Page 44 of Buried Dreams

“For dinner,” I reply, and I want to lean up and kiss him. So I do, but instead of kissing his lips like I want to, I kiss his cheek. I’m about to walk out the door, but he spins me to face him. His hands go into my hair. Fisting it, he tilts my head to the side, and he kisses me. It’s wet, it’s wild, and it’s fucking everything. My tongue mixes with his, and he kisses me until I don’t even know my own name anymore.

He finally lets my lips go, and I open my eyes. “Have a good day, baby,” he says as I turn and walk out of the house, my lips still wet from his kiss and tingling. I’m in a daze, and when I get home, the last thing I’m expecting is for my mother to be sitting up waiting for me.

“Hey,” I say, walking in and kicking off my shoes, “did you just get up?”

“What are you doing?” she asks, getting up from her spot in her chair.

“I don’t know what you mean,” I reply to her, confused, as she stands in front of me with her hands on her hips.

“That man has been a shell of a man since you left,” she says, her voice tight but soft at the same time. “And now you are doing the same thing to him that you did back then.” Her words shock me, but she’s not done. “You are going to leave here and go back to your life, and he is going to stay here. But now he’s older and he has a daughter he has to worry about and not just you.”

“Mom,” I say as my chest tightens, her voice and words penetrating so much that my breathing is coming in pants.

“And what about you?” She raises her hand, pointing at me. “What are you going to do? How are you going to feel when you leave here?” I swallow down the lump in my throat. “You haven’t had anyone in your life since him.” I softly gasp. “No, I want you to be happy. You have a life, and you haven’t done a thing since you left here. Sure, you’re successful, but what else do you have?” She shakes her head, and she wipes the tears away that are rolling down her face. “You don’t think I know what it’s like to love someone from afar?” she says. “I know more than you think I know. You get one chance at love in your life. I’m not talking about loving someone. I’m talking about falling in love with someone so much that your heart hurts when you aren’t with them. That you literally don’t think you’ll be able to live if they are not there. It’s a love that is so consuming you know you will never love someone like you love that person.” The way she is talking, it’s like she’s reliving something. I watch the pain on her face, and I know this isn’t only about me.

“Are you talking about me”—I point at myself—“or are you talking about you?”

“I’m talking about walking away from someone and sacrificing what you want for them.” Her voice rises. “You are going to leave here and then what? You are going to have to walk away from him again. This time without the hatred in your heart. Without thinking that you never want to see him again. This time, you are going to have to walk away from him knowing in your heart you will never love anyone like you love him, and where will that leave you?” She shakes her head. “You live there; he lives here. He has a child he has to think about. He’s living for his child. I’ve watched him for the past nine years. Watched him live his life just existing, and the only time I’ve seen him smile is with his daughter. The only time I see a little light in his eyes is when he's with her.” She inhales. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” she finally says before walking away from me and toward her bedroom. She leaves me in the middle of the living room, asking myself the same thing. How the hell am I going to leave him again?

Chapter Twenty-Four

BROCK

I watch her walk to her car, or better yet, jog to her car. She doesn’t look back when she gets into it and all I can do is watch her drive away. I hate she is leaving, but I’m happy she was here for as long as she was, especially since it wasn’t supposed to be like that.

I felt her head get heavy on my shoulder as we watched the darkness, neither of us saying anything. I was too scared to say a word and then have her leave, so I just stared into the darkness, and for the first time in a long fucking time, I wasn’t angry. There was no anger left inside me, and it felt like a fifty-pound weight was lifted off me. Her head slipped from my shoulder and I softly laid it down in my lap.

My arm then came down and rested on her arm, she curled up in a ball and slept with her head in my lap. I put my head back, looking at the stars, and thanking whatever forces of nature for bringing her back to me. I didn’t think I would be able to fall asleep, but I did and woke when my neck was sore. As I looked down at her, still with her head in my lap, seeing her, feeling her, my cock was awake even before I had a chance to talk it down. Looking at my watch and seeing it was two thirty, I knew she had to get up. I had no choice.

I wasn’t going to kiss her. That was never my intent. Did I want to kiss her? You bet your ass I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to spend the night kissing her on my couch. Wanted to spend the night lying with her in my arms. Just that, lying with her, nothing else, and I would have died a happy man. She got on her tippy-toes and kissed my cheek. It was one of the sweetest kisses I’ve ever gotten. My arm moved before I knew what was happening, and I buried my hands in her hair. Hair that felt like silk on my fingers. I wanted to just peck her lips. My head, however, wanted so much more, and it took it. Fuck, the kiss was everything I remembered it would be and more.

I watch the car until the lights disappear from view and walk back into the house. Picking up my phone from the counter, I text her, pulling up the group chat that Ryan has me in when he was discussing things for the truck.

I save her number to my phone, wondering if it’s the same number she had all those years ago. After she left, I deleted everything about her, almost everything. There was a locked part of my phone where I stored all the pictures I had of her. Someplace I never opened. I pull up her name and text her.

Me: Let me know when you get home.

I walk toward my bedroom, not wanting to take off my shirt that still smells like her, so I just fall on the bed. The phone beeps ten minutes later with her text.

Everleigh: Home.

I put the phone down on the side table and close my eyes, dreaming of her. Always fucking dreaming of her. This time, the dreams are with her smiling and laughing. I don’t even hear the alarm when it goes off, so when the phone rings, I open my eyes, snatching it up and seeing it’s Saige.

“Morning,” I answer, putting the phone to my ear.

“Hey, Daddy,” she says cheerfully, “you didn’t call me.”

I sit up in bed and look over to see it’s almost seven thirty. “Sorry, baby, I overslept,” I say something that I’ve never done. “Did you check your spelling words?” I ask, getting up and walking back into my closet and peeling my shirt off, putting the phone on speaker.

“Yeah, Mommy and I did them yesterday and I got them all right,” she says, “and I am on chapter twelve of my book. Mommy said I had to put it away until all my homework was done.”

“Well, Mommy is right,” I agree with Karla even though we both know Saige is reading at a seventh-grade level, even if she’s only eight. She started reading before kindergarten and was always with her nose in a book. She still is that way. Sure, she has playdates and plays outside, but if she’s inside and the television isn’t on, she’s got her nose in a book.

“She said we can’t see you this week,” she whispers softly, and I close my eyes. “We are having dinner with someone else.”

“That’s okay,” I assure her, trying not to show her I’m pissed about it. “We get to see each other in four days.”

“I know,” she mumbles sadly, “but I miss you.”

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