Lost In Love (vol. 1)

What Lies Beneath

"I don't know how I can do this

What am I supposed to say?

You have been my dream for so long

Now that dream is slipping away

I don't want to let you go, it's only that I know I must

I can't hardly get the words out, Baby is this the end of us?"

- Why Isn't That Enough, MEAT LOAF

The band was a hot coal in the center of his palm. Nate sat on the hearth, staring at the wedding ring and wondering how such a tiny, simple, inanimate object could carry so much weight when it came to people's lives. For some, it was the fulfillment of a sweet dream. For others...

Nate's head hurt from the confusion swelling inside his skull. Why had Kyle left this behind? Was the explanation in the letter? The envelope was still propped up on the mantle where he'd found it. When he thought about opening it, his gut tightened and nausea began to ebb at him.

Releasing a low, troubled sigh, Nate rubbed his eyes with his thumb and index finger. His other hand closed around the ring and squeezed until the edge of the band began to dig painfully into his palm. Just a stupid fucking tiny piece of metal and it could turn a world upside down and smash it into the ground.

"Fuck, Kyle." Nate choked on the thickness squeezing his throat. "What the hell? What the fucking hell!" His hand clenched tighter then his arm jerked back, cocking, ready to sail the damnable thing across the room. But he froze at the last moment, his face tight and twisted, tears swelling and burning in his eyes. His arm lowered slowly as his hand opened and he dumped the ring onto the brick hearth. It hit with a tiny clank, spun in a circle then lay still.

A shaky breath slid out between Nate's lips and he laced his hands behind his head and bent over, a low grinding whimper dragging up his throat.

Just read the fucking letter. Get it over with.

Tears drained down Nate's face. Why was he so afraid to read what Kyle wrote? Did the guy attempt to explain why he had gotten married without even telling him he was engaged? Why he hadn't asked Nate to be his best man? Or what the fuck last night was really all about? Nate didn't want to hear it. What was done, was done. He didn't need any piss poor excuses as to why his best friend in the whole fucking world would use him that way.

Fuck him. Kyle had made his bed – literally – and now he could sleep in it.

Nate stood up and dragged the back of his hand across his eyes. His chest squeezed and his breath fought him as he grabbed the letter off the mantle, hurt and anger surging through his veins like blood. He reached for the box of matches at the end of the mantle. His hands shook as he slid the box open and plucked out a wooden match. He raked his thumb nail across the tip, lighting it. Clutching the envelope in the other hand, he moved the lit match towards the corner.

Go to hell, Kyle. I don't give a fuck what you have to say. I don't need your fucking apologies.

* * *

The quarters disappeared through the coin slot one after another, clanking loudly down through the pay phone. He shoved the noise and racket of the airport terminal out of his head as he pressed the phone receiver to his ear and punched out a number on the phone's keypad. He waited; one ring, two, thr-

A woman answered the phone at the other end of the line. He'd known it wouldn't take her long. She would be waiting for his call, letting her know when he was coming home.