Page 63 of Letting Go at 40

And I’ve touched his wife who I have no business touching.

Even though I told Anna I’d never touch her unless she was mine, there’s no denying last night was sexy as fuck. My hand guiding hers. The sensual caress so close to where she needed me.

There isn’t a doubt she needed to get out of her head and settle her thoughts.

I can’t lose you next. The words were like her reaching into my chest and squeezing my heart.

Everything in me itched to approach her this morning. I’d held her most of the night, and while I should have slept, I didn’t want to waste a minute of holding her in some unconscious state.

Instead, I’ve avoided her, rebuilding the wall that separates us in the presence of our friends.

There’s one thing I’m certain of, though, I’m not letting Anna go.

This day has been long and filled with emotions. Archer’s disappearance. Anna’s fears. Anxious anticipation of this moment.

As Zack, Logan and I silently stare into the flames, the two of them burning their letters, the fire blurs in my vision.

“I fucking failed,” I say aloud. A blank piece of cardstock taunts me, resting empty of words on the armrest of my chair.

“What do you mean?” Zack asks.

“I don’t know what Ben wanted me to do. I don’t know what his words meant. And I sure as fuck did not complete whatever he intended.”

Without looking away from the wavering flame, I know Logan and Zack are both staring at me.

“You didn’t fail,” Logan scoffs.

“How do you know?” I snap, lashing out my frustration at someone who doesn’t deserve it.

“You spent a year of your life living in Ben’s house, wiping his ass, spoon feeding him ice chips, and playing housemaid to his family. You sure as hell didn’t fail Ben.” Logan surprises me with his accurate and abrupt assessment of what I’d done.

“I’m failing him now, though.” I can’t look up at my friends. “He asked me to watch out for his family. He asked me to be here for Anna. And the kids.”

“You are here,” Logan reiterates.

Swiping a hand down my face, I shake my head, back and forth, adamant in my failure. Zack and Logan have no idea what I’ve done. How I want more. How I long for what I shouldn’t want.

Zack is watching me. I don’t have to see the intensity of his gaze to know he’s wishing he could dig into my head, read my thoughts. When he glances away, the invisible pressure on the side of my face lessens only the slightest bit.

“My card is blank,” I admit, peering at the vacant paper, nagging at me with its emptiness. “I didn’t write anything this year.” I don’t know what to say to my oldest friend. The best of men. My brother in soul and spirit.

“You didn’t have to do it.” Logan’s voice lowers, as if I choose not to participate, like the decision was self-imposed instead of a complete lack of what to say. How to explain myself when even I don’t understand what I should do.

I only knew how I shouldn’t act but can’t seem to help myself.

With every silent cry from Anna, I respond. Her sorrow. Her birthday. Her fears. Like this damn magnetic pull to her, to right her axis and balance her needs.

“Is this about Anna?” Zack asks.

“What about Anna?” Logan says next.

“Of course, it’s about Anna.” I fall back in my chair, shame in my admission, relief in my confession.

“What am I missing?” Logan asks.

I glance up at Zack who glares at me, knowing my truth. Then his eyes lower, allowing me to decide to confess.

“I’m in love with Anna.” The second I admit the words, I rub the heels of my palms against my eyes, preparing myself for Logan’s backlash. In frustration, my fingers slip into my hair, tugging the strands behind my nape.