Page 65 of Broken Hearts

Overwhelmed.

Consumed.

Crazy.

And before I can find the words, she’s kissing me again as she moves against me, her body riding mine, nothing between us. It feels amazing and perfect, and I never want it to end, even as I drop my hand between us, my thumb pressing against her clit.

“God, Nate,” she breathes into my mouth, never stopping her hips. “Yes.”

I wrap my other arm around her waist, guiding her movements, the two of us falling into a steady rhythm together as we both stop talking and get lost in this moment. The room is filled with the sounds of us, of our bodies moving together, our heavy breaths, our moans; everything.

And when I finally feel her pussy start to tighten, I’m powerless to stop myself from coming, my balls tightening as I thrust up into her, groaning at the way she clenches around me, at the way I explode inside her. At the way I claim her.

She slows her movements now, riding out her orgasm as I continue to jerk inside her. When she eventually stops, she drops her forehead to my shoulder, her breath warm against my skin. I run my hands up her back, her skin hot and slick with sweat.

Eventually, she lifts her head, her hand cupping my cheek. “Are you okay?” she asks.

I don’t even know what to tell her. How can I possibly explain what I’m feeling right now? How I am so much more than okay, but at the same time completely fucking unraveled.

“Yeah,” I eventually croak out. “Are you?”

“Uh huh,” she says, letting out a breath. “Yeah.”

“Sage, that…that was…”

She smiles now, her thumb brushing across my lips as she whispers, “Yeah, I know.”

“Areyou sure I should wear this?” I ask Nate, apprehension in my voice as I look at myself in the mirror. I swallow hard, pushing back the constant threat of tears that have been present ever since I woke up.

“Yes, you look beautiful,” Nate replies, running a gentle finger over my bare shoulder and leaning in to press a kiss where his finger just was.

He’s wearing a colorful Hawaiian print shirt with linen pants, cuffed at the bottom and his feet slipped into a pair of flip flops. He looks like he’s going to a luau, not a memorial service.

I’m not used to this, the casual nature, the bright colors or the strange sense of calm he seems to have. I feel like I should be in black, mourning the loss of my father, but Alana and Nate have already told me it isn’t like that. This is about remembering him and honoring who he was, not crying for what was lost, but to recall the happiness he brought to everyone’s lives.

I’m not there yet.

And I don’t know how they are either.

I swipe at the stray tear that has escaped from my eye, running down my cheek and streaking my makeup. Why did I even bother? Fuck, this day is going to be hard for me. It still feels like I’m an outsider looking in, and I know that’s only my impression of it, but I’m still struggling.

Alana let me borrow a dress since I showed up with only black to wear, and I realize I would have looked like the outsider that I am. And now here I am, standing in this brightly colored floral sundress, needing to wash off my makeup, trying to control my urge to sob.

I knew this day was coming; it’s the whole reason I’m here, but that doesn’t make it any easier. If anything, it feels harder now that I’ve grown close to Nate, and my friendship with Alana is becoming stronger.

These are all things that would never have happened if my father hadn’t passed away, and that makes me overrun with guilt. Guilt for not getting to know him while he was still alive. Guilt for enjoying myself. Guilt for being here and now being responsible for something my father built and loved.

The list is endless.

“It feels weird,” I now say, the words quiet, swallowing again, trying to keep it together. I have no idea how I’m going to make it through the service. I’m probably going to be the only one sobbing like a baby since Nate and Alana have been all smiles.

“What feels weird?” Nate asks me, turning me so I’m facing him, his arms hanging loosely around my waist.

“All of this. How can you be so happy right now?” I don’t mean for my words to come out so accusatory, but they do. Jealous of his ability to overlook the sadness that fills the space.

“Sage, baby, your dad wouldn’t have wanted us sad. It’s easy to think about his life and remember…” Nate trails off, the smile dropping from his face as the realization hits him.

Our experiences were very different. He had my father in his life up until he died by choice. I pushed him away by choice.

---