“Dustin, I don’t want to fly away,” she said. “I already did. You’re the only man who’s ever let me. And it took flying away for me to realize how much I wanted to come back.” Her voice cracked a little as she added, “To you.”
I didn’t speak. Neither did she.
After a moment, Amy took a step toward me.
I swallowed. I wanted her so bad, and my God, I loved her more than I could tell her, but could we…should we…
She took one more small step, then stopped. She was within arm’s reach now, so close and still so far. But she didn’t move, and her eyes pleaded with me to cross that last expanse of space.
I’ve come this far, they said. I can’t go all the way.
Holding my breath, I took a step and reached across the gap. I put my hand on her waist, curling my fingers just enough to draw her to me. My other hand went to her face, then into her hair, and we moved in slow motion, inching toward each other, closing the minute distance between us, between her mouth and mine.
Our lips were almost touching when I whispered, “I missed you.”
Amy wrapped her arms around my waist. “I missed you too.”
I wanted to kiss her, but I hesitated. Arms around her, body against hers, so close I only had to inhale and her lips would be against mine, but still I hesitated.
Is this really settled?
The warmth of her body made me shiver.
Is there still something that needs to be said?
Her lips almost touched mine.
Air that needs to be cleared?
I let my lower lip brush across hers, and the only air that mattered mingled between our mouths.
I need you. Now.
I kissed her, and cool relief combined with warm arousal, rippling up and down my spine as I met her tongue with my own. We sank against each other, into each other, holding each other closer as long, slow breaths became short, sharp gasps. Tender, languid kisses were soon anything but.
“Maybe we should go inside,” she murmured.
“Maybe we should.”
Somehow, we pulled ourselves apart, and without a word or even a look, we hurried up the steps to the duplex we’d once shared. Of course the door had locked behind me, and thank God my keys were in my pocket. I fumbled with them, my hands shaking and my heart pounding like Amy might vanish into thin air if I didn’t get this door open fast enough.
The key went in. The lock gave. The door opened.
I got my key out and the door shut, and the instant we were cut off from the outside world, Amy was in my arms again, and in seconds, what began as an embrace became hands sliding under clothing. The need to touch trumped the need to talk, and with every article of clothing that hit the floor in the short hallway leading to my bedroom, I fell apart a little more.
With every step, we held each other closer, each kiss deeper and more intense than the last. Every time her hair slipped between my fingers, I was vaguely aware of my own desire to grab it. Grab it, pull it, make her gasp, make her mine. But each stroke was as gentle as the last, and each time my hand started at the top again, her kiss faltered, and she shivered.
We sank onto my bed, and soon the only fabric touching our skin was the comforter that would be tangled and disheveled before too long. Hands slid over bare skin, bare skin pressed against more bare skin. I couldn’t decide between kissing her mouth and tasting every inch of her neck, but when I settled on the former, she grabbed my hair in both hands and wouldn’t let me even think of breaking away.
Then she released me, and as soon as our mouths separated, she whispered, “Tell me you still have condoms.”
“Of course I do.” I dipped my head, and oh God, I loved the taste and smell of her skin. She tilted her head, squirming beneath me as I kissed my way up and down her neck.
“Dustin…condom…” Her hip brushed my very erect cock, and I pushed myself up.
“Don’t move.” I kissed her lightly before reaching for the bedside table.
It only took a few seconds to get a condom out and on, but the entire time, my skin tingled with the absence of hers against me. If it had taken a moment longer, I probably would have burst into flames. Judging by the way Amy wriggled and whimpered impatiently, she wouldn’t have been far behind.
But finally, the damned thing was on, and I returned to where she waited for me. Amy wrapped her legs around my waist, and I sank down to her, losing myself in a long kiss even as I guided myself to her. When I teased her pussy—Oh Jesus, she was so, so wet—with my cock, she broke the kiss and moaned.
“Fuck me, Dustin, please.”
I slid just the head of my cock into her, then pulled out. And again. A little deeper this time. Each time, a little more, but only a little. She whimpered with frustration, biting her lip and closing her eyes.
It took every last bit of self-control I had to move this slowly. I desperately wanted to be deep inside her, slamming into her hard and fast, but I gritted my teeth and forced myself to go slowly because I knew it drove her insane.
Screwing her eyes shut, she arched her back and tightened her legs around my waist. “Dustin, please…”
I found her lips with mine, and as she parted her lips for my tongue, I took her with a long, deep stroke. Slowly, fluidly, we moved together, everything from our mouths to the way her hips rolled in time with mine. Need drove us on, drove us faster, but we stayed in smooth, perfect synch with each other even as the bed creaked and shook beneath us, even as we went from gentle and slow to so fast and feverish I was sure we’d shake the walls down around us.
Amy’s lips separated from mine with a gasp, and her fingers dug into my shoulders as she whispered, “Oh God…”
I closed my eyes, letting my head fall beside hers, and forced myself into her faster and harder as she whimpered and trembled and raked her nails down my back.
Then, beneath me, holding on to me, Amy shattered, and half a heartbeat later, so did I.
I kept thrusting through my orgasm until it was too intense and I couldn’t take any more, until I couldn’t even breathe. Only then did we both shudder, exhale and stop.
