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Keep Her

Summary:
Sequel to Protect Her, Love Her, and Hold Her. Claire is a medical intern. She and Quil are deeply in love, but he's still haunted by ghosts that whisper one word... failure. Will he overcome his fears and regrets to take the next step? Will their truest of loves ever bind them into one?


Notes:
Read the prequels first. And review them! This series has the sixth most reviews out of any on the site, and i'm angling for first. ambitious, right? so review a lot! i'm pretty shameless, but i will never withhold a written chapter to get reviews. however, my life is full and i am writing lots of little sidefics, not to mention a novel, a full-length play, and an award-winning-to-be compilation of original short works. oh, and school, but that's not important. EXPECT updates twice a week. they often come as soon as twice, three, once even SEVEN times a day. i'm good, i know. but when this happens, i expect rewards, in the form of reviews. and i own nothing.


9. Chapter 4

Rating 0/5   Word Count 541   Review this Chapter

The two of them were laughing, smiling, and holding hands. I stifled something that would probably be classified as a growl…

I loved her hands. They were so delicate and small, and yet they could do so much. When she talked, they moved, danced.

I loved everything about her. I doubted I’d ever realized what I’d had until I’d lost it… lost her.

I wanted to hold her hands forever, I would be content to do nothing but that for the rest of my life. Obviously, this Josh didn’t have the same objective. I saw him tilt his head as though he were about to kiss her.

I stepped into the room. “Oh, hi, Claire. I got to go to work, all right?”

“We should probably go too.”

The boy grumbled. I had a distinct feeling he had absolutely no interest in heading off to save lives. However, I was quite certain my Claire had no interest in him staying here, so I bustled him out the door.

Then I bustled myself out. I bustled through the day, too. I was hoping the speed of my movements would keep me from thinking, a potentially painful activity. Okay, a definitely painful activity. My every thought was of her. I could trace her face in my mind to the last pore, I could envision her appearance from infancy to adulthood, the transitions and slow aging, her laugh, her smile, her tears…

Claire was everything. Oh, god, she was everything. I couldn’t stand to lose her. And I had, I had. I needed her so much!

I needed to keep her safe. How could I do that? She didn’t want me. She had chosen another over me. How could I stop him from hurting her? How could I make sure she was happy if her happiness didn’t depend on me?

My personal pain was quite unimportant. I was petrified that this was going to harm her. I couldn’t let her be hurt!

I didn’t trust him around her. He wasn’t exactly a lustful teenager, but he was definitely not mature enough to handle being around her unsupervised. She was so delicate, and he wouldn’t realize that. She might be brave, but she was crumbling inside. I couldn’t let him push her over the edge…

That was sort of how I pictured Claire. She lived, like all of us, on a plain above a cliff. What had happened to her as a child had pushed her off that edge, sent her careening down. She survived the fall, barely. With me, tossing her a rope, and through brute strength of will, she climbed back up.

It was a great triumph, but, unlike those of us who had lived our whole life on the ground, she well remembered the terrifying fall, and she was always near the precipice. Push too hard, and she might go careening off.

I was terrified that he would do that to her. But I salved that terror with a single thought.

She did it once. And she can do it again.

Hard as it was, I simply had to trust her.