Page 49 of Shattered Sun

Acoustic music plays softly in the background as a thick bubble shrinks the room. Perspiration that has nothing to do with the fire in the living room dampens my skin. A pleasant shiver rolls up my spine as I look from Travis to Ben again and again. Hunger pulses in my veins, building, expanding, converging at the junction of my thighs. I clench my legs; my breaths come in shallow sips.

Closing my eyes, I think about anything other than the two men at my side. Think of anything other than how it feels to be in either of their arms.

As my arousal tapers off, something else swarms in and replaces it. An unnameable throb in my rib cage. A slow-building ache in my soul. A different type of need. An incomparable desire. Swelling. Begging. An irrefutable longing for something I’ve never truly had.

Vulnerable, another sensation wiggles its way to the surface. One that refuses to be denied. More than anything, I hate it. Like a viral infection, the sharp pang expands in my chest. Growing. Festering. Stealing my happiness. Robbing me of light and love and pleasure.

Much as I hate that damn sting, much as I wish I was strong enough to quash it, that painful reminder has guarded and protected my heart for years.

There is a reason I don’t get emotionally involved. There is a reason I flirt and hook up and don’t do repeats.

If I never fall in love, I have no one to lose. And if I have no one to lose, I will never know hurt. Not like before.

EIGHTEEN

BEN

Awkward as this is,there is nowhere else I’d rather be.

Doing my best to ignore the prick on the opposite side of her, I focus on the conversations floating around the table. Glimpse the people Kirsten is closest to now. Get an intimate look at this piece of her life.

Oliver talks about his band, Hailey’s Fire, and their first official performance schedule. For a local band, they have several dates on the books—a few between now and New Year’s, then a regular schedule starting in late January. Though they’ve played small venues in the past—including a bar and grill in Lake Lavender—this is the first time they’ll have a confirmed schedule for months.

Loaded fork pointed in my direction, he mentions the tavern in Smoky Creek. A tavern I visit once or twice a week to catch up with friends over a beer.

“Have you seen us play?”

I cover my mouth and shake my head. “Not yet. Let me know next time you’re in town. I’ll invite my buddies.”

“Will do.” He shoves the excessive bite into his mouth.

The conversation quiets for a beat as we savor the meal and enjoy the company.

When was the last time I did this? Sat down with friends, talked over a mountain of great food, and simply existed in the moment?

On occasion, I meet with the crew after work for drinks and a bite as we bullshit for an hour. Not only is it a great way to wind down from an intense day, it also brings us closer as a crew.

Once a week, I join Mom and Dad for dinner at their place as we catch up on life. Without fail, Mom asks about my love life and Carolyn. Before last month, she would ask when we were taking the next step. Now, all she wants to know is why we broke it off. I spelled it out for her the first time. Since then, I simply change the subject and ask about her and Dad.

But those regular nights at the bar or dinner with my folks feel routine. When was the last time my friends and I did something like this? Gathered with individually made dishes and shared meaningful conversations. Connected on a deeper level, then razzed each other about nonsense. Friendsgiving.

Never.

Now that I’ve gotten a taste, I want more days like this. Significant moments with people I hold close. Smiles and laughter and elbows to the ribs. Asking to pass the potatoes or rolls. Letting go of everything outside this room as we strengthen our bonds.

“How’s the library expansion coming along?”

I shift my gaze to the raven-haired woman across the table. Delilah, Kirsten’s roommate, appears to be the quietest of the group. Though reticent, she speaks up when she has something notable to say or needs to put someone in their place. Most times I glance her way, she is simply observing the room.

“Good. Faster than anticipated.” I spear a few green beans and swipe them through mashed potatoes. “We wanted to have the walls and roof intact before December. We’re a couple days ahead of schedule.”

“Dee Dee is an avid reader,” Kirsten says. “The day she says she’s not reading anything is the day we should all be concerned.”

Delilah shrugs. “Books are good for your brain and your soul. In some cases, your heart too.”

“I like that.” I wash down my bite of food with a sip of beer.

When was the last time I had a lazy day with a book? Too long ago to recall.

---