I got up just long enough to get rid of the condom and then collapsed in bed beside Amy. She rested her head on my shoulder, and neither of us moved even long after the dust had settled. I absently played with her hair, alternately running my hands through it and wrapping it around my fingers.
How much time passed, I couldn’t say, but eventually she broke the silence.
“I meant everything I said,” she whispered. “About why I came back.”
I kissed the top of her head. “I know.” I put my hand on hers, and our fingers laced together. As I ran my thumb back and forth along the side of hers, I said, “But we both know you can’t stay.”
“I can’t stay away either.”
I shifted onto my side and propped myself up on my elbow. “Amy, there’s so much standing in the way of something like this working. We both have farms with a mountain range between them. And…” I hesitated, then reached up to touch her face as I said, “And we both know you still have to deal with Sam’s death.”
“No one ever said this would be easy.”
“But is it possible?”
She ran the backs of her fingers down my cheek. “If we’re willing to work at it, yes.”
I lowered my gaze, watching my hand trace the curves of her neck and shoulder, but I wasn’t sure what to say.
“Dustin, listen,” she whispered. “I’ve spent most of my adult life thinking ‘this isn’t how it should be’. My marriage, my career, everything just felt…wrong. And even when I took off after Sam died, it didn’t feel like the right thing to do.” She lifted her chin and met my eyes. “When things started between you and me, it was the most…” Her eyes lost focus for a moment. “It was the most surreal thing, because it was like something in my head just said, ‘Yes! This is what I’ve been looking for.’” She paused, running her fingers down the center of my chest. “And coming ba
ck to you, I didn’t even stop to think if it was right or wrong, because it was the only thing to do.”
“But what about what comes after this?” I asked. “As much as we both want it, it’s not that simple.”
“Simple? No.” She closed her fingers around mine on the side of her face. “Worth it? Yes.”
I turned and kissed her palm but kept my eyes on her. “Except we still live hundreds of miles apart.”
Amy sighed, running her hand through my hair. “That’s where things get a little complicated.” She swept her tongue across her lips. “How would you feel about doing this long-distance for a little while?”
“Define ‘a little while’.”
She shrugged. “As long as it takes for us to decide if we want to keep doing this. We each have commitments on opposite sides of the mountains, and who knows where this could go?”
“Good point,” I said, reaching up to run the backs of my fingers down the side of her face.
“And, regardless of what you and I decide to do,” she said, “I’m selling the farm.”
I stared at her. “You’re selling it?”
“I need to let it go. My sister is getting burned out too, so she’s looking at some other options. Between the two of us, we just think it’s time.” Amy looked at me. “But with the market being what it is, it could take a while. I’m not even sure when we’ll actually list it. That could be a few months. Maybe a year.”
“What would be the deciding factor?” I played with a stray lock of her hair. “Between a few months and a year?”
“I have contracts with some of my clients,” she said. “Ninety days on a few. Longer and shorter on others. Ninety days of actual work, of course, so that can wind up spread out over a few months, depending on the horse and my workload.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I know how that goes. Where will you go after it sells?”
“I don’t know. Depends on how long it takes. And it depends…” Trailing off, she met my eyes. “Anyway, where we go from here, it’s your call. If you don’t want to—”
I cut her off with a kiss. “Of course I do.”
“Are you sure?”
“Oh, yeah,” I said. “And maybe now I won’t need to worry quite so much about selling Blue.”
Amy’s eyebrows flicked up. “I’ll still be gone most of the time, though. I won’t be able to work with him as much he needs.”
I shrugged with one shoulder and touched her face again. “Well, I can work with him.”
“Do you have time for that?”
“I will now that I’m not in such a hurry to turn him around and sell him.”
Amy furrowed her brow. “If you’re not…” Then her eyes widened. “Wait, what do you mean?”
“Do you want to sell him?” I smiled. “Or do you want me to keep him here?” I smoothed her hair. “For you?”
“Are you…serious?”
“If you want him,” I whispered, “he’s yours.”
Her lips parted. “Dustin…”
“I think he misses you, by the way.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. He hasn’t been the same since you left.” And neither have I.
Amy smiled. “Maybe I’ll have to go out there later and tell him I’m back.”
I laughed. “Maybe you should. Except that would mean getting out of bed.”
“That’s true. It would.” She wrapped her arms around me. I rolled her onto her back, and we lost ourselves in a deep kiss.
Time would tell how far this went and whether or not we could pull it off together. Time would tell if a few hundred miles and a mountain range were obstacles too big to get over. Time would tell a lot of things. We’d figure out the details and see where time took us.
But tonight, Amy was here.
And nothing else mattered.
Epilogue
Amy
It took almost a year before I could bring myself to visit Sam’s gravesite.
That wasn’t to say I hadn’t tried. Four times, most of them in the last three months, I’d pulled into the parking lot and stared out at the cemetery, trying to persuade myself to get out of the truck and just do it. Twice I even had the engine turned off, the key out of the ignition and my seat belt off.
