Where the Mountains Meet the Sea

by A. R. Breck

  My heart races at that, and I press my palm to my chest. "Okay," I whisper.

  We say nothing, breathing through the phone.

  So much to say.

  So, so much to say to each other.

  "I'll see you soon," is all he says instead.

  "I'll see you soon." I'm about to hang up the phone when I hear him call out my name.

  "Luna?"

  "Yeah?" I clutch the phone to my hand, nerves, excitement, worry, everything swirling in my stomach at once. A riptide in the pit of my belly.

  "I missed you," he says softly.

  My face scrunches up, tears flooding my eyes instantly. They fall down my cheeks, dripping onto the blanket around me. "I missed you, too." I choke out.

  I hang up, grabbing the Post-it Note and standing up, leaving the blanket on the chair. After shutting down the computer, I head to my cabin, ready to pack up and get out of there.

  It's time to go home.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  ROMAN

  People rush by me, the world spinning. Scents and sounds and colors fly by, but it's all a blur. It feels like I'm underwater or wearing headphones. The only thing I can focus on is my heaving breaths. I can feel my heart pounding against my chest, my black shirt twitching with each beat.

  I look at every single person that walks by, their blurring figures only a blip in my sight. My eyes can't connect with one person. One glance, and I know it's not her. Then my eyes move on to the next person, and the next person.

  I feel my shirt sticking to my back, my nervous sweat making me feel damp, my blood boiling beneath my skin.

  I was getting ready for work, just out of the shower and getting dressed, when the phone rang. It could have been anyone. The station, my family, my asshole friends.

  The very last person on the list I thought would be calling me is Luna.

  Luna.

  It's been so long. Years since I've heard her voice. Just my uttering her name made her break down. I couldn't take it. I couldn't take her sadness, the agony ripping through the phone. I wish I could have reached through and taken it from her. Lifted the sadness from her soul and pulled it through the phone. She sounded exactly the same. Her soft lilt, feminine and so melodic that I nearly fell to my knees.

  Nothing could have prepared me for her call. I have no idea what she's been through. I don't know where she's been, or who she's been with. I don't know anything about her, honestly. But at the end of the day, I do. I know every single inch of her. I know her depth, what makes her tick. I know her inside and out.

  I swallow down my groan as I look around, worry hitting me at the idea of her never making it on the plane. Fear that she changed her mind. I'll stand in this airport all day if I have to, waiting for that moment where I get to see her again.

  I glance out the floor-to-ceiling windows, seeing the Delta plane descending from the west. I know, without a doubt, that's her plane. I can feel her getting closer. My heart starts to calm, like it's finally able to rest after all these years. My hearing clears, and the voices grow louder around me.

  It's been a year since I got out of treatment. One year since I started working as a firefighter. Living in New York has been different. Not bad, but it's been missing one thing.

  Luna.

  This was our dream. Our dream to move to New York together. It's felt wrong being here without her.

  A part of me is worried that this is only temporary for her. That she'll come, say hello, and leave again. But the other part of me knows that won't happen. That the moment she steps into my arms, I'll never let her go. Never again. It was foolish of me to walk away in the first place. To experience life without her is the same as not existing. I need her to live. She is my sustenance, the bits and pieces that make me, me. If it weren't for her, who would I be?

  It took her whispers of saying she wanted to come home for everything to change. Just her pleading made me drop everything. I called my boss at work and told him I had a family emergency. He's easygoing, so he didn't mind me needing the time off.

  I don't anticipate me being there tomorrow, either. I didn't tell him that, but once I get Luna back, I don't think I'll be able to be away from her. There's so much to talk about. So much to catch up on. I need her near me, as near to me as she can possibly be. I'll never get enough of her, and being away from her for so long, I don't anticipate that need being satiated any time soon.

  Another flood of people start walking this way. I take a deep breath, blowing it out between my lips as I wait.

  She's coming.

