Page 21 of No Limits

I don’t like having this feeling around Lochlyn—this discomfort, and like I need to walk on eggshells around him. It’s not so much that I’m scared to say the wrong thing; I don’t know what to say or how to act. What’s going to cause a tiff? What’s still simmering below the surface for either of us?

Maybe for him, there’s nothing, but for me, frustration still bubbles. The feeling of being left behind still weighs on me.

“This is nice, snuggling and watching a childhood favorite. Oh! Want some hot chocolate? I think that’d be perfect on a day like today. What could be better? A great movie, a nice hot drink, and my girl.” And then he says things like that, and I melt into him.

I may not feel like I’m the most important thing to him anymore, but he is to me.

“I do, and it’d be delicious, but I don’t want you to get up right now.” Throwing my arm across his chest, I squeeze him tightly, receiving a tight hug in return.

With my head on his chest, his heart thumping in my ear, all the muscles in my body loosen and I’m able to relax.

My eyelids become heavy, because for the first time in weeks, I’m at peace. Being wrapped up in Lochlyn always helps me sleep, but we haven’t been doing much of that lately.

I shift with Lochlyn’s laugh as my body jerks, but my eyes can’t open. Instead of trying to wake me up or keep me awake, he plays with my hair and runs a hand down my back, a surefire way to get me to drift off.

***

Sometime later, my eyes flutter open, and I stretch. The couch is cold next to me. Lochlyn’s been gone for a little while. Did he even finish the movie? Or did he get up as soon as I dozed off?

A quick glance out the window and I can see the steady rate at which the flakes travel downward hasn’t stopped or slowed. We’re going to have a few feet by the time all is said and done.

“Good morning, sleepyhead.” I turn at his voice.

“How long was I out for?” Sitting up, I take the mug Lochlyn hands me and look down at the brown liquid with white ovals floating on top. He made the hot chocolate we talked about.

It’s still steaming, meaning it’s fresh and hot. The couch is far too cold for him to have sat with me until I started to stir. Has he been watching over me?

That’s when I smell it. The seasoning. He’s cooking dinner.

He must notice my nose tip up. “I have a chicken in the oven. I’ll make a side of some sort with what we have. I wasn’t really expecting to be snowed in. Thankfully, I’d bought the roaster anyway but was planning to go back to the store to grab stuff to go with it when I planned to cook it.”

“Thank you. For this and dinner.”

“You’re welcome. How’d you sleep?”

“Um, good, I think. I needed it.”

“Yeah, seems like it.” He shoves one hand in his pocket while he pulls his mug to his mouth and tips back on his heels. Everything about this is awkward, like we don’t know how to act around each other instead of being two people madly in love.

Though sometimes, I wonder, are we still? Yes, we definitely still, and probably will always, love each other, but is it at the level it was?

The stilted conversations we have don’t seem like it, but relationships are full of rough spots, like Chelsea said. And I’m hoping this is just a long one. Do they normally take months to go through? I wouldn’t know, and don’t feel like I can ask Mom. She may be happy with Don, but I try to bring Dad up as little as possible, even all these years later.

I know new jobs and schooling are all things that are difficult, and we’ve had a lot of life changes, but the drift feels like it’s getting bigger, not smaller. And weddings are stressful, but I feel pretty carefree about it and he’s not helping a ton.

With a quick shake of my head, I chase the thoughts away. I’m focusing too much on what’s been going on instead of being here with him and appreciating the time together. That makes me as much a part of the problem as his absence. His may be physical, but my mental absence counts too.

“Come sit with me.” He pushes off the wall where he’s been leaning and sits next to me, throwing an arm over my shoulder and kissing the top of my head as he draws circles on my upper arm.

We sit in silence, sipping at our cocoa but not exchanging words. It’s peaceful watching the flakes flutter down outside the window. It’s probably around four o’clock and the drifts are starting to rise higher and higher.

“I’ll have to snow-blow sometime soon, but I’m kind of avoiding it.”

“I can’t say I blame you; there’s a lot out there. And the way the heat keeps kicking on, I’d say it’s pretty cold too.” The heat has been cycling on almost all day.

“Yeah. It’s going to be miserable. Thankfully, the driveway is nice and short. I may leave the walkway for another day. I’ll have to see how it goes.”

I nod in agreement, not sure where to go. The conversation isn’t deep. Sure, it’s things we discuss now, being homeowners, but nothing compared to what we used to talk about.

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