Landon would have done it for me. I think picking up after me gave him some type of satisfaction and he also hated leaving messes for too long. He liked perfection. He also liked taking care of people, but never wanted to be taken care of himself. I tried so many times. It was one of our struggles. We couldn’t always meet each other halfway with everything. He was very stubborn and particular. But he was also selfless and kind-hearted.
I don’t know who the man from the flower shop is. I only know that he smells like sunshine and felt good against me.
Sighing, I dress in a pair of sweats and grab my phone. Several messages wait for me but none from the police station. Have they given up on finding out what happened to my husband? Do they not feel getting justice for him is worth all the troubleanymore? I can’t let this all go as easily as they can. Everyone says to move on, but it’s hard knowing my husband’s life was cut short because someone else felt they deserved to live more. They should’ve lost their life. Not him. They’re the main reason he’s gone.
I respond to all the messages from friends and co-workers before pulling up a search engine. I type in the name of the clinic Landon used to go to. His doctor’s office is attached to a hospital. A different one from the place I was taken to the day of the explosion. It’s the first time I’ve been a visitor at a hospital since my mom died and I don’t know if I’m ready to go to one again. Not after all the bad memories I have of being in them. Swallowing hard, I save the address. I have to do this for Landon.
I’ll go first thing in the morning and ask for all his test results and records. I’ll also collect the names of every employee who ever handled any of his tests, results, and care. Where I’ll go from there I don’t know yet, but I have to start somewhere. Someone found out his blood type and figured out he was a match somehow. It had to have started there.
Sitting in bed, I set my phone on the nightstand. Crawling under the covers, I turn on my side, staring at the picture of me and Landon sitting on the same dock of the lake I went to today. I see only him there while I trace the glass of the frame, but when I turn off the lamp and close my eyes I see someone else. He doesn’t go away when I fall asleep either, and is waiting for me in my mind when I wake up, smiling while asking me to get in the water.
“Bet I can change your mind.”
Why do I get a feeling he was talking about more than getting in the water? Why am I hoping he was?
Thirteen
Silas
“Stay with me. Right here. Right now.” Elijah’s lips hover over mine and our noses rub together. “It’s safer here.” Kissing me, he presses a hand to my back to draw me closer and my tongue settles alongside his, our bodies rutting together desperately.
As much as I want to stay, a loud noise keeps coming between us and pulling me away. Elijah’s voice fades in and out. Aggravating and insistent, the blaring noise doesn’t stop and I eventually open my eyes to an almost dark room. I reach for my phone, shutting off my alarm while rubbing my aching eyes.
Looking around me, I feel the other side of the bed and it’s cold. Stacey hasn’t made it home yet. The blankets are tucked in on her side and there are no signs of her ever laying her head on the fluffed out pillow. Sitting up, I stretch out my back and check the time on the phone—eleven a.m.
I don’t remember when I fell asleep last night, only lying down and watching old videos of us on the TV. We were so happy and in love on the large screen, in our wedding clothes, constantly reaching for each other every chance we had. Who are those people and where did they go?
I went to sleep alone and woke up alone. Stacey never returned like she said she would. No missed calls or texts wait for me on my phone. None from her at least. Only my mom asking me if I’m still coming Sunday for dinner.
Where are you Stace? Never has she let me down before. Never has she broken a plan. Did I say the wrong thing in my sleep? Did she hear me call out for someone else and leave? No, she’d want to talk about it. She always wants to talk about everything.
Shaking off my thoughts, I say yes to my mom, turn on the side lamp, and grab the remote to shut off the blue screen on the TV, causing the room to become darker than before. Stacey bought black-out curtains to prevent too much sunlight from entering when she sleeps during the day. I hate how dark everything is when they’re closed, and it’s harder for me to distinguish the time of day. Having the day off work meant getting to laze around the house and do whatever I want, but the only thing I want to do is what I shouldn’t—go to Elijah’s store and kiss him again.
