I was happy in my small town. In my life as a single thirty-two year old woman. I had a good job, wonderful friends, my independence.I also hadn’t got laid in three years. Hadn’t been on a date in two. Had stopped counting calories and putting on makeup… a while ago.
Then Brett Jacobs waltzed in. Caressed my thigh, dug rough fingers into my hair, lowered his soft mouth to my skin, took sexual control of my mind and stirred it all around with what he packed in his pants. He dumped my quiet life upside down and crawled into a place in my heart I thought was dead.
The issue is his secret. The issue is her. The issue is that I don’t even know she exists, and he thinks she’s dead. The issue is that everything is about to hit the fan and I can’t hold on to him tight enough.
The word ‘tight’ has twenty-two definitions, but my favorite is Webster’s fifth- “A bond which cannot be broken.”
I don’t do one night stands.”“Meaning?”“Meaning,” he growled, “that if I have you, you will not return to life as you know it. You will not flirt with men around the water cooler at work. You will bend for me, spread for me, allow me to have every inch of your surface, all while screaming my name and shuddering into my heart. That is what I mean.”
When I first met her, I should’ve let her go. Let my heart turn back to black, crush the weakness that had threatened. But I didn’t. I allowed the weakness to fester, to rot at the bones of my ribcage, until my chest was cracked wide open and she had crawled inside and feasted on my heart. Inhaled it until there was no longer her and I but only us.
I didn’t know how to go back. Didn’t know how to break off this piece of my soul and give her back. Didn’t know how to sift through the lies and tell her the truth. Didn’t know how to be the man she deserved without losing sight of my goal.