  My skin starts to hum, and I know she's getting closer. It feels like electricity, like our souls are reconnecting. My insides pull, and I want to walk forward, but I keep my feet planted where they are. Just waiting. Everyone walks around me, the flood of people splitting on either side of me as they pass by. My fingers go up to my hair and pull, feeling uneasy. On edge, like I'm fraying. I can barely think. Can barely stand still.

  Each step she takes toward me, my body starts to hum louder, until I can barely take another breath.

  Then she appears.

  I can see her gray eyes shining from across the room as she looks around, a plain pair of shorts tight around her thighs, making her legs look a mile long. A small backpack sits on her back, her fingers playing with the straps as she looks from left to right.

  Her hair, just as long as it's always been, is draped in long, dark waves down her back.

  She looks the same, but there's a weight of sorrow surrounding her, a sadness that I can feel from here. It tears my insides apart, watching the sadness drip from her. Luna isn't a sad girl; she never has been.

  So, what happened to her?

  I take a step forward, just as her eyes lock with mine. They widen, and she stops in her step. Her plain sandals slapping against her feet pause, her toes pressing into the ground just like the ballerina she's always been.

  Her face crumples as she looks me over, pure sadness covering her features and darkening her eyes. I take another step, and that gets her moving. She walks toward me, slowly and carefully. I walk too, and we end up in the middle of the room, only steps from each other. Tears stream down her face, and my own eyes burn with emotion.

  "Roman," she whispers. But even with all the noises around me, her voice rings straight into my soul. It ricochets around the cage of my chest, burning straight into my heart.

  "Luna."

  She drops her bag onto the ground, running the last few steps. My arms swing out, catching her around the waist and pulling her toward me.

  Her body molds to mine, each curve of her sinking into every inch of me. She smells like the ocean, salty with a hint of Luna. I'll never forget how she smells. Girly, like she spends her days in the sand, outside, with the wind blowing in her hair. My hand goes up to the base of her skull, pressing her against my shoulder, her body trembling against mine.

  I bury my face in her hair, inhaling in every inch of her. My fingers clench, her hair bunching between my fingertips. My throat feels like it's closing, and my sinuses burn. I wipe my face in her hair, feeling like it's too much. Our connection is too much. But I can't get enough of it.

  "Roman," she cries against my shoulder.

  I let out a shaky breath, not sure how to speak the words I'm feeling right now. Not sure how to articulate the emotions that are roaring through my body.

  "I missed you," she cries, her tears wetting my neck. I grip her neck, pulling her back so I can see her face. Her cheeks are damp, reddened. Her gray eyes are bloodshot, and her bottom lip trembles, puckered out like she can't control her emotions.

  My palms go to her cheeks, wiping her wet face. "You have no idea how much I missed you."

  She wiggles, and I set her on the ground. She bends down to grab her bag, suddenly seeming shy.

  I hold my hand out to her, not ready to let her go just yet. "Are you ready?"

  She looks down at my palm, my large fingers waiting for her small ones. She reaches out,
her skin is still so pale, even though the tip of her nose is red, like she's spent a lot of time in the sun. There are bags beneath her eyes, giving away the fact that she hasn't slept in a while.

  Like maybe she hasn't slept since the last time she saw me.

  That's how it's been for me, at least.

  I grab the strap of her bag from her fingers, taking it from her hands. She smiles up at me, and I turn, pulling her through the crowds of people coming and going. I hold her tightly, and I can feel her fingers flexing against mine, as if she doesn't want to let me go either.

  Once we're outside, I pull her toward my Jeep. I open the back door, tossing her bag into the back, and slam it shut. She stands with her hands at her sides as she looks at me. I walk up to her, pulling open the passenger-side door. She walks past me, her body brushing against mine. My hand wraps around her waist, and I lean in, needing to touch her again. Needing to smell her. It doesn't feel real. But if this is a dream, fuck, I never want to wake up.

  "I can't believe you're here," I breathe in her hair, whispering in her ear. "This doesn't feel real."

