The realization that maybe, just maybe, our worlds collided for a greater purpose, one of tearing us asunder as we faced the grief that shredded us to the core and held us back from truly living.
That awareness rattled me.
“Everything shifted that day,” Boden remorsefully voiced, breaking the stillness that shrouded us while his words that hisdad died of a broken heartechoed inside me.
I nodded in understanding, knowing the scars he shouldered ran deep, mirroring my own.
Pain was a finicky beast. It had the power to dethrone you, leave you vulnerable, left open to bleed with a lifeline hanging in the balance.
Boden rested his head on mine and squeezed my hand. The gesture was my tipping point, causing the tears I’d managed to hold back to escape.
“While I don’t have all the answers, I wonder every day why they were taken from us in such a cruel manner and well before their time, but I believe strongly that things happen for a reason.”
The latter of his theory stole my breath as I pulled back in disbelief.
His thumb grazed across the edge of my jaw, and my glossy eyes met his. “Are you okay?”
My lips pressed into a smile before I inhaled deeply and rolled my head back on my shoulders. “I think so . . . I know this will likely sound silly, but I genuinely feel like I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.”
“Here in Sutton River or . . . here with me?”
“Both.” I twisted my upper body away from him and swept my hair over my shoulder, exposing the tattoo at the base of my neck between my shoulder blades.
“Everything happens for a reason,” ghosted across his lips. “Wow, ah,” he stuttered, seemingly at a loss. “I’ve caught small glimpses but could never distinguish the words from a distance.”
“I had it done a week after my sister passed in a car accident.” It was his turn to have his breath stolen by my admission, and a look of disbelief flanked his expression. “She was my best friend, my confidant, my person, and when she was taken from this earth, it nearly destroyed me, and like you, I might not ever understand why, but getting this ink has helped. Some days, it’s the only thing that gets me through the pain.”
“I can respect that; it’s beautiful.” The tips of his fingers glided tenderly across my skin, igniting a trail of goose bumps in their wake. “And last night—”
I turned back toward him as he seemingly connected the dots: my accident and irrational fear of not wanting to be left alone.
“Boden, I—”
He leaned his forehead against mine, and I felt my resolve crumbling, piece by fractured piece. As our breath co-mingled, I allowed my eyes to surrender to darkness, and instead of it bringing forth the feeling of hollowness, his woodsy scent blanketed me with a new level of comfort. One I was sure I hadn’t experienced before. Opening up and letting him see my pain, the scar on my heart that was still fresh and bleeding at the seams, should have had me questioning my cognitive state. Instead, I wanted nothing more than to get lost in the moment since he’d trusted me with his own trauma.
I desperately wanted to grant myself permission to succumb to the magnetic pull intensifying between us, but I couldn’t. Not when I was still tethered to my past because a man like Boden deserved so much more than I could give him in the present.
“I’m so sorry, I—”
“There’s no need to apologize. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“No, you didn’t, it’s just . . . my life’s been such a mess as of late. It’s why I’m here, to process and heal. I just didn’t expect—”
“What, what didn’t you expect?”
“You.”
“Is that a bad thing?” There was no mistaking the hurt apparent in his tone.
“No, but it’s a perfect example of the jumbled mess my headspace is in. Until tonight, I couldn’t make sense of the connection I feel toward you. I’ve made mistakes, been told by those closest to me that I’ve let them down, and yet, you’ve shown me nothing but kindness, more than I feel worthy of.” I swallowed a jagged breath. “Truthfully speaking, I don’t know what the future holds for me.”
“Can I ask you a question?”
I nodded.
“When you signed the lease agreement, it was for six months. Are you planning to pull a Cinderella and disappear on me at the stroke of midnight?”
I shrugged, unsure. “I haven’t thought that far ahead.”