This time, I was halfway down the winding concrete path, the afternoon sun on my shoulders and a yellow rose in my hand, before doubt stopped me. I looked back. Looked forward. Asked myself if I could do this, told myself I would.
And finally, I convinced my feet to move, and I continued down the path.
I didn’t have a map of the cemetery. Didn’t have a note explaining how to find his grave among the hundreds of others. I’d brought that with me the last few times, and I’d memorized it enough that I didn’t need it now. Past the white archway, I remembered, fifth row on the left, seventh headstone from the end.
The summer air was fragrant from the wet, freshly cut grass and the evergreens that threw long shadows across the cemetery. Thanks to the heat and some recent rainstorms, the humidity was higher than it usually was in Western Washington, sticking to my skin and mingling with the cold sweat that rose on the back of my neck as I neared my husband’s grave.
It was the recent rain that had finally driven me to make this long-overdue trip. For the last year, every storm—from the first smell of rain to the hammering of drops on a roof—had threatened to send me out of my mind, and after the one we’d had the other night, I decided the only way to exorcise the ghosts that haunted me was to face them.
And I owed Sam this much. The man who’d drunk himself violent too many times could rot in hell for all I cared, but the man who, for better or worse, I had loved deserved more than a lonely, unvisited resting place.
I counted the headstones as I passed them, and the chill beneath my skin grew colder as the one belonging to Sam came into view. It was just a simple piece of granite from here, raised a few inches and sharp around the edges, but as I drew nearer, it was impossible not to see the writing. With every step I took, the writing went from vague, shadowy outlines to more distinct words, and when I stopped, my mouth went dry as I read my late husband’s name.
Samuel M. Dover, Jr.
For the longest time, I just stood and stared at the headstone, memorizing every serif on every letter carved in the pale granite.
The date of his death was surreal, not only because it bookended his too-short life, but because I could barely believe it had been over a year. I could barely believe it had only been a year. Had it only been that long—had it already been that long?—since I broke down, went off the deep end and went looking for a part of myself that had been dead for a long, long time?
And had it really been a year since I first met the man and the horse who had no idea they were exactly what I needed to put myself back together again?
I knelt on the damp grass and laid the rose beside the headstone. Running my fingers across the cool letters, smearing the beaded drops of last night’s rain, I whispered, “I’m sorry it took me so long, Sam.” An ache rose in my throat, and I blinked a few times to keep my vision clear. “I hope you know I still love you, and even though we wouldn’t have made it together, I never wanted this.” I traced the edge of the S in his name. “And wherever you are, I want you to know I forgive you.”
A tear escaped and slid down my cheek. I quickly wiped it away. Then, I reached for the grass beside the headstone and carefully lifted a tiny chunk, just enough to expose the rich, dark dirt underneath. I pressed my fingers into the dirt and pushed it apart, burrowing a tiny hole no more than a few inches deep.
Brushing my hands off on my jeans, I sat back on my heels. Without taking my eyes off the headstone, I reached under my collar and drew the weathered leather string out from under my shirt. I pulled it over my head and let it hang off my fingers for a moment, watching my swaying gold ring catch the light of the summer sun. With my other hand, I turned the ring between my fingers, watching the light play on the polished finish. Th
en I pressed my lips to the cool band.
“I’m so sorry we never got a chance to walk away from each other peacefully, Sam,” I whispered. “We both deserved better.”
With unsteady hands, I carefully wrapped the leather string around the band, and then laid it in the soil at the bottom of the small hole I’d made. Gently, tenderly, I buried the ring and pushed the sod over the top of it.
Then I stood, and for a long moment, just looked at the grass I’d just laid over the freshly packed soil.
“I hope you’ve found peace, Sam,” I whispered into the afternoon breeze. “You deserve it. We both do.”
I gave his headstone one last look, then turned and walked back to the winding concrete path that would take me back to the parking lot. As I walked, I slid my hands into the pockets of my jeans and tried to imagine the funeral that had happened here nearly a year ago. Friends, family, clients, acquaintances, all dressed in black while they mourned Sam and probably wondered where the hell his wife had gone. I wondered how anxious Mariah must have looked, holding back the secret she’d promised to keep to herself, and to this day, I felt guilty for putting so much on her while I crashed and burned on the other side of the mountains. I’d owe her big-time for the rest of my life.
I pushed my thoughts of Sam’s funeral out of my head and focused on the weight that was no longer around my neck or on my shoulders. The chill that had prickled beneath my skin earlier warmed now, letting me feel just how hot the day had gotten.
Better get used to the heat, I thought and couldn’t help smiling to myself.
For the past year, I’d gradually scaled back my workload. I referred clients to trainers in the area, and my sister took on a few as she prepared to move her training operation to a stable a few miles from Dover Equestrian.
Tomorrow afternoon, I’d sign the paperwork closing the sale of everything—the farm, all the gear except a few pieces of tack I didn’t want to let go of, the house—to an ambitious warmblood breeder coming up from California. Watching her and her partner wander through the barn, both giddy with excitement over all the possibilities that lay ahead now that they’d finally have the facility of their dreams, I’d had no doubt they’d be the ones to buy it, and I was thrilled when they put in the offer. Finally, someone could be happy there.
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