Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 71679 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71679 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
I slipped out from under her arm and got off the bed. I needed to put space between myself and her soft, warm, curvy body. Not because I craved her and was ashamed of it. I was still too exhausted to worry about physical desire. It was because the minute after my eyes popped open, I was already being assailed by memories.
Staying in that bed would have been giving in to what I wanted—gentle breaths, a soft heartbeat, an arm wrapped snugly around me, a body that fit perfectly up against mine, a presence telling me that I wasn’t alone in the world, and a connection with another person. My heart is as hard as the rest of me, but something that’s broken only heals stronger.
I have almost no friends. I have a mother who I don’t speak to and a sister who I would do anything for. Then, I have my company. That’s pretty much it, and I like to keep it that way. Life is simple and uncomplicated. There are very few weaknesses that way.
Darby? I married her for a reason, and she also married me for a reason, though last night was a big red flag that maybe her reasons aren’t what I initially thought. Maybe it wasn’t just for the money. She was too tender, too caring. She said her heart was broken for me, and I knew it wasn’t just words. She meant it.
The cabin felt too small to contain me, so I walked outside. I was going to stop at the porch, but the lake called me, so I’m here now, sitting on the big rocks down by the beach. They separate sand from the part of the land that extends into the dock. It’s still dark, but barely. The night isn’t so sticky and hot anymore. There’s a bit of a breeze, which cools things down and causes the boat tied up at the dock to rock gently against the tires that buffer it.
I like it out here, even though I thought I wouldn’t. It’s easy out here to take a breath and go inside myself, into the spots where I go when I’m in too much pain. And then after, when I’m so tired that I can’t defend myself anymore.
I guess maybe I’m a little bit too good at going there because all of a sudden, I’m thrown back into my body, and I’m not alone. Darby is on my lap. The pain comes tearing at me like a raging bear, heaving, growling, snarling, flinging spittle, and digging its claws through me. It’s not the pain from yesterday and not a pain in my head. This pain is entirely in my chest, and it is a thousand times worse.
“Darby…” How on earth could I have missed her walking down here and crawling onto my lap? Has she been saying something to me? Trying to pull me out of myself? Have I just been sitting here like a zombie?
Probably yes, because she’s frantic. Her hands are on my face. Wet. They’re coming away wet. Is it raining? No, it’s not raining. “Leon!” Her eyes are wide and fearful. “What hurts? What’s happening? Why are you sitting out here all alone? Why didn’t you wake me up? Are you sick? Leon, you’re…you’re…crying.”
I’m what?
Crying.
I realize she’s right. The wetness on my face hauls my ass straight back to the past. I can’t remember the last time I cried. Literally. It was like the ability to do it was beaten out of me.
“I’m ashamed.” It’s my voice, but it sounds like it’s coming from someone else. Someone who wants this. Someone who needs this more than anything. Someone who has spent a lifetime craving a connection with another person. A broken man underneath polished layers of success. Darby’s peeling back the layers. She’s sitting on my lap, and she’s soothing me with her soft, sweet, gentle hands.
Okay, earth, now would be a great time to open up a huge crack and let me dive straight into it to escape this unique blend of humiliation and mortification, which I suppose, blended together would still basically be the same words, unless you went with humilification or mortihumil.
I find her blue eyes, which are so much bluer than the lake, and I fixate on them. “Why are you ashamed?” she asks me gently. Her finger runs over the seam of my lips. She tastes salty. My salt, my tears. I have held myself together for thirty-two years, but right now, I am splitting down the middle, and all of it is coming out.
She already knows everything. She’s my wife, even if it is a marriage of convenience. I might as well tell her. Talk and do the one thing I’ve spent a lifetime running from. I don’t know what it means to even let down my guard by half, but I want to tell her. I want to let her in. Right now, I’m exhausted. I’m so tired of hiding and running and pretending like I am fine. Always fine. Always impenetrable. Always so rock-solid.