Someone who isn’t scared.
And yet the thought of him with another woman eats at me on the inside. I don’t want him to move on. I don’t want to picture him kissing another person. I selfishly hope he still thinks of me as much as I think about him. I hope he remembers every single detail of the way he felt while inside me because I remember it. I’ve tried to move on and tell myself he’ll get bored. He’ll leave me just like my ex-husband did. I’m scared to get attached because of it. Yet, as time went by, the more I lied to myself, the more I realized I fell in love with Gavin.
Our connection was on a soul level, and when it came to our lustful chemistry, it felt like fireworks every time we collided and clawed at each other.
Months have gone by, and I haven’t heard from him. This convinced me he moved on, too. Why wouldn’t he? I broke his heart after he begged me to stay. He lost Merelyn. He’s going through a hard time, and I left him. Why would he still want me after that? Maybe he hasn’t moved on. Maybe, he’s thinking about me, too?
Is he back at work in the middle of the ocean? Or is he home? I do miss the cute little town of Sleepy Coldwater, whereI could drink the best coffee I’ve ever had on gloomy days that felt perfect for getting lost in a book. My lips lift into a small smile.
Still, I meant it when I said I needed a break when all the truths came to light, after weeks of bliss.
Gavin lured me in secretly and threatened to keep me with him.
Merelyn and Maya are dead.
I need to heal on my own. I need to believe in myself on my own, even if it means walking away from a man who is a force of nature. He’s been in love with me long before we met. It makes sense why he felt so strong and profound when it came to me. It kills me inside to know he’s alone up in those mountains.
I kept my promise. I sought help after I left and came back to San Antonio. I have a therapist I see weekly; I let my family in on days I don’t feel the strongest. I run one mile every day. I don’t stop dreaming.
Learning to love myself without depending on another person for my happiness brought me peace. I knew I needed to work hard independently, so my happiness isn’t placed in another person.
My phone vibrates just as soon as I’m done applying a red lip. My hair is more curly than usual after taking it out of an overnight braid. After being in a relationship with a man who condemned my curves, it did something to my brain after hearing it every single day. I lost myself, but just one night of Gavin worshipping my body snapped me out of that insecure mindset. There was never anything wrong with me. I love my curvy body, bigger breasts, and stretch marks. I’m wearing bell-bottom jeans with a belt, cowgirl boots, and a white V-neck blouse.
Everly:
Hurry. We have to leave for the rodeo in the next five minutes.
Me:
Just finished. I just need to grab my purse.
Everly:
I’ll wait for you in the car.
I press the button on the side of my phone and tuck it into my back pocket. Closing my lipstick, I saunter into my office. My boots clack against the tile as I walk past ten oil paintings of Sleepy Coldwater, a portrait of Merelyn, another one of Gavin drinking black coffee, the mountains I saw every night and every morning, and finally his home. I call it: The Cabin in the Storm.
I run my hands over it. These pieces are for me. I promised I’d draw Merelyn, and I kept it.
Life is good. Life is okay again. But it’s dull, and I know exactly why. The reason? A tall man with glowing blue eyes and a smile that always holds me hostage. He probably wants nothing to do with me after I left.
I…miss him. I miss him so bad it hurts, and even if I wanted to reach out, I don’t have a way to.
My sister’s car horn blares through the walls. She’s so impatient. The drive is about thirty minutes away, but even so, we’re still going to make it on time. I grab my purse off my desk and swoop it over my shoulder.
The smell of dirt,popcorn, and beer surrounds us while we sit on the metal stands. With a Shiner Bock in hand, I straighten, looking at the last bull rider leaving the arena. Thechaps at the bottom of his jeans are flowing in the summer wind. It’s a packed night, with hardly any room to move, let alone breathe in the Texas humidity.
“He was so good!” Everly exclaims, throwing a handful of buttered popcorn in her mouth. “There’s one more bull rider before it moves on to the next event.”
“What’s next?” I ask, taking another swig.
“Bareback riding,” she replies, shifting in her seat, already looking at the cowboys lining up. George Strait plays loudly through the speakers behind the announcer’s voice. He’s introducing each contender by name and where they’re from.
Suddenly, that same cold, paralyzing feeling spears through me. Goosebumps prick my skin, as everything around me feels eerie. I remember this like deja vu.
The feeling of being watched.
I lean into Everly until my shoulder brushes against hers.
