33
Wyatt
2018
“Love begins with an image; lust with a sensation.”
— Mason Cooley
Her cheeks flush,and I don’t know if it’s the whiskey, the cold, or something else. We stand in the middle of her living room unable to move, afraid if we do, the spell will break. I lift my hands and run my knuckles along her soft porcelain cheeks, and she closes her eyes, taking a sharp breath. I want to kiss her so badly, to feel her lips on mine again, to taste those pouty lips that were once mine. I hold her chin, gently tipping it up until her blue gaze captures me. Lust and sorrow dance in those orbs.
And before I can stop myself, I lean in and press my lips to hers. It’s a soft kiss, yet I feel it. Completeness. The stars align. My world is set right. Like every single piece of my life’s puzzle has finally come together.
Her eyes are closed now, and I want nothing more than for her to open them and look at me, give me the permission I need. Maybe this is too soon or too much. But somehow those things don’t matter. She opens her eyes, and I see all the fire I need to know it’s what she wants.
I let my tongue trace her lips until she opens for me and makes me taste her. It’s been years. Years, yet it feels like just yesterday. She wraps her arms around my waist, holding onto the back of my jacket tightly.
She’s the first to break away, her lips pink and swollen. I don’t let her go, but pull her even closer to me, bending my knees, so we’re at eye level, drinking in her beauty, which has only enhanced over the years.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbles.
“Don’t be.”
“I— I don’t even know what to say to this. I can’t do this, Wyatt. Not again.” Her voice cracks, and her eyes glisten with unshed tears.
The pain in her voice makes me hate myself a little more. I’m the one who did this.
“I just didn’t expect this is all.” She steps away, and I let her.
“I can’t change the past. I can’t take back the times I let you down, but . . . Should I leave?” I don’t even have the words. She swipes a tear, and it’s all I can offer. She nods.
“I can’t leave you like this.”
“You’ve done it to me countless time, Wyatt. Why is this any different?”
I rake my hands through my hair and give in. She needs time. I can give her that, but she’ll be mine; I’ll make sure of that. I make my way to the front door, and she follows behind me. It takes everything in me not to turn around and taste her lips again.
“I’ll see you soon,” I say, but she doesn’t meet my eyes.
She gives me a small smile, tucks her hair behind her ears. I remember the times I used to do that.
If only I could turn back time.
If only I’d fought harder.
If only. The saddest words in my vocabulary.
* * *
The knockat the door startles me. I drag myself out of bed and down the small passage. Who would be calling so late? I wasn’t a guy who got visitors. After Erin died, they kinda tapered down. Nobody wanted to be around the man whose wife died. I no longer had anything in common with most of our friends. Thomas was the only friend I had. I guess afterlife in the army, losing my father and then my wife, I was older in my mind. I didn't have the luxury of naivety.
I open the door, and I’m surprised to see Hayley on my doorstep. It’s been a week since that kiss neither of us was ready to talk about. That didn’t stop it playing on my mind daily.
“Hayley, is everything okay?”
“Yeah, I just wanted to see you—”
“Come in.” I stepped aside so she can pass.
