Losing the love of my life taught me that inactions have consequences. My new bookkeeping job teaches me that numbers don't lie, but people do.
Sharing yoga with others is my refuge from the darkness pulling me to stay home. A ginormous pro footbal...
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No words could express how much Sam's gesture to fix the truck meant to me. My mouth opened and closed so many times driving to his mechanic's garage, but the words stuck in my raw throat.
The interior of Sam's car was suffocating. Black-tinted windows made it a cave, and his large frame left no room to breathe. His musky perspiration, which should have flattered me because he got a workout in class, burned my nose. The pronounced veins on his forearm thickened the fog clogging my brain. Tracing the ridges on the back of his hand as he clutched the shift was better than studying his profile, the small uplift in the corner of his mouth, or the way his shirt sleeves molded to his shoulder as he drove.
Dial it back, Mia. I was no better than his Thirsty Thelmas if I left a puddle on his leather seat.
I didn't breathe until he pulled into his garage but shook my head at the keys his hand extended. "It's too much. Sam, I can't accept this."
"And I can't accept you having no transportation." He pressed his keys into my palm with the same insistence in his voice. "Borrow it until yours is fixed."
I dipped my chin to my chest. "I'll pay you back, promise."
Sam's generosity almost unhinged my jaw. He didn't know why my truck was so important, only that it was. His kindness dissolved some of the aches crippling my heart. The smile he flashed when I pulled back from monkey-hug-mauling him returned. It made me want to explain the truck's significance, but I...couldn't. The sensations choking my throat wouldn't let me admit the truth.
"I hate this," I whispered. Ugly, fat, rolling tears trailed in continuous streams down my cheeks. Sniffling the congestion clogging my nose, I swallowed. An invisible fist punched through my chest walls, gripped my heart like a vice, and ripped it out. A giant, gaping hole was left in its place.
I braced myself for today. We spent every minute together, cherishing each other's company, divulging dirty secrets, fucking hard, and avoiding sleep. But, now that it was here, time became cruel, stealing him from me. How selfish. "I'm sorry, Nate." His thumbs dragged over my eyes. "This is tough enough on you, I'm being–"
"Don't say selfish." Leaning over, he pressed his lips to my forehead. I inhaled, drawing as much breath of his scent as my nose held. I didn't want to exhale it, ever. At home, I needed to douse our bed in his cologne. "You're being real, Amelia. I always want to know your thoughts. I'm going to miss you so fucking much."
I couldn't say the words 'Don't go' because they were an impossible, selfish wish. Never had I desired one more day, fuck one more hour.
A large hand clapped Nate's shoulder. Dark-skinned fingers squeezed his new teardrop insignia. "Duty calls, Private Smith."
"Let him say goodbye." Another departing soldier, a tall, bronze-skinned man with a square jaw, flashed me a sympathetic smile. "See you on board."
