Page 37 of Never Too Late

I pushed up on my elbow, looking around.

“Dylan,” I called, but there was no sound coming from anywhere.

He left.

He left me again.

If it wasn’t for the fact I was, indeed, naked and there was some pain, the good kind, coming from between my legs, I would convince myself it was all a dream.

As there was all that plus the fact, I could smell him all over me, I could not.

I tried to stop the burning sensation in my throat on its way out and swallow it down, but I failed.

A choked sound came out and three fat tears landed on my bare forearm.

Wiping the tears away, I told myself to stop.

Stop crying, stop feeling sorry for myself.

Stop longing for the man who obviously didn’t want me.

I stood up, gathered my clothes, and began to put them on, stopping every few seconds to brush off my tears and repeat my mantra.

It was of no use.

I couldn’t help it.

It felt like I was trying to push my heart out right through my chest and out of my mouth. And leak the blood from my eyes.

By the time I was fully clothed, had the blanket tucked in a hall closet, and was staring for a good half an hour at the empty fireplace and a soft glow of the lamp trying to chase away the darkness, the tears finally stopped.

The feeling of my own heart trying to choke me to death was still present, but I told myself if I tried hard enough, I would be able to swallow it down.

And that was what I was doing when the door silently opened.

“You were crying,” Dylan whispered when I turned my head and looked at him over the couch.

He was standing just inside holding what looked like a tree, but I couldn’t tell for certain as it was dark and I could only see shadows.

“You’re here,” I whispered.

“I’m here,” he whispered back, not moving.

“I thought you left,” I admitted.

“I did.” He nodded and my heart went back to its upward way. “I cut a tree for you and had to go get it. But when I came home, Zara was just going to bed and wanted me to read her a bedtime story,” he explained.

All I heard was that he cut the tree for me and had to go get it.

“You’re here,” I whispered, fresh tears, this one in relief, filling my eyes.

“I’m here,” he whispered back.

When I said nothing more and stayed put, not moving just looking at him, he leaned the tree against my wall and came straight for me.

I tracked his movements and turned my head, not willing to lose sight of him for even a second. Kneeling in front of the couch, he cupped my cheeks, pulled my face to his, and gave me a soft kiss.

The soft part got lost quickly.