Today's vocabulary word: preemptive
I flopped backagainst the bathroom door, one hand over my mouth and the other desperately trying to shove my heart back into my chest. Fresh waves of adrenaline coursed through my veins and my pulse clanged in my ears. My skin was a foreign thing, blistered and tight and throbbing.
Shudders moved through my shoulders and a hot flush painted my skin in splotches of pink and red as I reached all the way down to find an ounce of regret. I kept grabbing for it, searching for proof that I'd done something wrong—and I couldn't find it.
And that scared the hell out of me.
What did we just do?I dragged a palm over my eyelids as another thought barged into my head:What if it happens again?
The problem with me—one of the many—was that I needed to know what everything meant. I couldn't sit back and enjoy the ride. I had to snatch every moment as it passed, hold it up to the light, and turn it over and over until I understood what it said.
But when I held those words up—We weren't over. Not then. Not now—the only thing I understood was that we'd never be able to climb over the history between us. Never let it go, never move on. Everything we were was colored by the way it ended. And we'd spent an entire lifetime apart now. We'd grown up and grown apart, and there was no reason to believe we could pick up where?—
Yet my body remembered him in ways my mind hadn't. His skin, his sounds, all of it. He kissed just like he always had. Focused and determined and so fucking sure of himself. Like we could start exactly where we'd left off and not a single thing would change.
I traced a finger over my lips, pressing hard at the sensitive spots. Little tingles zapped through me with every pass and my bones ached to open that door and finish what we started.
But I made the worst decisions when it mattered the most—and this mattered more than anything. I knew what would happen if I went back out there now. We'd have sex and it would be incredible. And we wouldn't stop after one time. But eventually we would stop and it would end in the most gutting, grueling way possible.
Then I'd be alone all over again. I didn't think I'd be able to bear it this time.
I heard Jude moving around the room. His phone kept buzzing but he didn't answer. I didn't know why not. I pushed off from the door on legs barely steady enough to propel me toward the shower.
All I knew was I couldn't stumble into a wall or make any sounds that would send him barging in here. We couldn't keep running into each other in the shower.
I turned on the water but didn't bother climbing into the stall. I rested my forehead on the wall and waited for Jude to answer his son's call. I didn't want to admit it but deep in a darklittle corner of my mind, I'd thought about this. Thought about us. Hoped? I wasn't sure. Yes, hoped, if I was being hideously honest. It wasn't that I expected to get him back but I just wanted to remember what it'd been like before I ruined it all. I wanted to visit that place one last time.
But much like all the other things I acted out in my head, the reality was a different story.
I heard the front door close and held my breath, waiting. As the seconds passed and I heard no movement from inside the room, I let that breath out in a slow, choppy exhale.
Then I sprang into action.
A thin, scratchy towel wrapped around me, I peeked out the bathroom door. It was empty and dark. Either the power was out from the storm or we hadn't bothered with the lights. I startled at the muffled sound of Jude's voice filtering in from outside. I forced myself to stop and listen for a second, just to figure out how much time I had, but I couldn't hear anything over my own heartbeat.
Since I didn't want to get caught halfway into a pair of sleep shorts, I grabbed dry clothes and my toiletry bag, and flew back to the bathroom. I showered in the dark, fast and efficient. A little harsh too. Scrubbed hard at my skin, chasing away the sweat and dust and rain. I didn't let the washcloth linger on my nipples or between my legs. Didn't imagine someone stepping in behind me and pressing me up against?—
Not helping.
I rinsed, dried off, and dressed quickly, making a beeline for the bed before my brain could invent anything worse than sexy shower thoughts. I twisted my hair into a high bun that would be loose waves tomorrow, downed my nighttime meds, and shook out the blankets. In case of lizards.
God, please don't let there be any lizards.
I paused, a pair of pillows in hand, and debated building up the borderlands between us tonight. Was there any point? After everything?
But if I didn't rebuild the wall, it would extend an invitation I didn't think I could grant. I'd spent years stitching these seams into place. I didn't know if I was prepared to rip them open all in one night.
I set one pillow in the middle and curled on my side, my back to the door. It was the only thing to do though I wasn't sure it was the right thing. For all I knew, Jude was out there drowning himself in a bucket of regret.
I caught his voice through the wall, low and steady as he promised his son everything would be okay. It was probably selfish to wish he'd say those words to me. He would, if I asked. That was why he was such a good dad. Areallygood dad.
I didn't know why that realization hurt so much but when I tried to swallow it down, it broke something inside me. There was a definite snap, the same as every time I'd broken toes dancing, and I knew that even when it healed, it wouldn't be the same again.
For once, I didn't want to examine what any of this was or ask what it meant. I knew well enough that there was no point in looking at it too closely. Instead, I tugged the sheets up to my chin and squeezed my eyes shut.
There'd be no reason to talk if I was asleep when he returned. I'd be an immovable object in the shape of a woman, barricaded and fully incapable of carrying on a painfully awkward conversation about why we couldn't do this.
We weren't over. Not then. Not now.
