Until death does us part, but it’s knocking on our door…
I’d had enough. That’s how I found myself in a dingy alleyway with my revolver in my hand. I was sick and dying anyway, and there was nothing I could do about it. Nothing except maybe taking back some shred of control by going out on my own terms.
One deep breath. Two… Three… Four…
Surrounded by the darkness of my own mind, this was the only solution I could see, but before I could do something I’d regret, rock star Anno Goodkind crashed into my life and flipped it upside down.
It was supposed to be one casual hookup. No complications and definitely no feelings. No, the most logical thing to do would be to stuff my emotions down so nobody got hurt. Especially not him. But nobody told me that love didn’t give a damn about logic.
CONTENT WARNING: This story has a HEA but deals with heavy themes of illness, suicide, anxiety, and depression. Reader discretion is advised.
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I opened my eyes and turned toward Anno. He’d retrieved a guitar from the SUV at some point and was now plucking the strings gently with his fingertips. It was the same one he’d been playing at the concert.
“Haven’t heard this one,” I said.
The multicolored rubber bracelets on Anno’s wrists shook as his hands moved expertly in and out of notes. He rocked his torso to the tune as he played, humming softly. The soft light of the moon traced his face as he moved, accenting his nose and jaw. Looking at him, I felt happy. He seemed so content, so in his element that he radiated a contagious aura of tranquility.
But all at once he stopped, and then he swore. The aura dissipated.
“None of it feels right lately.” He reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a lighter and a pack of cigarettes. He offered me one, but I held up my hand in refusal. After a long drag on a cigarette, he sighed deeply on a puff of smoke.
“It sounded good to me.”
“Ha, thanks.” Another long draw on the cigarette and then he tossed it to the ground and stomped out any lingering embers.
“It was a nice riff. Comfortable, soft… sort of haunting. I dunno, I liked it. Made me feel good.”
“You really think?” He hopped back up on the hood of the SUV and turned on his side toward me.
Why did he sound so uncertain? He was a popular artist. People loved his music. Yet I could hear the quiver in his voice when he asked me if I really believed what I’d said.
“I do.” I nodded. “And I haven’t felt comfortable in a long time. But maybe that’s the booze.” I started to laugh, and then I noticed Anno leaning toward me.
His lips were inches from mine. I could smell the beer we’d been drinking on his breath. He tilted his head and our noses brushed ever so slightly.
Shakily, I slipped my hand around the back of his head. His hair felt freshly cut and prickled along my palm as I gently pushed to close the gap between us.
If you’ve read my reviews you know I love angst. I want to FEEL the emotions. Good or bad. But also, I don’t want to read about fabricated angst. Those dumb fights that the couple has so they break up for five minutes and it’s called conflict just so they can get back together. No. I want real. I want gritty. I want to cry because I am so in their world that it feels like I know them. It’s been a while since I’ve gotten that. Until this book.
Vincent is sick and dying. Although we don’t find out exactly what he has and what is killing him for quite a while. When Anno finds him, Vincent is about to take matters into his own hands. Knowing he is dying anyway, why make it drawn out? Instead Anno shows up…and basically never leaves.
Anno has his own issues. And while this could absolutely lead to some serious codependence, it doesn’t. They call each other on their crap. Vincent doesn’t care that Anno is famous. Anno doesn’t care that Vincent lives in a tiny apartment. They learn about each other, what their demons are and they don’t try to fix each other. I was waiting for that. Waiting for Anno to try to throw money at the “problem”. Wanting to send Vincent to the best doctors, second, third and fourth opinions. But he doesn’t. He respects that Vincent is a grown man who can make his own decisions about his own life.
And they are grown men. Mid- late 30’s and early 40’s. THAT was refreshing.
I almost- almost- hated knowing that this would be a happily ever after. Because, how? I looked down at the percentage left and wondered how. How was this going to wrap up and not be rushed? But the author did it. The epilogue was just the perfect ending. Realistic and not “omg a miracle!”.
So yes, I ugly cried while reading. A lot. A lot a lot. Which just shows how invested I was in these men. Not only as a couple, but individually.
Why I took 1/2 a piece of eye candy away below
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Silly things like Vincent and his bestie met in college and stayed besties. And I get it that whatever he was in college for he went into construction because he loved it. But his bff is a stylist. So…I don’t know what she was doing in college? Or what she did and then went to cosmetology school?
Yes, I am picky. That is well established. Sorry, not sorry.
4.5 pieces of eye candy
I’m a huge gamer, a lover of books and art, and have a fascination for lizards and other small critters that borders on an obsession. Which is probably why I already own 3 and have to actively stop myself from getting more.
I began writing because I always loved the idea that words can create entire universes and characters from nothing but a blank page and an idea. Like one day you have an empty Word document and then in as little as a few minutes—boom! You just created a snarky art school graduate with purple hair whose blood may actually be 90% coffee.
I write Male/Male adult romance. My books usually focus on realistic life topics—stuff everyday people go through and struggle with. I like when we as readers can feel connected to the characters we’re reading about. When we can understand their feelings and then suddenly they become truly human.
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