  Her hand reaches up, running along my jaw. Testing my stubble against her fingers. I haven't shaved in a few days, and it's new to her. She hasn't seen me since I was a teenager. "I'm here, Roman. I'm finally here." Dropping her hand, she slinks into her seat. I shut the door behind her, taking a moment to breathe in the New York air.

  This is it. We're finally here. Together.

  The drive home is silent. Not much is said. Luna spends her time looking out the window, at the place she's always dreamt of living. She watches all the taxis, the people, the noise, the tall buildings. Everything crammed into a small city.

  I do nothing besides reach my hand out, grabbing her fingers that are draped over her lap, lacing my fingers through hers. Her skin is smooth and hot, as if the sun seeped into her body.

  She glances over at me, her face a mixture of sadness and relief.

  I'm here, I tell her by squeezing her hands. I don't say the words. I don't need to.

  Her fingers squeeze back, ever so slightly. I'm here, too, she says.

  Her eyes go back out the window, and I finish driving us the rest of the way back to my apartment. I park in the underground parking garage, grabbing her things and opening her door. "Ready?" I ask, holding her door open.

  Her face twists, worry and indecision in her gray eyes. "Before we go up, I have to know, are you seeing anyone?"

  I frown. What the fuck?

  "No." I shake my head, disgusted by her question.

  "Do you have any children?" Her voice squeaks out.

  A snarl takes over my face, and I take a breath, so I don't snap on her. "Are you kidding me, Luna?"

  She frowns. "It's a valid question."

  "It's a fucking stupid question, is what it is." I reach in the car, pulling her out. She rocks on her feet, and I steady her, stepping into her bubble. Her hair is dried, a little messy. I push it off her shoulders, revealing her slim neck. "If you needed to ask, then you can ask. But you should know me enough, Luna. I've been waiting for you."

  Her body relaxes, the tenseness draining, spilling onto the cement ground. It's dark down here in the parking garage, and every noise and step echoes. "You were that worried? I ask her, her body melded against mine.

  She nods against my chest.

  "I'm yours, Luna. My mind, my heart, my fucking soul. Every inch. Every breath. It's yours. Yesterday. Now. Tomorrow. Don't ever forget it." My shirt grows wet, and I know she's started crying again. "Come on, let me show you upstairs."

  She nods, stepping out of my hold and wiping her face. We walk silently up to my room, using the elevator and walking down the hall. She stands behind me as I unlock the door, and I can feel her nerves heating my back.

  She's nervous.

  Why the hell is she nervous?

  The door opens, and I cringe at the mess. In a hurry to get to the airport, I didn't have time to clean up. It's not like anyone comes over here, anyway. If the guys from the station have something going on, we usually go to one of their houses. Most of them are married, anyway, or are dating someone.

  The few of the guys who aren't with anyone spend their weekends at bars. That shit isn't me anymore. That was me about four years ago. Not anymore. Work has been my life this last year. I've been biding my time. Waiting. Hoping. Dreaming.

  And here she is.

  "I'm sorry it's not much," I say, dropping her bag by the door and walking to the kitchen, grabbing trash from the counters and shoving it into the trash bin.

  She stands by the door, her sandals next to her. She looks around, taking it all in, her gray eyes flitting from one piece of furniture to the next. She looks out the window, looking at the tall skyscrapers around her.

  "Do you need anything right now? Are you hungry? Thirsty?" I look in my fridge, cringing when all I see is an old pizza box and a case of beer. I close the fridge, pulling out a stack of takeout menus. "I'll have to run to the store to get some food, but I can grab us some takeout if you're hungry?" I look over, my eyes widening when I see an empty space. Her bag and shoes are still there, but Luna isn't.

  I step out into the front room, looking into the living room. "Luna?"

  The menus drop to the floor, scattering all around me as I rush to the bathroom, hoping she's in there.

  She's not.

  The bathroom light is turned off, the door opened. Just how I left it.

