When Winter Fay, an 18-year-old girl with financial struggles, is forced to move to New York with her ill little sister, Josie, she's not sure if she can cope with the harsh reality of being an adult.
Caught in downward spiral of expenses and hospital bills, Winter's afraid she'll fall off the edge she's desperately clinging onto.
But what happens when a rich, cocky, troublesome and absolutely gorgeous young man is willing to offer a hand?
"Lying beside you,
Listening to you breathe,
The life that flows inside of you,
Burns inside of me.
Hold and speak to me,
Of love without a sound.
Tell me you will live through this,
And I will die for you.
Cast me not away,
Say you'll be with me,
For I know I cannot
Bear it all alone.
Can't wash it all away
Can't wish it all away
Can't cry it all away
Can't scratch it all away"
Cold. She was so cold.
I had never seen her like this; her cheeks, almost always roughed in a delicate pink flush were ghostly pale with her eyes carrying dark bags under them. She never looked this lifeless. She never looked this...dead.
I held her hand carefully. It seemed so fragile, like it could break any second. I stroked her bare head with the palm of my hand, feeling the tiny bit of growth there.
"You're healing, Josie." I managed to say, holding back the emotions that threatened to flood over. "Give it a chance to heal." I pleaded.
My fingers rubbed soothing circles on the back of her hand, aching to feel some warmth, something familiar. I couldn't find it.
She looked like a stranger. The Josie I used to know had a smile painted on her round, bubbly face, surrounded by a hurricane of messy brown locks. The Josie which had the reddest face after a long run or whenever she was caught for telling a lie. The Josie whose laughs sounded like the ring of wind chime. The Josie who could wave away any problem like it were nothing. The Josie whom everybody loved.
This was not that Josie.
This was an unfamiliar, pale-faced child who rather looked like a sick adult. Her sunken eyes and visible cheekbones made her look so much older than the 7-year-old youth she was. She looked so weak. So achingly weak.
And it was all my fault.
I felt so alone, so useless. The person I loved the most was fighting in a battlefield of life and death. She was in pain. She was in so much pain!
And I was doing nothing.
I could feel the sobs aching in my chest, pounding at my throat, making me unable to breathe. If my dying would let her live, I would kill myself without hesitation. There was no life without the one you loved.
I knew I was on the edge of losing it, when I felt a hand on my shoulder.
"Winter," Kane's rich, smooth voice was at my ear "I'm here for you."
Suddenly, the person I detested the most was the person I desperately needed to talk to.
A/N: R&R :D
Honest critiques are highly appreciated. The first chapter will be out soon,