Mia
I woke before the sun, before anything stirred except the first tentative birds testing the silence.My body knew what my mind refused to accept, that this morning carried a different weight than the ones before it.I lay still for a moment, listening to Oktober breathe beside me.His arm draped heavily across my waist, his face buried in my hair, and I let myself soak in the warmth of him because I knew it was about to disappear.At least, for a while.Truth be told, I needed the step back.Just for a little while.
Dawn crept in like an apology, gray first, then pale gold seeping through the curtains in thin bands that stretched across the floor and climbed the rumpled sheets.I eased out from under his arm, careful not to wake him, and padded barefoot to the kitchen.As the coffee maker gurgled to life, I stood with my palms flat on the counter, staring at nothing.
The club headed back to Nashville today.I would be staying behind to finish what was supposed to have been a vacation from the start.Much as I hated parting from Oktober, I knew I needed the space to get my head on straight.I rode a high just by being in his presence and I needed to come down.
I carried two mugs onto the porch and settled into my usual chair.The lake beyond rippled in the spring wind.Mist moved low over the water in thin white veils.I pulled my knees to my chest and sipped my coffee and pretended the tightness in my throat was from the morning chill.
The screen door creaked behind me.Oktober appeared in jeans, his chest bare, his hair loose and tangled from sleep.He padded out on bare feet with a soft smile.Like he had the last two mornings.He looked softer in the early light, the harsh angles of his face somehow not as prominent.Without a word, he took the second mug from the railing where I’d set it, lowered himself into the chair beside mine, and stretched his long legs out, crossing them at the ankles.
We drank in silence.I could hear the faint sounds of activity from the neighboring cabin in the distance as people prepared to leave their weekend getaways.Including Oktober’s own family.
“I don’t like goodbyes,” I said eventually, still staring at the lake.
Oktober took a slow sip.“Then we don’t say goodbye.”
“What do we say instead?”
He set his mug on the arm of the chair and turned to me, those blue eyes catching the first real sunlight as it broke through the tree line.Very carefully and deliberately, he reached out to close his fingers over my hand and squeezed lightly.“We say, see you soon.”
I smiled despite the ache blooming behind my sternum.“See you soon.I like that.”Why did I feel like I wanted to cry?Maybe part of me thought I’d never see him again, that he’d suckered me into filling his bed for the weekend, then he’d ghost me.
He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone, holding it toward me.“Give me your number.I’ll call you this evening when I’m back in Nashville.”
I took the phone, my fingers brushing the warm screen.I typed my number in, then added my name with a small heart emoji beside it before I could talk myself out of the impulse.Childish, maybe, but I wanted him to see it every time my name lit up his screen.He glanced at what I’d typed, and the grin that spread across his face made the emoji worth any embarrassment.He typed something on his phone and a moment later, I heard the ding of my own text message.
“Tonight, Mia,” he repeated, pocketing the phone.“Not maybe.Not if I remember.I will call you tonight.”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
From across the clearing, someone whistled, a sharp, two-note sound that carried the unmistakable message of “hurry the hell up.”Oktober sighed, running a hand through his hair, then stood.I followed, and we faced each other on the porch in the strengthening light.
He cupped my face in both hands, his calloused palms rough and warm against my cheeks.His thumbs traced the line of my jaw, and he held me there, studying my face as if committing every detail to memory.
“Du bist mein Licht,” he murmured, pressing his forehead to mine.I didn’t ask what it meant.I didn’t need to.The way he said the words, the way he looked at me, told me everything I needed to know.
His mouth found mine, and the kiss was unhurried and achingly tender.I gripped his shoulders and held on, feeling the solid muscles bunch beneath my palms.
When he pulled back, his eyes were bright and fierce.“Two days,Kätzchen.Then you come home to Nashville and we figure this out.”
“We’ll figure it out,” I echoed, and meant it with every stubborn fiber of my being.I didn’t really even understand why I fought leaving with him other than the part of me who didn’t like change.I wanted to make damned sure I committed myself to embracing the change my life would take if I went down this road with Oktober.Like I knew I eventually would.
He shrugged into his T-shirt, then the leather vest.He kissed my forehead once more, a firm press of lips that lingered.Then he descended the porch steps, his boots heavy on the wood.The women all waved and called their goodbyes from across the way.I smiled and waved back, my throat too tight for shouting.Had I ever had this kind of belonging with my own family?And I wasn’t even part of their family, though they’d made it perfectly clear they welcomed me to their home.
Oktober swung his leg over the motorcycle with the fluid grace I’d come to associate with him, and the engine roared to life, shattering the morning quiet.He looked back at me one last time, that half-smile playing at his mouth, and raised two fingers in a salute.Then he pulled away, gravel crunching under tires, and the other bikes fell in behind him, a thundering procession that echoed across the lake and through the surrounding pines.
I stood on the porch long after the sound faded, listening to the silence reclaim the morning.The air still carried his lingering scent to me.I inhaled deeply, holding it in my lungs as though I could preserve the scent through force of will.
I sighed and tried to pretend I sounded happy.This was my vacation.My solitude.My chance to heal and think and be alone with myself.I’d come here to find independence again, and now I had it.The quiet I’d craved spread around me like still water.But beneath the relief I tried to feel something else stirred.An emptiness that had no business being there, a hollow space behind my ribs that hadn’t existed three days ago.I pressed my hand to my chest as if I could locate the exact spot where he’d taken up residence without my permission.
I gathered both mugs and pushed through the screen door.After rinsing them, I headed back to the bedroom to put on some clothing other than my sleep shorts and a T-shirt.When I did, I noticed the pillow where he’d slept next to me the night before.Where his head had rested as I’d straddled him while we made love until we were both sated and sleepy.
I sat on the edge of the bed, pulling his pillow to me, and let out a long, shuddering breath.The cabin felt cavernous now.The silence that had seemed peaceful ten minutes ago pressed against my eardrums with a weight that felt almost physical.Two days.I had two days of solitude to get my head on straight, to make sure this is really what I wanted when in my heart I already knew the answer.
I walked back to the porch, settled into my chair, and picked up the book I still hadn’t finished.Page forty-seven stared up at me, mocking and unchanged.
I turned to page forty-eight.
