Page 55 of Embers in Our Souls
There goes my damn heart again. I swear, he’s going to leave on Monday and take every piece of my fucking heart with him.
The weekend goes on with us fucking on every surface of my place. The man is insatiable and I realize that if I was on the fence regarding falling in love with him before, this weekend solidified it. But in-between these moments of intimacy, we talk.
We laugh, we connect, we bond. The one thing we don’t do is divulge what the hell we plan to do with our marriage. As much as I planned on being honest about my feelings, I chicken out because I don’t want to break whatever we are doing. It feelstoo fucking good—this bubble we form over the weekend, and I need it with Tyler.
Even though he continues being that mysterious, broody guy I knew back when we were kids, he has this other side to him as well. He smiles and laughs with me. He’s romantic when we go out for a bit and grab food. He holds my hand and shows me a side of himself that I realize is everything I long for in a partner.
And sure enough, as the weekend carried on, I pushed the nagging feeling creeping up that I should talk to him about all the things I told myself I would say when he and I were face to face. Because I knew all the little butterflies that were forming inside were going to multiply and take off. I should have done something about what was going on with the thoughts I was forming because these emotions inside were strong and this was only the start.
Could we be more once he’s stateside? Should we be more? “Tyler—I want to be your real wife, do you want to be my real husband? This is no longer fake for me. I love you.” None of those sentiments come out though and the weekend comes to an end way too quickly.
That’s the thing about being young, though. You’re naive and think you have all the time in the world. Little did I know that a year later, my whole world would look a lot different—with no husband to lean on.
CHAPTER 28
Tyler
Last night’sshift was long and hard. Had I planned this out better, I would have told her we would do this another day. But it feels like if I push this off, I might miss my shot to explain myself.
If I ask for us to wait another day, I’m scared she’ll just slap me with divorce papers. Then I won’t get another opportunity to tell her what was going through my head years ago when I wrote her that God-awful letter. There’s still a high likelihood she’ll walk away from me and never look back. But I’ll feel better knowing I told her.
That’s what it’s about, right? Clearing the air between us is the healthy, yet harder, route. I can feel the nerves multiplying as I drive over. The air-conditioning is pumping on overdrive because I’m already sweating and it’s not even nine in the morning. I’ve been opting for my truck since everything happened on the motorcycle.
Maybe once I get this off my chest, things will finally fall back into place. Things have felt unstable. If I could choose how I wanted the chips to land, I’d wish to have her as a permanent fixture in my life. I fucked things up years ago, but I’ve felt thatgaping hole as my punishment. Now, all I want is make things right because she’s always been a breath of fresh air for me.
I still remember that flutter I’d get seeing her letters arrive when I was overseas in the Army; it would be a jolt to the system. She always brought me the energy I needed to sustain me until I’d hear from her again. There’s something to say about feeling a connection to someone when you’re away and feeling like you have little association to the outside world—she was my reason for breathing more often than not.
The nights were long in the Army. Knowing Indy was a part of my life, first as a friend then as something more, was so special.
The problem is, I skirted around my emotions when it came to telling her. That’s where I first failed her. Then I tripped up at every passing from that point forward. Eventually, I fucked up for good with that last letter, and I never returned to her to fix the error of my ways.
I don’t deserve her forgiveness, but I’m hoping she’ll find it in her to forgive me anyway. If she grants me more than that, it’ll be a win. Plus, the more I’ve seen her recently, the more I’m reminded of why I cared for her back then.
She’s sewn into the fabric of me and I’ve grown into who I am today because of what we had all those years ago. I’ve learned to be a better man thanks to her, although I see she’s put up walls thanks in part to the things I’ve done to her.
The moment I arrive at her place, I take a breath and park. Unlike Jerry and Scarlet’s place, where they are set in the suburbs, Indiana lives in a townhome in downtown Boston. From the last of our letters we exchanged, she was still not on the best of terms with her parents, so I assume she continues to rise up on her own merit.
I can’t help but look at her surroundings and think how proud I am of her and all she’s done for herself. Not only that,she did it while raising her brother’s child. Not the easiest of circumstances, yet she found a way to make her life successful and one she can be proud of. The pride that builds inside me for her and everything she’s overcome and achieved is overflowing.
Indy was so scared of the future that night we crossed paths at the Hoover Dam, yet here we are, eleven years later, with our foundations set. She’s found a new dream and flourished in her own way. This life is hers and hers alone.
I step out of the truck, grab the coffees I picked up on the way, and move a hand through my hair, taking a deep breath in hopes of calming myself down. No matter what goes on after this, I have to make peace with the fact I’ll do my best in explaining myself. Much like Rodney told me throughout our sessions years ago, I can’t change my decisions. I have to own up to my mistakes and hope she sees how I’ve grown from there.
I was distraught and angry, taking it out on anything and everyone around me. I left my life in disarray. But Indy was the easiest person to hurt and I did that. The saddest part was, I never sought her out to fix it, mostly out of fear of what she’d say. I needed to work on myself first, then I used the excuse of time, feeling like she had moved on.
Seeing her all over again all these years later has been flooding my thoughts and consuming my emotions. I realize now we can’t just leave everything unresolved. Plus, just the few times we’ve seen each other, I can feel the attraction we have like a live wire.
I’ve never experienced what I had with her with anyone else. I’ve looked—damn have I searched for it with another woman—no one grabbed at my heart the way Indy has, nor do I think anyone will.
Especially the way I’ve watched my friends fall to their knees and become victim to their partners—I know there’s only one woman that has taken hold of my heart in such a way. IndianaRanton is the love of my life and I not only let her walk away, I pushed her as far from my vicinity as possible, and made sure she’d never come back.
As I stand in front of her door, my heart is hammering in my chest and my mouth is dry. I’m not sure I’ll be able to speak when she swings that door open.
I ring the bell and wait, hearing her hurried steps on the other side. The minute she swings it open, it feels like I’m transported to six years prior, to that night I surprised her. That weekend when everything changed. That weekend when it confirmed everything—when I knew for certain I fell in love with my wife.
Her hair is up in a messy bun, although this time, she has glasses on, and she seems she’s in a bit of a rush. I take in her outfit—again she’s in an oversized shirt, no band on it this time, with a tank top underneath, and shorts that reveal her toned legs.
I do little to hide my eyes from perusing the beauty in front of me. I take her in, every little inch of her a sight for my sore eyes. She’s barefoot, her toes manicured a hot pink, something that hasn’t changed in all the years I’ve known her. She’s always loved that color, even when we were teens.
