that part of his mom back, it doesn’t come without consequences and pain. At twenty-five-years old he’s losing his mom all over again.

But we find joy in the little things, making macaroni and cheese out of a box and s’mores over the gas burner in the kitchen. He bought me a dirt bike for my birthday, which isn’t until February. When things get too intense, we take to the hills and ride together or make a trip to the Stratosphere, little things that remind us that we’re alive and together.

Remind us to look forward.

Keep moving.

And never stop fighting for our chance at happiness.

~*~

I’m looking over the dessert table that’s spread with every kind of Christmas food we could think of from eggnog to decorated sugar cookies and peppermint bark, mini assorted chocolates and a big thermos of hot chocolate.

The bathroom door opens and Rex walks out. My eyes freeze on him and two steps toward me, his legs do the same.

He’s wearing black jeans and a bright red button-up dress shirt that offsets his black hair and blue eyes. But in typical rocker style, his shirt is untucked, sleeves rolled up to expose his gloriously tattooed forearms, and the top button hangs open, giving a tease of his inked-up neck and impressive build. My mouth waters, and the dessert table suddenly loses its appeal to my intense hunger for him.

He blinks a few times then continues toward me but stops about a foot away. His eyes move from my face to my feet and back. “Holy shit, baby. I’ve never seen you in a dress and I gotta say . . .” He whistles through his teeth. His eyes fix on mine, and the blue flares with desire. His tongue slides against his lower lip. “You look good enough to eat.”

A tremor of arousal shoots through my body and pools between my legs. “That sounds good. How much time do we have?”

He hooks me around my waist and pulls my body flush with his. His lips find my ear and he nips gently. His warm breath dances against my flesh, raising goose bumps down my arms. “Not nearly enough time for all I want to do. I have a feeling once I get down there I’ll never want to stop.”

I gasp and drop my head to the side while he covers my neck with kisses and runs his nose along my exposed shoulders and clavicle, breathing me in. My head swims with the spice of his cologne and the clean smell of his skin.

His fingertips trace the bust line of my strapless dress. “Have I ever told you how good you look in black?” His tongue skates up the side of my neck.

Incapable of words, my eyes drift close. “Mm-hm.”

He chuckles in my ear, so deep and full of promise that my legs tremble.

“You like that?” He tucks my hair behind my shoulder and repeats it on the other side.

I grip his biceps to stay upright.

His hot peppermint breath is at my ear. “Answer me.”

“Yes.”

“Atta girl.” His hands move over the curves of my body now filled out thanks to his insistence that I eat and go with him to train at the gym a few days a week. He grabs both hands full of my ass and squeezes. “I’m happy to have everyone over, but I’m looking forward to sending them home.”

His words clear the fog. I blink. Yes, people are coming over. “We better stop or we may never answer the door.”

He pulls back, and holding my hand, he steps away and gives me another long appreciative glance. “Shit, Gia. Where the hell did you get this dress?” He lingers at my platform pumps. “And those shoes?” His free hand adjusts his jeans. “They’re doing fucked-up things to my body.”

“Good fucked-up?” I spin slowly, ducking under his arm to keep my hand in his. “Or bad fucked-up?”

He lifts his pierced eyebrow and flashes a crooked grin. “All kinds of good.”

I barely have to lift up on my toes to brush a tentative kiss against his perfect lips. “Good.”

His hand darts into my hair and fists seconds before he covers my mouth with his. Passion hits as it always does, and we’re clawing at each other, nipping, drinking, and in a frenzy to get closer.

The doorbell rings and he rips his lips from mine. Our eyes lock, chests heaving, hearts racing against the other.

“I’ll get it.” He kisses the tip of my nose and gives me a second to steady myself on my shoes. “You good?”

“Yeah.” I smooth my hands over my dress.

He winks and turns to answer the door.

“Merry Christmas!” Raven’s voice comes from behind Rex along with the sound of back-pounding guy hugs. “Oh my gosh! Your tree is awesome.”

Rex smiles at me.

I move across the room to meet them, and Raven swallows me in a hug. Jonah’s next, but he limits his hug to the one arm variety since his other enormous arm is cradling Sadie.

“Aww, look at her.” I tweak the tiny red bow that’s wrapped around a sprout of shiny black hair. “She looks like a little Christmas angel.”

“Yeah, well, she’s all yours. I’ve been holding her so much I miss holding my wife.” He gently places Sadie into my open arms and kisses her tiny hand. “You be good for your Aunt Gia, princess. Daddy here needs some momma time.” He gives me a chin lift and moves to his wife.

I hold the tiny baby to my chest. “Hey, pretty girl. You’re getting so big.” Not comfortable negotiating the slick concrete floors in my heels, I move to the couch. “There we go. We’ll be safer here. Auntie Gia’s a mess in heels.” I slide my finger into her hand and she grips my finger tight. “Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.” She coos and I kiss the tiny dimple on her cheek. “You’re okay. I’m here.”

The feeling of eyes on me lifts my head to find Rex staring. He’s not far from the couch, totally ignoring Jonah and Raven, his gaze boring into mine.

“You okay?” I mouth the words meant only for him.

He blinks and nods then comes to me, dropping into the space next to me on the couch. He leans in. “Watching you over here, it makes me think you’re going to be an amazing mother.”

My breath catches in my throat. I pull back to see his face, and there’s nothing but love and pride reflecting from his eyes. “I’m not mother material. I’d just screw a kid up.”

Before I finish talking, he’s shaking his head. “You’re going to make a fantastic mother when the time comes.” He runs his fingers over Sadie’s tiny baby head. “I hope our kids have your red hair.”

“Rex”—my pulse rockets in my ears—“I’m not ready.” Just a month ago I was in a coma from a drug overdose after I shacked up in a house full of bikers. If anything screams do not reproduce, it’s that.

“I’m not either. Fuck knows I’ve got a lot of shit to work through before I could even consider fatherhood.” He hooks his fingers beneath my chin. “But make no mistake, Gia McIntyre, I’m going to make you my wife.”

Heat floods my cheeks. “Or am I going to make you my husband?”