No. I can’t. That’s stupid and can’t be right. The dreams need to stop and so does this strange obsession with liking him close by. No more sleeping for me. I’ll stay awake as long as I can. Maybe the doctor really could help me. Maybe not. I won’t know unless I go. Hanging around here isn’t doing me any good, and going for a walk is only appealing when I think about doing it at the lake. Nowhere else sounds right. Tugging at my hair, I lie back in bed and squeeze my eyes shut. Elijah is stuck at the back of my mind, staring at me with dark, hungry eyes.
Suddenly I can feel his hands on me again, his lips on mine, his taste of chocolate and wine. The memory from yesterday is so vivid in my mind, I can’t help but relive it all over again. His cock was so hard against mine and the friction was amazing. Who knew dry humping another man could feel so fucking good? Would it feel the same a second time? I’ve known for years I was demisexual, but am I bi too? Or perhaps pan. I’ve heard a few different friends use the term before, but never considered it as my sexual orientation.
Not experiencing sexual attraction to strangers, and never allowing another person as close as I’ve allowed Stacey, are more than likely factors that led to me not figuring this revelation out sooner. I was mostly around Stacey, the friends I grew up with, and co-workers. Elijah is so different from all of them. Talking to Stacey can be hard sometimes, but not him. He appreciates books as much as me, somehow managing to talk me into trying something new when others never could, and he keeps reminding me how to smile without forcing myself. He also doesn’t try to tell me what I should and shouldn’t be doing. I don’t feel like I have to hold back and be on my best behavior around him.
He was himself, not who he thought I wanted him to be. Never did he pretend to enjoy something because I did. He hated the water, so if I wanted to talk to him more I had to meet him halfway. Stacey made everything too easy for me, causing me to feel so helpless and invalidated at times.
And his mouth. Fuck, his mouth. Ferocious and warm. The perfect combination of rough and soft. His hands were so needy and explorative. Sliding my pajama pants and underwear down a little, I wrap my fingers around my cock, stroking and tugging until I’m panting heavily with my head falling back.
Imagining his tongue is diving between my lips, I pretend my hand is his and buck my hips, fucking into his palm.Warmth travels down the center of my body, spreading along my groin, and my toes curl as I come hard. My legs tremble and my head spins. I haven’t gotten off in so long, too scared my heart wouldn’t be able to handle it. Stacey was always so gentle, constantly slowing down and stopping when my breathing got too heavy. It never felt this good. In movies I sometimes watched, there was so much passion, desperation, and fireworks.
I was beginning to think it was fake. That was until Elijah kissed me yesterday. If those people had never showed up would either of us have been able to stop?
Opening my eyes, I glance down at the mess on my shirt and hand. Guilt strikes me hard, feeling like a heavy blow to the chest. It’s been almost a year since I last had sex with my wife, and when I finally do get off it’s alone, to memories I share with someone else—a man. Her fucking boss too. How twisted am I?
Getting up from the bed, I strip out of my clothes and hop in the shower to wash off. I don’t stay long under the warm water this time, rinsing off as I soap up my body and hair. After dressing in a pair of jeans and a short-sleeve button down, I sit outside with a cup of tea in my hand, rocking in the old wooden swing only I ever use.
“You know I hate things that rock, and don’t like sitting outside long. Too many bugs,”I remember Stacey saying when I asked a friend to help me install it.
One of the visions I had for myself for the future was drinking coffee on the front or back patio and sitting next to the person I love. Another was watching sunsets together. Stacey’s face glitches whenever I try to place her anywhere next to me now. I think about Elijah sitting with me instead, and can see his smile so clearly as he looks up at the sky.
Squeezing my fingers around my cup, I press my feet to the ground, shaking my head. He doesn’t belong in my future.He doesn’t belong anywhere near me. No way he really wants me anyway. He recently lost his husband and my marriage is struggling. I feel like I’ve lost way more than my heart. Did they give me someone else’s brain too?
We sought comfort in one another. That’s all.
