It wasn’t a chaste little peck either. His hand twined into my hair while I’ll admit I did some groping. The Viking was well built, with lean muscles—an athlete or Iron Man contestant, maybe. I didn’t ask questions other than for his insurance policy number.
But the kiss left me breathless. It still does.
However, let it be known that I am happily unattached and intend to remain that way for a long, long time. I’m about to embark on a new chapter: Single-verly. I can finally take the job that I was offered before this mess. I’ll go be a girl boss and start a new life far away from everything. Including the Viking. Not that I ever expect to see him again. That was part of the arrangement. But I’ll never forget his lips on mine.
Yeah, it was a real kissituation.
One I still haven’t resolved, because I think about it nearly every day. Twice a day. Okay, multiple times. I can’t lie to you, Diary, any better than I can lie to myself.
If things were different, I could almost imagine a future with the Viking. Then again, he didn’t smile and we all know that I’m the smilingest of smilers that ever smiled.
Love,
Everly
P.S. Almost forgot!My thankful three:
1. I don’t have cancer.
2. I’m healthy!
3. Relieved that I made the right decision. I could’ve married Todd and used his insurance, but then I would’ve been stuck with a lying cheat. Instead, I took a risk, got my life back, and am ready to move on. I am so deeply grateful, even if it meant marrying the Viking. Then again, it was worth the kiss.
2
GREY
The only reason I know I’m still alive is because my pulse thunders in my ears. I don’t feel the strain on my muscles as I pound up the stadium stairs. The sweat pouring off me doesn’t sting my eyes. The ache in my joints, I know should be there isn’t even dull or distant as I take two at a time on the last stretch before I reach the top.
I feel nothing.
And I haven’t for what seems like a hundred years. A hundred years without my best friend, my brother, my hero. And no, I’m not a vampire, zombie, or some other monster, though the guys on the team say I’m a beast.
In reality, it’s been almost seven months since my world changed, but reality is a foggy thing these days.
I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve run the steps, but I know that if I don’t stop soon, one of my teammates is bound to come out here and tell me to take it easy. For anyone else, they’d demand one more set.
I don’t want pity or to be treated with kid gloves, thank you very much.
But I’m the senior statesman on the team and after they heard about what happened to Bran, they started treating me differently, more gently.
No surprise when half the time I don’t feel like myself. The problem is, I don’t feel anything.
After another set on the stairs, I find the familiar row up in the nose-bleed section. Years ago, Dad took Bran and me to a Bruisers game while we were visiting Mom’s cousin here in Boston. The ladies went for lunch and shopping while my life changed forever.
The game started with a flyover by the quarterback’s brother, a pilot in the Air Force. I’ll never forget Bran’s expression as he watched the plane zoom overhead. We were riveted, shocked at something so powerful—we were used to small seaplanes and the family station wagon. Then the response of the crowd cheering was sheer awe.
He told us he wanted to be an Air Force pilot. When Dad explained what that would require and the danger it could pose, he was undeterred.
An hour into the game, I watchedmyfuture play before my eyes. I decided I wanted to become a football player. Seeing the guys rush up and down the field, playing real-life chess moves to bring the ball from one spot to another. It’s strategy, geometry, and a healthy expression of ferocity.
Those two goals were achieved, but I never expected what the risks Bran took would costme.
My elbows rest on my knees as I hold my head in my hands. Early on in our respective careers, Bran would cruise overhead during the season opener—carrying on the tradition of that game Dad took us to all those years ago. Later, Bran shifted into special operations. Suffice it to say, he won’t put on an aerial show this year.
I’m not even sure why I’m still playing, other than the fact that I don’t know what else to do. I was planning on retiring last season, but if I give up football, I’ll have nothing. No one.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. As usual, I consider ignoring it. I’ve never been much for pointless talking, especially not lately.
