Now
Lost and found. I lost her a year ago, but now I’ve found her.
When my gaze collided with Annabelle’s, a shock ran through my body like I have never experienced, rendering me momentarily mute.
After six months of looking for her under every nook and cranny and another six months trying to purge her from my system and failing miserably, I found Annabelle.
I want to give in to my baser instincts and claim her as mine like the total caveman I am, but it’s obvious how uncomfortable she feels. She stands rigid, her eyes wide as her gaze ricochets between Josh, Aiden,and me.
So, I stand still as I try to piece together and understand the unfolding situation.
How do Josh and Aiden know her?
Better question: how the hell did Annabelle end up on a date with Josh?
Before I can figure things out, Annabelle flees from the bar.
Aiden watches her run, seemingly as astonished and confused as the rest of us. Turning to me, he asks, “How do you know Kyle Morris’ widow?”
My eyebrows meet my hairline as I take an involuntary step back.
Annabelle was married toKyle Morris.
Everyone’s eyes dart toward mine in disbelief, but I’m just as stunned as they are.
She was married to a guy who worked at M&M Records.
A guy who died.
When I met her at Tank’s last year, she wasn’t upset about a broken engagement or a divorce. She was fucking mourning the death of her husband.
She’s a widow.
I met Kyle more than a handful of times throughout the years because he worked closely with Aiden.
Shit, if I remember correctly, Kyle had kids, which means… Annabelle is a mother.
Josh touches my elbow, knocking me out of my reverie. “Man, I had no idea. I never would have asked her out if I’d known that she was Annabelle.Your Annabelle.” He adds with a slow headshake. “What a fucking wild turn of events!”
Gobsmacked, Aiden grunts, “Anna Morris isAnnabelle?!”
Rowdy steps up, nudging me. “Hayes, get going. You can’t let her walk away. Go get her. Talk to her, man. Don’t let this opportunity pass you by, even if it’s just to get closure.”
His words break through my mental fog and spur me into action. Breaking away from the group, I jog out the front doors of the bar, pausing when I hit the street, unsure which way she traveled. Glancing to my left, I don’t see her, but when I look to my right, I see a familiar woman’s form doubled over on the sidewalk a few blocks up, and I break into a sprint to catch up with her.
“Annabelle!”
Her head jerks up when she hears me yell. Tears track down her cheeks, but she doesn’t run again. I move toward her with slow steps, as if I were approaching a skittish animal. When I reach her, I loosely wrap my arms around her body and pull her into an embrace. She sinks into me, and I relish the feeling of holding her again. I lay my head on hers and breathe in her cherry vanilla scent. She smells the same, and it brings back a deluge of memories, more vivid than ever.
To hold her again, it feels right.
No, it feelsperfecthow her body fits with mine.
I lost her once, but I won’t lose her again.
“Why’d you tell me your name was Hayes?”
Her random question surprises me. “Josh, James, Rowdy, and I grew up in the same town, and we played sports together in high school. Football was my first love, and on game days, we’d wear our jerseys, which had our last names printed on them, so everybody from our hometown always called me Hayes.” I shrug. “Those closest to me, who know me best, still do.”
