Page 134 of The Marine

I walk to my favorite armchair and sit down, closing my eyes. Where would she go?

Briar, where the fuck are you?

It’s not until the next morning, when my eyes flick open, that I sit up in my bed with a jolt.

I dreamed of the first night we made love. Feeling our souls connect in a way that’s never happened with anyone else.

I know where she is.

I’m sure of it...mostly.

I shower, have breakfast, do a little research online, then leap into the Porsche and head out to the coast.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

BRIAR

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Spending time aloneis underrated. It feels like all I’ve done is cry and think about all the things wrong with my life—when I’m not binging TV shows, that is.

It’s therapeutic in ways I had no idea.

Like I’m purging the old.

And getting clear, without anyone else’s opinions, on what it is I truly want.

Who I am.

Not who I should be.

It’s hard to describe how I feel as I step out of the hotel into the Los Angeles sunshine, but it’s similar to walking out of a salon with brand new hair.

Look, I know two days isn’t exactly a spiritual awakening, but doesn’t it happen in the moment? It’s not like I have to light candles every day for a year and sing kumbaya around a fire in Machu Picchu with twelve monks.

Probably not a thing.

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