Page 99 of Breathe Again

Olivia hung in with everybody until the twins started to fade, then she and the twins made blanket nests on the couches and watched a movie that did not boast Daniel Radcliffe in its cast, and she eventually nodded off.

I learned two things about my daughter that day, first, she was comfortable at Bex’ home with their family, and second, that when given enough space, and little demand, she could thrive.

We got home around eleven. Olivia went straight to bed, and so did we. I didn’t bother with pajamas, just stripped down to my panties, and slipped between the cool sheets.

Zale pulled me into his arms and held me tight, his hand cradling my head against his broad chest.

“You are everything to me.”

His words rolled around in my head and seeped through the cracks in my battered heart.

I nuzzled into his chest, my hand resting over his heart, the steady thump of his heart a welcome beat in my ear. I felt his lips in my hair, against my temple, his finger tilting my face up to his and the tender brush of his lips across mine.

His hand around my back slipped into the back of my panties, brushing back and forth across the sensitive skin, trailing up to my hip, the dip in my waist, before heading back down into my panties.

I held still as long as I could to prolong the sweetness, but soon found myself arching into his hand.

His kiss grew more demanding, and he tugged at my panties, wanting them off.

I obliged, happy to give him whatever he wanted, and he laid his long, beautiful body over mine. I opened my thighs to invite him in.

We pulled his boxers off, a difficult feat without separating our mouths, and then he breached my entrance, nudging through the wet, gaining entrance one inch at a time. I wrapped my legs around his thighs, holding him close where I always wanted him to be. His hard chest, a familiar comfort against my breasts, his hands in my hair, his hips pressed between my legs, the sensitive skin of myinner thighs abraded by the hair on his, his mouth, his tongue, his breath, his groan, him.

Lost in him; lost in him, lost in me.

My favorite place to be.

He stayed with me afterwards, bringing me down slowly, leaning up on his elbows, staring into my sleepy, sated eyes, dropping kisses onto my mouth, my cheeks, my closed eyes, rolling us to our sides and tucking me against his chest.

I nuzzled into his chest, feeling his hands on me, one squeezing my hip, the other tangling in my hair. I fell asleep under his sweet attention that left room for nothing else.

Headcase

Mara

“How are you doing, Mara?”

I was back at the psychiatrist’s office for my follow-up appointment.

“Not terrible.”

“How are you feeling about your diagnosis?”

“Still feeling a lot of shame, but Erin is helping, I have the support of my sister and my best friend, my husband understands but he’s not available to talk thingsthrough with me.”

“How is he unavailable?”

“He works a lot, also he says nothing about this is new to him except the label. He doesn’t understand why it upsets me.”

“Do you have any other support?”

“My sister and my best friend.”

“How are things with your mother?”

“Not great.”

I filled him in on some of the more recent conversations, as well as my growing revelations of her effect on my mental health.

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