  "Luna?" My voice rises, hysteria making it crack. I burst into my room, stopping in the doorway. My hands clutch the wooden frame, feeling my heart stop.

  She's wrapped in my blankets, her face buried in my pillow. Her black hair splays over the pillowcase, nearly falling over the side of the bed with how long it is. Her eyes are closed, like she's already asleep. But the crease between her eyes is present, creating a frown on her pale face.

  I step into the room, wanting to confront her, wake her up and ask if she's okay. Demand answers from her. But I stop, not knowing what she's been through. Not knowing what made her contact me in the first place.

  What happened to you, Luna?

  I want to wrap her in my arms, feel her body mold against mine. Feel her heartbeat against my chest, see if our beats are still synchronized. I want her. I just want all of her. Every bit.

  But I don't do those things. I walk over to my windows, shutting my blinds to darken my room. I walk out quietly, leaving the door opened.

  I don't know what to do when I get to the living room. I think about heading to the grocery store, but I don't want her to wake up while I'm not here. I could order food, but I don't want to get something if she's not going to like it.

  I walk to my couch, sitting down and grabbing the remote from the coffee table, switching on the TV.

  And I wait.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  LUNA

  I smell Roman.

  All I smell is Roman.

  I burrow deeper into the marshmallow pillows, never wanting to wake up. I'm so comfortable, so peaceful. I haven't felt this rested in so long.

  Roman.

  My eyes fly open, and I whip up in bed. Looking around, all I can see is his darkened room. Dark cherrywood furniture, very minimal. Not at all Roman. When we were children, the walls of his room were filled with posters of musicians and albums. There wasn't an inch of his wall showing. There isn't a picture, or a poster, or anything. Except…

  I fold the sheets back, crawling on my hands and knees toward the edge of the bed. A lone picture frame sits on his dresser, propped right in the middle in front of his mirror. My hand reaches out, and I grab the black frame, pulling it toward me.

  My fingers trace the young faces, my smiling one as I look at Roman. His arm is tossed over my shoulder, and I'm smushed up against his side. He's smiling at the camera, a genuinely happy smile covering his face. Pure happiness is seen on both of our faces.

  Where did we go wrong? What happened to us?

  Why did w
e ever separate when we already had everything we ever needed in each other?

  I bring the picture to my chest, hugging it to me, wishing I could go back in time and right my wrongs. Wishing I could change so much. But I can't, and that's the most heartbreaking thing of all.

  My head drops, and tears fall down my face in despair. A sob chokes out of me, and I can do nothing but mourn the time that I've lost and will never get back.

  I hear his footsteps before I see him. I can sense him the closer he gets. Our electricity grows stronger with every inch that diminishes between us. The side of the bed dips, and his warm hand presses against my back. In a moment, he has me pulled into his arms, our picture squished between us as we hold each other.

  "I'm so sorry," I cry, feeling like this is all my fault. If I never had left, we would've still been together. If I would have just went with him on tour, or we would have just left for New York, our lives could've been so different. Instead, we've lost five years of our lives apart from each other. So much time lost that I'll never be able to get back.

  "You have nothing to be sorry for," he mumbles against my neck.

  I peel back from him, looking at him through blurry eyes. "I do. It's all my fault. I wish I never left. I should have stayed home. Or went to New York. It was the biggest mistake of my life." A part of me hates saying that because I experienced so much. I learned so much, and I met some great people.

  But those experiences meant I lost out on the love of my life, and none of that is worth losing him over. We could have grown together; we didn't need to do that apart.

  He frowns at me. "What happened to you?"

  I shake my head. I'm afraid if I tell him how ruined I've been, the horrible things I've done and what I've been through, he'll think differently of me. I won't be his Luna anymore, and that thought is heartbreaking enough for me to keep my mouth shut.

  I roll off him, curling back underneath the sheets. I pull them up to my neck, feeling so lost and confused, and even alone. Because I know Roman will tear these words from me piece by piece, and any love he still holds onto, any thread that still connects between our two hearts, will be frayed.