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2025-10-18 22:14:14
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With All My Love SUSAN
A faint, sterile smell of hospital disinfectant lingers in the air, and the soft, rhythmic beeping of a monitor keeps time with her shallow breaths, each sound a reminder of where she is.Patrick’s hand grips hers, tight and desperate, as if holding on could keep her here. His forehead rests on her knuckles, his shoulders shaking.“Umma,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “Please, don’t go.”I want to stay, she thinks with growing desperation. God, I want to stay. The thought repeats in her head, desperate and aching.She hears Jesse and Sam beside him. They do not speak, just hold him, their grief the only sound. Her boys. Her son and his brothers are, in every way, not by blood. She raised them. She loved them. She remembers the mornings in the kitchen, the smell of pancakes and their laughter filling the air. Those moments, fleeting and precious, shaped their lives. Now, they carry the weight of her leaving.Tears burn behind her eyelids as she whispers, “No.”“Please, God.” Her hea
With All My Love Epilogue
One year later Jesse and I had a long conversation, a real one.We discussed everything: the past, the future, regrets, and what-ifs. But I never told him what happened between Cassidy and me. Some things are better left buried. I wanted them to work it out themselves, free from old mistakes.So they did.They started couples therapy, and it wasn’t easy. Still, they were trying. They were healing.And the bookshop?I finally found someone to take over the one in New Orleans. Today was the grand opening of my second store, Susan’s, named after Patrick’s mother. It felt right, honoring her this way, keeping her spirit alive in the books she loved.Patrick also moved his work here. He said it wouldn’t affect his career, but we both knew he just wanted to be here. With us. With me.Oh, and Michaela? She quit months ago. I never asked why—I didn’t care to.But the most precious thing, the thing that mattered most, was Henry and Patrick. Nothing else could compare.Their bond had been slow
With All My Love Eighty-two
PresentWe lay in the dim light, face to face. Our bodies barely touched, but we were close enough to feel each other's heat and the nervous flutter beneath my skin. His breath was slow. Measured. But the intensity in his eyes unsettled me; they burned through me, gray and endless, as if searching for something precious he’d lost and desperately needed to find again.Then he reached out, tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear, his fingertips lingering against my skin, tracing the line of my jaw, down the column of my throat. I swallowed hard, heat blooming in my stomach."I was hunted for months after," I whispered, my voice barely audible over the rain outside. Cold dread clung to every word. "I didn't want anyone to contact me. I just wanted to disappear." My hands trembled in my lap. "But then, when I realized I was pregnant, I came to find you." My voice wavered, raw with fear. "I was so scared. But when I saw you—" I swallowed hard, heart pounding. "You were happy. So alive.
With All My Love Eighty-one
PastAnnabelle asked around for Patrick. Some knew, some didn’t. Others just stared at her swollen belly, now seven months along. She was so damn tired. Natasha had offered to come when Annabelle had told her, but she had declined. Annabelle wanted to do this alone. It was her responsibility. Her burden to bear.She walked through the campus, a sprawling, beautiful place filled with students laughing and chatting. She felt like an alien, a ghost haunting a place she didn’t belong. The air was thick with the scent of freshly mowed grass and the promise of a bright future. A future she was no longer a part of. She had made a promise to herself a long time ago: she wouldn’t be like her mother. But here she was, in a different kind of mess, but a mess nonetheless.Just as she was about to give up, she saw him. His hair was shorter now, but it was still him. He stood among the students, a thick book in one hand and instruments in the other. He looked at home, like he belonged. If he turned
With All My Love Eighty
Present -Him She was here. And no, I wasn’t seeing double from all the alcohol I’d consumed in just a few hours after the ordeal.Happily never after, I thought bitterly.When I woke up, my head throbbed and my body felt heavy from everything I’d done the night before. Still, nothing—not the hangover or the haze—could have prepared me for what I saw in the mirror.My hair. Chopped.I must have really wanted to change my life in my drunken haze.But I wasn’t drunk anymore. I was completely sober, every sense awake. I saw the woman who started all of this step out of Sam’s car right in front of me.Fucking Sam.She looked as beautiful as ever, hands in her pockets. The grass crunched under her boots as she walked up and stopped just inches from me, her deep brown eyes meeting mine.Fuck. I sighed. “Hey,” she said softly, "Hey." Her voice was soft. The universe was mocking me; the clouds cracked open, and the sky unleashed a downpour, raining down on us in an instant.Oh, fuck me.HerH
With All My Love Seventy-nine
She stared at him. Memorized him. And then she packed her things.Cassidy picked her up at dawn. Neither spoke as Annabelle climbed into the car. Cassidy flicked her cigarette out the window, exhaling smoke, and pulled away from the cliffs. Silence stretched while the road ahead looked endless. Annabelle's hands shook. Her heart raced. Her skin still burned from Patrick’s touch, from fighting back, from where Cassidy had stepped in and finished what Annabelle couldn’t.She swallowed hard and turned to Cassidy. “Since when do you smoke?”Cassidy let out a sharp breath, flicking the ashes out the window. “Well, killing somebody should warrant that.”For a second, neither of them spoke. Then, at the same time, they laughed, sharp and breathless, like two people who had crossed a line they could never come back from.The bus station was empty when they arrived.“You don’t have to do this,” Cassidy said, her voice low, uncertain.Annabelle just smiled. “I do.”Cassidy sighed, gripping the
With All My Love Fifty-eight
Present About thirty minutes later, as the sky grew darker, I glanced at him. He looked tired, his beard casting shadows on his face. But under that tiredness, I saw something else—a mix of happiness from our talk and a sadness that lingered. I wanted to understand it.I bit my lip - hard.“Tell m
With All My Love Fifty-seven
Present Three days into the week after Natasha left for New Orleans, I sat in my living room with Henry asleep on my lap, drafting a plan. The idea of making Patrick love me again felt both simple and utterly ridiculous, like clinging to a fading photograph crumpled in haste, its edges worn with t
With All My Love Fifty-six
PresentPatrick’s voice startled me, and I turned to see him standing in the doorway, holding a blanket in his hands.“Um…” I started, but he stepped closer, noticing the box in my hands, expression darkening. “Where did you find that?” he said, voice low.I hesitated. “It was just… there, in the w
With All My Love Fifty-four
PresentAfter my father went to prison, Patrick and his mom, Susan, took me in. They gave me a home, warmth, and safety when I had nowhere else to go. “I have people clean every Saturday,” Patrick said, voice calm but heavy. He grabbed two glasses. “Wine?” He leaned against the counter, watching m
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