Affection had never come easy to me. It was a small and fragile thing I was still growing after years of inner work and reflection. Some people were so tactile, greeting each other with hugs and a kiss on the cheek. Nudging shoulders when they were joking. Meanwhile, it took me years before I stopped overthinking casual hugs and touches.
It had only ever been easy with Landon.
Fuck.Once I started thinking about him, I couldn’t stop. It was like he plagued my mind, taking over every string of emotion, too.
“We’ll see you later then.” Macey gave me a quick hug before they left, and she whispered. “A relaxing night in is what you need.”
I slammed the mug on the counter as soon as I heard the front door shut. Yes, a relaxing night in would be good.
Not as good as it ever felt being in Landon’s arms. Not as good as staying up all night with him, sharing a bed without even kissing, talking through the dark hours, like we used to do. Not as good as feeling his hands all over me, his mouth on me. Making love, our hearts connected as much as our bodies.
Stop it, Kira.
Landon was in the past, and I would be better off leaving him there.
Apparently, my mind could not convince my heart otherwisebecause five minutes later, I found myself in my bedroom, rummaging through my closet.
I sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by the chaotic remnants of a search I hadn’t meant to start.
One secret I kept well hidden? I wasn’t a clean person. I was simply very good at stuffing all my clutter into the closet.
Somewhere in here, tucked in the very back, was the box I was looking for. The one with years’ worth of memories I needed to face.
I pushed aside a stack of flimsy scarves I hadn’t used in years. Behind them, a pair of boots I’d worn exactly once before deciding they were too uncomfortable. I leaned deeper into the closet, fingertips brushing against something hard and rectangular.
I pulled the box into the light and flipped open the lid, only to find…books. A collection of books I intended to donate this past summer. I groaned, shoved it aside, and pulled my hair into a messy ponytail before diving back in.
Every layer I uncovered seemed to unearth a different phase of my life. A tangle of friendship bracelets from a pop concert. A cracked frame with a picture of me and my college friends on campus. A tattered journal I’d sworn I’d finish writing in someday.
Finally, my hand landed on something familiar—a box, small and cardboard, sealed shut with duct tape.
My breath caught as I lifted the lid.
Inside were memories of my relationship with Landon. A ticket stub from the concert he had surprised me with on my seventeenth birthday. A dried flower he’d plucked from the neighbor’s garden during one of our evening walks. A keychain from a Chicago gift shop.
We’d spent a weekend together in the city shortly before graduation. Playing tourist during the day and spending thenight together for the first time at a hotel. It had been the first time we made love, and I remembered it all in detail.
It hurt more than I let on, but only because I didn’t want it to stop. How something could feel so painful and so good all at once, I’d never understand.
I remembered the tiniest details perfectly, from the taste of strawberry lemonade on his tongue to the things he said when he pushed inside me. He got me off with his fingers first. A good call because it was difficult to come from penetration alone. That, admittedly, was still true years later.
It wasn’t the orgasms I missed most about being with Landon. Blissful as they were, the moments after were what I cherished the most. Feeling joined together, so close you couldn’t tell where one of us started and the other ended. The way he wrapped an arm around my waist when we slept.
Nothing had felt the same since.
At the bottom of the box was the letter. The one that only contained two words.
I’m sorry.
-L
I’d tried so hard to forget that day. What started as an ordinary stroll through the park right after graduation ended with the devastating breakup.
Landon and I had planned for forever. I was going to college at The University of Illinois Chicago, and he was going to community college part time while he helped grow the diner. It would have meant we’d be apart during the week, but we would have spent weekends together.
But then, the fire happened and the diner was gone. Suddenly, so were all of Landon’s plans for the future. Instead of pivoting and finding a way to include me in his new future, he insisted that he was “holding me back” and that it would be better to break up.
I didn’t know how he could be holding me back when he held me better than anyone else ever had. We were supposed to stay together forever, but at the first sign of a tough time, he ran away. I blocked his number that night in between sobs, completely unsure how I would ever move on. The next day, I found this letter on my pillow.
