Page 131 of One More Heartbeat
I trail after him, stepping into the stifling hot air. Stifling, but free of the stench of death and despair. I keep following him, scrambling to find purchase on all the things I want to tell him. The same old apology hovers on my lips.
It’s only once he gets to the path leading to the sidewalk that he stops and turns, giving me a clear view of his face.
A face that doesn’t belong to Clarke.
Of course it doesn’t. He’s not visiting from heaven. He’s not here to blame you for failing to protect him from the explosion. For failing to save his life.
I release a long breath, trying to calm my heart. I can’t go back inside to watch the service. Not yet. I need to regroup first, find my footing. I walk to the nearby bench in the shade of a flowering magnolia and sit.
My forearms resting on my thighs, I stare at a discarded cigarette butt on the ground and disappear into my memory of the day everything went to hell.
As I sit on the bench alone, ignoring the occasional person walking on the sidewalk, I attempt more than once to will myself to stand. To return to where I left Zara in the church. To go watch the service. But the sweltering heat of the day has me glued to the bench. Sweat trickles down my back, under the white dress shirt and black suit jacket.
I’m vaguely aware of the steady hum of vehicles driving past the church, but that’s the only noise that filters in.
I have no idea how long I’ve been sitting on the bench when the church door opens, and people file out.
Shit. I couldn’t even get my ass off the bench and go inside and sit through the service. I left Zara to mourn a man who was a near stranger to her. I left Zara to do what I couldn’t.
I keep staring at the ground, unable to look at the faces walking past me.
She sits beside me on the bench. Her familiar jasmine scent gently embraces me, and for the first time since stepping inside the church, I breathe a little easier.
Zara rubs soothing circles on my back. She doesn’t say anything but continues to ground me with her touch.
I finally look up at her, and tear-glistened eyes meet mine. “Sorry for leaving like that.” Shame is a heavy winter coat draped over my shoulders in the summer heat.
“You wanna talk about it?”
I shake my head. She’s got enough going on without me dumping my problems on her. I take her hand and straighten to my feet.
I don’t release her hand as we walk to the parking lot. And when we stop at the passenger side of the rental car, I still don’t let go.
I cup her face with my free hand and kiss her. Kiss her like she’s the life preserver keeping me afloat. My tongue glides over hers, and I get lost in the kiss for a little longer, paying attention to how her soft body feels against me, how she tastes, how her sweet moans escape with each flick of my tongue.
I capture each of her sounds and rest my forehead on hers. I can’t tell her why I’m unable to open my heart to someone, why I don’t deserve love in return, but there is one thing I can do that will benefit us both.
“I could use an orgasm right now.” The words come out broken, splintered. Pained.
She squeezes my hand, her breath fanning my kiss-swollen lips, and whispers, “I know.”
Two daysafter Tyson’s funeral, I’m sitting on my patio with Kellan. The turkey club sandwiches Athena made us while Kellan and I were running sit on a plate in the middle of the table. I bite into my sandwich. The low whirl of the vacuum inside reaches us through the open windows.
Peony is preoccupied, following a bug hopping through the sunny patch of grass.
“Who else knows what happened?” Kellan asks, grabbing anothersandwich from the plate. I’ve just finished telling him about how Cooper and Clarke died.
I won’t tell Zara about it, to let her into the horrors I experienced there. But I can tell Kellan, the one person who knows what it was like in Afghanistan, who experienced the same nightmare.
“You mean other than the military? And now you?”
He nods, his face free of what he’s thinking after I dumped that all on him.
I wouldn’t have told him if he hadn’t called me out on it during our run. He knew something was off the moment we started up the trail, but it wasn’t until we were cooling down after our final sprint that he brought it up.
“No one. And I want it to stay that way.” I give him a meaningful look over my sandwich.
“You know it wasn’t your fault, right?”
