Page 67 of Pushed Through The Dark
Home. . . The home he gifted me.
Except, nothing happened.
Minutes turned into hours, and before I knew it, I was walking down the hall to get on the plane. I stopped at the entrance, looking back over my shoulder one last time. He wasn't there.
He's letting me go.
Hanging my head, I adjusted the small bag on my shoulder, filled with a few things on the list I gave the woman. Other than that, I had nothing. I was alone and no closer to feeling normal.
I feigned a smile at the stewardess and at the woman who took the seat beside me. Turning to the window, I kept to myself. I wasn't in the mood for small talk.
I'd thought of this moment a million times. I pictured it in my head, had seen it clear as day. Going home had been the one goal I focused on. But right then, it felt nothing like I imagined it would. There were no excited butterflies or impatient smile that I couldn't wipe off my face. There was no intense ache in my chest that anticipation was causing, waiting for the wheels to land on the runway. There was absolutely no happiness.
I was sad. My insides ached. Every breath was painful. Every exhale felt like my lungs were being impaled by knives.
Laying my head against the window, I closed my eyes. Koa's face popped up right away. His bold eyes, his strong jaw, the way his nose would twitch when he cocked his lips to one side. His hair as it swept across his forehead and his hands as they touched my body.
I'd never see him again. What I felt for him would become nothing more than another memory. It would fade over time. All the memories would.
I'd wake up one day, and I won't think of Virgo or Koa, I won't think of Berlin and the anguish we shared. I won't think of the harsh leather that cracked my skin or the hands that created bruises.
I won't be able to recall the feelings Koa drummed up or how it tickled when the tips of his fingers traced my face. It would all fade.
The memories will never go away completely, but they wouldn't be as vivid. I'd lose the small details, and they'd become nothing more than a piece of my story, a lost smile, a lost laugh, a forgotten look. My mind would replace them with new memories that were fresh and still breathing.
Today was not that day.
I could still feel Koa's lips. I could still feel the shadowed weight of his hands on my body and his eyes on my skin.
What the hell is wrong with me?
How could I love the man who bought me?
How could I ever see him as anything more than a shepherd?
And I was just his sheep.
As the wheels hit the tarmac and the plane glided to a stop, the sun was going down behind the horizon. I sat in the seat until the very last passenger scooted past me. Grabbing my bag, I slung it over my shoulder and exited the plane.
My feet were heavy, slowly pushing me down the airbridge to the welcome I knew would be there.
Coming to the top, I spotted the giant sign first.
Welcome home, Aubrey!
My mother was already crying as I emerged from the terminal, weeping uncontrollably. My father and brother were teary-eyed, their tears more stifled and controlled. There were cameras snapping pictures for the local paper and video cameras from the news stations.
My parents and brother ran to me, embracing me in a huge hug. They hugged me for a long time, crying and babbling about how happy they were I was home.
I didn't cry once.
I couldn't. As much as I missed them, as much as I wanted to see them and let them know I was alright, I didn't want to be there. There was this unforgiving desire to be with Koa. To feel his arms, to have him holding me, and kissing me, and telling me I was home.
All the love in the world I had for my family didn't compare to the love I had for that man. I loved him. And it went so deep, so far into my soul it hurt.
* * * *
"It's been four months. What do you feel now?"
