Page 41 of Bone Dust

The sorrowful weight in her tone makes me slump over, and I catch my head with my hand. “Right now I feel like I’m a waste of oxygen. It started out well and went from really, really good, to shit—because of me.”

“You’re your own worst critic. So, what’s your plan to fix this?”

“I don’t know if I can,” I say truthfully. “There’s something about her Sky. I can’t put my finger on it. I just … she matters. I feel like she’s always mattered, but I don’t know how to explain that.”

“You don’t have to explain it. I don’t quite know how to explain me and Dash, but I’ve told you our story. You even heard him call me a different name. Maybe there is something to reincarnation and timeline jumps. I can’t explain it, and many would dismiss it, but not me. I only know what happened with him. How I saw the whole thing, and how it could have been in another lifetime. If it’s as real as I felt it was then, I can only hope we’ll find each other again.”

“He really loved you, Sky.” Tears blind my vision.

“And he really loved you, too. Think positively. You can do this.” She encourages. “You’re stronger and wiser than you know. I believe in you.”

“Yeah? Well, you might be the only one.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Savannah

Iglance in the rear-view mirror to see Gigi’s fallen fast asleep. Relief swiftly unravels my thoughts. My tense shoulders descend from their earlobe-high perch as soft music drifts through the car speakers. It’s apparent that the soft jazz sound has the same relaxing effect on me as it does my daughter.

I breathe in a full, expansive breath and, as I exhale, conversation from earlier this evening floods my mind. I told Ian that the events of tonight would imprint on my daughter’s memories. My kissing Ian would be part of those as well.

The ride home from Ian’s is sufficient time for my nerves to unjumble and soothe like rainwater over stones but, I can’t forget his kiss.

I barely had time to catch my breath when he moved on me. The effect of the impact was mind-blowing. Instantaneously, my thoughts scattered. Sparks turned to flames as an exciting and unexpected fire careened through my system. The intensity of the kiss sucked me into the flashback. Due to my pitiful lack of self-control, the kiss would have led me straight into his bed. I wanted him with an intensity that left my will as cinder, the ash skittering away in the night breeze. I was mere seconds away from melding into him fully when the sound of my sweet little girl’s voice hit me like a cold dose of water.

I hadn’t realized until that moment how starved I was for a connection. I craved his immoral lips. Our comingled tongues danced a sordid tempo. For a careless moment, the world fell away. I loved it. Gah!

The red light brings me to a frustrating stop. Damn it, Ian. Why the hell did you have to come back into my life?

My thoughts continue to linger over tonight’s events and, though I’d prefer to only recall the sweet memories made with Gigi, it’s Ian who corrupts my musings. While the car idles at a standstill, reality slowly drips in. Pleasurable thoughts crash over me as I recall the scene. How quickly Ian bewitched me. The spell made its way to my core. His body, so different than I remembered, enchanted me with firm, thick ropey arms, and well-honed biceps. My breast crashed against his chest, the wall of muscle assaulting tender flesh while his kiss awakened it, and the pleasure that followed soothed the hurt.

I glance at my fingers gripping the steering wheel to see white knuckles. How is it possible that he can have this effect on me, especially after so many years? But he’s here now and he’s so much more real to me now than then. His lips on mine induced the same shivers I felt so long ago, but with even more intensity than I remember. I’m such a different person than I was then—so is he—but in my wildest imagination, I never dreamed I’d again be in a heated moment with Ian Stanton. Not again. My thoughts are muddled because I’m not sure I would have stopped myself. Instead, it was the sweet voice of the little person who always saves me from the worst parts of myself.

I try to tune out the warring sexy thoughts and self-incrimination the remainder of the drive and notably exhale when I press the control for the garage door. Inch by inch it lifts until it’s open wide and revealing evidence of the perfectionism that occurred after my parent’s death. I suppose my obsessive compulsiveness could be worse than arranging a variety of garden tools on a pegboard-covered wall. A container of baby clothes triggers images of an infant Gigi in my arms. Like any nervous new mother, I’m always worried about making mistakes. But then, am I doing a disservice to my daughter by not letting her see the vulnerable parts of me?

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, collecting my thoughts. Am I capable of a relationship? I thought I was until Drake became violent and I reasoned that what happened with Ian was because I was drunk. Once Gigi was born I resigned myself to raising her alone and then convinced myself that a relationship with anyone was something I neither needed nor wanted but something happened tonight. Something equally freeing and frightening. There is more substance to Ian than the man I remember.

I savor a quiet moment as the garage door drifts closed. Maybe to Ian it was ‘just a kiss’ but the way he looks at me with those piercing eyes makes me feel as if he can see right through me. With one touch, he reminded me I’m a woman and not simply someone’s mom, and I’m not sure how I feel about that.

I unbuckle Gigi without waking her and she easily positions herself as I carefully carry her from the car into the house. An emerging headache is tapping an annoying beat against the back side of my eyeballs and I’m anxious to lay her down and swallow some pain relievers. Thank god she’s out as I navigate through the house, balancing her so as not to disturb her. I tiptoe up the steps and make it to her room without waking her. Moms don’t get enough credit. Balancing babies, groceries, and laundry baskets may not seem like a magnificent feat, but doing our part to keep our acts up and running makes us seem like circus folk, yet we never take a bow.

As I lay Gigi down, her breath brushes against my neck and my heart swells. She’s my reason. My everything. As I kiss her rosy cheek I imagine her dreams tonight will be quite full. Stars, fireflies, and wide-open spaces will emerge once again. When—if—a man enters our lives, her needs will come before my own.

“I love you, my angel.” I lightly pet her head. “You are the most perfect thing I’ve ever done.” Whispering the words, I steal one more kiss, and then tuck her in.

Once Gigi’s bedroom door closes, exhaustion hits me. The pounding in my head is relentless and has increased in intensity. I slip down the stairs quietly and quickly to find a remedy to take away the ache and, as I enter the kitchen, my phone rings. The display flashes an unknown number but I answer anyway.

“Hello.”

“Savannah, it’s Ian—and before you hang up on me—I’m sorry.”

I hit the speaker button and grab two headache pills and a glass of water. I pop them in my mouth and gulp down a couple of swallows. Now is not the time I want to talk. “Ian, I don’t want to?—”

“I know you don’t but just listen.” He pauses. “Please, just listen to me for a minute; it was an impulsive move and I’m sorry. I took something from you that you weren’t willing to give. I’m not good at this. You might not believe it, but you are my first sober kiss.”

My forehead pinches. “You’re kidding, right? You mean, I’m the first woman you’ve kissed since moving to Rock Hills.”

“No. I mean, you’re the first girl I’ve ever kissed—like, seriously kissed.”

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