Page 58 of The Space Between
I stare at it until my throat starts to close. He could’ve said, “I’m sorry.”
He could’ve said, “I want you.”
He could’ve said,“Let’s pretend it didn’t happen.”
But he didn’t. He said he’s still here.
And that’s a promise.
Sitting down on the porch step, I clutch the note like it’s a lifeline. Maybe it is. Maybe it’s the start of something that doesn’t come easy—butcomes anyway.
I stay on the steps with the note in my palm, watching the sun rise fully before I wander down to the river. It’s already warm out, but the breeze off the water carries a soft chill that prickles my skin.
Hello, Texas summer.
There’s a low fog on the water. Mist lifts from the surface like the river’s still waking up, too… like the suns rays are burning off the last of the night from the surface.
The dock creaks under my weight. It’s familiar now. It’s mine.
Sitting at the edge, I let my toes dip into the water.
I have no idea how long I’m out here, just enjoying the moment, the stillness. I’m immersed in the river as it wakes up and the serenity fills my soul.
It’s so nice. So peaceful. Such an illusion, but I welcome it.
I don’t hear him right away, but I feel him. Like gravity.
That pull in my gut that started the first time he spoke to me though he didn’t want to like me.
“Morning,” he says quietly.
I turn to look up at him. He’s walking down the dock barefoot, shirtless, a coffee thermos in one hand and sleep still etched into the corners of his eyes.
He looks like he doesn’t regret last night… like the man who kissed me with grief still in his throat and let me have all of him anyway.
“You left a note,” I say, my voice breathless. He does that to me.
He nods but doesn’t say another word.
“Careful, this is the second time.” I chuckle.
His mouth twitches at the corners, revealing a hint of a smile. “You needed a note.” My entire body responds.
He’s so beautiful. So broken, but just… beautiful.
I laugh softly. “You think I didn’t need somethingbeforelast night?”
He pauses as he reaches the dock’s edge, his eyes flickering over my face. “You didn’t need me then.”
Does he think that?
“And now I do?” I ask softly.
His eyes darken and he responds, “Yeah.”
I nod because he’s right. I do. Not to fix me. Not to save me. But because last night mattered.
He sits, settling beside me with his thigh against mine. It’s the only part of us that’s touching, but it sends a current through my entire body. He simply hands me the thermos.
